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Collider TV Talk: True Detective Season 3 Story & Director Announced (2017)
The utter despondency of expecttion
I am not hateful. Not much makes me angry. But season three of True Detective made my blood boil. The first season was exceptional while the second one has the award of being the worst TV show ever created. Ever. It's really that bad. Rarely is a good show relegated to such black/white dichotomies. I thought that they might try to redeem themselves with season three, but nothing could be further from the truth. How? How can such a good premise (death of a bunch of scientists at the end of Alaska) with these excellent actors go so insipidly wrong? I promise you, it's that pathetic. Man, Jodie, you knew it, come on.
Last Seen Alive (2022)
I want Gerard! Where is Gerard?
Where is Gerard? I want Gerard. I miss Gerard! I miss him like a safe girlfriend swept up into a leather jacket on homecoming. I need Gerard! Where is he? He was there when he protected the president. He was there when like an older brother when I needed him. He is not there in this movie. He is like Bruce Willis who was there in "Die Hard," and who was there like Thomas Jane was in, "Deep Blue Sea." Liam Neeson in, "Taken," is the godfather of this need that I have. Everyone else is a pale comparison. Gerard fits the bill. In, "Law Abiding Citizen," there he was. Gerard. In, "White House," and "Olympus" (et. Al.), there he was, strong, impetuous, our bold unrelenting hero. There he was again. Gerard. I could only crawl into his armpit. But now he is spiraling. Into Nicolas Cage and Bruce Willis, he is spiraling! This movie proves it. All they had to do was copy Kurt Russel's, "Breakdown," and there would not be a problem. But there is a problem. This movie is horrible. I mean the worst of the Nicolas Cage movies horrible (think, "Outcast"). It didn't have to be this way, Gerard.
Morbius (2022)
It Is Very Confusing To Me
It is very, very hard to understand. The producers spend millions upon millions of dollars. They are businesspersons. They are not visionaries. They are not artists. They are investors who hedge bets based on the advice from people with extensive experience and doctorates-entire thinktanks that are paid millions of dollars to make sure that the investors are taking the smallest, most negligible risk possible. How then and why do massive failures happen? Let us think of Kevin Costner. Just because he pulled Dances with Wolves out of his puckering arsehole, everyone was absolutely convinced that Water World, Wyatt Earp, and The Postman would be the next greatest, best, and biggest money-making movie ever. I cannot help to wonder, after these three, if they had made one more. Fields of Dream Corn, for example. I never thought it would happen again. But then they did it. They created Morphius, a film that hit all the right categories but did not realize that whole is always more than the sum of the parts. There is no problem with the acting. There is no problem with the cinematography. There is no problem with the special effects. There is no problem with the basic storyline. The directing is above average and more than enough gets the job done. The producers smiled at themselves and congratulated the thinktank for doing such a superb and supremely awesome job, and I am sure they salivated as they confidently waited for their project to pay off. But the movie was horrible, and it was the one of the greatest failures in cinematic history. Why? It was because the machine, and the cogs that make up the machine, had not heart, for this is who they are, and like Morphius's nemesis in the movie, who they have become.
Another Life (2019)
Please, please God, help me
This show is terrifying, but not in the way one might think. It is like Netflix handed all involved the meagre scraps of their last failed project. Their last failed Indie project. It reminded of Buck Rogers in the 21st Century. If there has been a reboot of Buck Rogers, and I hope that there has, it is not this that I am referring to. No, I mean the first one. From the 80's. It even as a Twiggy in it (and I am so, so glad Twiggy comes up in word clean. No spell check or nuthin'). Only this time Twiggy is a human who plays Katie Sackhoff's forlorn husband. He looks just a certain character in The Game of Throne's younger brother. If you liked Red Dwarf and the original Dr. Who, then you might, maybe just maybe, kind of enjoy this. Then again, if only it had gone for retro on purpose. That might have made it a gem. I can't understand. I know that I am not a writer, a producer or a director or anything like that. But, I am guess here, in film school, do they, or do they not, teach the students how not to be one-dimensional, simplistic caricatures that are just barely connected with each other? All they had to do was copy Alien. The first Alien. Not obviously, but just enough. For example, Yaphet Kotto's "Parker." Parker is jovial. He is almost always smiling, at least for the first half. But you get the sense that he is dead serious about his job. His blue-collar worker job. But he is not resentful because of this. He is just set apart, except for his buddy Brett, who nuances, to the marrow the word "Right." It doesn't take much. Just a few creative lines delivered, free flowing in the moment, to show an authentic relationship between them. The acting is not forced. It just is. Perhaps I am naïve. Maybe such actors now command millions to do this. But can't it at least be faked? The alternative is this thing. But there is even something more insidious going on here. The characters are one-dimensional because they must be. Wokie McWokerton wouldn't have it any other way, than to make sure that actors express themselves from tight ended categories that someone else has designed. It is the murder of creativity. They are not even smart enough to know that they are perpetuating the very stereotypes that they condemn. One character happens to have beautiful chocolate skin. She is seen smiling like a dumb blonde trope from the seventies. "How's that for woman's Lib?" they used to say. They can't seem to have it any other way. She must be a forever smiling, dancing J-Lo or nothing. Is this who we are and what we've become? There are a few characters who are gender fluid/neutral or perhaps Trans. This is not a problem. In fact, as we evolve, we will probably all become more androgynous. But these characters aren't allowed to be something significantly, or even representative, either. They are just faceless caricatures. That is has a 5.2 rating is beyond me. Who, with a sense of movie making, would give it a thumbs up? Is this the Dystopia that we live in now? And poor Katie Sackhoff. She is a great actress. But the scenes are so jumbled and disconnected that they make of her ridiculous spectacle. She has gotten messed over since Battlestar, and it's not because of poor acting chops (though, to be fair, she might want to stop acting like Starbucks ultra-intense if I am touched, I will explode mode). I don't know why it is, but I think it has something to do with the rat that I smell. The gatekeepers with the money and the strings. Netflix, in this case. Maybe, just maybe, to save us from ourselves, we can all stop by boycotting them.
Wander (2020)
Awful, just awful
I can't understand this. Great actors, great plot, great cinematography, great editing, and then...the worst directing ever. Did they put a Millennial in charge? No synergy between Tommy Lee Jones and Aaron Eckhardt. Just flashes of disconnected images, without any understanding as to why the protagonist and antagonist are paralleled and unparalleled, the movie goes on like this, without meaning, without purpose, without soul or spirit and without competency. If only Clint Eastwood had directed this one! It had all the ingredients of a great film. It could have restarted Jones's and Eckhardt's career no problem. Instead it regurgitates Gibson's, "Conspiracy Theory" with a deadened, flat ended ending. Boycott, I say, boycott. Hire a competent director, screen writer and producer. It's not hard. We don't know if the conspiracy theorist is correct or if he is delusional. Pretty straight forward. It's looking like he is delusional. Surprise! He is the conspiracy theorist that somehow has stumbled upon the truth. But he is endlessly gas lit and never gets a change to get revenge. It just goes on and on. In the movie, "The Island," Michael Caine is a submissive character, that is, until they push him too far. Then he gets REVENGE! He kills every last...you know the quote. This movie is the complete opposite of that. Avoid, avoid, avoid.
Numb (2015)
A Valiant Attempt.
There is a certain breed of actor, a combination of Dean Winters, Greg Kinnear, and Jamie Bamber. They are all temperamentally sensitive B + earning nice guys. Other actors can be found in dissimilar clusters. Of course, they are not perfectly consistent characters, for example, Greg in "The Gift," where he remarkably portrays the ultimate jealous coward. Jamie Bamber is a great actor, and somehow, like the rest of the cast of Battlestar Galactica, he has been funneled into low budget Indie or higher budget B movies. And don't get me started on Katee Sackhoff. A great actress who had a great run on 24, but nothing more. I am also compelled to mention Tricia Helfer, the most physically beautiful women to ever walk the Earth. Why? Because she has the perfect combination of unconventional beauty with the standard norms for beauty (e.g., Cindy Crawford). Courtney Love, for example, has too much unorthodox beauty for the place and time, and because of this, she compensates with hypersexuality, gross sensuality and the promise of endless, kinky sex. This is not a criticism. We all work what we have as much as we can in comparison to the shoulds' of the world. Once, I even asked for a haircut matching that of Colin Farrell. But let's get back to the pros and cons of "Numb." I don't know why, but like alien movies, I am a sucker for ravishingly expansive movies that take place in the deep, forbidden cold. Perhaps this is due to my obsession with, "The Thing," unmatched only by, "Blade Runner," both of which I saw as a child. I even loved, "White Out," with Kate Beckinsale and Tom Skerrett. And the destructible abomination that was "Wind River" (well-made and acted but gratuitously unforgivable), I could not help but to watch (and fast forward when needed). Like many movies, this one gets better and better the more distractions the viewer has. For example, I am writing this review as I watch the movie, checking email, researching topics, playing with the cats, and working on my short stories and scripts. Every now and then I glance up and feel validated and intrigued by the scenery and the gleeful madness of unrequited greed. But it is definitely worth watching. A few bong tokes and a bottle of quality wine helps, however.
Godzilla vs. Kong (2021)
Worse than you could possibly imagine.
When I was young, I love the Jessica Lang and Jeff Bridges version of King Kong. When I was younger than that I loved the black and white version. I found passion and aliveness in these movies. I was delighted when Peter Jackson made his version and more so when they turned it into a 60's Vietnam era affair with Samuel Jackson. I even happily got through the Bryan Cranston version. But this despicable piece of celluloid trash makes nearly every mistake that a good movie embraces. It is insipid, disorganized, and patched together piecemeal in a way that makes it impossible for the actors to have any hope of creating realistic dialogue or a meaningful cohesive that guides to the end. It is the opposite of anything resembling feeling, and it would have been better for all involved to chop it up into tiny segments that the viewer could only see moments in time. It is an affront to anything Kong or Godzilla. The Matthew Broderick version, as pale and lusterless as it was, is far preferable than torturing you into seeing this version. Sometimes racism is so starkly presented, so obviously out there in the moment, that Black people, at least initially, are not outraged. They say to themselves, "Wow. Wow, now that was racist," the sentiment being more of profound wonderment than anger. This is how it is with this movie. We cannot fathom how it could be this bad, and overcharged with the profundity of awfulness, we too also say, "wow, I can't believe how bad this movie was." I knew it would be so and was only enticed into renting when Redbox told me, after ordering, "The Marksman," that this one would be half price. Perhaps the only redeeming factor is by default. The first Godzilla movies were cheap beyond comprehension. This one is the same, only they try to trick the viewer into believing that the subpar CGI is something much more than the Japanese originals. Nice payday Rebecca Marie Hall, who wishes she could be Sarah Polly or Emily Blunt. I am sure they paid her tons of money, but what is the cost of a soul?
Those Who Wish Me Dead (2021)
Horrible, worse than you ever could have imagined.
I don't know man. I just don't know. The world is changing too fast. We can hardly catch up to it or see it. The moment the truth is in our fingers it slips away. We see Nicolas Cage and Bruce Willis movies and pray that they will be watchable, though we know that they are not. We assume movies with Al Pacino and Robert DeNiro will be fun and worth the price. They disappoint us. We know Stephen Dorf got a raw deal. We'd love to see him in something like "True Detective" but know the money givers and producers will never make it so. And now, Angelina Jolie has come to B movie hell landscape. I guess that's just how it goes. In Hollywood, when you age, and especially if you are a woman, it's celluloid death. Why? Daryl Hannah got the same treatment. Who should I find fault with? The actors who do cameos and know the filmmakers will use their name to make everyone believe they are the main stars? I get it. A million for a few minutes of talking and pretending. I'd have a hard time turning that down too. But why not have some self-respect? Like Vincent Gallo, Crispin Glover or Johnny Depp? You have millions, Angelina, millions. Channel that into avantgarde ribaldry, where you have full creative control, and we will respect you and follow you. Keep putting out trash like this and we will love you for it. Can a movie cause depression in the viewer due to its banality and casualness? Yes. I felt dead, dead to the marrow, halfway into this one. Totally unrelatable, disjointed, disconnected and by the numbers. I can't take it. How could they make a film this bad? It's like they made a bet about how to make the worst film imaginable. I'll never understand. If you can't think of anything, then just mimic Alien/Thing + Bourne + Serenity. It's that simple. Verse chorus verse and you will have a hit.
The Cloverfield Paradox (2018)
Far, far better than anything you have heard.
I can't figure out how this Cloverfield segment is so godawful. Every single one of the top critics despised it and gave it a universal thumbs down. Yet, when the majority of critics, top or not, has an extreme reaction to a film, negative or not, I wonder if that in and of itself makes the movie redeemable or at least not subjectable to comprehensive and competent review. Imagine, putting that much vitriol and agitated energy into it. It struck a chord. It made a mark. And it bunched everyone's panties. I enjoyed Cloverfield Paradox to the very end, as much as I enjoyed the better Star Trek films. It's a story in a timeline, a prequel explaining how dimensions were opened up and how creatures were let into our world. And even better, it illuminates the parallel Earth and how when the dimensions collided how the characters were affected. It is not a great movie, but it's way better than that latest Kirstin Steward film about defeating an underwater monster, though the two of these films share the same basic problems, which is a deficit in continuity. Leaving the audience guessing is dish that is best served cold, not prattled with many hotpots overflowing which creates confused perceptions. The actors are great and some of them top notch. The special effects and cinematography is excellent. The staging, directing and bringing it all together into a cohesive whole is adequate because one suspends disbelief while watching the entire film. Trust, I know what this means. I recently returned an OLED TV because I could see the pores leaping from Aaron Eckhart's face as he explained to Batman why he was now Two-Faced. This tech makes movies look like soap operas, or when you look at the extras, the film being filmed, without proper lighting, etc. I can't understand how the creators of movies can stand this. It is horrible. It looks like a janitor from the nineties filmed everything after everyone else left the set. I can't understand this. How are you able to stand it? It's awful. Now I'm a 1500 richer and watching my favorite movies on a computer connected to a large monitor. It's great, just as the movies should be, not as a perfect reflection of life, but as a vision from the creators who work so hard to give us an escape, which doesn't include seeing the skeleton vines of every leaf in the scene. I watched the beginning of The Shining with OLED. The camera above illuminated every detail, which made me know at every moment I was watching a film instead of stepping into an immersing experience that respected the subjective over the objective. We are missing magic. Not primitive, superstitious magic, but magic that the film industry has given us, with Steven Spielberg the greatest at delivering it. I am sure many of you do not understand, but for film, this is profoundly important, because the new tech threatens to destroy the magic I am speaking of, a tv, movie screen or online show to absorb our attention into it so we don't have to think too much about our problems. This is impossible with OLED and QLED. Immediately you will know you are watching something that cannot transport you anywhere. It is awful and it is insane. Let us all make a stand now.
Uncut Gems (2019)
Because of Sandler, hopeless
I have seen things in Heaven and in Hell and much in-between. I have not, however, ever viewed a movie of the damned, a celluloid nightmare offending and insulting the God of Film so thoroughly that this God has called upon everyone involved in the film to be condemned to a timeless void, where there is no escaping reruns of "The View" are pervasive and endless. Watching this movie is not purgatory. No, it is something else, something worse, an empty place where all contributing factors involved making it add up to something resembling, but far worse than, Nihilism. They will not be able to make another as soulless movie act like it, a movie believing in nothing, less than nothing that without regret or remorse happily purports to be purposeful and chalked full of meaning, so numbingly faceless trying to imitate authentic art that the reel itself instinctively recoils, as one would from a frothing, leaping rat, poisonous jumping spider or pestilence rapidly infecting the land. After watching, we see a distinct parallel process, a living hell on earth, of something produced that is nothing, creating a horrible betrayal, the insult to the injury paying to sign up for suffering. A part of us withers away and dies, trying to unsee, like the fetid aftermath of murderous uprising, the dead splattered on the street and the holes from the bullets leaking their life away. How does one intentionally and purposefully irritate and agitate? By the willfully betrayal and abandonment of inauthenticity, whatever form it may take. In the era of silent films, there was no Hell. The stifled actors, held captive by time and technology, still had the freedom of movement and passion, even as the early frames did their best to disavow social awareness with the intent of inducing a corrective emotional experience. Adam Sandler trying his best to imitate Al Pacino at his worst does not appall, it is cheered, silencing the corpse writing, direction and producing, obscuring the lord of the flies underlying it, begetting confusion atop confusion. But somehow the audience and the critics, perhaps caught up in an otherworldly spell, have convinced themselves they do not feel horrible after watching, assuming their perplexing admonishment is evidence of a masterpiece, in denial and rationalizing, giving a thumbs up, as if Sandler performance transcends Travolta's character in Pulp Fiction. That crazy making mixed messaging of arbitrary purposelessness has happened because this is a movie of the damned, and all movies of the damned, full of fire and devoid of light and characterized by confusion, deliver the devil living there with a direct line to manipulate audiences away from properly condemning evil, the truth eaten by a horde of ghastly locusts, happily accepting that timeless nothingness is meaningful and objectively undistorted, sending the small helpless collective audience brain bursting, like a fish gasping for air crushed underneath the fisherman's boot, assuming Sandler's performance must be accepted with impunity.
The torture does not end here. Uncut Gems is further darkened by its dank, detestable smell, a rat-sewer stench stemming from the thousands of hideous movies before it, therefore enabling it. Consider the foul odor of celluloid hell, like a rotting worm-infested body, wasting away in a coffin under a grave in liquifying abandon. Do this, and you will better understand how "Uncut Gems" chokes on the ashes of Mean Streets and every other movie like it, and how its eye-clawing stench is amplified by it's bad faith intention, tricking us into believing something profound is happening when the opposite is true, that a putrescent film of carcass and death, reeking putrescence, is not beyond comprehension. No, it is hell. Knowing this, and you will properly understand. And yet, the film, in and of itself as awful as it is, is not the absolute supreme torture the viewer is subjected to. The real pain is Adam Sandler asking you to place your unscarred hand into a fire and leave it there to simmer and burn. Sometimes, such brimstone pain is required to produce a meaningful piece of art. Not so with Gemstones, a porous, pus infected scam burning with aborted rage and banal commonplace of regurgitated themes. And this celluloid devil, if forced to confess, would admit to its purposeful damnation, seeing their involvement costing them their soul because of a lie, another deepening layer of Hell, concocted to avoid deserved guilt otherwise surely nesting in the very marrow of boundless nothingness, like the furious boiling of organs and evisceration of blood, this is what Hell delivers, an anti-aliveness, a rancidity of cinema, evaporating suspenseful disbelief and subjugating and sucking the heart of the every eager moviegoer into possession, screaming from the innocence of eyes wide-open, screaming to be validated, wanting nothing more to lose themselves in the magic and mystery of the theater and experiencing the opposite.
A Score to Settle (2019)
How bad? Even worse than you ever could have imagined.
Sometimes a man has just seen too much. Sometimes it's Tommy Lee Jones. "This is no country for old men," he says. And I agree. I also don't understand, cannot comprehend the strange new world of primal violence and conscienceless depravity unearthed by the cartels. When I saw Danny Trejo's head on a turtle in Breaking Bad it was also too much, and yet I watched and watched, unable to help myself. I love revenge movies and have never backed away from anything resembling a good revenge film. I even liked, yes, I even enjoyed, I am Wrath with John Travolta. And begged to a god I didn't believe in for Nicolas Cage to escape and take revenge in The Wicker Man. The remake of Deathwish with Bruce Willis? I use my standardized and nearly objective way to judge the quality of any movie: How many bong tokes (or glasses of wine) does it take to start enjoying myself? Early on, regarding Bruce Willis, I smelled a rat from far, far away. Willis had entered the point of no return: doing a cameo-+ for horrible B movies while pretending to be the star. With this truth in mind, I simply stopped watching anything with Bruce Willis in it, and the amount of time and pain I've avoided has been instrumental in achieving a higher quality of life. I accepted, I realized, I could go through an entire lighter in one night and still harbor feelings of hatred for his films. I'm angry. Angry about how bad, and how lied to, I was. And yet, it was my fault, was it not? I knew, knew what Willis had become. Why then, for so long, did I continue renting, knowing? It was films like Pulp Fiction, The Sixth Sense and the first and second Die Hard. Somehow, somehow, I thought, there must be a just a little bit of magic left. How wrong, how horribly wrong I was. Now that I've recovered, something much more sinister and disturbing has occurred, and that is the movies of Nicolas Cage. You see, Nic generally doesn't do extended cameos. He's just not as famous as Bruce. No, Cage is in the entire film, at least to a degree, which used to mean there is likely at least one scene where we get the glory days back. There he is. Manic, desperate, backed into a corner to the point of no return, a man who will do anything to take revenge or be the hero at the end of the day. Not so with A Score to Settle. No, the writers of this one are so inept they couldn't even come up with something more than a bleached, faded and worn out cliché as a title (how about, "The Essence of Rage with Nic Cage"). The script is worse. It's scattered, the relationships are haphazard and make no sense, we go from one forced and highly inauthentic heart to heart scene to another, nonsensically. There is not much revenge, even though the movie promised us revenge righted. How hard is it? Watch The Horseman and you'll see what I mean. Great movie, no need for special effects, just a strong connection between all the players involved, good acting, directing and a good enough script. I thought when watching, how awesome it would be if, one night, the producers, directors, actors and writers all go to Nic's trailer, admit to their abject failure, and hand him a joint and a pint of Patron, instructing him to rewrite it all as fast as he can. Wouldn't that be better? Wouldn't anything be better? Isn't this the guy who won an Oscar for Leaving Las Vegas? Who starred in Raising Arizona, Adaptation, The Rock, Red Rock West and especially Face Off? Think of the potential still dwelling within, drowned out by the unforgivable crime of lazy directing (Cage is waiting, just waiting, like a curled snake, for you to bring the rage and the madness out of him). I love my cat and he love's me. Best of all, he knows and cuddles me proper when I'm upset by a bad movie and no amount of wine or weed will do. That's what it's come down to? I need a little brute beast work it out for me? THIS MOVIE IS WORSE THAN OUTCAST! And not just by a little! We can forgive Outcast because Outcast has accepted itself as morally and ethically wrong and simply stopped trying after the first few scenes. But this, this, in trying to pretend, and winning, winning because the audience really is that dumb, is why I shall now and forevermore never, ever rent another Nicolas Cage movie. He is now in the bad place with Bruce Willis, never to return from purgatory.
Once Upon a Time in... Hollywood (2019)
Another conflated, self-absorbed Tanantino Film
I'm starting to believe we have convinced ourselves Quentin Tarantino is a bit better than he is. Reservoir Dog's was great and Pulp Fiction a masterpiece. But we now know Tarantino ripped off Roger Avery and took much of the credit for Pulp Fiction. Jackie Brown was good but not excellent, and Kill Bill, From Dusk 'til Dawn and Grindhouse were priceless. True Romance was another he ripped off from Roger Avery. But after all this, after he started solo projects; these films broke down to grandiose, self-absorbed entitlement. Inglorious Bastards and the Fateful Eight are prime examples of a narcissist without license, oversight or direction. They are boring, insipid, bloated and fatal, masked as marvels but sitting in our intuitive gut as failures. Once Upon a Time in Hollywood is the third installment of boring, far too long movies with excellent acting, cinematography and production that money can buy. But if you hated Inglorious and Hateful as much as I did, as the ultimate examples of movies as gaslighting, you will also hate Hollywood. I barely could stand it, writing this review as the gelatinous sand dune of a film progressed. We get the impression Quentin has his hand upon the beating heart of the culture and time period, and yet if we look closer, we see he perceives nothing at best, and a Martin Scorsese's Taxi Driver he is not-in fact, nearly the opposite of. I guess I wish Quentin would have just stayed with what he knows, epitomized in Kill Bill, instead of making these massive bore-fests. However, the worst insult of all is making Hollywood absent of the effect of Manson, relegating him and the murders to a mere suggested subplot. I'm boycotting all future Tarantino releases for this reason only.
The Fanatic (2019)
Travolta is Awesome
Childlike, without insight, perhaps with a low I.Q. and/or on the autistic spectrum, Travolta gives us a very consistent performance of what in the bible is know as a meek one who shall inherit the Earth. Ostensibly this is because he is so self-absorbed, he cannot reflect on the stupid manipulations, game playing propensities and exploitative grandiosity of the human condition in general. He lives in a world of circus freaks, vaudeville vagabonds and train jumping tramps. We love him because he is innocent in his victimhood, acts like a well-trained monkey and salivates like our favorite pet dog, but we grow to fear him as his reality challenged obsession propels his pathetic existence-an existence only perceived to be so by dint of cultural norms for this culture and time period-rabidly individualist and charged with the steroids of narcissism. Yet, there is something wrong with this presentation because such a person does not ring true, which is why DeNiro's Travis Bickel was so terrifying. We all know something a bit like that. Nonetheless, Travolta challenges Cage's manic impetuousness, at least in his best performances, proving he still has the chops to do some great roles, if only given the chance, which gives this one a valiant watch. Unfortunately, the ending, which gives the audience no chance for projective identification, falls flat as a flaccid penis. It makes no sense and appears to wrap up everything due to unintelligible lack of authentic creative imagination of the writers, director and producers. Again, at length, this one is worth watching if for nothing more than Travolta's bizarre-and consistent-performance.
Midsommar (2019)
A bit more engaging than "Suspiria."
"The Witch" was a bit too Avant Garde or "Artsy-Fartsy" for me; it was interesting, even intriguing at times, but had too much desolation symbolism for the average viewer to make sense of much of anything, ostensibly to "make the audience think, question and wonder" about what it all means. Throwing in a Satanic goat here and there is nothing new. David Lynch, as much as I liked half of his movies, is the ultimate director god of this genre. It's a precarious fine line, like many of Bob Dylan's songs, between the artist bringing authentic and mythological meaning to contemporary problems in timeless fashion vs. bogging down into the drainless swamp of the individual's neurosis, most notably exemplified in the older philosophers, such as Nietzsche, who we must extricate the pathological depression from the gems of timeless wisdom regarding the human condition. There is a limited number of explanations available for psycho-phantasmagorical movies: the government, aliens, a dream, the devil, a hallucinogen, the matrix, purgatory etc. (did I miss any?). All of these are copouts, and why the TV series "Lost" imploded upon itself. Most movie audiences are not stupid and will know when they can or cannot suspend disbelief. This will be felt as boredom and an overall sense of stupidity, regret and anger for paying the high cost of the ticket. While slow at times, "Midsommer" does not betray the exciting premise, fortitude and engaging drama of the original "Wicker Man," slowly leading the audience to more subtle and nuanced veils of what is true and what is not. Currently, I am halfway in, hoping the film does not degrade itself by indulging in the "limited explanations" described above. Unfortunately, the trauma story of one of the main characters does not weave perceptibly into the whole, and the movie makers would have been wise to apply a Gestalt to this film: the whole is greater than the sum of the parts, an almost fatal flaw, gladly resuscitated by the quality of the script, the direction and the performance of the young, talented actors. However, I'll just be honest, in the Nicolas Cage remake of the "Wicker Man," as he burning alive in sacrifice for the harvest, there is a strong part of me that wishes, half on fire, he would have catapulted from the upper chamber, broke his arm, and ran screaming to the ocean, diving in, and after bashing his body on the rocks, clinging on, barely clinging on, only to pass out and awake half buried in a crag covered with seaweed and vowing his revenge, then surreptitiously crawling among the salty rocks and breaking into a warehouse-closed for harvest season, replete with all the necessary things required to recover and then turn the island into sausage proper. How much better would that have been? If only the actors, producers, directors and everyone else creating the stage had the vision of a revenge redressed! Okay, now it has dragged on for over 45 minutes, with the main character having orgies and more. I feel the ghost of Nicholson's "The Passenger," and "A passage to India" now-a boredom resembling a sand dune. And so, in the final analysis, don't bother with this one.
Crazy Rich Asians (2018)
Evil Rich Asians
This is a movie where all Asians who work for a living will despise. It emulates the richest class of Asian families while at the same time assuming these families are the norm and representative of humanity. It's sickening in this way. Nonchalantly representing all Asians as perfect little dolls, the movie reduces all Asian women into caricatures and the men into stupid one dimensional characters. It showcases how the massively rich are better, more superior and are inherently worth more than the the rest of us. Sickening.
Alita: Battle Angel (2019)
Unbelievably Mangled by Critics.
I can't understand why the critics hated this film so very much. It meets in the middle between Mortal Machines and District 9, a step above Elysium, A.I., and even better than Ready Player One. The acting is superb, especially by the lead actress. There are a few unnecessary filler romantic and noir scenes, but they are forgivable due to the incredible fighting scenes, editing, special effects and gymnastics. The story is incredible, with the repressed memories alluding to the protagonist's past. While it is no Fifth Element, Looper, 12 Monkeys or Looper, it definitely triumphs Surrogates and Paycheck (though, of course, not Arnold's Total Recall). Just too many hater out there.
The Man Who Killed Hitler and Then the Bigfoot (2018)
So lacking in integrity we must all ban this movie immediately.
The absolute worst movie I have ever seen. Please allow me to explain. There are a few decent scenes and the acting was often very good, in the context of believability. The set designs were above average, with the Nazi imagery almost impeccable at times. The fatal flaw involves how the advertisement of the film blatantly lies as to the content. This is not an action film. It is not a horror film. It is a romantic film using the extreme language of the title to manipulate us into believing it is pure B horror movie magic. And as a romantic film it fails miserably. But it's the marketing lie that fills me with anger more than anything else. This is not a movie about Hitler. It is not a movie about Bigfoot (who is portrayed as a pathetic mashup of an Ewok, the Caveman form the Geico commercials and Ben Shapiro). It is a half-hearted kaleidoscopic mismanaged conglomeration of inept stupidity. I can only pray Sam Elliott is massively ashamed. I can't stand or tolerate lies, and you shouldn't either. This movie is a lie. Don't spent any money on a lie.
Mortal Engines (2018)
So bad you won't even be able to respond
I cannot hope to categorize this movie. I can only say it falls into this category:
Last Action Hero
John Carter
Jupiter Rising
Tomorrowland
Cowboys and Aliens
And yet, to add Mortal Wheels to the above celluloid nightmares would be a compliment, because it's far, far worse than anyone could ever possibly imagine. To better understand, call to mind the most sentimentally syruppy, cringy scene of all the Hobbit Movies: the Hobbits cleaning up after the big meal, singing saccharine jubilee, while throwing plates and pans and cups in the most egregiously impossible way. The opposite of Stanley Kubrick. Now combine this with Jar-Jar Binks, "me so happy!" And you will arrive at entire basic import of Mortal Engines. Why, why does the collapsing cities have Lord of the Rings buildings, homes and every other structure? In no way imaginable would such a technical feat be realized. Nothing makes sense. And it's so, so boring. So incredibly boring. I could feel myself aging, getting fatter even, as the movie progressed. My carpel tunnel even got triggered. This movie means Peter Jackson isn't who we thought he was. Admit it, were you not bored to death during most of the Lord of the Rings. Sure, you wanted to love it. I understand. But in the final analysis, the three movies as whole were bloated, absurdly and toxically racine. Honestly, did anyone truly and authentically cheer, deep down, when Gandolf lit the fireworks in the Shire, puffed on his magic pipe and coddled the Hobbits to his bosom? Time to boycott Jackson. He just got lucky, and he is not a talented film maker.
Halloween (2018)
Horribly disappointing.
I'm not sure why so many get down on Rob Zombie's first Halloween remake. Great characters, acting and driving ambiance. Also, Zombie laid a new spin on it, examining and giving expression to the transformation of the psychopathic boy into the relentless monster-who should be larger than life, a super evil villain, that could only be played by a professional wrestler or a type like that. The physical threat should equal the inner threat. What if Jaws was half the size he was portrayed? The movie would then be laughable. The juvenile script for this inane remake, like Van Zant's Psycho is a by the number's affair, with ghost sheets covering one teen body, Lourie opening a closet hamper and surprise! there's a body on the top shelf, and another stapled to the wall with a kitchen knife-surprise! exactly the same as the original. It's verse chorus verse: Michael escapes on Halloween, goes back to Haddonfield and starts killing; Laurie and the new Dr. and the cop track him down and "kill" him. Laurie Stroud's daughter remarks about Laurie's agoraphobia: "try to understand, she needs cognitive behavior therapy. ?!? Was this a joke? It didn't seem like one. Why not do a little research to find the appropriate treatment for the condition? Easy fix. Shows disconnection in the writers.
Whenever anyone does a remake they must realize the cultural conditions and societal circumstances when the original was made are long over. Christopher Nolan showed us all how "reformation" could be done beautifully with the Batman reboots. The current Zeitgeist must not be ignored, as it was so painfully obviously in this film. It's not like we need the metoo movement shoved in our face; rather, the collective fear of uncertainty, meaninglessness and the unknown could have been potentiated very effectively. These existential fears are already woven into Michael's character, the terror without a face. No one is interested in screaming teenagers anymore. Credit is due though, to a few minor twists and the movie and as a whole competently put together. Sadly, if this was the first Halloween film, it would have been great, but that doesn't make it great, at least culturally. Very disappointed, though entertained.
How about this: the boy Michael is born a very mildly deformed with a pale, ambiguous facial structure, which becomes more this way as he grows. Everything bad imaginable happens to him (the idea of "evil seed," aka: The Omen, is so bleached now, it's just stupid), include bullying, neglect, abandonment. In dreams there is a vague indication of those with a magnetism for the evil of the world. Make it relentless. At age 10, in the most shocking and obscene way imaginable, Michael plucks his baby sister from the crib and kills her. He doesn't touch the bowl of candy in front of him. He kills three more on Halloween night as they knock. Finally, he kills his sister and boyfriend. It's now time for the asylum and Dr. Loomis. Michael is separated from the general populace, but has some interaction with similarly disturbed children. There is a treatment team talking about the many theories, interventions, meds etc. FIve years later things have changed. Dr. Loomis, now a oxycontin abuser (the hospital provides him unlimited access), breaks down in front of colleagues, ranting about evil and his belief Michael has something inside him that draws the "sins of the world." There is nothing metaphysical or religious about this. It is a yet to be measured phenomena, giving rise to the idea of evil, freedom and choice. We later learn "Michael" is an anagram for a Nazi in charge with opening the first McDonald's in Germany in WW2 and whose salutation was "Hile Mac!" (Okay, that was a joke). Now you see we have something both original and adding up the culturally collective Gestalt of 2019. It's like swimming happily in sun soaked waters and suddenly your feet no longer touch the bottom and you've swam into a cold pocket and shark's fin is approaching. Sheer, relentless terror ensues. Perhaps Michael slips into Laurie's home and spies on them from the attack, slowly messing with them and killing them. Laurie sees what is now the final result of the deformity of "no face" and Dr. Loomis finds her. I could go on, but you get the idea!
Caveat: I'm a very stable person with an active imagination, so there's no need to report me (yet another fear, the terror of "being reported for nothing," losing it all, and due to the absence of privacy, never being able to recover. Now that's scary).
The Predator (2018)
Don't go in with any expectations.
I don't get all the negative and hateful reviews of this one. It is what it is and it shall remain what it was. Shane Black could have followed the same tired, old formulaic, by the numbers' storyline as the others. He took a big risk and for some uncanny reason, the producers allowed him to do it. He goes for the camp and the comedy while still giving us plenty of gore and excellently performed Predator action. It nears the absurdity of a B movie with some significant money involved, and I wonder if it will achieve some minor cult status. There is a camaraderie of dunces and loonies trying to avoid government agents while our sacred hero's autistic son has run off with some of the predators' armor and weapons-whom the Predator is tracking. Oliva Munn has an overbite that is incomprehensibly unobscured, which somehow makes her even more alluring and beautiful. The predator dogs is a wonderful addition. And as for our zany bunch, there is just enough authentic creation of synergy to make us like them-though the Tourette's Federation of the World won't like one of them. It's a horror comedy like Dane and Tucker vs. Evil, or The Evil Dead series. And yet, a bit less campy and more like 100 Bloody Acres (highly recommended!). If we are operating on the five-star system, it's a definite 2 ½. On a four-star system, I'll give it a three, for nothing else than finding a way to miraculously attempt to avoid a safe bet in Hollywood where all such endeavors are far too often quashed before seeing the light of fruition. Also there is a nice societal warning: "let's find the best human DNA before for hybrid purposes before global warming claims all human life forever." Nice. If only Arnold had a cameo.
Mile 22 (2018)
Awful, just awful. Nothing more to say than "awful."
This is a bizarre movie. The opening scene is just as good as any Bourne or Sicario like scenes. This is followed by probably one of the most abstruse, convoluted and disconnected series of scenes with Marky Mark and the woman from The Walking Dead. The absolutely incomprehensible screenplay, hideous editing and complete lack of character development or synergy among the cast will make this movie fodder for film school students about what not to do, ever. It's beyond nonsensical. Did not these writers watch 24? If a minor player has verifiable evidence of nuclear annihilation and request immunity, you don't keep telling him, "just give me the information." You give him everything he wants (and kill him later if you want). And then something great happens, an attempted assassination and fight scene, wonderfully shot and choregraphed ensues. I am able to tear my gaze from my computer, watching intently again. There is a vague understanding John Malkovich has ghosted Marky's team. The question of how the first scene went wrong is unanswered, as what the intention of the shadowy Russian spies is. We do know, that because of M&M's screw up from the first scene is that he must stop nuclear materials from being made into bombs (and I'm pretty sure scrapping uranium paste with a paint chisel isn't how making such a bomb goes down). We are lost, left longing, adrift, gaslit, wondering if perhaps we are too stupid to see the Gestalt of it all (the whole is more than the sum of the parts). But nothing could be further from the truth. Again, the directing, editing, screenplay are so massively inept one wonders if a teenage Spielberg could have done a far better job. A coordinated chase and gunfight ensues-again, competently constructed and enjoyable. But it's almost like they used a "scene generator" instead of an actual director. And I've never seen such awful acting from Marky. Here's the rub though, it's not his fault. He does his best to bring life to a completely lifeless script. I imagine a seasoned actor in such a situation, knowing full well the futility of it all, would just do his best to channel Kiefer Sutherland for every scene, as opposed to losing himself in the role and expressing something authentic and engaged (which M&M is perfectly capable of, for example, "Boogie Nights). Think of the best movies as a "flow" experience; all factors melt into one another until a zone based grand scheme is produced. Breaking Bad is a prime example of this. This movie is an example of Seinfeld's George's realization that in order to succeed, he need only do the opposite.
Skyscraper (2018)
Super! Great! Awesome!
God, I love the Rock. We used to call him "The Cock" back in the day, but not in a critical or homophobic way. It's just how we saw him: the ultimate depiction/example of masculine success ever. That he has an authentic sensitive side and is publicly open and honest about his struggles with anxiety and depression only made me love him more. Though I am nearly 100% straight, if I was stuck with a life sentence in a Turkish prison with the Rock, well, who knows what might go down. Jokes aside, he just makes passionate, heartfelt movies with enough financial backing to make them not only good enough, but the perfect escape to the human condition: fantasies masquerading as real life well enough to "suspend disbelief," as they say. Skyscraper, like San Andreas Fault, is another in a great series of Rock movies. Admittedly, to "suspend" one must also be three bong tokes and three glasses of wine in before pressing play, amazingly, I enjoyed this one thoroughly after only two bong tokes and two glasses of wine in. This means Skyscraper is a bit above the rest. It's Big Daddy Rock saving the universe, but it's also great as a recap of the first Die Hard, with sprinkling sweet reminisces of the Poseidon Adventure (yes, yes, I understand the retort: "But that movie had Earnest Borgnine and Shelly Winters in it!" This is true. But Gene Hackman played our beloved protagonist, which trumps all, in any movie, ever). It's pure movie crack. And though that observation might at first glance appear both cliched and trite, it's actually quite hard to accomplish. John Cusack managed it in 2012, but most tries turn into fails. The producers and executives will never, ever understand this, as they are businesspeople first and artists/visionaries...never. This is why none of the Star Wars films reached mythological status, as the first three did. The gatekeepers are just too stupid to see what is right in front of their face.
Revenge (2017)
Absolutely Fantastic
I'm sure there are many who will have a hard time with this film. It is very brutal and violent, with many scenes of gore and mayhem. But like the "Girl with the Dragon Tattoo," the heroine has her revenge. People will also have a hard time with the very obvious objectification of the main character as well. This is a movie that would not be criticized for this in the 70's or 80's, but will be today. My feeling this was the genre or "lens" the filmmakers were going for, for example in the film, "Last House on the Left." It's not PC, and the straight young men will salivate and have wet dreams later on, but it is interesting as a backward glance. Maybe the question is should these kinds of movies be made anymore at all? We don't make extremely racist cartoons anymore (check out Bugs Bunny from the 40's, it's unreal). Is it time for the rape/revenge/porn movie to come to a close? I hope not, at least when the brutality of violence against women is not glorified, but shown for what it is: cruel, revolting and evil. It gets us to point where we cheer for the revenger. I can't understand how so many people hated this film, giving it one or two stars. The acting, script, editing and cinematography is excellent. It got something like 86% positive on Rotten Tomatoes. It's an awesome film, if you like revenge films, right up there with The Horseman (the Australian film, not the Dennis Quaid one). Again, not for the faint of heart, but if you like intentional Tarantino-like 70's style grindhouse, this one is for you.
The Snowman (2017)
Far Better Than The Arse-buns critics On Rotten Tomatoes
The critics gleefully rip this one to shreds. They have many valid points, such as the dragging flow, confusing narrative of it all--a insipid and pervasive banality underlying. But the acting, cinematography, lighting and direction keep this one moving in a lesser impact than Crimson Rivers, but at least at par with Dennis Quaid's "The Horseman." This one should probably be a mainstay in film school about a movie that failed though all the right ingredients were present: a popular novel about a serial killer, one of our best actors living, superb supporting cast and a great premise. But the film feels like they shot a bunch of scenes, threw them into a lotto grinder, and hoped for the best. Was the editing the fallure? And if so, who approve the editing failure? Was it a direction failure? If so, which producers signed off on their final product? Really, all they had to do was follow the basic 80's horror films: a traumatized child, a mother complex, followed by compulsive sausage grinding. Why didn't they just follow a few episodes of Blacklist or Hannibal? So Easy. Was the ego of the director allowed so much freedom to mess this one up this bad? Honestly, without any film experience at all, following basic formulas, I'm sure I could have directed this one into a pale version of Silence of the Lambs, leaving all tech to everyone else, and instead using my skills as a psychologist to work with the actors to give their best performance.
Let's just see if we can come up with our own story....there is a detective. An alcoholic detective--who strangely experiences missing gaps in time. Suddenly, he begins receiving messages from a serial killer--formerly dubbed as "The Picasso Killer," (because he arranges his victims within grotesque picture frames in surreal fashion). The messages taunt and tease him, sending him vague clues he must decipher in order to stop the next killing. But then a twist occurs. The detective is actually suffering from multiple personality disorder, and it is then revealed he has been writing letters to himself all along. But then there is another twist, a twist within a twist, for we then understand the detective has a paradoxical form of multiple personality disorder in which he believes he and his twin are one person, due of course to childhood abuse. Who is the cop and who is the twin? The twin is a high ranking political candidate, sure of his victory, which is predicated on his twin detective solving his murderous rampage. Sounds great, doesn't it? Movie Time!
A Quiet Place (2018)
Horrible, awful, the worst ever, EVER!
An awesome premise. A great screenplay. Incredible acting. Sublime cinematography--all completely wasted and destroyed by a few stupid and inane decisions. Unreal. Could have been the current version of The Thing or even Alien. Instead, we are introduced to stupid people who make stupid decisions based on the current circumstances: generally, shutting up. No explanation is given, no reason alluded to, and no resolve intimated. The greatest and most stupidest movie all at once. I can't stand it.