FILM REVIEW: God's Not Dead: A Light in the Darkness (2018)

Directed by Michael Mason

* * 

God’s Not Dead: A Light in the Darkness follows the same formulas, indulges in the same tropes, and pushes the same ethical/political/ideological agenda as its two predecessors, so much so that I was seriously tempted to completely skip out on a proper review and instead give a one-to-two paragraph explanation regarding the lack of a review. Not out of anger, not out of cynicism, but just because there’s really not much to say that hasn’t already been said – what has been said about the first two God’s Not Dead films is easily applied here. Lucky for you, I’m not the type to cop out like that. In turn, though, that might result in a fairly bare-bones review.

Pastor Dave Hill (David A.R. White) is back once again, a figure of controversy. He has been jailed for contempt of court after legal confrontation of…something involving his Christian faith and his refusal to bow down to secularism. He is released the next morning, greeted by fellow Pastor Jude (Benjamin A. Onyango). Trouble continues for Dave: his church (which has stood for generations) sits on the territory of a state college, and the students want it gone.

What is a God’s Not Dead film without a bunch of other characters? Along with Dave, we also have Keaton (Samantha Boscarino), a student at the college. She is a Christian, but her faith in Christ is at a very uncertain point. She has a boyfriend; Adam (Mike C. Manning), who teases her once in a while about her faith. After an argument, Adam accidentally blows up Dave’s church, and Pastor Jude is killed in the explosion. With the church in charred ruins, it is on the brink of being torn down, but Dave has teamed with his agnostic brother Pearce (John Corbett), a social justice lawyer, to ensure that church stands no matter what.

Oh, and Josh Wheaton (Shane Harper) is back, who has given up law school to become a minister. There’s really nothing much more to say beyond that. He’s just there for the audience to light up in recognition.

I didn’t bother with God’s Not Dead 2, but I did with the first film, and I can assure you that God’s Not Dead: A Light in the Darkness does absolutely nothing to garner any fans from anybody outside the target demographic, let alone convert anybody. Christians are the good guys, atheists and secularists (well, pretty much anybody who isn’t a Christian) are the bad guys, but in the usual attempt to round things out, there are a few non-Christians thrown into the mix, we know exactly what side they’ll be on by the film’s end. Sound familiar?

That doesn’t mean there’s nothing to talk about, though. To my pleasant surprise, God’s Not Dead: A Light in the Darkness attempts at some complexity in its subject matter, instead of the same old us-versus-them mentality that is otherwise so prevalent. Dave is the primary example: at one point, he has a violent encounter with a character, and the movie doesn’t apologize for or justify his actions. He is even confronted when he’s bluntly told that it’s behavior like that that has bred such a backlash against Christianity. It’s refreshing to see that somebody at Pure Flix is at least aware.

There’s also something to be said about the character of Keaton and her struggle of faith (crisis of faith is one of the most striking subjects in all of cinema), but I cannot give any praises beyond “it at least has these themes and elements”, because this complex subject matter is never really explored beyond what we’re given. The movie just presses on from plot point to plot point, and not particularly engagingly. Every single exchange of dialogue feels like an exchange between a pastor and an inquisitive member of their congregation. Dear movie: plot and sermon are not the same thing. At least try to be subtle and subversive, which it tries to be, as there is the occasional quasi-profound statement.

The lack of subtlety perpetuates, sometimes to insulting degrees. Take, for instance, one of the progressive secular students. At one point, he is seen recording a video on his phone. There is an American flag on his phone, and as he records, it is inverted. How tasteful.

As far as how the film is made; it’s at least watchable in that regard. Yeah, the set designs are a bit sterile from time to time, but the production is about what you’d expect from a film in the God’s Not Dead series. While there is a “plastic” factor to everything, at least it’s not distracting. That said, will somebody please tell the DP to turn down the ISO? So many shots….so unbearably bright. I suppose it’s trying to be inspirational, but it’s a bit overbearing. At least in the theater; I can see this being less excruciating at home. Also, it’s decently paced. It started, said what it had to say, and was done. No dragging from the film, no restlessness and watch-checks from me, so at least sitting through this wasn’t a task.

The track record for Christian cinema is truly a shame. Faith and theology can make for extraordinarily poignant and touching cinematic experiences. Take The Tree of Life for instance: it is one of the most unbelievably moving films I’ve ever seen, and when broken down and analyzed, one will discover it is a deep testament of Christian faith. Unfortunately, films like The Tree of Life don’t pull the numbers quite like the God’s Not Dead series has. This third installment; while not quite as unbearable as its predecessors, it’s otherwise still same old, same old. For the target audience, you’ll be told exactly what you heard the last couple of times. For those opposed, save your breath and energy: nothing new to get huffy over. So, before any ideological debates start, let’s move on, shall we? There's better movies to be concerned about.

FILM REVIEW: Acrimony (2018)

Directed by Tyler Perry

* *

Isn’t it just amazing the crazy things love tends to make us do? How amazing how we sometimes become totally different people: goals, money, and agendas are sometimes altered to polarizing degrees, all because of our obsession for one’s loving affection. I’m aware I’m over-generalizing here, and while I’m aware that the changes that love constitute aren’t usually too drastic and commonly for the better, love still makes some do some wacky stuff at times. As morbidly entertaining as it might be to watch in real life, does it translate well to the movies? Regardless of whether it be comedy or drama, it can, but other times it’s a recipe for a train-wreck of a movie. Case in point: Acrimony, the latest output from Tyler Perry.

As Acrimony opens, Melinda (Taraji P. Henson) has been lawfully issued mandatory counseling after a restraining order. Cut to her first counseling session, just to cut to the real beginning of the plot. She narrates throughout as we watch a young Melinda (Ajiona Jones) meet Robert (Antonio Madison), a seemingly well-to-do upstanding young man. They collide in the rain, complete with scattered papers: he personally delivers some of her lost papers to her, along with offering assistance with studying for an upcoming test. I think Cupid’s hovering around here somewhere, guys.

After the death of a family member, Melinda inherits $350K as well as the family house. Sometime later, she marries Robert, whose life work revolves around a self-charging battery capable of powering a whole house. In spite of graduating college, a felony from his adolescence leaves him unable to get a job, so he confines himself at home working on the battery while Melinda does all of the financial heavy lifting – eventually, the beloved house and all of the money is gone. She’s frequently lectured by her sisters and acquaintances to leave him, but Melinda just can’t seem to find herself able to do so.

This goes on for years, perhaps even a decade or two, after their initial encounter, and we can’t help but wonder in frustration “why the hell doesn’t Melinda just leave him?” for the duration of the movie, to the point where it becomes quite the task to show any sympathy for her. It doesn’t help her case that she’s just plain crazy: early in their relationship, she catches Robert with another woman. Now, I’d be pretty enraged myself, but what I wouldn’t do is attempt to kill them in the act, which is exactly what Melinda does.

This becomes Acrimony’s biggest problem: just who in the world are we supposed to root for? We may lack sympathy for Melinda for her insistence to stick with Robert, but we’re not exactly with Robert either. To the film’s credit, they don’t depict him as a malicious human parasite, but rather a boy of a man just a little too much naïve ambition. Granted, this initial dynamic is not what is problematic: as difficult as it may be to sympathize fully with Melinda, it is next to impossible to sympathize with Robert, who continues to dig both of them into a deep hole.

The problems arise at the end of the second act. Robert and Melinda have moved on from each other. Not long after, Robert’s luck changes for the better. Much, much better, to the point where he apologizes to Melinda’s face with roses and a very generous check. Melinda’s feelings about Robert completely change, desperately wanting him back, but he’s moved on to bigger and better things, to Melinda’s disappointment. Forget disappointment: she is absolutely enraged, spending her lonely evenings stalking his social media complete with threatening rhetoric. It’s kind of scary in just how parallel it is to Travis Bickle’s behavior, complete with a climactic outburst. It’s one thing if Acrimony were aspiring to be a psychological drama a la Taxi Driver, but considering Tyler Perry’s less than stellar reputation, I doubt this was his goal.

Almost every review I’ve seen on Acrimony keeps talking about how Taraji P. Henson is too talented to be in a movie like this. Maybe there is something to her, but Acrimony never gives Henson a chance for her alleged acting chops to shine. On a side note, it’s kind of funny that Melinda makes a speech about being labelled a stereotype of the typical angry black woman, but continues to be that stereotype. While Acrimony isn’t offensive, it lacks the understanding that the character needs to divert criticisms of racial stereotyping. On the flip side, because Acrimony plays as commercialized drama, it does make it a bit more offensive in that light.

Complete with everything above, Acrimony isn’t even made that well, either. Visually, it’s extremely generic – I must admit that I thought I was watching a Hallmark movie half the time (though that slow zoom on Henson in the beginning is actually quite effective). Where it gets hilarious is the use of blue screen on occasion. There are a few moments where Acrimony just had to have blue screen for whatever reason, and it’s so painfully and laughably obvious. What makes it funnier (and really odd) is that the locations they use blue screen to replace aren’t even locations that would require such action. Like, could the budget really not afford a walk alongside the city flood channel?

There’s really nothing else to say. No noteworthy performances, no interesting themes, no technical expertise, nothing. What I can say is that this is my first experience with Tyler Perry, so I can at least say that I walked in with an unbiased mindset – in turn, you’re getting a fair review at the very least. Walking out, though, I can’t exactly say I’m eager for what Tyler Perry brings next. As far as black cinema goes, you and I are probably better off waiting for the next Spike Lee joint.

FILM REVIEW: Ready Player One (2018)

Directed by Steven Spielberg

* * *

When we boot up our PCs and game consoles, we have the opportunity to possess control of characters, worlds, and scenarios beyond our wildest fantasies. There’s a word for this: escapism. Some may say it is apathetic. I say it is essential for our wellbeing (to an extent, of course). Sometimes the world just plain sucks, even more so when we have no control over what goes on. If somebody were to ask me why something as seemingly silly as a video game is so important to so many people, I would direct them to Ready Player One. Beneath the overpopulation of nostalgia, there is a heartwarming ode to gaming culture that is irresistible.

The year is 2045, and the world has taken a dystopic turn, confining citizens into territory called the Stacks: shabby trailers stacked high on scaffolding (imagine what a trailer park in Blade Runner would look like). It is what it is, at this point. An oddball computer genius named James Halliday (Mark Rylance) has offered solace with a vast VR world known as the Oasis, and everybody visits the Oasis on a regular basis – I don’t think its hyperbole to say ‘everybody’. Unfortunately, Halliday is no longer among the living, but he has left behind a legacy in the form of a challenge – cryptically hidden within the Oasis are three challenges. The reward: three keys that will grant whoever discovers them complete control over the Oasis. Only one challenge has been unlocked, but nobody has beaten it yet.

Our hero is Wade Watts (Tye Sheridan), who ventures the Oasis as Parzival. He is rarely without his best friend Aech (Lena Waithe), who looks like a cross between God of War’s Kratos and Imperator Furiosa. Wade is obsessed with winning the challenge. These two are soon joined by Art3mis (Olivia Cooke), a rogue spirit that catches Wade’s heart. Also obsessed with winning Halliday’s challenge is Nolan Sorrento (Ben Mendelsohn), who runs the big bad IOI Corporation and wants the Oasis for big bad corporate nonsense.

Ready Player One is the latest cinematic rollercoaster from the defining and beloved Steven Spielberg. Wait, did I say rollercoaster? Make that the entire theme park. The Oasis a world so animated, so colorful, so fun that we so badly want to be a part of, to the point that I felt like I was on a leash (and not in a kinky way). As awesomely spectacular as the Oasis is, I couldn’t exactly call it imaginative.

Ready Player One is an orgasm of ’80s and ‘90s pop culture references. I don’t think there’s one shot in the entire movie that doesn’t have some sort of reference to something – spot every single reference in Ready Player One; now there’s a challenge! But strip away all of the various movie and video game references, and while the Oasis would still have something going for it, it wouldn’t be quite the same without our favorite pop culture relics.

Ironically, there is a terrific sequence that puts a marvelous spin on this pop-culture indulgence where our heroic trio are transported into The Shining. This scene may not work for those that haven’t seen Kubrick’s masterpiece (and shame on you if you haven’t), but it works so incredibly well for those that have, not to mention that it’s quite an achievement in intermixing CGI and superimposition (the cinematic world around our heroes even has that grain to it). It’s also hilarious to see one of our characters obliviously stumble into the horrific bathroom of Room 237. Oh, if only they’d seen the movie.

This is not the kind of nostalgia that serves in place of substance: there’s a genuine passion for all of these pop culture elements that shape our imagination and how they make us who we are. It may be a little eye-roll inducing at times, but it’s just having pure Spielbergian fun, and it’s difficult not to be won over by that.

What did not win me over were the characters. Granted, they’ve all got enough personality to keep things from slogging, but they’re not memorable enough to give the film that extra ounce of strength it could use. While Aech is a great sidekick, Wade has little to no charisma and just seems kind of…there. This makes his relationship with Art3mis all the less compelling (though it does make for a great debate about virtual relationships versus real ones). Spielberg tries to recreate the John Hughes suit-and-tie villain with Nolan Sorrento, but there’s no real motivation for his evilness other than that he’s a corporate bad guy. What’s the threat here? Micro-transactions?

Ambitiously, Ready Player One bounces from the virtual world to the real world, and the climax involves both simultaneously (quite wonderfully, I might add). For all of the attention that went into the virtual world, it would have been nice to have seen a bit more from the dystopian future that our heroes inhabit, but it seems to exist to remind us that the Oasis is just VR. As for the dystopic angle, just a means of playing up the whole “escapist” theme. It works fine, but a bit more depth into the film’s world would have significantly strengthened it.

On my way out of the theater, there was a trio of young men extolling that “Spielberg has brought the magic back” with Ready Player One. That got me thinking: there really is a magic to Spielberg’s movies that only he is capable of casting. Ready Player One is no exception, but this is not Spielberg’s most enchanting spell – the nostalgia overload and lack of memorable characters will have plenty of detractors, and I don’t blame them. As for me, I had a bloody good time traversing the Oasis. Hell, I’m already contemplating making another visit to the theater this weekend for a 3D showing, so let that say something about the enjoyment factor of the movie (especially considering I don’t like spending the extra money for a 3D movie).

FILM REVIEW: Double Lover (2017)

Directed by Francois Ozon

* * 1/2

There was so much promise throughout Double Lover. Even with its flaws, I was convinced with utmost confidence that I was watching a psychosexual drama great enough to possibly join the ranks of Last Tango in Paris and Eyes Wide Shut. Not only did its borderline nonsensical third act completely derail this chance for greatness, but all of the flaws that were once excusable just furthered Double Lover’s disappointment factor. Still, I can’t ignore the fact that Double Lover was still an exquisitely alluring experience that kept me watching.

Chloe (Marine Vacth) is a troubled woman, struggling with intense stomach pains that are seemingly a psychological product. She begins seeing a therapist by the name of Paul Meyer (Jeremie Renier), a humble and soft-spoken fellow – when he speaks, anyway, as he tends to let Chloe do all of the talking. Chloe expresses her joy in finding somebody who actually lets her speak. After several appointments, they fall in love and begin a relationship. Questionability arises. While traveling through town, Chloe sees Paul with another woman. Perhaps an affair, perhaps just a casual interaction, but Chloe is still disconcerted about what she saw.

She investigates, and she soon finds herself in the office of Louis Delord (also Renier), another therapist and Paul’s twin brother. She schedules an appointment (under the alias ‘Eva’), but is practically turned away at the beginning of their meeting – Louis, who is much more fearsome and blunt than his brother, calls Chloe out on her insecurities and repression that prevents her from telling him the absolute truth. She is flabbergasted by Louis’s audacity and swears to never see him again…easier said than done, as that stern personality of Louis’s seems to bring to light a chasm in her relationship with Paul.

Therapy is one of my most despised, dare I say, scapegoats in film. They commonly serve as an excuse for the filmmaker’s lack of artistic insight and imagination to vocalize a character’s complex feelings. Double Lover, on the other hand, makes unique and compelling use of Chloe’s therapy sessions.

With no intentions of being a downer, if I may bring to light one of my more pessimistic musings; I sometimes wonder if romantic relationships are less a culmination of passionate love between two people than a therapeutic means of coping with whatever troubles bother both parties – after all, life seems to be a bit more bearable when there’s somebody there to power through it with.

I mentioned how Chloe does practically all of the talking in her therapy sessions. Subsequently, Paul just seems kind of there and rarely provides input, like a pillow. I found myself wondering what she would see in him. Then I wondered: do our loved ones exist only as a means of consolation, and could mutual love continue without the need for console? Then comes her turbulently sexual relationship with Louis: perhaps as a means of reopening the chasm that was once closing – some sort of masochism that exists within all of us (why is enough just never enough)?

And I stop the existential inquiry/analysis there, because what matters is the movie. Questions and thematic matter like this fascinate me like no other, and Double Lover brings these ideas to the screen so captivatingly. It asks those questions without actually asking them, and I greatly admire that in a movie. Equally captivating are the film’s exceptional score and cinematography, as the film looks like something that belongs in a modern art museum. No revolutionary ground as far as visuals go, it is still amazing photography, and it makes for a compelling watch nonetheless.

There is some awkwardness here and there in Double Lover, even when it is good. Take, for instance, a scene where Paul and Chloe are making passionate love. Due to some sort of disconnection of the moment, Chloe gazes over to the side to see her beloved cat Milo staring at each other. This lingers for a moment. It’s kind of funny, but the movie’s playing it straight and trying to be thought-provoking (which makes it even funnier). Additionally, there’s Louis: his words and actions are exactly what you’d find in a dollar-store romance novel, not to mention Renier’s portrayal of the sexily bad Louis is quite hammy. It’s as if the writer had all these great ideas for a character (and they are great ideas), but can’t quite articulate them in a unique way, so they resort to lesser means of conveyance that turn out to feel cheap.

At first, these moments were forgivable because at least the film was interesting and wasn’t bloated with this awkwardness. But then Double Lover enters its third act. There will most likely be much questioning from the viewer as to whether this love triangle is real or a product of Chloe’s mental instability. It’s almost like there were two different as to how this story should wrap up, but the final product feels like the result of a bitter clash, as if there was a bitter compromise between two different sides of writer/director Ozon’s mind. It makes no sense, and not in a David Lynch kind of way.

I don’t know why, but there’s something about this clunky third act that just makes the awkwardness and flaws from before that were once excusable so much more intolerable, not to mention that the film engages in a totally unnecessary subplot involving a bed-ridden girl, and a hilariously cliché and melodramatic climax involving Chloe with a pistol and a tight decision of who to shoot.

What a shame this is, to have seen a potentially great film fall not only on its face, but so frustratingly short. At the very least, it was fascinating while it lasted. I can’t exactly say the film is worth it, but it’s at least not a tedious movie, and it certainly gives a lot to think about when it’s over. Personally, I was ultimately left thinking, dejectedly, how Double Lover could have been better.

UPDATE - 27 March 2018

Good day, readers. With April just a few days away, I can’t believe we’re already a quarter into 2018. Subsequently, I can’t believe I’ve been at this since January and the time has passed this quickly. All I can say is that I hope this weekend brings something good, because I have some sort-of bad news: the amount of content on Red Eye is about to slow down. To be more specific, I am ceasing reviewing every current movie release on a regular basis. This will be in effect after all of the releases this upcoming weekend, starting 30 March.

I want to assure you it has absolutely nothing to do with loss of interest or creative burn-out. Quite the opposite. If anything, my writing momentum is better than it’s ever been. Having done this on such a regular basis has helped give me a lot of direction – I am even contemplating switching majors to journalism (or some sort of writing-based major). Reviewing movies independently (i.e., nobody pays me) is a very expensive gig, but I barely think about money: I love what I’ve been doing – even when I have to sit through complete rubbish. Even then, though, you have no idea how cathartic writing negative reviews are.

Because I still have this burning passion, you may ask why I’m putting a stop (hopefully temporary) to regular reviews. I mentioned money earlier. Yes, I have no issue spending money to pursue passion (can’t make an omelet without cracking a few eggs). Ultimately, though: I don’t mind busy as long as it’s not expensive; I don’t mind expensive as long as it’s not busy.

When I started, the average weekend would see 3-4 movies released. Now, it’s getting to be at least 5-6 (hell, the week after my car accident, there were 8 movies), and the workload is getting a bit too cumbersome (even 4 movies was starting to push it), and a heavy workload means a lot more money spent. As much as I love doing this, I’m not being paid for it, and I can only put so many funds forward. More importantly, though, the quality of my work slips the more I have to write – I’m more worried about that part than money.

I vehemently believe that film criticism must be approached with an “All or None” attitude. Sure, I can limit and boil down what I see, but is that fair to the films I don’t see that one or two of my readers were waiting to hear my opinion on? If they read my stuff, they value my opinion – I value their value, and of course I want them to continue reading my stuff. I doubt they’d keep coming back if they continuously don’t get to hear my opinion on what they want to see.

It might be unfair to the movie, as well. Let’s say there’s a movie I discover to be a masterpiece, but it’s totally under the radar and nobody’s talking about it. Because of that lack of popularity, of course I wouldn’t see it if I limited what I saw every weekend. When I see an unsung masterpiece, I want to be that guy who espouses its mastery from the highest mountain top.

Fret not, though – I give you my word that this is in no way the end. Just because I won’t be keeping up with contemporary releases doesn’t mean I won’t see a couple here and there. Also, since I have a small audience, I don’t mind taking requests – if there’s anything you guys want to hear my opinion, please get in touch with me and I’ll put it on my weekend radar. All I ask is that you ask me prior to release – I like to have my reviews out around the release date. That said, do know I can only go out of my way for one or two movies by this point.

And if that doesn’t give you reassurance, let me put it to you this way: one of my goals is to enter the Online Society of Film Critics, and two of the criteria are 1) Applicant must have been writing for at least two years – I just started this year, and we’ve got a lot of time before 2020 approaches us. Additionally 2) Applicant must have at least 50 reviews. I am currently at 34, so there’s still some ways to go. Along with current releases, there’s also plenty of past films I want to talk about.

So, don’t worry. I’ll still be busy; you’ll still have reading material. After all, it would be kind of nice to get to write about movies for a living, and I’d really like to reach that point. Nothing quite like humble beginnings.

Best regards,

Jakob

P.S.,

A few colleagues and I may or may not be planning a YouTube series/podcast thing. No promises, but the cogwheels have been turning on this.

FILM REVIEW: In Between (2016)

Directed by Maysaloun Hamoud

* * * 1/2

One of the most interesting elements of In Between is the soundtrack: the speakers in the theater pulsated with groovy and electrifying EDM beats, but in spite of all of the distortion and samples collaged throughout, within the music was traditional Middle Eastern tunes. Now, perhaps I’m being over-vigilant here, but the music was on the threshold of being overbearingly loud. It’s as if the music itself is an audio representation of the tug of war between tradition and the modern. And hey, wouldn’t you know it; that’s exactly what the film is about.

(Oh, and by the way, the soundtrack is awesome. Just saying.)

Salma and Leila (Mouna Hawa and Sana Jammelieh), both in their mid-to-late 20s, are roommates in Tel Aviv (the second largest city in Israel). They live an audaciously festive life: evenings are complete with raves, alcohol, a few tokes of grass, and maybe even a line or two of coke. Things take an interesting turn when they are joined by Nour (Shaden Kanboura), who is temporarily moving in with them for school’s sake. Contrary to Salma and Leila’s carefree (and perhaps passively spiteful) lifestyles, Nour is devout to both tradition and the Muslim religion. In spite of these polar differences in lifestyle, they seem to get along okay – Salma and Leila occasionally try to get Nour to loosen up; she politely declines, and they agree to live and let live.

Nour is engaged to Wissam (Henry Andrawes), who is equally – if not more – traditional and religious than Nour (he barely speaks without preceding his dialogue with “Praise be to God”). He is eager to move their wedding date up, but Nour’s number one concern is school. Tension grows between the two, as Nour does indeed begin to loosen up – there’s a wonderful scene when she dances by herself in the apartment, hijab removed and hair flowing. This does not come without vehement displeasure Wissam, who commits an atrocious act as a means of establishing his authority over Nour.

As for Salma and Leila, both of which are being pressured into arranged marriages by their respective families: Salma, working as a bartender, strikes a lesbian relationship with one of her patrons (which is kept very hush-hush from her Christian family); Leila shares a nice romance with a man she met at a party. He claims to be liberal, but might not be so open to his partner’s independence after all. Brought up in a society that wants to dictate their life choices in the name of tradition, these three women find solace only in each other after their dilemmas leave them nobody else to understand them. The dilemmas they face are unfortunate, but the sisterhood that follows is a thing of beauty to witness.

To critique a film like In Between without delving into the ethics and politics of the scenario is a difficult task, as the ethics and politics are probably the most important aspects of the film. In Between is the first feature by Maysaloun Hamoud, and I can assure you that this debut sounds the clarion of a fierce and fortuitous new talent in this recent wave of Middle Eastern cinema. Not once does she reserve herself for the sake of her reputation as a Middle Eastern citizen. She sees injustice and calls it exactly for what it is.

But this kind of fearlessness can only get the filmmaker so far before one asks “But how’s the movie?” and I can assure you with complete confidence that In Between delivers, and it’s all on account of our three lead women – nay, heroines. No matter who you are, I think everyone will find something of themselves within these three women, whether it be Leila’s extroversion, Salma’s artiness, or Nour’s traditionalism. These are people who just want to live their lives, and how unfortunate that they are stuck in families as well as a society that condemns any kind of independence. The performances from the actresses make them all the more believable and real.

Even if you’re a man watching In Between, there is no gender gap to alienate the opposite sex, and the characters can still be sympathized unconditionally – there was a jovial yet striking moment of empathy from me when Salma is lectured for wearing all black (man, that hit close to home). This universality is the other key factor in In Between’s effectivity, and a filmmaker with this urgent of a message must do what they can to make their message accessible around the world. Hamoud nails it.

That does result in some heavy-handedness throughout the film. I can admit some contradiction in my comments on In Between’s universality, because the film knows exactly who this film is for, and plays almost exclusively to that target audience, so there’s a lot of preaching to the choir. In all fairness, though, this is a film from the Middle East – I can’t think of territory more in need of a film like In Between.

I’m noticing a lot of praise for In Between’s cinematography, and I do not understand why. I hadn’t even read about the “terrific cinematography” before seeing the movie, and I felt let down while I was watching: it is shot handheld, like so many other films in the independent/foreign category. With a very few exceptions, I’ve always found this visual need for “documentary realism” – in spite of very movie-like dialogue that distracts from that documentary feel – a scapegoat for a lack of ideas for a truly visually interesting film.

In Between is maybe a little heavy-handed in its cry against the hindrances and dangers of tradition, but if it is heavy, only by just a few ounces (a pound or two at most). There is no denying that the drama throughout the flm grips you right from the start and never lets go, and makes that little excess weight worth carrying. The result is a remarkable debut and an overall exemplary work of feminist cinema.

FILM REVIEW: Paul, Apostle of Christ (2018)

Directed by Andrew Hyatt

* 1/2

During Sunday morning visits to church with the family, our pastor would occasionally have a guest conduct the sermon. This was never much to look forward to. I mean and imply no contempt toward the individual(s) whatsoever (most of, if not all, the people from my old church are some truly amazing people), but these guest sermons almost always went way overtime. We would sit and listen to what they had to say, smile, nod at something poignant, but the fidgeting got more intense, watch-checks became more frequent, and as a result, engagement in what might be an amazing sermon steadily diminished (I’m not the only one who felt this way). These overlong sermons were double-frustrating when a delicious brunch was scheduled following church.

Though no brunch was had following my viewing of Paul, Apostle of Christ, the experience recounted above is almost identical to viewing this film: as nice and well-intentioned as it may be, any power it might have been is completely obliterated by the fact that it does nothing to engage the viewer and overstays its welcome, and it’s not even two hours long.

The title is somewhat misleading, as Paul, Apostle of Christ is less about Paul (James Faulkner) than it is about Luke (Jim Caviezel). The world that surrounds them persecutes Christians in ugly, inhuman ways. Paul sits in prison, awaiting execution, but is visited regularly by Luke, who is writing a book on Paul’s wisdom and teachings (perhaps a more proper title would be Go Ask Paul). When Luke is not learning from Paul, he joins his brethren, who are conflicted in taking the peaceful route vs. taking up arms against their persecutors. This is all I could gather from the plot, because I got practically nothing beyond that (and even then, I had to consult the Internet for guidance on the basics).

I am purely interested in film and the art of filmmaking. My thoughts and opinions on other issues do not belong in my reviews, including theology. I cannot emphasize this enough, because I was extremely close to walking out of this one. Paul, Apostle of Christ, as a film has only one issue, but that one issue is enough to destroy the movie: it is boring. Unbearably, insufferably, tediously, torturously boring. Lightly slapping my face after very briefly dozing off became routine. I don’t like taking bathroom breaks during movies at the risk of missing plot points, but had I not taken one, I probably would have walked out (you guys are so lucky I have integrity when it comes to film criticism).

Are there any solid performances in the film? I have absolutely no idea. Yeah, Jim Caviezel is a solid actor (he’s one of the best parts of the WW2 masterpiece The Thin Red Line), and there is a slight glimmer of enigma in James Faulkner’s portrayal of Paul that the character requires, but nobody really had a chance to act in this movie. Everybody speaks in that quasi-intense raspy whispering almost all of the time. Legitimate vocalization does occur, but only when the plot requires it.

Raspy whispering does not equal acting or character, and considering that most every key player talks like this, it is evident that the writers had no idea how to write distinctive characters. All of the dialogue is the same old biblical-era lingo that we’re so accustomed to hearing, that kind of renaissance fair dialect with praises to the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost thrown in. And then there’s the Roman soldiers: same old sinister and hateful disregard to those below them. The generic quality of the dialogue isn’t even laughable due to just how uninteresting everything is.

As for set design? Lighting? Sound? At least all of that gets the job done. Nothing to write home about, though (and the film does fall victim to moments of over-production). Set designs, while competent, still look like sets, and the arbitrary omnipresence of smoke and fog just makes it kind of cheesy.

Paul, Apostle of Christ, believe it or not, does have two unfortunately brief scenes that were actually quite good. One is Luke’s examination of a Roman soldier’s ailing daughter, where differences are set aside for the betterment of another human being. Additionally, the film ends on a hair-raisingly moving scene, a sort of abstract presentation of legacy and eternal life, filmed in such a way that might make Terrence Malick proud.

Then again, this was all during the final stretch of the movie, which means it was ending soon.

I wish I had more to say for the sake of a more well-rounded review, but I really can’t help it. I know a good movie when I see one, and this was not one of those moments. Perhaps a better understanding of the source material would have made the film more engaging, so maybe it’s my own fault (I’ve not read the bible), but Paul, Apostle of Christ is a film before it is a sermon, and a good film should invite its audience rather than alienate, regardless of who might be in that audience. There is material here for a deeply moving and spiritual experience of a film, but this interpretation of a key figure in the bible resulted in one of the most boring films I can recall in recent memory.

FILM REVIEW: Midnight Sun (2018)

Directed by Scott Speer

* * 1/2

Seeing the advertising for Midnight Sun, it was evident that I was going to be most likely getting sappily tearjerking melodrama for young audiences. Yes, this is what I got, but it wasn’t too bad this time.  Midnight Sun at least knew when it was time to lighten up on the contrivances and be serious about its subject matter. That said, those contrivances are still present, and combined with distracting tonal imbalance, Midnight Sun is not a satisfying movie overall, but it was riveting while it lasted.

17 year old Katie (Bella Thorne) has lived her life indoors– she is afflicted with xeroderma pigmentosum, a condition that makes her skin hyper-sensitive to sunlight. If she is exposed to even the slightest bit, it could be potentially life-ending. Thankfully, Katie is the kind of person who always sees the positive in everything, so life isn’t too painful for her. The weight of her affliction is made all the lighter by the two closest people in her world: her widowed father Jack (Rob Riggle), a jolly and good humored man in spite of everything, and Morgan (Quinn Shephard), her best friend since childhood

Daytime is off-limits for Katie, but nighttime is free-for-all (in spite of her curfew). She enjoys playing her own music on guitar at the local train station. Meet Cute incoming: one day a strapping young lad by the name of Charlie (Patrick Schwarzenegger) passes by, stricken by Katie’s music. She is forced into quirky awkwardness in his presence: Charlie lives just down the street from Katie, and she has longingly watched him out her window for the last 10 or so years. In spite of the initial awkwardness, they both see something in each other.

There is a fascinating dynamic between these two, as both are characters who have been confined their entire lives in some way or another. We’ve already established Katie’s confinement, but then there’s Charlie: he has been swimming competitively all his life, but an injury has prevented him from continuing. His friends are eager for a life of partying, but Charlie doesn’t seem interested – while not happy about the injury, he seems somewhat excited to see what else life offers beyond the water. This dynamic is kind of pushed to the side, unfortunately, as the movie is more concerned with glistening the audience with their radiant romance. It’s not eye-rolling, but the romance would be so much stronger with the dynamic further cemented.

One might call this a catalyst for the film’s primary issue: it is concerned just enough with the issues it tackles (and tackles them seriously), but is still just slightly more concerned at appealing to its audience, as if it’s keeping the drama in frame, but only in the outer edges, because the colorful radiance has more priority and fills up the grand majority of that same frame. In turn, the film loses a portion of its potential power. Luckily, not all of it is lost.

The performances help, at the very least. Thorne may leave just a little bit to be desired – there’s the slightest sense of disengagement from the drama (and I meant the absolute slightest), but it’s clear that she’s giving it everything she’s got. Patrick Schwarzenegger’s not too much to write home about, but he’s got a nice charm to him. Quinn Shephard is absolutely wonderful as the zany best friend.

And then there’s Rob Riggle, who deserves an exclusive paragraph in this review (and not just because I love Rob Riggle).

There is a masterpiece that lies within Midnight Sun, and that mastery shines when we cut to Riggle as Jack, Katie’s father. Jack is a man who once had two people mean so much to him, but now there’s only one after the death of his wife (and that “one” is bound to meet her ultimate fate so much earlier than she should). He wants so dearly to hold on to her as tightly as possible, but doing so would not only be insufferably overbearing but also denial of the tragic inevitable, so Jack carries on with a well-intentioned but ultimately artificial jolliness. Riggle handles this role so unbelievably well that I wish the entire movie was about him. Not because the movie is bad, but because this is great drama that is so beautifully acted (especially considering it’s a role you wouldn’t expect somebody like Rob Riggle to handle).

But that’s not the movie we got. What we got instead wasn’t a bad movie at all, but definitely subpar. The imbalanced tone really doesn’t help things at all, and is probably the biggest offender. Take the opening scene, for instance. Moody ambient music and pretty cinematography fill the scene while Katie narrates her dilemma. Her tone of voice, on the other hand, has a quirky upbeat quality to it. Granted, that is her character, but it doesn’t fit the tone of everything else. This frequent muddled teeter-tottering of tones is prevalent throughout, and it’s quite distracting.

While Midnight Sun does hit many of the tropes you’d expect in a film like this, it’s at least not overbearing, but is still there and can be eye-roll inducing at times. Katie plays her guitar in a huge public space for the first time; practically the entire block fills up within seconds of the song (and the way this is shot, you’d think they were advertising an upcoming hit single). Stuff like that, but the worst example is actually at the very end. I won’t spoil it, but it’s an unrealistically grandiose testament to Katie’s legacy.

While I may have scoffed here and there, I can say that I was very involved in Midnight Sun. I look forward to seeing the talents of the leads bring next (and I certainly can’t wait for more drama from Riggle). I’ll even admit that my eyes may have watered a bit once in a while – it just never brought about actual tears that it could have brought.

FILM REVIEW: Sherlock Gnomes (2018)

Directed by John Stevenson

* *

I would like to open my review of Sherlock Gnomes with a question. I don’t mean this condescendingly or in an elitist “Holier-Than-Thou” manner, but I just have to ask: are lawn gnomes what’s in with the kids these days? Like, even in the hipster-ironic sense? Maybe this could be a cute idea, maybe not, but whatever potential Sherlock Gnomes might have had (and there is some here and there) is crippled by an overabundance of pop culture pandering and one of the most obnoxious characters I’ve ever seen in a film.

With his arch-nemesis Moriarty (Jamie Demetriou) defeated, Sherlock Gnomes and assistant Dr. Watson (Johnny Depp and Chiwetel Ejiofor) are chomping at the bit for another mystery to solve. They get their chance when London’s garden gnomes begin going inexplicably missing. Meanwhile, Gnomeo and Juliet (James McAvoy and Emily Blunt), along with the rest of their company of gnomes, have settled into a new garden, and are put in charge of it. Unfortunately, not all is well in their marriage – Gnomeo attempts a romantic gesture by stealing a favored flower from a local shop, but it goes horribly wrong, and Juliet confronts him about it. Upon returning to the garden, their troupe of gnomes have gone missing, having fallen victim to this kidnapping ploy. Thankfully, they cross paths with Sherlock, and so the adventure begins, and the further into the mystery they delve, the more evident it becomes that Moriarty just might be behind everything.

I was not looking forward to Sherlock Gnomes, but I must say that I was somewhat won over in the first half of the film – perhaps this wouldn’t be too bad after all. The prologue presents three tiny gnomes introducing the gnome-ified version of Sherlock Holmes. In spite of its pandering with references to modern trends in TV and movies (Game of Gnomes, for instance), there was enough energy and fun in the presentation that may have called for a wee bit of eye-rolling, but still put a smile on my face.

I didn’t realize what a wonderful voice cast Sherlock Gnomes had until I looked further into the movie – along with everybody else mentioned, I was pleasantly surprised to find out that Michael Caine and Ozzy Osbourne were in this movie. Everybody gives their role 110% in the movie and sound like they’re having a ton of fun. It’s hard not to contract contagious energy like that. I especially enjoyed Johnny Depp as the titular narcissistic and pretentious detective.

So, in spite of the issues that were a little grating, I was having fun. That said, it is worth pointing out a scene in a Chinese restaurant. There’s nothing racist or grossly offensive, but if anybody accuses cultural insensitivity, your accusations are not unwarranted. That said, I personally didn’t find anything terribly offensive. The setting was also cleverly used and I got a huge kick out of the giant decorative fortune kitten.

The turning point hits like a freight train during a sequence in a gnome-sized speakeasy. Singer-songwriter Mary J. Blige voices the most terrifying Barbie-like doll you’ve ever seen, who is also Sherlock’s ex-lover (pardon?). The film completely slaps you in the face when an arbitrary song-and-dance number kicks in. There’s something about the shameless commercialism here that just feels insulting.

From here it only got worse, and it’s all on account of the damn villain Moriarty, who looks something like a cross between a yellow Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man and an obese version of Greg from last year’s masterpiece of fecal-matter The Emoji Movie. Moriarty is easily one of the most obnoxious characters in recent memory. I won’t give away much, but I have no shame in announcing that Moriarty turns out to be behind the gnome kidnapping scheme (surprise, surprise). He just never…shuts…up. I can’t help but feel like those involved in the production knew this, and they try to excuse it by throwing in all sorts of self-aware Meta jokes. Okay, movie, just because you’re self-aware doesn’t excuse the obnoxiousness.

Moriarty isn’t one of those villains you love to hate. He’s not a villain you hate because of his evil, which would further your engagement in the plot. You just plain hate him. The climax is set on London Bridge. I spent the entire scene crossing my fingers hoping in vain Moriarty would just fall off and drown. I really don’t care how mean that sounded.

Along with this, there’s just so much pandering to what’s new and hot. Plenty of references to social media, cell phone lingo, the trickiness of selfies, and so on. It’s obvious that Sherlock Gnomes is doing to lawn gnomes what Toy Story did for toys. Was Toy Story a grand slam because of references to pop culture and a soundtrack with the latest hits? No; none of that is even present in the seminal Pixar film. It worked because of great characters and a unique and clever setting. Perhaps some of that was present in Sherlock Gnomes, but they got to make that money somehow, I suppose.

At the very least, Sherlock Gnomes doesn’t overstay its welcome, running a little over an hour and 20 minutes. Sherlock, Watson, Gnomeo, and Juliet as the two central duos are actually quite charming and make the film at least tolerable (there are even wonderful 2D sequences that enter the mind of Sherlock – easily the best parts of the movie), but putting up with everything else the movie throws at you is just not worth it.

One final note. A lawn gnome in a pink Borat-style bikini-speedo thing (I don’t know what it’s actually called) is not funny or cute. It’s awkward and kind of disturbing. Don’t do that again, movie.

FILM REVIEW: Pacific Rim: Uprising (2018)

Directed by Steven S. DeKnight

* * 1/2

On an exposition level, Pacific Rim: Uprising does what a sequel should do. I have not seen the first Pacific Rim (though Matt Zoller Seitz’s 4-star review piques my curiosity), and this 2018 sequel told me all the basics of what I needed to know about the world and the characters that inhabit the story. I felt at home right away, but as Uprising continued on, though entertaining, it’s one of those sequels that ultimately makes you wish you were watching the first one instead. I repeat: I’ve not seen its predecessor and I wish I was watching that.

A decade has passed since Jake Pentecost (John Boyega) and his team took control of the Jaegers (colossal neural-controlled battle bots) defeated the Kaijus (giant monsters that obliterate everything in their path) and made Earth safe once again. In those 10 years, the world has mostly healed and is fully functional. But Jake can’t live without living on the edge; with Jaegers now outlawed, Jake makes a living off of Jaeger components on the black market. He has a run-in with Amara (Cailee Spaeny), a young and rebellious orphan. They are both caught with a Jaeger, and are arrested by the Pan-Pacific Defense Corps. Jake is given a choice, though: go to prison, or go to the PDCC as an instructor. He takes the latter. Amara joins alongside and becomes a cadet.

Routine PDCC operations are interrupted when a rogue Jaeger inexplicably attacks the city as well as the PDCC base, taking a loved one of Jake’s in the process. Without saying too much, the Kaiju threat may or may not be terminated after all. Jake bands together with his former colleague Nate (Scott Eastwood) to save the world once again. Meanwhile, Amara’s rebelliousness gets in the way of her training with the inability to focus as well as frequent debacles with fellow students.

I’m not particularly proud of this attempt at a plot synopsis. I’ll be completely honest that I had to refer to Wikipedia a few times. It has nothing to do with an overly-confounding story, but I was still lost from time to time. While I commend the courteous exposition Uprising provided, there was still so much jargon important to the world of Pacific Rim being thrown around that it quickly become a head-scratching experience. On one hand, my fault for not seeing the first film. On the other hand, a great sequel should always be able to (mostly) stand on its own.

It doesn’t help that action scenes, at times are quite clunky. Though not nearly as bad as, say, a Michael Bay film, action scenes become an overbearing torrent of hasty editing – editing so fast I could barely keep up. The sequence where the PDCC base is under attack is the worst offender. I was watching. I was attentive. Next thing I knew, it was over. I actually mouthed to myself “what happened?”

There is a huge problem with character balance as well. Uprising so dearly wants to introduce key players into the Pacific Rim universe with Amara and the rest of her crew in training (most of which are built up to have a significant role), but is so badly wants to continue Jake and Nate’s stories. As for the supporting cast, they just seem to exist in the background. And then there’s the villain; I can’t reveal who it is, but their purpose feels so forcefully wedged in that it felt like they were a last minute idea.

There’s sort of a love triangle going on with Jake, Nathan, and Jules (Adria Arjona – I’m going to assume she had a bigger part in the first film). This is brought up here and there, but goes nowhere. Nowhere.

It’s not all bad, though. I mentioned that the movie just can’t resist continuing Jake and Nathan’s story, nor do I blame the movie. The two are great characters, Jake especially (his character alone piques my interest in the predecessor even more). I feel it would be redundant to go into the details of their characters as that’s probably been established in the first film. Here, though, they’re frequently at wits end: Jake is rebellious and off-the-chain, while Nathan runs a tight ship by the books, by the numbers. Though they don’t seem to like each other, there’s a deep mutual respect that’s warming to watch, especially in the film’s third act.

Which brings me to my other praise. As lesser-quality as the other battle sequences are, the climactic third act is actually pretty entertaining – at least by comparison. Granted, I’ve never been a big fan of large-scale battles between otherworldly colossuses, but it was still pretty entertaining to see wanton destruction here. Though reminiscent of something like Transformers, it’s at least a lot more in-control here (this scene, specifically). Unfortunately, this final act ends all too quickly on a borderline insultingly hand-wave resolution. It ends in that “wait – it’s over already?” kind of way.

As lukewarm as Pacific Rim: Uprising was, it at least wasn’t a slog and was entertaining from time to time. It’s probably not the sequel that Pacific Rim fans deserve, and the money to pay for the ticket may not be best spent here, but it won’t be a complete waste. At the end of the day, though, it just kind of came and went, but I could feel that it wanted to be a solid sequel (perhaps there was some sort of snafu with the production company). There is a passionate heart pulsating throughout Pacific Rim: Uprising, but it was just too weak a pulse.

FILM REVIEW: Unsane (2018)

Directed by Steven Soderbergh

* * *

In his latest output, indie superstar Steven Soderbergh brings us Unsane, a tightrope-tense trip of a psychological thriller that presents two terribly frightening ideas, and I can’t decide which is scarier: being unjustly trapped in a mental ward? Or actually being crazy enough that commitment to said ward is justified, in spite of a life that indicates otherwise? Okay, in the context of Unsane, the protagonist isn’t exactly held against her will, but it sure feels like it…at first, anyway. But how could you blame Sawyer Valentini (Claire Foy) for believing she’s being involuntarily committed?

Everything seems fairly normal at first: she’s working a new job in a new city, far from home, and apparently is pretty adept in her trade. Yeah, her boss turns out to be a bit sleazy, but Sawyer seems to be able to handle herself. She meets a guy at a bar, they seem to hit it off okay, but things take a strange turn when she brings him into her apartment just to kick him out. Something is not right with her. Allegedly, she was a victim of stalking, but she realizes that she needs help to overcome this and goes to a therapist. Yes, she is depressed and has the occasional suicidal ideation, but who doesn’t go through this when they’re miles away from home and starting a new chapter in their lives?

She signs some paperwork to take the next steps in getting treatment, but things take a strange turn: her belongings are taken from her and is dressed in a hospital gown, much to her confounded fright. Come to find out the paperwork she signed states that she will remain in the mental ward for the next 24 hours. She’s furious. She has a violent scuffle with a fellow patient as well as with one of the orderlies. Her 24 hour stay has been extended to 7 days. In an already excruciating position, the situation is made worse for Sawyer when one of the nighttime orderlies, George (Joshua Leonard), is actually her stalker – according to Sawyer, anyway. But who in their right mind would believe a word Sawyer says?

There is a stroke of tragedy throughout Sawyer’s predicament. This is not a film that contrivedly exploits insanity for cheap thrills. Unsane looks on with a certain level of empathy for Sawyer, which is channeled through Foy’s performance. She gives the character a naïve sense of confidence that turns into nervous vulnerability. The situation presents an interesting double-edged sword: this mostly normal woman did nothing to deserve this, but then we look on with melancholy at her steep descent into pure madness. Her fault for not reading the paperwork that got her into this? Yeah, but who can blame her when she’s been led on by warmth and understanding from those listening to her? This is made all the more tragic when she finds out she might be trapped for a very long time. It is discussed that this might be a big scam: allegedly, organizations like these vacuum all of a patient’s insurance money, subsequently releasing the patient when the insurance runs out.

Or is this real or just a paranoid delusion? If you ask me, much of horror’s greatest achievements work when human drama sets the foundation. Take, for instance, the dysfunctional family in The Shining, the desperate mother and endangered child in The Exorcist, or the dissolution of marriage in Possession. As much as a tragedy Unsane is, it still works equally as well as horror. Fairly quickly, it becomes evident that we cannot trust Sawyer’s perception of the world as she becomes crazy, and we rarely step out of her perception (as far as I’m concerned, the entire movie should never step out of her shoes – more on that later).

The tension is further boosted by the visual style, and it was inevitable that I’d mention this. Taking advantage of the possibilities set in the outrageously wonderful Tangerine, Unsane was shot entirely on iPhones. Unlike the former, Unsane is disturbingly reserved in its visuals. Nothing but static, unmoving shots that always have the entire set in frame. The stillness and open space further cement Sawyer’s vulnerability. More unsettling is the jittery grain of the image as a result of the iPhone medium.

Unsane isn’t a complete success. With the exception of Foy and Jay Pharoah, who plays Sawyer’s saner friend in the ward, the performances leave something to be desired, especially from Joshua Leonard, who doubles as the soft-spoken orderly as well as a manifestation of Sawyer’s ultimate delusion as her stalker. There is an emotionally climactic scene where Sawyer confronts the stalker, named David Strine. Though not laughable, Leonard’s attempt at emoting is not something to write home about.

A bigger issue are some of the plot holes in Unsane’s home stretch. One might say that Unsane isn’t meant to be completely understood, being the insane trip into an unstable woman’s mind. I would have preferred if the movie were purely this, but while 90% of Unsane is said trip, the remaining 10% occasionally bounces back into reality and reveals what’s actually going on. Because the film is concerned about reality, these plot holes just make the madness more frustrating when it should be more poignant.

I also think Unsane juggles a bit more than it could handle. While dealing with issues of insanity very well, but also stepping into loneliness, the stigma of mental illness, and the shamefully scam-driven world of bureaucratic medical care. Interesting topics, but only briefly brought up and never followed through.

While he’s never been one of my favorites, I commend Soderbergh greatly for his versatility: both in terms of theme and style, he has never made the same movie twice, and Unsane further proves my point. Maybe not a great film, but it is a fortuitous examination on a tricky subject as well as a pulse-pounding and effectively disorienting thriller.

FILM REVIEW: Mary and the Witch's Flower (2017)

Directed by Hiromasa Yonebayashi

* * 1/2

The seminal and beloved animation Studio Ghibli is on a temporary hiatus. Fans may be discouraged, but Ghibli’s legacy is one that will never die – such is evident in Mary and the Witch’s Flower, the first feature from Studio Ponoc (founded by Yoshiaki Nishimura, Ghibli’s former lead producer). There are enough traces and echoes of Ghibli that run through this new film to keep fans satisfied, but perhaps that’s why it never transcended for me, as Mary and the Witch’s Flower is a little too focused on trying to be a Ghibli film that it lacks a unique identity. 

Based on The Little Broomstick by Mary Stewart, Mary and the Witch’s Flower tells the story of young Mary Smith, who is living with her Great Aunt Charlotte in the countryside. When we first meet Mary, she is frustrated with boredom. But she must continue on through her day, something that doesn’t bring her much joy either as she’s quite a klutz – she can’t get her hair to straighten out, she accidentally breaks a flower in her neighbor’s coveted garden, as well as humiliating herself in front of Peter, a boy from the neighborhood.

A pair of cats lead Mary into the woods, where she discovers a most unusual flower. Before she even knows it, she is granted powers; a hyperactive broom takes her (as well as one of the cats) to Endor College, a magic school for wizards and witches. There, she meets Madam Mumblechook, essentially the headmaster of school, as well as Dr. Dee, the lead scientist. They are both in awe of Mary’s apparent power, but she is completely oblivious to what’s going on and just improvising as she goes (she would be transformed as punishment for trespassing). At one point, Mary mentions the strange flowers, and Madam suddenly takes a threatening interest in Mary, as the flowers in question were stolen from her long ago. The flowers are revealed to contain great power, and Madam will do whatever it takes to get them back.

I don’t mind overdone stories or themes. I really don’t. It all depends on what you do with the material. Along with the tropes mentioned above, Mary and the Witch’s Flower is about growing and persevering as a person by trial through a snafu of a situation in incomprehensible territory. Once again, done before time and again, but I’m open-minded; just do something unique with what you’ve got, and this film doesn’t really do anything new. Most everything, if not everything, I saw in Mary and the Witch’s Flower I feel I’ve already seen in plenty of other Japanimation films: the lush green landscapes of the real world, the whimsical fantasy realm among the clouds and blue skies, a little bit of steampunk here and there…oh, can’t forget an adorable cat as a companion. Sound familiar yet?

If there was one issue with the movie that’s really worth getting into, it’s the character of Peter. For whatever reason, Mary absolutely does not like him. Okay, he teases her early in the film, but it’s just a brief little tease – the kind we all experienced as kids. But then he pretty much disappears from the movie and we forget about him for the most part. That is until he is trapped in a tricky situation, and only Mary can break him out. Considering she doesn’t like him, it’s a big deal for her to have to save him, but because of the lack of development between the two, there’s no weight to the scenario, nor in the resolution.

Granted, it’s not a bad film by any means. Mary’s clumsiness was always cute. Madam Mumblechook and Dr. Dee were always a ton of fun (probably the best part of the movie, now that I think about it). There’s an interesting twist involving Great Aunt Charlotte. Oh, and the broom was awesome! Like the magic carpet in Aladdin, Little Broom (that’s the name Mary gives it) has personality, in spite of being a simple object.

Yeah, these are good things I’m saying about the film, but I mention them more or less for the sake of a balanced review. It’s kind of disingenuous to say that it’s “not a bad film” without pointing out the things I liked in the movie, because there were things I liked. Just not enough to warrant any kind of significant praise.

The characters were fine. The animation was fine. The story was fine. The music is fine. It moved along just fine. Mary and the Witch’s Flower was just fine, and I really can’t say much more than that. While everything was enjoyable and there were no glaring issues, nothing really sticks out. Will Mary and the Witch’s Flower be a waste of time and money? Absolutely not, but it’s not going to be the almost metaphysically powerful experience that films like My Neighbor Totoro, Princess Mononoke, and Spirited Away seem to be (with the exception of Totoro, I was never a big Miyazaki fan). I will not discourage you from Mary and the Witch’s Flower, nor is there any reason to, but you won’t be missing anything if you pass on it.

FILM REVIEW: I Can Only Imagine (2018)

Directed by Andrew & Jon Erwin

* * 1/2

MercyMe’s hit single “I Can Only Imagine” has inspired countless listeners for almost two decades. Subsequently, it is the number 1 Christian song in America There’s that saying “a blessing in disguise”, which applies perfectly to the scenario, as this seminal song was the product of years of abuse and despondence from frontman Bart Millard’s father. This new film, bearing the same name as the song, tells the story of how Millard’s ballad came to be an anthem among listeners. I highly doubt this movie will gain MercyMe any new fans or inspire any religious conversions, it at least possesses a heartbeat that keeps flowing what power the film does have.

Bart Millard (J. Michael Finley) grew up in an abusive household, the perpetrator being his father Arthur (Dennis Quaid). In between the violent blows and arguments between his parents (his mother would eventually leave), Millard finds solace in music – his Walkman and headphones seem almost inseparable from his being. In high school, he is discovered to have an exceptional talent in singing. After graduating, he forms a band and they hit the road with a mission to make it big time. From there, the rest is Christian rock history, but the path to making such history doesn’t go without Millard’s inner struggles, unable to cope with his traumatic childhood, but the band manager Scott (Trace Adkins) has a word of advice - channel that pain into his art.

Filmmakers, take note: a great film knows when to walk, when to tip-toe, when to stop, and when to run. I assure you that people are willing to sit through good movies, no matter how lengthy they might be.

There is a scene fairly early in the film when Millard is assigned as assistant sound director for his school’s chorus. He goes into the empty auditorium, dusts off the equipment, and gets giddy when he lays his eyes upon the tape deck. He inserts one of his cassettes and begins jamming. Here is a moment that potentially shows just how much music means to Millard, but before we get a chance to really take things in, his teacher interrupts his private jam session and next thing you know, the next scene is already here.

These pacing issues persist throughout I Can Only Imagine, which robs the film of any chance it might have had to become a touching and moving drama about faith, redemption, and the power of music. Speaking of these issues, here is the other big problem with the movie. Perhaps it was tackling more than it could handle, but it has a lot of trouble balancing its themes. One moment, it wants to be a story of the uplifting power of music, next it wants to be about the power of faith (for the record, this is not a pious film), and then it wants to be a story of redemption.

Though the redemption aspect seems to be the biggest focus (more on that later), the faith and music aspects are just kind of…there. The film never really delves into how Millard became a man of faith (let alone a man of as intense faith as he is). Sure, he went to a week-long bible camp early in the movie, but the setting serves more as a backdrop for the start of Millard’s relationship with now-wife Shannon (Madeline Carroll) instead of Millard’s foray into Christianity. The same goes for his passion for music; the film never really talks exactly about what artists meant a lot to him in his formative years (save for Amy Grant). The only effort the movie puts into the importance of music is simply putting a pair of headphones on Millard’s ears and filling his hands with a Walkman and a couple of cassettes.

While the overall film may not be the most moving of dramas, it doesn’t go without some touching moments here and there. In the road leading to the film’s final stretch, Millard returns home to confront his father, who he has discovered has turned his life around for Christ. Though the pacing is still a bit shaky, here is where the film is at its most powerful just because it realizes that it must slow the pace down, as well as cut out the sappy music cues and editing techniques – the film just sits back and lets the drama unfold exactly how it should (if only they’d ditch the tacky set design).

At least the performances are good. J. Michael Finley approaches the lead role with a humble everydayness, making the character enjoyable and quite likeable. You grow to really care about Millard through his struggles. Trace Adkins is wonderful as a dry comic relief. Dennis Quaid, however, is a mixed bag: when he’s an abusive tyrant, his performance is not only cliché but also kind of silly. When he’s stricken with sadness and regret in the film’s later moments, he’s actually quite good. Unfortunately, there’s too much of the former, and it takes a long time before we get to enjoy the latter.

As many criticisms as I give, I Can Only Imagine still has heart and passion in all the right places, and I don’t dare fault it for that. Non-fans of MercyMe (Christian music in general, for that matter) can sit I Can Only Imagine out without missing a thing – I certainly wouldn’t have, but I didn’t mind watching it. As for fans and the faithful – you won’t be getting the best musician biopic or most powerful testament to faith through this movie, but it can make a decent afternoon Sunday outing for youth group.