FILM REVIEW: The Insult (2017)

Directed by Ziad Doueiri

* * * *

A loved one of mine was once in a very complicated situation, one so complicated that it would eventually have to be settled in court – I once went to court in support of this loved one. Here’s where it gets interesting: this was my first time ever stepping into a court house, let alone seeing a case unfold in such a setting. What I witnessed was far from what I expected. Seeing the way the judge went from one case to the next, the performance-like expositions of the lawyers, plaintiffs, and defendants, I never once felt the weight of the law in the situation. Rather, I felt like I was back in high school competitive speech, watching the next round unravel. The laughable nature of it all completely altered my perspective on the law and justice forever. I’m much more cynical about it now.

The Courtroom Drama is not one of my more favored subgenres, thus I’ve not seen too many films in the category. Out of the ones I have seen, no film has captured the ridiculousness of the court of law quite like The Insult. That word again – ridiculous. The Insult is where a court case starts a domino effect that eventually results in civil unrest. All over a simple verbal insult.

It is present day Beirut. Tony Hanna (Adel Karam) is living a decent, working-class life with his wife Shirine (Rita Hayek), who is pregnant with their child. They are Lebanese Christians. Meanwhile, Yasser (Kamel El Basha), a Palestinian, earns his living as a construction worker. He is working on a city block when a splash of water falls on his head – it is from Tony, who was watering his plants, due to an illegally placed drain on his balcony. Yasser is irritated, but takes it upon himself to correct the drain. As soon as it is fixed, Tony smashes it with a hammer. “Fucking prick,” Yasser mutters.

And there is our titular insult.

Tony is outraged by it. Yasser’s company attempts to make it up to him, but all without an apology directly from Tony, which he demands. At one point, Yasser approaches Tony, perhaps to apologize, but Tony can only unleash a vocal tirade, at one point exclaiming “I wish Ariel Sharon would have wiped all of you out!” Yasser returns Tony’s vocal offense with a punch, resulting in two broken ribs. Yasser is put in jail for assault, and the situation is taken to court. All Tony wants is an apology out of Yasser, which he does not give. A stalemate hits the court, and the case is dismissed. Tony is infuriated by the court. He goes to a lawyer, still hell-bent on getting this settled. On the flip side, a lawyer approaches Yasser, who believes Yasser was justified in his assault per the penal code.

When I call The Insult ridiculous, I mean that in the best way possible. It’s interesting to note that director Doueiri served as a camera operator on Reservoir Dogs, Pulp Fiction, and Jackie Brown. It is very clear that Doueiri took notes from Quentin Tarantino, because The Insult’s dialogue is always riveting. That combined with a sense that the walls are always closing in, The Insult possesses a combustible energy on the verge of exploding, and these exemplary qualities shine brightest during the courtroom sequences.

A lesser film would have the viewers asking “Why don’t these two just get over themselves?” But it works here. At the heart of The Insult is two men buried in their own pride. The grayness of their exchanges makes their situation all the more interesting: there is no character in the right or wrong. Yes, Yasser did insult Tony, but Tony’s remark about Ariel Sharon is enough to ignite a wildfire within anybody (this is all made the more powerful from the performances from their respective actors).

The case eventually catches national attention. The politics and history surrounding the fact that the two men are Lebanese Christian & Palestinian stirs the country’s emotions. The gallery gets louder and more hostile with each hearing. One hearing eventually leads to physical exchanges, and that leads to civil unrest. Riots break out, innocent casualties ensue, and the police are put on high-alert. As ludicrous as it sounds, the scenario always seems plausible, which is also why it is so disturbing.

I’m at a really intense tug-of-war with myself in deciding between a 3.5 or a 4 for The Insult. My lack of knowledge with the politics of the situation left me lost at times. In all fairness, this is my fault, but The Insult is very concerned with its politics without clear exposition - until the climax, that is (I also admit that this is probably why this review comes off as rather clunky). But as much as it is concerned with its politics, it never forgets that there are human beings at the center of this. As lost as I may have been from time to time, The Insult always had me gripped to my seat in thrilled unease, and for these reasons I award it a 4. The Insult is one of the nominees for the Best Foreign Picture of 2017. Whether it is deserving of the award, I cannot say – I’m yet to see the other nominees. But I can say with complete confidence that the nomination is fully deserved.

FILM REVIEW: Every Day (2018)

Directed by Michael Sucsy

* * 1/2

You may ask how I felt about Every Day. I can’t exactly say it worked, but a more interesting question would be “Could Every Day have worked?” That is what I am sitting here deep in thought about. While it may not be a good movie, Every Day is also a fascinating anomaly that can’t possibly be forgotten and deserves further examination. As far as plot is concerned, I cannot think of a single film like it.

Rhiannon (Angourie Rice) seems like an average, unremarkable teenage girl. She is dating Justin (Justice Smith). When the film begins, he encourages her to cut school for the day and spend a day on the boardwalk together. She gleefully agrees. They sing along to the radio and play in the sand. She even tells him intimate details about her home life – particularly her issues with her isolated father, who underwent a manic episode some time ago – details so personal her best friend doesn’t even know about them. A wonderful day was had, but all good things must come to an end.

The following day, Justin is back to his cocky and selfish old self. He wants to keep Rhiannon as his girlfriend, but less out of genuine love than simply a token. Quite a boring fellow, too: he invites her over to his place, but all he does is sit and play video games (she doesn’t even get to play). Her friends tell her to dump him, but she seems content.

Strange things begin to happen. Rhiannon is frequently approached by random peers, all enthusiastic to get to see her. Here is where things get interesting, to say the very least: there is an entity of sorts, self-dubbed A. A (I don’t know whether to refer to A as he or she – undoubtedly the point) spends every single day as a different person. A just happened to be Justin one day, and fell in love with Rhiannon the minute A met her. At first, Rhiannon cannot believe just what the hell is going on, but soon she realizes that this is in fact happening, falling in love with A in the process.

I’m going to get my cynicism out of the way first. The moral of the story is that it all matters what’s on the inside, not on the outside. Fine, I suppose, and Every Day is a very interesting take on this moral. However, it’s easy for Every Day to say “love what’s on the inside” when the entire cast was clearly hired for their beautiful faces, maybe with the exception of the token overweight boy that A embodies at one point – even then, he might be a handsome chap if he lost some weight.

I may cease my cynicism there, but my criticisms continue. Every Day is based on the young adult novel of the same name by David Levithan. I have no opinion on the novel as I’ve not read it. However, I’ve read a few reviews that suggest maybe it just doesn’t translate to film all that well. This could be, but it doesn’t matter, because Jesse Andrews’s screenplay has too many wrinkles in it. When characters talk, the dialogue seems insecure with itself and kind of stutters, sometimes to cringe-inducing levels as the actors aren’t quite sure how to vocalize the directionless dialogue.

Even if such wrinkles were ironed out, there is no easy way to fix the rocky narrative. One of the biggest issues in Every Day is lack of establishment and exposition. Take the opening, for instance: this is probably the first time Rhiannon has had such a wonderful day with Justin, but nothing about their relationship was established prior, so it ends up seeming more like this is what every day with the two is like – turns out it’s quite the contrary. Another huge subplot in the film is Rhiannon’s broken family life with her isolated father, workaholic mother, and her foul-attitude sister – all of this is only hinted and implied at, save for when Rhiannon discusses her father early in the movie.

And even if that were fixed, I still have a hard time believing these are teenagers involved in this extraordinary situation. More specifically, I have a hard time believing the freedom that these kids seem to have. The teens in the film seem to be able to run off and do their own thing without any significant consequence (a slap on the wrist at absolute harshest). Once again using the opening as an example, these two cut school for an entire day (as in the sun is setting by the time they’re on their way back), and they are never punished – their parents aren’t even called. Perhaps this scenario would work better with adults involved.

A lesser issue compared to everything else, but still glaring enough that I have to bring it up. Every Day cannot decide on a tone. One minute, it’s lovey-dovey, next minute it’s trendy and hip with its indie pop soundtrack, and then it wants to be deep and philosophical a la a less competent Terrence Malick.

In spite of all this, Every Day was at least involving. As much as I scratched my head, I was also very engaged and intrigued in seeing where this strange scenario would go next. Certainly this is due mostly to the sheer originality of the story, but the performances also play a big part in this. Other than Justice Smith (the definition of ‘wooden’), everybody is rather good, especially leading lady Angourie Rice. There were even some moving moments from time to time – I was touched by a scene where A takes the body of a suicidal girl. The originality of the story is worth experiencing, but Every Day ultimately doesn’t work with its awkward script, crooked narrative, uncertain tone, and plausibility that becomes distractingly questionable. Perhaps the book is better.

FILM REVIEW: Game Night (2018)

Directed by John Francis Daley & Jonathan Goldstein

* * * 1/2

Game Night walks quite the tightrope. Not only is it a comedy, but it doubles as a mystery-thriller

with plenty of unexpected twists and turns. The balancing act of being a comedy and a thriller is not only risky but also difficult: it could be too easy to be so focused on being funny that it completely forgets to be thrilling (and vice versa). The purpose of comedy is to produce laughter, and for laughter to occur, something must be amusing. On the other end, for a thriller to work, the audience needs to feel like there is something at stake – something must be taken seriously to a degree.

This is a difficult and outrageous balancing act, but Game Night manages to walk the tightrope from start to finish, fully aware of the wackiness of its scenario (which it revels in). Yes, it walks a few unsteady steps, but it always walks with good-humored confidence.

Jason Bateman and Rachel McAdams take the lead as Max and Annie, a couple brought together by gaming. In an adorable montage, we see the progression of their romance through trivia nights, board games, card games, and arcades (at their wedding, they play a round of Dance Dance Revolution in place of the typical newlywed’s dance). Cut to present: still gamers, they host weekly game nights at their house.

They are trying to conceive a child, but with no luck because of Max’s low sperm count, seemingly due to the stress of his competitive nature. To add to his stress, his brother Brooks (Kyle Chandler) is in town. Brooks is everything Max wants to be – successful, stylish, even drives a Sting Ray (Max’s dream car). When Brooks shows up for weekly game night, he shamelessly recounts embarrassing childhood stories at Max’s expense.

Then Brooks has an idea: game night at his place next week, where he will host a murder mystery party. Before the game starts, Brooks announces that he will be kidnapped, and the players will not know what is real and what is part of the game…all of this is discussed just before a pair of armed thugs barge in and take Brooks away by force. From this point forward, Game Night becomes a zany snafu of a plot.

Probably the biggest reason Game Night works so well is because of its characters. We are treated to three wonderful comedy duos. We’ve already addressed Bateman and McAdams. Alongside them, we have Ryan (Billy Magnussen), a plot-lost dimwit who brings a different date to game night each week. This week, his date is Sarah (Sharon Horgan), a businesswoman – she is also British, so that means she’s smart (according to Ryan, anyway). And then there is Kevin and Michelle (Lamorne Morris and Kylie Bunbury). They have been together since middle school, but trouble in paradise begins when it is discovered that Michelle may or may not have slept with a celebrity at some point. This will become their main concern for the rest of the evening.

While it is clear that Bateman and McAdams were most intended for the spotlight, nobody is overshadowed. All three of these duos are funny and electrifying, and the two in each party complement the other so well. Thanks to Game Night’s great sense of pacing, there are always antics to look forward to with each duo.

The antics are wonderful and hilarious, and it’s all fueled by Game Night’s great sense of dramatic irony. It is evident right from the start that there is something deeper and more sinister going on than simply a game, in spite of Brooks’ glitzy promises regarding the game (he apparently invested a ton of money for the murder mystery). For the players, though, everything is part of the game for them. Jealous Max even gets some enjoyment in seeing Brooks roughed up and kidnapped (albeit, simulated – at first, anyway).

Seeing these characters blamelessly clueless in a serious situation is a promising setup, and it pays off – the scene that got me is when Max and an armed Annie enter a bar and playfully hold the kidnappers hostage (I was laughing out loud when Annie guides them to the ground by way of a yoga pose). As you might imagine, the humor in Game Night is dark – the hilarious bullet-removal scene (featured in the trailer) is pretty much the epitome of Game Night’s sense of humor. But it is never overbearingly dark to the point of discomfort.

If there is anything that doesn’t quite work, it is undoubtedly in Game Night’s frequent movie referencing as a joke resort. At best, sometimes it’s amusing (seeing McAdams reenact Pulp Fiction’s Amanda Plummer was cute), but this is rare. Otherwise, it is not only obnoxiously pandering but also forced beyond belief.

Game Night runs on an outrageous premise that requires a lot of verisimilitude from the viewer. Fortunately, this was not a problem through most of the movie, but the film’s final act was stretches the suspension of disbelief a bit too far with its high speed chase and subsequent cat-and-mouse hijinks on a runway, things I don’t see any of our colorful cast being capable of. While it might be unbelievable, it wasn’t enough to distract from the fun factor that ran throughout the movie.

Nowhere to go tonight? No festivities to be had, or maybe indecisive in your plans for tonight’s entertainment? If you’ve got nowhere to go, do yourself a favor and make a trip to your local theater for Game Night. And for those of you with evening plans; don’t throw them out by any means, but consider rolling the dice with an unplanned trip to the movies, because there is nothing but fun to be had with Game Night, an outrageous, clever, and – most importantly – hilarious movie. 

FILM REVIEW: Annihilation (2018)

Directed by Alex Garland

* * * *

For the past four or five years, there has been a resurgence in sci-fi that aims to not only entertain, but to stimulate on both an existential and intellectual level with films like Ex Machina, Under the Skin, Arrival, and Blade Runner 2049. Annihilation, Alex Garland’s tensely magnetic new film, was the first movie this year I was truly excited for, and I’m ecstatic to report that it not only lived up to my personal hype, but it also continues this beautiful trend in science fiction.

The most profound of science fiction tends to emanate from the presence of some sort of enigmatic phenomenon, one that alters our very perception of reality. Take, for instance, 2001: A Space Odyssey’s monolith or the psychic ocean planet of the titular Solaris. Annihilation centers on such a phenomenon called the Shimmer.

A lighthouse is hit by a meteor. The territory around it becomes known as the Shimmer, a psychedelic bubble that contorts and mutates the very world it comes into contact with, and its borders are only expanding. Fast forward three years. In that span of time, the Southern Reach facility has been installed adjacent to the Shimmer, dedicated to researching exactly what it is. Teams have been sent in, but nobody’s returned – not even a radio transmission can be picked up.

Enter Lena (Natalie Portman), an academic biologist who specializes in cell research. Her husband is Kane (Oscar Isaac), a soldier who left for a mission approximately one year ago. She has not seen or heard from him since his departure. One evening, he inexplicably returns home, but he’s not the same; he appears disoriented and traumatized. Naturally, Lena asks Kane where he’s been. Perhaps because of either secrecy or lack of comprehension, he cannot possibly answer.

Kane falls victim to a horrible illness. He and Lena are taken to Southern Reach, where Lena learns that her husband is the only person to have ever made it out of the Shimmer alive. Yet again, a team has been assembled to enter the Shimmer – this time an all-female group of scientists of various fields, led by Dr. Ventress (Jennifer Jason Leigh), a psychologist. Lena, seemingly transfixed by the Shimmer, volunteers to join the expedition.

Because I can’t resist my love for Stalker, Annihilation can be viewed as a spiritual precursor to Andrei Tarkovsky’s masterpiece (in all fairness, there are countless parallels). Like the Zone, the Shimmer is a landscape that is quite threatening with all of its esotericism. Take, for instance, patches of beautiful flowers growing in such a dilapidated wilderness. Alex Garland has teamed up once again with cinematographer Rob Hardy, and Annihilation visually continues the claustrophobia of Ex Machina. Double impressive in Annihilation due to the expansiveness of the region, as opposed to the exclusively interior setting of Ex Machina (this is not a criticism of the latter).

As far as setting the tone goes, I would like to give an honorable mention to the score. Granted, it isn’t anything to write home about (save for a few moments, particularly during the climax), but it is rather unusual. Most notably, there is an occasional hybridization of booming-bass synths and folksy acoustic guitars also adds to the unwelcoming strangeness.

The great irony in all of this uneasiness is that it is equally captivating for the same reasons it is scary. Like the expeditioners, as scared as we are of the Shimmer, we cannot help but trek deeper and deeper within, just for some kind of answer, which you will not get…well, from the film anyway. There are no easy answers in Annihilation. It is the kind of film that will keep the audiences thinking about it for a long time to follow, and the answers to its questions will differ from person to person. I anticipate many a debate will occur on the subject on Annihilation.

Anybody who consciously distances themselves from the horror, proceed to Annihilation with caution (I absolutely refuse to say “don’t see it” – how could I possibly stray somebody from a 4/4 movie?). All of this unsettlement cultivates into some moments of genuine terror. Hybridized beasts stalk the nighttime, which brings a great sense of dread. I was reminded of the dread of nightfall in The Blair Witch Project – speaking of which, our team comes across a camcorder from the previous expedition. The footage that ensues genuinely put me on the threshold of vomiting.

I will not spoil any of the fun, but for non-horror fans, I will warn of a scene involving characters being strapped to chairs. Annihilation isn’t even a horror film, but this scene will go down as one of the most terrifying movie moments of 2018 at the very least.

What adds to the tension throughout the entire film is the vulnerability of our heroines. At one point, one of the team refers to the collective as “damaged goods”, as all of them are troubled in some way or another: a widow, a recovering addict, a survivor of a suicide attempt – we’ve already seen Lena’s troubles. Speaking of Lena, I must note that Portman exhibits some of her best acting chops since Black Swan.

The team’s weaknesses are not exploited by any means (in fact, there is some surprise to learn of their issues), but it does raise the stakes and add to the tension. But because they are brave enough to go into the Shimmer, we want to go every step of the way with them – perhaps this adds to the magnetic quality of the Shimmer?

                                                                                                                                                                   

Writer-director Alex Garland, whose previous effort was the masterful Ex Machina, proves once again that he is one of the most exciting and promising filmmakers in sci-fi. Annihilation is an experience that, frankly, will annihilate you – it is disorienting, ponderous, terrifying, mystifying, and challenging above all else. While I must admit that I’m still trying to wrap my head around it, there’s no denying that this is the first masterwork of 2018.

FILM REVIEW: Samson (2018)

Directed by Bruce Macdonald & Gabriel Sabloff

* *

"Plastic" is the best single word I can think of when recalling Samson. In spite of a sincere and passionate heart that beats throughout, it still turns out an overall hackneyed experience. Even the actors look and act curiously artificial from time to time.

Based on the story of Samson from the Book of Judges, Trevor James stars as the titular Hebrew He-Man. Since his birth, it has been prophesized that Samson will lead the Hebrews to liberation from those who have enslaved his people – the Philistines – with the help of his remarkable strength. Though a faithful man, he is unsure of his destiny, periodically questioning God and his destiny. He treads into romance with Philistine Taren (Frances Sholto-Douglas), which brings about ire from his parents (Rutger Hauer and Lindsay Wagner) – for a Hebrew to marry a Philistine is shameful.

At the oppressive throne are King Balek (Billy Zane) and Prince Rallah (Jackson Rathbone). They learn of the literal Godly strength of Samson and his potential ability to overthrow the Philistine Empire. In spite of Samson’s diplomatic pleas for freedom, a manhunt is summoned upon the latter.

Samson desires so very deeply to be a spectacular epic, but possesses no ability whatsoever to be that film. I cannot find an estimate anywhere, so this statement goes without concrete evidence, but Samson’s budget is too modest for its ambition. Set designs lack immaculate detail and feature only the bare necessities to pass off what they’re trying to resemble. Thus, pretty much every interior location looks like a set.

IMDb tells me that Samson was filmed in South Africa, so at least there are some passable exterior settings. I actually really liked the setting of the famous jawbone battle sequence. Unfortunately, the potential of the on-location exteriors are underutilized due to uninspired cinematography at best. At worst, during overhead shots of cities or other such busy locations, I could never tell if the cities were real or CG, but considering that I was always questioning the realness (or lack thereof), that says something about the sub-par quality.

The budget issues seep into the performances. First off; Billy Zane and Rutger Hauer are the best the budget would allow. Let that sink in for a moment.

Moving on, though: everybody either overacts or under-acts – the former is much more present. Jackson Rathbone is the most amusing guilty party of overacting. Rathbone gives Rallah a hilarious treatment as a slimy British quasi-sophisticate. When he’s being heartless and scary, his overacting just makes him seem amusing and adorable instead of the oppressive threat the character requires. On the other hand of the spectrum, all of the women in the film lack any presence, most disappointingly in Caitlin Leahy as Delilah, a character who was either conniving or internally conflicted of her intentions with Samson. In all fairness, the character’s motivation was confusing beyond belief – perhaps a less underwhelming performance would have clarified things. 

Maybe unsurprising to some, but there is no subtlety whatsoever in Samson. The score, which is about as generic as you can get, is always sure to remind us when to feel happy, to feel sad, to feel inspired, to be thrilled – when we’re supposed to, anyway. Fancy photography and editing techniques add to this, with slow motion for emotional highlights, overbearing hand-held for battle sequences, even laughable split-second speed-ups right before Samson goes full berserk.

Speaking of berserk, epic battles are a key element of Samson. Keep in mind that these are all filled with the cheesy editing mentioned before. At times, these moments are passable (the jawbone battle was somewhat entertaining, for what it’s worth). Otherwise, clunky blocking plagues these scenes, such when a character goes in for a punch, it’s pretty obvious that they’re intentionally missing the adversary’s face. 

The script not only lacks subtlety but also originality. Every line of dialogue seems taken straight from Biblical Epic Screenwriting 101. Everybody talks in typical Biblical dialect that comes across as generic throughout, and tends to induce eye-rolling due to the cheapness of it. Though I must say at least there was actual dialogue instead of sermon after sermon, which was the case in the recent Bilal (which, in retrospect, probably deserves a 2/4 from me for this exact reason).

Samson is the latest production from Pure Flix, the team behind the God’s Not Dead soon-to-be trilogy. Contrary to their reputation, Samson lacks the routine arrogant piety that is otherwise disturbingly prominent in their catalogue. This was a pleasant surprise that made for a tolerable viewing, but figurative open arms do not excuse a below-average production, no matter how hard it tried. There may have been passion involved in Samson (and it does show), but it was an undertaking that neither the talent nor the budget could allow, and the final result just feels cheap.

FILM REVIEW: Happy End (2017)

Directed by Michael Haneke

* *

The apparent “brilliance” of Michael Haneke has always confounded me to frustrating degrees. Of course I want to fit in with my peers and like his movies, and there is fascinating subject matter in his films, but when three of his alleged masterworks – The Piano Teacher, Cache, and Amour – leave me with the same chasmal dissatisfaction, I think it’s fair at this point to say that I just don’t get Haneke. His latest film, Happy End, continues this trend of purgatorial slog.

Happy End does initially displays some promise. An underlying theme, I think, is how alienation is further perpetuated by technology and social media. Take, for instance, the opening sequence: from the POV of a phone camera, we watch a woman’s morning trip to the bathroom. A series of text messages pinpoint the woman’s actions, which she inadvertently obeys. Cut to the next scene – a simple CCTV screen of a construction yard that lingers on for minutes, so long that we almost don’t notice a collapse when it occurs.

The focus of Happy End is centered on the Laurents, an upper class family. They are embarrassingly empty. When they sit down for dinner, initiating conversation is like pulling teeth. When somebody does attempt to get some sort of dialogue started – such as the cliché “How was your day?” inquiry – it is initiated in the most patronizing manner possible. The trouble that clouds above the family is quickly unveiled – the depressive Georges (Jean-Louis Trintignant) is slipping into dementia; Anne’s (Isabelle Hupert) construction business comes under scrutiny after a serious on-site incident; Thomas (Matthieu Kassovitz) is having an affair (unveiled by online chats); children Eve and Pierre (Fantine Harduin and Franz Rogowski, respectively) are disenfranchised from the emptiness of their family life.

I find stories of social dysfunction and alienation fascinating – Michelangelo Antonioni deals with this material almost exclusively, and he is perhaps my favorite filmmaker (and is a palpable influence on Haneke). You know, speaking of Antonioni, how ironic that many of the gripes I have with Haneke are identical to the gripes that Antonioni’s critics have. I won’t be surprised if I’m blasted as self-contradictory. Where does Happy End fail for me, especially considering how many other films of this subject matter succeed?

Artsy filmmakers (I don’t mean to sound patronizing with this label) tend to be very adamant about their movies shutting up, per se, and letting the weight scenarios speak for themselves without using dialogue. I’m perfectly okay with these kinds of techniques, but there must be some sort of substance present. If I may go back to Antonioni as an example, while his characters wander about in silence, masterful shot composition and use of location give us an idea of what it must feel like to be those characters. Perhaps a wide-angle shot inside an echo-filled confined space will say something about the loneliness within the character.

No such substance is present in Happy End. As typical with Haneke, it seems like he is so concerned with letting the silence say everything, per se, that he forgot to put substance in there. Characters possess little to no personality, there is no interesting cinematography or shot composition, and this results in a film that feels really sterile. And when something of significance does happen – such as when a character attempts suicide by way of car crash – there is nothing profound or poignant, thus the movie comes off as obscure for the sake of obscurity, and kind of pretentious.

I keep reading about how Happy End is trying to say something about the refugee crisis in Europe all because of a brief moment in the film’s finale. There is nothing to comment on because of just how brief this moment is, and I only scoff at the film’s imposition of self-importance.

If there is any substance whatsoever in Happy End, it lies within the character in Eve. She has been taken in by her father, Thomas, after her blood mother’s (and Thomas’s first wife) admittance into the hospital after an overdose of sedatives – I will not spoil anything, but this was not a suicide attempt. Eve is a disturbed and depressed young girl. There is no connection between her and her frivolous family, and she knows there is no connection. On one hand, pitying Eve is rather difficult at times (you’ll see why), but on the other hand; to know you are not loved by the people who are supposed to love you unconditionally…I cannot think of a more emotionally painful knowledge for a child to possess.

Unfortunately, this one element of substance is shoved to the wayside in favor of Haneke’s trademark plodding sterility and arbitrary obscurity – all of which feels like it cultivates into absolutely nothing.

All of this said, I do want to emphasize that I am not the right guy to turn to for opinions on Haneke. He’s never done it for me, and as far as I know, he probably never will. I admit that I am also too confounded by his movies to properly articulate my opinions. What I do know is that his movies have never left me satisfied in any way, and Happy End is no exception. All I can offer you is my opinion, and there it is. I must say, though, that venting about Haneke felt rather good.

FILM REVIEW: Early Man (2018)

Directed by Nick Park

* * *

I could have walked out of the first ten minutes of Early Man and I would have been convinced I saw one of the best animated features of 2018 (I’m aware it’s only February).

There are no words. Literally (just a few Cro-Magnon grunts). It opens in the desolate badlands of a B.C. Earth, where humanity scurries at the feet of the dominant dinosaurs. Then, the meteor strikes. The dinosaurs are wiped out to extinction, but man is okay. They come out of their hovels and wander about when one of them comes across a uniquely patterned red-hot rock (it almost looks like a 20-sided die owned by Satan). One of the Neanderthals picks it up, realizes his hands are baking, then hurls it toward one of the others – they react the same way, soon realizing its wiser to kick it around instead of pick it back up. This charmingly transitions from slapstick to sport – this is perhaps the first game of soccer (football for any English readers) ever played.

Save for the trailer, I had little idea that this was going to be a sports movie of sorts, but this opening was so fun I was welcome to anything at this point.

Fast forward a few generations, where we follow the misadventures of caveman Dug (Eddie Redmayne). He belongs to a tribe of fellow cavemen headed by Chief Bobnar (Timothy Spall). They “specialize” in hunting rabbits, but Dug strives for a bit more in life, but otherwise has a comfortable and peaceful life in the Valley.

Until the Bronze Age, that is.

Beyond the Valley, the Bronze Age has settled into the world quite nicely, but the riches of their industrious innovation just isn’t enough for Lord North (Tom Hiddleston). Bronze means money, and he needs more of it. The result: his forces roll into the Valley and drive our underdog cavemen out into the unforgiving wilderness of the badlands. Though the rest of the tribe are unhappily content in their involuntarily exile, Dug is furious and wants his home back. Long story short, he gets his chance when he discovers the game of football, which is the sport of choice in Bronze territory.

What follows is a story of underdogs rising above in spite of the odds towering against them, and this is Early Man’s weakest element. As far as the plot itself goes, it is exactly what you’d expect and everything wraps up how you’d expect. I have no problem with a vanilla-sounding story; it all depends on what is done with the material. Unfortunately, Early Man doesn’t really do anything unique with the plot, and the resulting predictability leaves too much to be desired.

That said, what Early Man lacks in story it makes up for in comedy. As you could imagine with this material, there’s plenty of slapstick to go around – the audience seemed to really enjoy a scene where a character falls down multiple sets of stadium seats. While there’s nothing particularly genius, there is some clever comedy gold here and there (a recurring joke with a messenger bird made me lose it). There’s also a hilarious scene involving Dug’s trusty warthog and Lord North taking a bath.

As for the characters…one of the central themes of Early Man is that of coming together in tough situations, but that feeling is never terribly prevalent within the tribe of our heroes. I think this because a lack of fully developed characters. Granted, they do have different personalities that set them apart from each other, but nothing strong enough to make them memorable characters. With the exception of two. I rather enjoyed Goona (Maisie Williams), a girl of the Bronze community who wishes for her big moment on the football field (and may or may not be a skilled player). Lord North is one of those silly villains that we love to hate – he just may be the best part of the movie.

In spite of the inconsistency of character quality, all of the voice actors were wonderful (Hiddleston especially), and their enjoyment for the project proves contagious as it washes over onto the audience.

I could almost say that Early Man has some of Aardman’s best animation to date, but that’s a statement that would require more than just a grain of salt. It’s been a minute since I’ve seen a film from Aardman Animations – as a matter of fact, I think the last one I saw of theirs was Chicken Run back in 2000, as well as bits and pieces of Wallace and Gromit over the years.

Regardless, though, Early Man is an exemplary achievement in stop-motion animation. Not only are the worlds imagined to every single detail, but there is always something going on, whether it be leaves rustling or a butterfly idling. Double impressive that all of these miniscule details are still present even when the action kicks up to the point where we’d never pay attention to the background. Remember: it’s the little details that cultivate into the big picture.

There is an inimitable appeal to the works of Aardman Animations that always make for an enjoyable experience no matter what. Early Man is no exception to this standard, but the all-too predictable story prevents me from giving it glowing recommendation. Nonetheless, it is still fun and good-spirited enough that I can assure you that there is at least some enjoyment to be had.

FILM REVIEW: Black Panther (2018)

Directed by Ryan Coogler

* * *

It’s crazy to think that almost 10 years ago, all of us walked out of the theater completely blown away by Iron Man, the first entry into the wide-spread Marvel Cinematic Universe. While I’ve never been a comic book enthusiast, I look back on the first couple of years of MCU with great fondness: when the next Marvel film was released, it was an event, and to think about how all of these films will cultivate was exciting. Now, it’s 2018.  While I have no doubt that comic book fans eagerly await the next entry into the MCU, I sometimes get the feeling that the MCU ran its course years ago, and that the only reason for a casual movie goer to see a Marvel movie is because there’s nothing else to see.

To me, part of the reason the MCU became stale is because of the lack of identity they seem to possess. They began to look, sound, and feel practically identical after a while (to me, anyway). Many of them seem as if they used pre-rendered modern-yet-futuristic backgrounds with different characters in the foreground.

But now we have Black Panther, and while it is not totally liberated from some of these Marvel “signatures”, it does spruce it up with a few additional ingredients that results in an identity all its own. Everything in Black Panther, from the music to the costumes, is heavily enrooted in both modern and traditional African culture. Not once, however, does the film pander or become overbearing. It’s a sincerely welcome change of scenery for the Marvel universe.

Our hero, the titular Black Panther, is T’Challa (Chadwick Boseman). He is the son of T’Chaka (John Kani), the King of their homeland Wakanda. T’Chaka has been killed in an explosion, thus enthroning T’Challa as the new King. He is indifferent and uncertain about his position. Things become more complicated when he fails to bring Klaue, a long time enemy of Wakanda, back for justice – this brings ire out of W’Kabi (Daniel Kaluuya), who lost his family to Klaue.

Klaue (Andy Serkis) is a long-time enemy of Wakanda, and he is working with Erik Killmonger (Michael B. Jordan). To say anything else about the latter would result in spoilers, so I will leave it at this: the tagline of Black Panther is “Long Live the King”, but not without struggle.

There is somewhat of a lack of distinctive personality in certain characters, most notably (and disappointingly) in T’Challa. He’s certainly not a blank slate character and there’s enough to make him three dimensional – as mentioned above, he’s somewhat insecure in his duties as king, he’s charmingly cocky at times (“I don’t freeze” – you’ll know the scene), but he’s always integral and good-spirited. So, there is a character here, but compared to the distinction of characters like Tony Stark and Thor, there’s not much there in T’Challa. It’s usually against my personal policy to criticize based on comparisons like these, but knowing what Marvel Studios is capable of, there is much to be desired.

What Black Panther may lack in character, so to speak, it makes up for ten-fold in performances. Chadwick Boseman, in spite of everything, is a great fit for T’Challa and hits all the notes the character requires. What stands out even more is the strength in the supporting cast, particularly in Letitia Wright as Shuri, T’Challa’s sister. She is a genius at engineering and creating her brother’s technology, but can’t go on without some sibling shenanigans – the result is a charming comic relief of a character. And then there’s Danai Gurira as Okoye, a royal guardian who is always by her King’s side. Excuse me for being vulgar, but talk about badass (I really hope she gets her own spinoff movie). Also worth mentioning is Daniel Kaluuya, of last year's big hit Get Out, and Black Panther is putting display great potential for a promising new actor.

As for the villains: Serkis gives Klaue a skid-row kind of energy that makes him a menacingly sleazy character, almost like he’s always coked up. I repeat that to say too much more about Jordan’s Killmonger would be spoiling the film, but the threat of his character really sneaks up on you.

The production quality and visual effects of Black Panther are about what you’d expect from a Marvel film, and there’s really not too much to comment on. However, when it comes to the action sequences, Black Panther is incredible. Contrary to the epic-scale battles that are prevalent in Marvel films, Black Panther proves that less is more: action scenes are rather small-scale and reserved, but turn out to be some of the MCU’s most memorable moments – I was particularly taken by a melee battle on the waterfall. Even in its more grand scale battles, namely the climactic final battle, the focus is still on specific sects of the battle instead of the big picture. It adds a claustrophobic tension that makes them all the more exciting.

The score is also worth giving a mention. Yes, many times it’s what you’d expect with its stock epic orchestra, but we are also given plenty of wonderful African music, from hip-hop beats to some exquisite polyrhythmic percussion, which there’s a lot of. My ears were pleased.

The overall response to Black Panther has been rather polarized. I believe that audiences are being too quick to give either unconditional praise or harsh judgement to Black Panther. I greatly admire the passion in its progressivity, and it certainly stands out in an ocean of run-of-the-mill comic book films. At the end of the day, though, strip away its key identifiers and it is nothing too spectacular in the MCU, but with its unique spin on the typical Marvel tropes, it is still an entertaining and most welcome addition to the franchise.

FILM REVIEW: Peter Rabbit (2018)

Directed by Will Gluck

* * 1/2

The wonderful story of the mischievous Peter Rabbit and his trespasses into Mr. McGregor’s garden needs no introduction. Beatrix Potter’s book was published in the early 20^th Century. Now, it is 2018, and Peter is still up to his mischief, thieving the vegetables from Mr. McGregor’s garden in the new film, simply titled Peter Rabbit, a sort of adaptation/sequel to Potter’s work. Right from the beginning, it sets the tone and style quite perfectly. It’s energetic, rambunctious, and quite charming. That said, some of its expository establishments are rather unflattering, and all of these qualities – the good and the bad – will maintain throughout the entire duration.

So, Peter Rabbit opens up with our titular rascal (voiced by James Corden) terrorizing Mr. McGregor’s garden yet again. Then enters an understandably angry Mr. McGregor (Sam Neill – wait, that was Sam Neill!?). He manages to outsmart Peter and next thing we know, Peter is in his grasp – literally. How will Peter get out of this one? Turns out, in a most unexpected way: Mr. McGregor falls over, having died of a heart attack.

Peter, his sisters, and all the rest of the animals in the neighborhood rush over to the now empty residence of McGregor, partying and pigging out on the riches in the garden. But all good things must come to end. Enter Thomas McGregor (Domhnall Gleeson), Mr. McGregor’s nephew. Thomas has inexplicably inherited his great uncle’s house (he never even knew he had a great uncle).

Thomas is the perfect kind of villain for a film like this. He’s the kind of silly antagonist that’s hard to love, but harder to hate. He is awkward and lanky, a neat-freak with OCD tendencies. He is terminated from his job at a toy company due to a tantrum after being denied a deeply-desired promotion. Reluctant to abandon the neat tidiness of London, he moves out to the countryside house. He is greeted to the shambles left by meddling animals, all of which are vermin to him.

Now it’s war, and from here Peter Rabbit becomes about what you’d expect – a series of hearty exchange of slapstick cat-and-mouse hijinks in a modern attitude to cater to a modern audience. As alarming as that may sound, it’s actually nothing to worry about too much.

Yes, there is some pandering once in a while, but the film is never desperate in its mission to appeal to everybody. At the same time, trying to appeal to everybody becomes somewhat of a problem. While Peter Rabbit never over-indulges in the cutesiness of the story to prevent alienating older audiences, it is sometimes a bit too crude for kids. One joke in particular, which occurs about ten minutes in, left my mouth agape in disbelief of the sheer inappropriateness (no children’s film should ever make a joke about shoving a carrot up a man’s bum).

If the humor’s not being inappropriate (which is very rare, in all fairness), then it’s usually being forced. Many a time, a joke (commonly Meta) will overstay its welcome and linger way longer than necessary. Luckily, they never stay to the point that the joke becomes ruined, at least for me anyway. I did have many a laugh at Peter Rabbit, most of the times at jokes that were funny while they lasted. Once in a while, though, there would be a genuinely clever moment. My favorite is when Peter and his sisters find themselves riding the back of Thomas’s pickup into a nearby small-town. The rabbits are convinced they are in London – one of them even points out Big Ben (which is actually a grandfather clock).

Of course, what is a movie like this without a little bit of romance? A rather lovely Rose Byrne is Bea, the McGregors’ neighbor. She is a painter – a bad one at the film’s admission, save for the paintings she has done of the local rabbits. She has a huge place in her heart for wildlife, which she channels into her best work. The paintings are actually the illustrations found in the original book. It may be pandering for some, but I thought it was a nice touch. She begins interacting with Thomas, and romance ensues, albeit rather awkwardly. I just couldn’t tell if there was chemistry between them or not, but that doesn’t matter too much, because here sets up plenty of wonderful comedic potential. As far as how that results, see my remarks above about the quality of comedy.

Peter Rabbit hybridizes CG animation and live action, a technique that doesn’t usually work for me as the CG is always just a little too cartoonish (part of the reason I was never too fond of Avatar). Luckily, Peter Rabbit kept me pleased, visually. It’s certainly not award-worthy animation, but it was never too cartoony nor too realistic. In spite of this, Peter Rabbit isn’t always much to look at, as there’s a lot of gray textures in the film. Perhaps the UK wasn’t the best setting.

Now here is something I never thought I’d comment on, but must. Be sure you stay for the end credits, where animations in the style of Potter’s illustrations unfold on the screen. It is so adorable and done with such love for the source material that it’s worth the price of admission alone.

While my verdict is final, I still feel split between a 2.5 and a 3 for Peter Rabbit. One can tell that everybody involved was having fun making this, and I must say that I was won over by the charming characters and rambunctious energy. But the issues glared just a bit too bright. It’s modernization of a timeless and classic story will generate plenty of detractors, but I found Peter Rabbit just enjoyable enough to be worth hopping into, but its confusion in demographics leave me wondering who will get the most enjoyment.

FILM REVIEW: Threads (1984)

Directed by Mick Jackson

* * * 1/2

The unyielding perseverance of humanity – our greatest blessing as a species? Or perhaps the heaviest burden of all? I am unsure, and I would prefer not to speculate much more. To argue otherwise would paint me unpleasantly pessimistic. I would love to believe that no matter what hammer-blow of a tragedy strikes us next, we will get through it. That said, Mick Jackson’s Threads presents one hell of an argument otherwise. From start to finish, this is one of the most agonizing movies I’ve ever experienced.

Threads was produced by the BBC and aired on British TV in 1984, subsequently aired in the United States the following year (Ted Turner fronted his own money to ensure an uncensored, uninterrupted broadcast in the States). In spite of the tremendous impact of its time, Threads fell into somewhat of an obscurity for two and a half decades with no home video availability in the States (save for a shabby VHS tape). Over the last few years, I have taken note of a resurgence in popularity – probably due to its 30^th anniversary back in 2014. Here we are now in 2018, and a brand-new 2K restoration on Blu-Ray is available for purchase, courtesy of Severin Films.

The fear of incoming war steadily intrudes into daily existence as tensions mount. TVs and radios remain exclusively tuned to the news. It is soon reported that the unthinkable occurs: two nuclear devices are detonated in the Middle East. Panic ensues. Supermarkets are flooded with customers but not enough food to go around. Citizens begin packing their belongings and head for the countryside. Those who remain in Sheffield are subjected to the eerily monotone Protect & Survive programs, a series of PSAs that detail tips for surviving a nuclear strike and its aftermath. It is some of the most unbearable slow-burn terror ever put on screen.

And then it happens. It actually happens. The bombs fall. Shrieks of terror permeate the air. A middle-age couple rush to construct a makeshift shelter. A woman wets herself upon seeing the mushroom cloud in the distance (one of the most devastating images I’ve ever seen in a movie). Eventually, 80 megatons fall on the UK, and Sheffield is obliterated. I would give anything to say that Threads ends here, but there are survivors. I’m not sure whether to follow that with ‘fortunately’ or ‘unfortunately’.

Even if one knows exactly what they’re getting into with Threads, it will not take long to forget that this is a film about nuclear annihilation. The characters are everyday working class people, and they are presented in such a way – it is almost disconcerting in just how unremarkable they are. There is no need for a compelling character-driven narrative here.

There is somewhat of a protagonist in Ruth (Karen Meagher). While Meagher is exceptional, I don’t feel much point in going too much into her story. The people who populate Threads only serve as a means of bearing witness to the various perspectives of such an unimaginable catastrophe. It doesn’t matter what kind of people will suffer – what matters is that people will suffer. Period.

Threads takes us into a world where survival is the equivalent of trudging through hell, where death is something to be eagerly awaited. When I say that this film takes us into this world, it really takes us in. It is well-known Threads was written by Barry Hines, the man responsible for writing Kes, perhaps the quintessential British realist “Kitchen Sink” drama.

The “Kitchen Sink” attitude, as well as the aesthetic, are carried over into Threads. It is shot in grainy hand-held with an urgency that leads the viewer to believe that the action on screen is actually happening. There are also a lot of moments filmed in tight close-ups and enclosed spaces. Even among the wasteland, a sense of claustrophobia perpetuates.

The film goes on and on, observing humanity’s survival up to 13 years after the attack. At this point, the population reaches minimal levels, and society has been reduced to a medieval-like existence. The generation born after the bomb are pretty much Neanderthals, lacking in any kind of emotion and communicating in caveman-like dialect. Here is a scenario so inconceivable to us, and Threads makes it completely believable.

Adding to the merciless realism of Threads is the use of input from various scientists in the field of nuclear research (one such consultant was the late Carl Sagan). The film periodically cuts to black and will display text that briefly and objectively states what is happening and what is going to happen – FALLOUT IMMINENT: FIRE-FIGHTING AND RESCUE ATTEMPTS UNLIKELY. LIKELY EPIDEMICS: CHOLERA, DYSENTERY, TYPHOID. It is actually one of the most unique and frightening techniques I’ve seen. Once in a while, a narrator throws his two cents in as well. I think a narrator is a little unnecessary, but it is not distracting.

Threads is not 100% perfect. Many a time, a scene will fade in only to fade out just seconds later, making the pacing choppy at times. Being a television production, of course the budget is limited, and there are times when the budget shows – the result is less than flattering. In particular, there are these establishing shots of a house, and I swear all we are shown is a painting with some post-production smoke added. Other than that, though, the film thrives in spite of its budget. It actually looks fantastic and convincing.

Needless to say that Threads is a product of its time, but does that make it outdated? Absolutely not. Regardless of world affairs, as long as nuclear weapons exist, Threads will remain relevant. Personally, I hope to see a world where Threads will be outdated. Until that day (if it comes), Threads should be mandatory viewing for all.

FILM REVIEW: The 15:17 to Paris (2018)

Directed by Clint Eastwood

* * *

At the core of The 15:17 to Paris is, very simply, nothing more than an inseparable bond between great friends. This is also the key to its power, as I was moved to tears by the film’s end. What is even more amazing is how 15:17 perseveres with this sense of camaraderie in spite of a first act that put this remarkable material at serious risk of ineffectiveness.

The true story about three men who heroically thwarted a terrorist attack on a Paris-bound train in 2015, 15:17 traces their nexus ten years prior. At this point, Anthony Sadler, Alek Skarlatos, and Spencer Stone are students at a Sacramento Christian school. They frequently find themselves in trouble, whether it be for being late for class, swearing, or other such signature activities of boys. It’s a very interesting cycle, now that I think about it: the very catharsis of boyhood that gets them through the day is also what continuously brings them trouble.

Eventually, they separate – Anthony strives to become more than a boy (his sights are particularly fixated on prom and the opposite sex); Alek moves to Oregon. Spencer, awkward and overweight, is saddened by this separation, now left to his own devices. He perseveres, though. When adulthood arrives, he enlists in the Air Force. He proves to be a rather troubled recruit, though. He is punished twice in the span of a few minutes when A) he is late for class and B) his assignment isn’t up to par. He takes his punishment as if nothing’s happening, and moves on.

Perseverance is a recurring theme in 15:17, which is more prevalent in the former half of the film. The theme fits considering the do-or-die nature of the climax, but 15:17 seems to be more interested in the odds of opposition. It doesn’t necessarily get off on their suffering, but we never get much of a chance to revel in their accomplishments. We watch the obstacle block their path, they spend much time conflicted on the next move, and then they make their next move. Cut to next scene.

Wait, did I say “their”? I meant to say Spencer. Once adulthood is reached, most of the focus seems to be on Spencer, and here is perhaps my other major criticism. He winds up being the film’s protagonist, when all three men should be treated with the same respect.

But then they get to Europe, and it is at this point in the review when I almost regret giving my criticisms. It is all beautifully uphill from here. They decide to meet in Italy and backpack across Europe. They journey throughout various European landmarks, seeing the sights, taking selfies, and just…bonding. For a film that leads up to a white-knuckle finale, 15:17 spends zero time rushing to get there, and enjoys the company of these three friends as much as they do, and relishes in the beauty of living in the now to the fullest (there’s a sequence in an Amsterdam club that captures this perfectly without a single line of substantial dialogue). Many will probably feel misled by the trailers and subject matter, and the generic quasi-existentialist musings spoken won’t help. As for me, I felt like I was backpacking Europe right there with them, and I rather enjoyed myself.

But it is time to move on to the crux of 15:17, which is the showdown on the train. I’m happy to report that my praises continue from here. There’s a surreal quality to this sequence because of its realism (if that oxymoron makes any sense). Everything happens so quickly and suddenly, and the same goes for when it is over. It works so well because it is treated with maturity and respect that heroic stories deserve. There is no insulting over-production for the sake of dramatic effect. The subject matter is dramatic enough as it is, and director Clint Eastwood knows this. Like his approach to American Sniper, everything is presented rather objectively, which I applaud. There is no need to glorify heroic deeds – true heroism should speak for itself, and it does so in 15:17.

One of the biggest selling points of 15:17 is also its biggest gamble. Portraying the roles of Anthony, Alek, and Spencer are themselves. It is risky enough casting non-actors, but the stakes are even higher when casting non-actors in biographic roles – to ruin a true story worth telling with bad acting is unforgivable. There may not be anything Oscar-worthy 15:17, and Spencer can be underwhelming at times, but the three men all capture themselves exceptionally well.

Clint Eastwood is not displaying the top of his form with The 15:17 to Paris, but it is an ambitious undertaking for a mainstream film with its sort-of docudrama approach – I was reminded of the Iranian docudramas of the early ‘90s, a fascinating period in cinema history (Kiarostami’s Close-Up in particular was resonant here). There have been mixed reviews all across the board, and the majority of the criticisms are justified. As I mentioned earlier, I was almost crying during the final scene where they are honored by the French government for their actions. For this to happen, there must have been something good going on, right?

FILM REVIEW: Fifty Shades Freed (2018)

Directed by James Foley

* *

Yet again, I return to a franchise I have little knowledge of whatsoever, but at least I read the plot synopses on Wikipedia this time. Nonetheless, take everything that follows with a grain of salt. So, I have subjected (and subsequently confounded) myself to the massively popular Fifty Shades saga and its latest and final entry, Fifty Shades Freed. I can’t exactly say I went in with high expectations, considering the saga’s track record (just look at their scores on Rotten Tomatoes).

I won’t be part of the approving crowd, but I will say right off the bat that I was surprised and somewhat taken by Dakota Johnson. I could tell that she gave the character her all, and the result was rather charming (that might be prurient interest talking, though). No matter how much I might have enjoyed her, nothing – nothing – could ever distract me from the one question that raced through my mind for the entire duration of the film – “Just what in the hell does she see in this Christian Grey shmuck?”

Freed opens with the two getting married in an underwhelming and weightless excuse for a wedding scene. Perhaps I would feel a bit more had I seen the previous films, but the scene moves so quickly and is edited in such a way that I seriously thought I was watching a teaser trailer, but I digress. They love each other? Fine. They want to get married? Fine. But the problems that soon follow put these newlyweds in such significant proximity of a divorce I can’t seriously believe there was a compelling romance that preceded.

They go on their honeymoon. At the ocean-side resort, Ana (Johnson) wants her back rubbed with lotion, but Christian (Jamie Dornan) goes laughably overboard with his insecurity – he won’t untie her bikini because to do so would be too revealing. Reminder: she’s on her stomach where her breasts aren’t in public view. They go back home. Ana talks about wanting kids, Christian protests. You really expect me to believe a couple serious enough to get married never once discussed children?

This ineptitude perpetuates throughout Freed, and the result is one of the most pathetic couples I’ve ever seen in a film.

Danger arises, though. There is a break-in at Christian’s corporate office, and the culprit is Jack Hyde (Eric Johnson), a sort of rival to Christian who also longs for Ana, from what I could gather, anyway. Christian is worried about Ana’s safety, always leaving her with a handful of bodyguards while he’s away on business (which is almost all the time). There are some car chases. There’s a break-in at the Greys’ penthouse (which has a legitimately funny line about “restraints”). And then there’s a climax with Jack near the end that ends rather anticlimactically.

You’ve probably taken note of the complete lack of attention or care in my breakdown of these events. I wish I could for the sake of a better review, but I wasn’t given much to work with. Freed is much more concerned with everything in between. Christian goes away on business, comes back; Ana runs her publishing company, has drinks with friends; the Greys and friends go away on vacation, and so on. It is shamelessly superficial with zero substance whatsoever, to the point where I might as well have been watching a blank screen. The clunky pacing just makes this all the more tough to sit through, as you could probably imagine. The sinister shenanigans just pop up once in a while. I could almost hear the film itself saying “Oh, I forgot, all this bad stuff is supposed to be happening.”

I’ve mentioned that Dakota Johnson has something going for her, but everybody else is…ugh. Jamie Dornan has zero charisma or enigma that a character like Christian Grey requires a lot of. Eric Johnson is hilariously bad as the villain, projecting zero menace and giving a performance that rocks back and forth from over-the-top to clearly-doesn’t-care. It really compliments the cardboard character and his phenomenally bad dialogue.

But does the sex at least have anything to offer? After all, the appeal of the Fifty Shades saga seems to come from its steamy kinkiness. Well…at first, they’re treated like the thriller moments in that they just show up once in a while and end before any sexiness can really carry over to the audience. The sex becomes more and more frequent at a bizarre pace, not to mention that the kink factory seems to be there as a token. There are a couple of moments that had potential to be enjoyably titillating (particularly a scene involving ice cream), but they’re all marred by Freed’s sappy soundtrack. Speaking of music, I noticed that Danny Elfman – the same man responsible for the brilliant score for Batman – scored Freed, and I wish I could say more, but none of his talent was present.

While not obscenely bad, it is clear that I didn’t particularly enjoy Fifty Shades Freed. Whether it be fellow critics or those critical of its idea of kinky sex (the latter being a notably common criticism), Freed will probably continue to compel detractors to attempt at steering mainstream audiences away. It is in my confident opinion that the saga will be remembered as only a blip on the radar for years to come, so I say let the people enjoy the series wrap up for now. As for me, purchasing a ticket as a lone single male was an embarrassing experience (especially being only one of two men in the entire audience), but at least I will never have to do it again. 

FILM REVIEW: Bilal: A New Breed of Hero (2015)

Directed by Khurram Alavi & Ayman Jamal

* * 1/2

It is not my place to vouch for or object to the religion of Islam, but Bilal: A New Breed of Hero is a noble enough story (albeit, done to death) that I won’t object too much to the subject matter. It’s nice to see that this film exists. Bilal is a prominent figure in Islam, territory that rarely makes its way to commercial audiences in the United States. What I do object to is just how much its messages on freedom and equality are hammered in.

As you’ve probably gathered by now, our hero is the titular Bilal. He and his sister, Ghufaira, are thrown into a life of slavery. They spend much of their lives bearing witness (as well as enduring) to what taints the world around them –oppression, corruption, charlatanry, and greed. As an adult, Bilal grows tired of it. He fearlessly stand up for his beliefs and values in the face of what persecutes him. In the face of death, after angering his masters, Bilal is saved by a man known as the Charlatan Priest. He buys Bilal’s freedom and teaches him the universal messages of love, freedom, and equality. And thus the chain reaction of flaws begins.

Be ready for the lessons in Bilal, because it will make sure you know what its message is. I would estimate that 95 percent of the dialogue is some sort of sermon on love and peace (I assure you that 95 percent is a very fair estimate). I wouldn’t have as much of a problem if it was at least written in a unique way, but it is all about as generic as you could possibly expect. Sometimes it feels like the same lines are recycled over and over again, and sitting through these lectures becomes a torturous eye-rolling experience. As for the villains, those against freedom and equality, everything they say is taken straight from the Animated Bad Guy Playbook. It’s almost insulting just how stock their dialogue is. Considering the Islamic roots, at least it wasn’t pious (save for a couple of moments).

In turn, there is little to no memorability in the film’s characters. It is evident that the writers were so concerned with spreading their good word that they forgot to give their characters their own identities through their vocal mannerisms. At best, the characters in Bilal exist only to teach the film’s lessons. At worst, they’re just in the background. There is a blacksmith character (I cannot recall the name) who I think had only one line of dialogue in the entire movie, which is to introduce himself. He stands alongside the heroes throughout their arduous journey as if he’s this significant character, but in reality, he’s just there.

Bilal is the first feature from Barajoun Entertainment, and there is enough potential that it’s worth seeing what they will bring next. At times, the animation is beautiful, rich in texture and filled to the brim with the smallest details. There are some truly stunning and spectacular moments in Bilal. The opening sequence alone would make a remarkable short film – it rapidly bounces back and forth from a young boy innocently imagining himself a warrior to a fast-approaching cavalry of hostile forces (of an almost demonic quality).

But even the animation can’t be completely counted on, because the character animations are a whole different story. They don’t look finished, lacking in the rich detail that the surrounding world is packed with. They look plastic and dollish. When they move, there’s this stiff jaggedness that perpetuates, and it’s creepily unnatural.

Even if the animation were fully developed, I would still have criticisms. Just by looking at Bilal, one would think this is a kid’s movie, further evident by the handling and delivery of its lessons. I actually had no idea that I walked into a PG-13 rated movie until afterward, because this is one grisly movie. A sequence where Bilal is nearly crushed by a boulder walks the line enough, but for a PG-13 movie debatably targeted for kids, the climactic battle at the end is brutal. Additionally, all the stylization applied to the unpleasantness tends to nullify the film’s message – for an anti-violent message, it bore too much resemblance to 300 much of the time.

There are enough admirable and honorable qualities in Bilal: A New Breed of Hero that I have no hesitation in commending it to a certain degree. That said, my commendation is only on a circumstantial, perhaps even superficial, level. While not a failure, there’s glaring a lack of development, from the varying quality of animation to the uncertain target audience. Ultimately, it’s still a story we’ve heard time and time again. For those holding out for a hero, keep holding out – it’s unlikely (s)he’s here.