Spy (B+), the latest collaboration between Bridesmaids director Paul Feig and his comic muse Melissa McCarthy, is both a successful send-up of espionage films and a running showcase of hilarious dialogue and pratfalls. Although it falls into the overlong territory (Judd Apatow started this trend in comedies), it is stuffed with double-crosses, witty quips and madcap action. McCarthy is a hoot as an unexpected but ultimately highly credible heroine, and she becomes more and more comfortable in her own skin as she dons an array of frumpy disguises. Rose Byrne is a fabulous foil as an Eastern Bloc baddie, with piercing, non-ironic zingers leveled at our protagonist. Jason Statham and Jude Law are surprisingly daft in their comic moments as well. The film is a great escape, brassy, vulgar and a laugh riot.
“Jurassic World” Exhumes Fossils of Structure Without Meat
You know your movie is weak when it compares unfavorably to that monster-invades-a-theme-park classic Jaws 3-D. Colin Trevorrow’s Jurassic World (C-) neither rediscovers nor reinvigorates its dinosaurs-on-the-loose franchise and squanders its inevitability as a blockbuster hit with a soggy script, ho-hum effects and misplaced momentum. Aimlessly dispatching stock characters like a Sims game on continuous loop, the film attempts to up the ante of its cinematic predecessors by introducing a genetic hybrid dinosaur and newly minted action figure Chris Pratt. The hero does what he can with his dreck dialogue. Vying for most annoying cast member are Bryce Dallas Howard as park administrator most identified by her red shag wedge and Vincent D’Onofrio as a bloated villain in waiting. There are a total of two suspenseful sequences, one involving two rather unengaging teenage brothers and another when Pratt is in the cage with his dino-nemesis. Trevorrow adds nothing to the prehistoric pantheon with what could most charitably be described as paint by numbers.
“Tomorrowland” a Dubious Destination
Disney’s history of imagination is unparalleled, but the studio’s shaky track record of sci-fi is paved with the likes of The Black Hole, The Computer Wore Tennis Shoes and Tron Legacy. So the squandered opportunity for redemption is mighty in Brad Bird’s Tomorrowland (C-), an ambitious film that is full of ideas but misses the mark on executing most of them. The vapid protagonist played by Britt Robertson speaks mainly in cliches, and when she partners with George Clooney in what is basically an extended cameo, he doesn’t add much either to the proceedings aside from faux Han Solo gruffness. There’s lots of overreach about saving mankind from its own destiny, but Bird doesn’t do a good job outlining the plot to properly take audiences along for the ride. What’s left are a few lovely nostalgia scenes, some half-sketched visions of the future, some awkward robots (TV’s Small Wonder was more believable) and an underdeveloped sense of majesty. The film, overstuffed with good intention, is mostly a bloated bore.
“Mad Max: Fury Road” is Intense Action Thriller
The first act of director George Miller’s latest post-apocalyptic epic left me a bit mixed on Max, but as the propulsive parade of vehicular adventure progresses, it became clear that we do indeed need another hero. The adrenaline filled reboot Mad Max: Fury Road (B) is precision tuned in its breakneck stunt work, gloriously specific in its troupe of odd denizens aboard citadel towers and on monster trucks and near operatic in its pacing with few words punctuated by Junkie XL’s thrilling percussion and guitar. Ridin’ dirty in lead acting roles are Tom Hardy and Charlize Theron; and despite their character development coming a bit too little too late, they are strong physical actors for the journey. The film contains unexpected subtext about female empowerment as Theron’s character is delivering the villain’s wives to safe territory, and she is fierce in the role. Sequences with near-impossible odds, such as when Max is fighting with one arm chained to a car door and the other cuffed to a comatose man, showcase Miller’s strong action instincts in their rawest and most entertaining form. Hardy reclaims road warrior-dom from white collar execs and flexes uncanny instincts even when his character is going from one unpleasant challenge to another. Filmed in an orange hue that would make John Boehner envious, it’s a visceral ride into a thunderous domain.
“Pitch Perfect 2” Brings On the Sonic Sisterhood
Furious 7 delivered a winning formula earlier this spring: a diverse, likable ensemble with over-the-top automotive stunts and even a bit of nostalgia. Replace race cars with riffs, and you have the imminently pleasing aca-comedy sequel Pitch Perfect 2 (B+), sure to please the franchise faithful. Elizabeth Banks, who repeats her funny gig as a wry music contest commentator, takes the helm as director of PP2, and she orchestrates a creative bumper-crop of pranks, pratfalls, life lessons and female empowerment. Anna Kendrick gets a smart subplot working for a music producer (masterfully played by Keegan-Michael Key) while Hailee Steinfeld skillfully assumes the ingenue role. Rebel Wilson and Adam DeVine bring ample comic relief from the frantic quest to restore the Bellas’ good names after a wardrobe malfunction causes global pandemonium. Several sequences are mild misfires, but mostly it’s a summer camp-fest of fun and surprises. There’s music and one-liners aplenty to keep this pop bonbon sweet and sassy. The script’s respect for the female ensemble and for music itself is admirable. It’s a rollicking ride that at times surpasses the original film’s cult success and is certainly bound for box office glory.
Superhero Ensemble Continues in “Avengers: Age of Ultron” (2015)
Joss Whedon’s Avengers: Age of Ultron (C) assembles all of the superheroes from the original hit but little of the wit for a flimsy follow-up. Lumbering, uninspired and overlong, the film now carries the burden of having to extend the franchise that’s now in spinoffs, on TV and cross-platform. It all seems like a perfunctory business exercise; attempts to elevate the excitement and the scale of the fight sequences just become lugubrious. Without a clear protagonist and with a metal villain whose intentions beyond destruction are unclear, the film limps to its inevitable box office triumph. One sequence with the heroes all trying to hoist Thor’s hammer captures the potential charm of this many greats in one comic movie; the rest is forced.
The Cars are the Stars in “Furious 7” (2015)
The cars are the stars, and the wheels in the sky keep on turning in James Wan’s automotive aerial action ballet Furious 7 (B). Over the top in nearly every way, this popcorn flick assembles the gang of driving adventurers led by the minimally expressive Vin Diesel to thwart a British baddie (Jason Statham), conquer two ambitious tasks and then coast through a more traditional and endless car chase in the final reel. But, oh that first duo of tasks! From a sheer stunt spectacular perspective, the parachuting cars into enemy territory and a Dubai penthouse-set vehicular escape involving a drive through three skyscrapers are a gravity-be-damned wonder to behold. The 13 year old boy who is clearly concepting the script gets it nearly all in place: the buxom beauties, the exotic locales, hilarious quips from a spry Tyrese Gibson, the street fights, equal opportunity wrestling matches (go, Michelle Rodriguez!) involving lots of smashed glass and even some Tokyo grift. The hood ornament on top of the proceedings is a sentimental postscript tribute to golden boy Paul Walker, the heart of the series who passed away before the movie shoot completed. This bittersweet tinge underscores themes of family and brotherhood in a film that is otherwise as subtle as a trucker’s mudflap. And while ludicrous and featuring Ludacris, the enterprise holds together in a whole “muscle cars in space” kinda way. For action fans who don’t need a whole lotta subtext under the hood, this sequel delivers the goods.
“Do I Sound Gay?” an Intriguing Documentary
David Thorpe’s documentary Do I Sound Gay? (C-) plumbs the mystery behind why many gay men over-articulate certain letters and use clearer vowels for a longer duration than their straight counterparts. Thorpe proves a rather non-engaging central character and makes very few interesting choices in chronicling his own journey to transform his way of talking. Interviewing experts, celebrities and real-life guys and showcasing a bit of pop cultural historical context, the proceedings also prove to be a bit of a bore. Amidst all the analysis of micro variations, code switching and linguistic and psychological terminology is a half-baked message about being yourself. Perhaps the sequel will be Did I Just Watch That?
“I Am Michael” an Intriguing Drama
Justin Kelly’s I Am Michael (B+) is a gripping true story about a gay magazine editor who has a series of revelations that lead him to attempt to alter his sexual orientation. Fully realized by James Franco, the title character is complex and sympathetic as he wrestles with issues of faith and identity. The quirky actor should be commended for courageousness in a mature and layered performance and in behind the scenes work to get this fascinating story told. The film’s reverse coming out story with a main character who transforms from player to prayer coupled with the filmmakers’ unwillingness to be reductive leads the narrative down unexpected and rewarding paths. As the protagonist’s love interests, Zachary Quinto and Emma Roberts are effective foils for what seems like a folly. It’s all sensitively handled and executed with earnestness. What could have fallen into a Reefer Madness style propaganda film about the ex-gay movement actually lifts up nuance as a core asset and provides fodder for thought.
David Cronenberg’s “Maps to the Stars” is Alluring
Films such as Wilder’s Sunset Boulevard, Altman’s The Player and Lynch’s Mulholland Drive are some of the most definitive movies in the “gritty inside Hollywood” canon; and really, the always interesting David Cronenberg’s latest work, Maps to the Stars (B-), doesn’t even belong in the same discussion with them. But as a bleak portrait of just how soulless and bizarre Tinseltown can be, it’s really quite a fascinating freakshow recommended only for those perversely fascinated with the underbelly of glamour and glitz. Julianne Moore plays washed-up actress “Havana Segrand,” whose character name alone gives you all the clues you need to know that the film will occasionally be over-the-top ridiculous. Moore plays against type and blurs every line between public life and intimacy as we see her in astonishing rawness playing a callow climber. She’s a touch point between several characters in a dysfunctional family including Mia Wasikowska as a whack-job returning to town after a mysterious absence, her child-actor turned rehab-teen brother played deliciously by Evan Bird and their dad (a miscast) John Cusack who is somewhere between psycho and therapist as a self-help guru. It’s a cautionary tale without answers and a puzzle box of an ensemble drama without an easy resolution. Shades of a less well thought out Magnolia hang over the multi-story proceedings like the story it could have been, with a pinch of Cronenberg’s own 1996 sex-in-car-wrecks drama Crash thrown into the stew, sending anyone without the patience for this type of thing running for the Hollywood hills, the exit door or the eject button. Still, despite its messiness, its baffling final act and its complete lack of mainstream appeal, it was an intriguing pulp curiosity and kept me fascinated throughout. Cronenberg invites his audiences to be the ultimate voyeurs, a notion repeated in his best work (History of Violence, The Fly, Dead Ringers, Eastern Promises, Videodrome – someone please give this guy an award already!) and even in his experiments (oddities such as Naked Lunch and eXistenZ). His Brundlefly mash-up with a Hollywood tell-all lends the film its sly signature. The movie is crude, tonally jumbled and often half-baked in comparison to his modern masterpieces, but it still plumbs magnificent depths. There’s no GPS system that will take you to where you’re gonna go here, but I liked the journey just fine.
“Fifty Shades of Grey” Adapts Popular Novel
For about half of its duration, Sam Taylor-Johnson’s Fifty Shades of Grey (C) maintains a fairly respectable sense of intrigue about whether its bookish co-ed (Dakota Johnson) and her unlikely business magnate boyfriend (Jamie Dornan) will indeed be an ideal match, despite his S&M tendencies. Alas the film gets tied up in fifty shades of loose plot-ends and considerably mounting degrees of absurdity. For a while a meet-cute romance and then a bit of an erotic thriller, the film seems to be at a loss for what it all is supposed to add up to by the final reel. It’s fine to tease the notion of “how far would you go for love?” but then you have to actually answer that question. The two leads are game for the pulpy page-turner quality until they are stuck in a puzzle box that neither illuminates their cardboard characters nor elicits any real answers on theme. With all its talk of negotiations and contracts, it practically had the ambition of at least becoming an Indecent Proposal or Disclosure level pop opus, but it fizzles and flails in most regards. Supporting characters are introduced and summarily dismissed, and the sexy sequences total about seven. And they’re not even as deadly sinful as many viewers will be hoping. Let’s just say the film is likely to leave folks wanting, and not in the ways they may wish.
“Last Five Years” Makes a Magnificent Musical Movie
In music and in life, synching up is half the battle. For the two lovers orbiting and intersecting with each other through Richard LaGravenese’s adaptation of the Jason Robert Brown musical The Last Five Years (A), the language of tough love is song, and the deck is shuffled with her story told backward and his forward. The “he” is Jeremy Jordan, and the “she” is Anna Kendrick, and both are in spectacular voice and game for the virtually all-sung emoting. Kendrick’s struggling actress character draws from the actress’ considerable charms and everywoman humor. Jordan is also stunning in his debonair dismissiveness as an on-the-rise novelist whose fame is ablaze just as Kendrick’s character crashes and burns. With hand-held aesthetic and its cunning chronology, it’s a bit like Once meets Memento, with shades of young love out of the Before Sunrise playbook and a found footage quality à la Blair Witch. There’s something else afoot here: a giddiness teetering to melancholy and an overarching uncertainty about where it’s all headed. It does seem clear from the opening sequence that the titular timeline doesn’t end well for the couple, but in still life and snapshots within the various montages, there’s enduring hope. A breezy indie spirit imbues the affair with a veritable home movie quality, with the audience a voyeur to a relationship always on the brink. LaGravenese is scrappy and uncommon in his approach, which rewrites many of the rules of the genre. Naturalistic and unexpectedly moving, it’s a marvel of a musical.
The film’s co-star talks to TheaterMania about the film adaptation of the cult stage musical: