The discourse sure to result from the release of Alex Garland’s sobering action drama Civil War (A) is akin to the elucidating actions of his central quartet of war correspondents and photographers: simply, it’s all about the processing. Garland’s brilliant film documents several days in America’s fictional second civil war through the lens of journalists struggling to survive as the U.S. government has become a dystopian dictatorship and partisan extremist militias regularly commit war crimes. Garland is opaque about the motivations and beliefs of the two sides fighting, with few political signifiers distracting the mostly neutral press from simply chronicling the events as they see them. In addition to being an exacting and efficient war movie, it’s also an illuminating multi-generational road trip with Kirsten Dunst’s measured war photographer, Cailee Spaeny as her accidental apprentice, Wagner Moura as the gonzo chaser-dude and Stephen McKinley Henderson as the sage pragmatist thrust in the middle of a war zone together. All four actors are sensational, with Dunst earning VIP status for her grizzled and guarded portrayal of a woman who can only see clearly when brandishing her camera. The film is a stunning spectacle of shock and awe with nary a false note as the four disparate characters encounter traumatic, heartbreaking, grisly and surprising episodes along their fractured odyssey. Still-frame snapshots often punctuate profound moments within action sequences to amplify the horror and humanity. Garland also physically and metaphorically thrusts his actors into extreme settings to maximize turns and themes, and the film’s final showdown ups the intensity with an epic infiltration into familiar territory to make nearly any viewer question personal allegiance. This is a motion picture designed to stir up conversation; hopefully those who embark on the resultant discussions will be as clear-minded as this skilled filmmaker in addressing the matters at hand.
The “tonal” eclipse arrived early. Despite early buzz comparing the film favorably to Rocky, RRR, John Wick and Die Hard, the India-set revenge thriller Monkey Man (C), directed by and starring Dev Patel, is Jai-ho-hum. Other than the intrigue intrinsic in the exotic location, there’s not much creative or new going on in this picture. Patel is unsteady as both auteur and actor, although he deserves kudos for the sportsmanlike effort. The film’s politics feel defanged and rushed while the grisly action sequences often go nowhere fast. Patel, usually such a lithe and literate presence, is a man of few words as a young man avenging a crime against his family who sets his sights on toppling the top echelon of his nation’s government. Neither of his alter egos as a prizefighter festooned in ape mask nor his street fighting dishwasher with king-fu moves are as interesting as occasional flashbacks with his mother, played by the lovely Adithi Kalkunte. The protagonist is loosely inspired by the legend of Hanuman, a Hindu deity who leads an army of monkeys against the demon king Ravana. The story from epic poetry symbolizes defiance against oppression and may remind viewers how much more effective The Green Knight was in summoning verse to exhilarating effect. I’m not sure what Jordan Peele saw in this routine revenge thriller released by his production company, as this film doesn’t strongly evolve its genre.
Get ready to experience pulp friction of the edgiest order as a mismatched love story collides with a badass crime drama and all-out revenge and cover-up saga in the consistently surprising Love Lies Bleeding (B), directed by Rose Glass. Set in the 1980s, this often unhinged movie chronicles the sexy relationship between a gym manager played by Kristen Stewart and a nomadic bodybuilder portrayed by Katy O’Brian, with a powderkeg or two threatening the serenity of their sapphic world order. Both women are incredible in the roles; their unbridled feral chemistry is a necessary foundation on which the most outlandish episodes can take place. Ed Harris and Dave Franco are also compelling as outrageous and dangerous men; and it’s clear we the audience are settling in for some supernatural splatter when steroids stoke the kindling of the bonfire. After opening sequences ground the story in a very specific world, some of the plot lines admittedly become completely ridiculous. But Glass keeps the story taut and entertaining with a clever eye for detail and noirish nuances. This is a very fun indie walk on the wild side.
Denis Villeneuve brings IMAX-certified cameras to a knife fight and creates a picturesque panorama largely missing the joy of discovery so present in its predecessor as the director continues his interplanetary sci-fi saga in Dune: Part Two (B-). As the protagonist, Timothée Chalamet has grown into a more credible and physically impressive action hero this time around, and he’s paired nicely with Zandaya as he endeavors to be a man of the people on the desert planet known for its valuable spice and menacing sand worms. The first installment included lots of enjoyable palace intrigue and even some moments of sentiment and humor; part two is super-serious, even leaden at times, and it mainly meanders toward a showdown without introducing too many new locales, costumes or bags of tricks into the mix. Despite their pedigree, Christopher Walken and Florence Pugh don’t make much of an impression, but Austin Butler is definitely doing some sort of big swing as the big bad of this sequel; it seemed briefly promising he was going to breathe some new life into the ponderously paced second reel. The film is technically impressive though, with swirling vistas and majestic production design more than worthy of its somewhat underdeveloped themes about destiny and heroism. As a piece of cinema, it’s a wonder to behold with action sequences well blocked and the ante being upped a time or two, even if it just doesn’t land the ship like the first movie did. There were frankly some elements I preferred in the universally derided David Lynch adaptation. Villaneuve’s film is so gorgeously shot, it could have been a great silent movie, with two hours plus of splendid pageantry and Hans Zimmerman’s rousing music swelling before our eyes and ears. See it on the big screen, for sure, but I’m going to bring expectations down just a notch.
So insistent on its own cleverness as it churns out plot twists like sorcerer’s apprentice brooms, Matthew Vaughn’s meta spy thriller comedy Argylle (C) has the cumulative effect of wearing out its welcome. Bryce Dallas Howard plays a cat-loving spy novelist drawn into a real-life adventure similar to the events in her popular book series, accompanied by visions of her fictional hero (an underused Henry Cavill) and a mysterious stranger portrayed by a scrappy Sam Rockwell, who wrings whatever comedy he can out of his character. Howard and Rockwell lack the chemistry or distinction to cannily add much to the “author embroiled in her own book” canon à la Romancing the Stone and Lost City, so Vaughn spends most of the film’s unnatural duration trying to confound audience expectations with a Russian roulette of reveals. Once it’s apparent the central characters are mind-numbingly mid, all the shooting spree ballets and choreographed lair infiltrations feel like a prodigious pile-on. The notion of doubling down and doubling back on double agents leading double lives starts off octo-feisty but devolves into fussy galore. Meanwhile the busy enterprise squanders the talents of John Cena, Bryan Cranston, Ariana DeBose, Samuel L. Jackson and Catherine O’Hara while gliding through lackluster set pieces. The dapper design aesthetic Vaughn has been building for his Kingsman films just feels like a joyless rut here, with globetrotting locales appearing like LED screen backdrops; and for all the kinetic stunts and needle drops, the movie doesn’t register as brisk or snappy. There are occasional inspired bits and handsome flourishes dotting this often leaden lark, but it’s all too much at the service of a clunky vehicle in constant motion. Overly salted and shaken, this action romp proves to be cluttered popcorn.
This is a last great gasp of mainstream Sundance Film Festival cinema in which a feisty independent-living grandma treks across L.A. to get even with a telephone fraudster who almost got the best of her. Josh Margolin’s Thelma (B) features a mighty performance by the wonderful June Squibb and another by the late, great Richard Roundtree as a friend from a neighboring nursing home with one last great adventure left in him as well. Fred Hechinger is a hoot as her technology enabling grandson, but Parker Posey and Clark Gregg don’t have much to do as his parents. The film is at its clever best as it follows a sleuthing spy type storyline, with hearing aid volume controls and GPS identity bracelets subbing in for the kinds of gadgets Q used to whip up in the lab. As Thelma, Squibb is a fully rounded character with spunk, sass and a sharp mind. The film fully humanizes her character, even though the script and story could have been much stronger. Still, it’s a fun lark and a great chance to watch Squibb and Roundtree whoop it up.
Traditional disaster movies can veer toward the exploitive or sensational, but if anyone was up for the challenge of thoughtfully dramatizing the 1972 Andean mountain range plane crash in which only a third of those aboard survive (formerly told in 1993’s Alive), it’s the skilled director of the tsunami thrillerThe Impossible, J.A. Bayona. His Society of the Snow (aka La sociedad de la nieve) (B+) is grueling and rewarding, crafted with epic filmmaking skill and an ample running time and showcasing a stirring spiritual side to the story of resilience. Those stranded by the downed plane have various conflicting perspectives about how to handle their struggle, which escalates as they face hunger, avalanche and much more. Told with desaturated colors and realistic sound mixing against a formidable icy landscape, it’s a profound and immersive work. The film’s Uruguayan and Argentine cast members, most of whom are newcomers, include talented actors Agustín Pardella, Matías Recalt, Fernando Contigiani García and Enzo Vogrincic Roldán as rugby teammates who take on key roles to overcome their dire situation. Visual effects supervisor Laura Pedro and cinematographer Pedro Luque do wonderful work to depict muscular action and wilderness survival against a rugged, stark setting as we watch the characters waste away while keeping inventive options open. The film also honors those who were lost in the tragedy with poignant visual overlays to Michael Giacchino’s evocative music. As survivors become one another’s best hope and face moral questions and rare moments of levity, Bayona creates a gripping drama and demonstrates why the story is so worthy of telling.
Even if the great radioactive reptilian monster didn’t actually make an appearance in the movie – and he does, spectacularly, Godzilla Minus One (aka Gojira Mainasu Wan) (B+) would still be a fascinating epic exploring survivor’s guilt and overcoming collective trauma. This Japanese kaiju film directed, written and with visual effects supervised by Takashi Yamazaki, takes place in Japan during the late days of WWII and the ensuing years as a kamikaze pilot played by Ryunosuke Kamiki must reckon with his own failure to act when faced with his own fear of mortality. The narrative weaves in real-life historic events such as the bombing of Tokyo and nuclear tests at Bikini Atoll which lend gravitas to the proceedings, plus there’s a tight domestic drama as well opposite exquisite actress Minami Hamabe providing an emotional center of gravity to the existential scare of a giant beast emerging. The film is smart when it comes to the physics of trying to thwart the threat and authentic in its depiction of characters overcoming obstacles. When the towering terror does make a series of signature appearances, the effects are tremendous and the destruction on a gargantuan scale. The film’s crafts are impeccable with standouts including cinematography by Kōzō Shibasaki and music by Naoki Satō; the film plays more like an intimate historical drama than a creature feature and will undoubtedly reward those who experience it on a big screen.
Who better to deliver both the deliberate and the deadpan than director David Fincher, who finds his match in phenomenal actor Michael Fassbender as the titular assassin of The Killer (B+)? A master of meticulous procedurals, Fincher places his latest antihero at the helm of tidy chapters in successive global cities with a droll voice-over narrating the nuances of what it means to be a hitman. After an intriguing inciting incident, the main man must maneuver through an episodic series of entertaining gauntlets to untangle a violent labyrinth. There’s a consistent tone of the unexpected in both the action and the humor, and although there’s not a lot of straight-up dialogue, there’s a wonderful sequence opposite the splendid Tilda Swinton that crystallizes the film’s themes. The protagonist’s creative techniques are met with marvelous camera work and music. If the noirish film suffers from any fault, it’s a little too cold and consistent (imagine that from Fincher!) but it’s never tedious or boring. In fact this gritty, graceful feature film is as efficient as a bullet in making its mark.
The cure for superhero fatigue? Cut tie-ins to extraneous characters and multiverses of quantum physics straining credulity, focus on an outsider of humble roots, tell an origin story we haven’t seen before and raise the stakes for a showdown involving characters we enjoy. Basically do what Ángel Manuel Soto’s does in Blue Beetle (B+)! Buoyed by Cobra Kai star Xolo Maridueña as the movie’s charismatic protagonist, Soto tells the story of a working class Mexican-American family in the fictional Palmera City facing a supernatural shock to the system that jettisons them into life as DC Universe warriors. The film is consistently engaging with escalating threats and joyful action abounding. The hero’s family customs and worldview are central to the film’s successful audience engagement, with George Lopez and Belissa Escobedo as comic relief highlights in his close-knit Latino family. Only Susan Sarandon misses the mark with an underdeveloped role as a ruthless baddie. The adventure overstays its welcome a bit, but novel and nostalgic flourishes keep the film fairly fresh. Bobby Krlic’s symphonic score sets a manic mood, and the special effects are competent enough to populate a believable world. Families will enjoy seeing a multigenerational group of likable characters rise to the occasion.
A B movie with an A message, Alejandro Monteverde’s Sound of Freedom chronicles an unconventional mission by real-life hero Tim Ballard, a U.S. government agent turned mercenary played by Jim Caviezel, who courageously endeavors to rescue children from sex traffickers in Colombia. The writing and acting could have used substantial polishing as much of the film feels like a prolonged PSA (down to a barcode at the end to pay it forward). But as an eye-opening expose of a major societal issue, it’s insightful and at times riveting. Sometimes this undercover thriller feels like it wants to attain the gravitas of a Donnie Brasco or The Departed but often gets sidelined with the craft of a late-season 21 Jump Street episode. There are genuine pacing issues especially in the final reel, after one of the most ingenious acts of entrapment has already taken place and somewhat bursts the momentum. The kid actors are almost roundly better than the adults as the movie relies a little too heavily on obvious tropes, overly sensationalized sentimentality and a moment or two of Rambo meets Taken ham-fisted histrionics. A pencil-mustached pedophile and a supportive wife character played by Mira Sorvino with fewer than three lines didn’t help add to the nuance. However, the film’s message is both faith-based and universal, that God’s children are not for sale. The power of storytelling is crystallized in a meta message from the lead actor in that much-ballyhooed mid-credits narrative and could have been streamlined throughout with judicious edits. But the cause to celebrate is that this movie is inspiring action to tackle a truly dark topic and promoting a global conversation. The director handles sensitive issues delicately and motivates viewers to action.
There’s a nearly thirty minute series of cutaways in his overlong new stunt spectacular in which Tom Cruise is seen winding through mountains on a motorcycle towards his inevitable jump from a mountain onto a train; if only that level of coordination had been reserved for story and script! Christopher McQuarrie’s Mission Impossible: Dead Reckoning – Part One (B) is a sturdy entry in the cat and mouse action series with exciting sequences and set pieces, the addition of an intriguing new character in the form of actress Hayley Atwell and a timely menace – an artificial intelligence platform. Clunky exposition doesn’t get any better when the dialogue is shared like a hot potato among everyone gathered in a scene, but a viewer would get drunk if imbibing a shot every time the mansplaining by committee motif gets trotted out by the screenwriters. The whole enterprise feels like warmed-over James Bond without many flashes of romantic intrigue or humor, but the practical effects are rendered with grit and grace. It’s the speeding locomotive finale (not just the prolonged jump onto it) that cinches the deal this is a stunt show best seen on a big screen. Simon Pegg is consistently amusing, and Pom Klementieff is an enjoyable physical threat in this packed ensemble. Esai Morales isn’t given much to do as the big bad, but the story’s overall series of threats feel real throughout. This is part one of a two-part story and works admirably as a standalone film as well.
