Director: J.J. Abrams

Starring: Chris Pine, Zachary Quinto, Zoe Saldana

Release Date: May 16, 2013

To Boldly Go, and Whatnot

J.J. Abrams 2009 venture into the universe of Star Trek was a star-studded success.  It embodied a fresh approach to the franchise, and, for all intents and purposes, made Trek “cool” again.  There was little doubt that the talented director could craft yet another solid entry into the series, but I doubt that anyone would have predicted that Into Darkness would surpass the reboot in just about every way imaginable.

Most notably the movie builds on the mythos of Trek in measurable and significant ways.  At the risk of dropping major spoilers, I’ll simply say that long-time fans of the franchise will feel a strong sense of nostalgia regarding what transpires in this second effort from Abrams.  The characters are all more fully developed this time around, and much of the plot (partially by sheer coincidence, partially, perhaps, not) directly mirrors the concerns and fears that have engulfed our post-9/11 society.  Thus the socio-politcal subtext of the film adds another level of depth.

The action you’d expect is, of course, delivered in abundance, with a few cues having been taken from the previous movie.  If anything is lacking, it comes in a lack of comedic relief; for me, this is actually somewhat welcome, as I found some of the cartoonish aspects of the 2009 offering a tad bit distracting.

Overall, Abrams really does deserve credit: the man has managed to direct two outstanding Trek movies.  Both times he’s managed to retain the spirit of the original(s), and both times he’s managed to inject his own brand of frenetic/contemporary intensity that has reinstated the series in the pop-culture zeitgeist in a way that might otherwise have been impossible.

For me—and you’ll have to forgive my wandering thoughts—one of the only things I could think about as the credits rolled was this: the future of Star Wars (that’s right, Star Wars) is in very, very good hands.  In case you haven’t kept up with current events, Abrams has been named the director of what my fellow nerds never thought would happen: Episode VII; a full-fledged sequel to Return of the Jedi (and the beginning of a new trilogy).  It would seem, then, that Abrams is something of a wonder boy, and that the events of this galaxy—as well as those in a galaxy that existed a long time ago far, far away—are in the best hands we could have hoped for.

  out of 5

Director: Steven Spielberg

Starring: Sam Neill, Jeff Goldblum, Laura Dern

Release Date: June 11, 1993 (original), April 5, 2013 (3D)

When Dinosaurs Ruled the Earth

I was 11 years old when Jurassic Park was released.  I vividly remember going to see it at my local theater.  The place was packed; there had been a lot of buzz about the movie, and—being a preteen dino enthusiast—I begged my parents to take me one Saturday afternoon so I could see what everyone was talking about.  When it was over, something profound had occurred.  It was the first time I recall feeling an overwhelming sense of wonder at what I’d witnessed.  Sure, Star Wars had blown me away as a child, and I absorbed all things Indiana Jones; but there was something about Jurassic Park that completely enveloped me.  Much of this, I think, has to do with seeing it on the big screen.  It wasn’t only that, though; it was the seamless effects, the just-plausible-enough-to-be-believable story, and the intense action (too intense, perhaps, for some kids my age, but I ate it up with a spoon) that made it absolutely unforgettable.  Thus my love of cinema was cemented forevermore.

When I learned that the movie was getting the 3D treatment I groaned.  The movie wasn’t designed for three dimensions, and there was absolutely no way that it would make for a convincing transfer (especially when compared to films like Avatar, which were specifically tailored for the medium).  I managed to resist making too much of a snap judgment and ventured out to my local theater to see the thing (with an IMAX treatment, no less) because, hey—it’s Jurassic freakin’ Park.

Imagine my surprise when that long-lost sense of wonderment was instantly rekindled from the very first frame.  When John Williams’ thundering score kicked in, the outside world melted away and I was, for all intents and purposes, a kid again.  But not only that; the movie lends itself nicely to 3D, with wayward tree limbs and cascading rainstorms feeling as if they were strategically placed knowing that the movie would one day be reborn in an even more tangible manner.

If this wasn’t confirmation enough that the movie had seen a successful transition, all I had to do was glance at the youngsters sitting a few seats down from me.  I’m guessing they’d never seen the film in any iteration, as their reactions—”ooohs” and “aaahs” in equal measure—were proof positive that this a picture perfect example of the magic of cinema.  A side note: I could hardly restrain a snicker as they jolted (nearly) out of their seats when the stray velociraptor popped his head out from behind the control panel.  I did the same thing when I was their age, and it’s a virtual certainty that the experience—and the aforementioned sense of wonderment—will stick with them for a long, long time.

So, in case I haven’t been clear, go see JP 3D.  If you’ve never seen it, then… well… what are you waiting for?  If you’ve seen it at least 500 times since its original release (like me), then trust me when I say that this new iteration is well worth the money.  My hope is that the move will be re-released in another 20 years so the next generation of moviegoers can see what it’s like to be transported to a world where the impossible really does exist.

out of 5

When a Movie is a Life-Saver

Argo is incredible.  I often disagree with the films the Academy praises as “Best Picture of the Year,” but here I think the award was much deserved.

If you’re not familiar with the real life events that the movie is based on, let me fill you in.  During an Iranian hostage crisis that saw a large group of American diplomats held in captivity for an extended period of time, six people managed to escape the descent of an angry mob on the U.S. embassy.  They found refuge in the residence of the Canadian ambassador, unsure of when they would be able to break free of the country—and its prolonged turmoil—and return home.  Enter Tony Mendez (Ben of Affleck), a CIA operative who’s been tasked with traveling to Iran under the guise of a film producer who’s location scouting (for a science fiction picture titled Argo) in the country that’s been turned upside down by political upheaval   Once there, Mendez carries out the CIA’s plan to have the six diplomats pose as members of the film crew, a cover that is designed to eventually lead them through a myriad of checkpoints and to the freedom of a Swiss flight out of harm’s way.

Where the film soars in its ability to foster heart-pounding tension.  From the moment Mendez embarks on his mission, I found myself holding my breath for prolonged intervals.  The tension, of course, is taken to the next level in the third act; the result is a brilliantly spun game of cat-and-mouse as the “crew” attempts to navigate the obstacles that could result in their immediate imprisonment and, in all likelihood, death.

There are some expertly choreographed juxtapositions that highlight a variety of themes running throughout the movie, too.  Most notable is a sequence that sees a faux reading the of the script for Argo (with actors in full garb) spliced together with the heated political declarations of the Iranian government.  The “showy” nature of both “casts” is crystal clear, and it feels timely given the long-running military conflict(s) that define the contemporary world stage.

In a word, Argo is superb.  It’s sharply written, brimming with relevant thematic elements, and is relentlessly suspenseful.  It’s the “Best Picture” for a reason.

  out of 5

Every once in a while a movie comes along that completely redefines a genre.  Death by Ninja is such a movie.

It was Scott Pilgrim vs. The World before… well… Scott Pilgrim vs. The World was Scott Pilgrim vs. The World.  It exhibits a knowing nostalgia for all things video game related, but there are also nods to Indiana Jones and a myriad of other franchises that helped spawn the term “fanboy.”  It was filmed on a meager budget–to say the least–and squeezes uncanny amounts of bravado out of each of its principal players.  The whole thing is dubbed, and as such it serves as a comedic homage to the sort of over-the-top, lowbrow Kung-fu fare that fuels any nerd’s’ need for high-flying action and cheesy special effects.

Of particular note is The Klaw: a malevolent villain who dons a mechanical hand likes engaging his enemies by way of slow-motion fight sequences.  Along with the Aviator and Bill the Turkish Magician from Ohio, there are few that have the will or power to oppose their maniacal schemes.

Further discussing the nuances of this classic of yesteryear does, in many ways, seem like a fool’s errand.  I’ll now abandon my keyboard and allow you to enjoy the film in all its splendor.

If after you watching you feel the need to petition IMDb to raise their rating scale to “11″ so as to properly acknowledge what you’ve just witnessed, be sure to visit the link below.

DEATH BY NINJA – IMDb

It Doesn’t Exactly Rewrite History

Looper is a movie that’s been on my radar for quite some time.  It’s about mafia-types who are involved in time travel for the sake of eliminating unwanted “garbage,” and it features both the formidable Bruce Willis and Nightwing himself, Joseph Gordon-Levitt.  Because I don’t have quite as much free time as I used to, I had to skip this one in theaters.  When it finally trickled down the DVD/Blu-ray format earlier this week, however, I was all over it.

This is the perfect example of a movie that quietly made its way into cinemas without having an overabundance of pomp and circumstance paving the way.  I’d taken a fleeting interest in it upon reading about the movie’s story line, but it wasn’t until a multitude of friends took to Facebook in order to sing its unparalleled praises that I genuinely took interest.  And, I have to say, though solidly crafted it is, I found the movie to be a bit of a letdown.  Let me explain why.

With any time travel flick, one expects there to be plenty of mind-bending timelines that crisscross with one another (heck, they may even congeal into something indecipherable in the final moments, but the goal is to keep the audience playing the “prediction” game throughout).  While Looper does this, I found it far too easy to foresee how things would play out (this was in stark contrast to 12 Monkeys, Willis’ other time travel movie).  To delve into the specifics of this would put me at risk of including spoilers in my review, so suffice it to say that, though well written, there was nothing Earth-shattering about our protagonists’ concluding revelation.  Another point of contention—and one that has been widely discussed, I believe—was the decision to drown JGL in make-up so as to make him resemble a young Willis.  At times, it works, but more often than not I found it nearly impossible to not envision the actor with his true face.  Would it have been better to simply allow JGL to be, well, himself, and to sparingly use CGI to fill in the awkward transition moments during his character’s life?  I don’t know.  Still, I can’t ignore the fact that the make-up was more of a distraction than a boon.

Actually, I think Looper‘s greatest strength is its focus on the development of telekinesis as a part of the human genome in the not too distant future.  Some of the film’s best moments come as a result of this plot point, and I wish a little more focus on this would have been the order of the day.

Please don’t misunderstand me.  Looper is far better than the vast majority of drivel that Hollywood allows to make it past the stages of early drafting, and it makes for perfectly good viewing for anyone who enjoys sci-fi.  Just don’t expect it to rewrite history.

out of 5

Director: Peter Jackson

Starring: Ian McKellen, Martin Freeman

Release Date: December 14, 2012

More of the Same?

I’ll be honest; though I greatly enjoyed the Lord of the Rings movies upon their release, they never really enveloped me in quite the same way that the original Star Wars or, say, Back to the Future trilogies did.  When the announcement came that The Hobbit would also be receiving the Jackson treatment, I was excited for one specific reason: I absolutely loved the book.  It’s a relatively brief experience, one in which I presumed the now well-known director would be able to spin into one helluva knock-out return to Middle-earth.  Imagine my shock when I learned that the book would not be made into a single film.  In fact, it wouldn’t even be split into two; instead, three was the magic number.  Because of this, my excitement about The Hobbit quickly waned, as it seemed that I was in for an unnecessarily prolonged cash-grab that had the potential to (very) quickly outstay its welcome.

Thankfully, The Hobbit isn’t nearly as tedious as it could have been.  From time to time, the feeling that things are being stretched a little thin is tangible, but, for the most part, it’s a stirring, gripping adventure.  The movie also does a nice job of connecting itself to its predecessors (or should I say forebearers?), and the introduction of the principal players is both whimsical and wrought with a sense of impending danger—something that adds needed weight to stakes that we, as an audience, know will ultimately be resolved (this, I think, is the primary curse of prequel feature films).

Any other criticisms that I have come in the form of many of the movie’s more intense moments and how they’re worked out.  My memory is hazy regarding the film’s source material, but many pages were clearly taken out of the LotR playbook when it seems “all hope is lost,” and though this sort of reminiscence will certainly bring a smile to the faces of fans, it would have been nice to see the movie do something a little more aggressive to try and separate itself from the original series.

It’s clear, however, that Jackson still loves Middle-earth and its inhabitants, and it’s a virtual certainty that the remaining films will be welcome excursions.  Here’s hoping that part two of this particular adventure will be both tightly wrought and surprising in equal measure.

  out of 5

Director: Quentin Tarantino

Starring: Jamie Foxx, Christoph Waltz, Leonardo DiCaprio

Release Date: December 25, 2012

Quentin Strikes Again

Tarantino’s most recent offering, Inglorious Basterds, made a statement that his previous works—in many ways—did not: namely, that the man has matured as a filmmaker.  Though there’s no doubt that the likes of Reservoir Dogs, Pulp Fiction and the like are modern classics of popular culture, they didn’t necessarily demonstrate a more refined sense of…well…responsibility.  With Django Unchained, the writer/director has crafted a piece of storytelling that’s both violent and poignant; here, though, the violence isn’t glorified in quite the same way it has been in the past.

The year is 1858—”Two Years Before the Civil War” as the opening titles tell us—and the slavery-plantation infrastructure is at the height of its dominance in the southern U.S.  Also woven into this backdrop is the prominence of bounty hunters; individuals contracted by U.S. Marshals to apprehend—dead or alive—outlaws who quickly ventured out of their respective jurisdictions.  One such mercenary is the German-born Dr. King Schultz (Waltz).  He possesses a refined viciousness, but he makes no bones about his contempt for slavery.  In an attempt to locate a trio of bandits that have changed names and relocated to another part of the country, Schultz enlists the help of Django (Foxx), a slave who has seen the gang in person and can identify them on sight.  We quickly learn that there’s more to Django than meets the eye.  The man was separated from his wive via the slave trade some time prior, and will do anything and everything to free her.  Thus the two enter into a partnership which sees them carving a path of carnage through each of the slave states between Texas and Tennessee.

It’s a relatively straightforward tale of love and revenge (really, are Tarantino movies ever anything else?), and blood is spilled by the gallon every time a bullet is sent flying through an unsuspecting foe.  As previously mentioned, however, there’s the pressing message that violence begets violence; an especially brutal scene sees a runaway slave get ripped apart by a pack of ravenous dogs.  As the grisly scenario plays out, Schultz shies away in disgust, visibly shaken by the spectacle.  In fact, he’s haunted by this for the remainder of the film, and it greatly influences his actions near the climax.  This, I think, is where Django works best; though nauseating, it’s clear that Tarantino and company were determined to foster an accurate sense of how horrific the atrocities of slavery really were.  And when it comes to airbrushing history, it’s clear that Tarantino absolutely refuses to tone things down.

The stylistic flair that’s defined virtually every Tarantino outing is present here too, and it distinguishes the film in much the same way.  Unusual—and humorous—music is cued at just the right moment, and the dialogue is every bit as crisp as you’d expect.

The acting is spectacular as well.  Of particular note is the portrayal of Calvin Candie (DiCaprio).  Candie is the owner of “Candie Land,” one of the most feared plantations in the country, and the final destination of our protagonists as they work through their bounties in an effort to reunite Django with his betrothed.  Candie is a ruthless slave owner who has an incendiary desire to inflict suffering on the residents of his property, and there’s a subdued brand of rage that DiCaprio is able to bring to the role.  Waltz and Foxx are, of course, formidable actors, but DiCaprio steals the show in the latter half of the movie, and, like Waltz in Basterds, he becomes the villain that we love to hate.  Samuel L. Jackson is also memorable as Steven, the right-hand man (and long time slave) of Candie.

If I have any criticisms of the movie it comes in the form of the revenge bits.  Though completely expected, there’s an early perception that Django and Schultz are both burdened by the sense that so much killing will result in a continually growing burden that will eventually accumulate into something entirely crushing.  Having these characters attempt to hash this out would have been a welcome addition; in my mind, it would have been something that separated the film from all of Tarantino’s previous movies.  It would have demonstrated an even deeper sense of maturity than any of us would have expected.  In many ways, I kept waiting for Tarantino to transcend—for lack of a better word—himself.  This never truly happens, and it’s a tad bit disappointing.

That said, Django Unchained delivers in virtually every way.  It’s well-written, brilliantly directed, engrossing, and, (perhaps) most importantly, laced with moments of welcome seriousness.

out of 5

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Miss!

by Chris Flowers

There are all kinds of commonly known phrases connected to the actual Battleship board game, and it’s so tempting to employ each and every one in describing the motion picture carrying the same name.  In fact, I could probably end this review with two words by simply saying “Battleship sunk,” but I suppose I owe an explanation to anyone brave enough to read this assessment.

Let’s be honest: when you heard that a feature film based on a Hasbro-owned board game where you place pegs on a grid in an attempt to guess where an opposing player has placed his/her pieces of Naval plastic, you probably rolled your eyes.  If this describes you, I can confirm that the movie is, in many ways, worse than you ever imagined.  If you shrugged your shoulders and thought, “Hey, Transformers wasn’t all that bad,” then you might find something to like here.  In that sense, Battleship is one of those movies that’s polarizing even before its release.

For the optimistic, there are a few likable things about the movie.  It never takes itself seriously, it features tons of eye candy (of all varieties), and it flies its “American heroism” flag at full mast.  Formulaic though it may be, there are some undeniably enjoyable moments.

But these are rarities.  More often than not, the movie bumbles from one insanely idiotic plot point to the next.  In fact, it’s not incorrect to say that the movie is a prolonged contradiction; it’s stupid beyond belief, but it’s so convoluted that attempting to make sense of the narrative is a fool’s errand.

It goes like this: an irresponsible twenty-something is forced into Naval service by his domineering brother.  Even after he’s enlisted the guy continues to make bone-headed decisions.  Nothing, it seems, can shake him out of his immaturity.  Cue an alien invasion.

Said Naval goof-off is aboard a vessel that’s thrown into the middle of the unexpected intergalactic battle, and—surprise!—ends up being the savior of planet Earth.  There’s nothing particularly wrong with the setup (besides the fact that’s entirely predictable).  What really hurts Battleship is the execution.

The movie eventually digresses into an actual game of Battleship—the aliens and the humans are blindly firing shells at one another, and its as dull as you’d imagine.  But then things get really out of control; with their fleet destroyed, our unlikely hero enlists the help of a contingency of geriatric sailors who just so happened to be attending the decommissioning ceremony of an ancient battleship.  I couldn’t shrug the feeling that there’s something tasteless about throwing elderly war vets into a situation that sees them “comically” defending Pearl Harbor against an armada of E.T.s.  The whole thing reeks of a botched tribute; an attempt to honor the men and women who’ve preserved our freedom becomes a cringe-inducing experience that’s borderline painful to watch.

I get what Peter Berg and company were going for, but the end result is immediately transparent for anyone who’s awake enough to make it through the 131 minute run time; a poorly constructed cash-grab that overextends its welcome.

  out of 5

Director: Steven Spielberg

Starring: Daniel Day-Lewis, Tommy Lee Jones, Sally Field

Release Date: November 16, 2012

The Man, The Myth, The Legend

Abraham Lincoln is my favorite President, as I suspect he is for many others.  After all, the guy managed (with plenty of help, of course) to abolish slavery and reunite a severely fractured nation.  As easy as it to “like” so much of the man, for many he’s a controversial figure—one who undoubtedly abused his power and consciously shirked the parameters outlined in the Constitution.  These aspects of his persona undoubtedly presented Spielberg (and screenwriters Tony Kushner and Doris Kearns Goodwin) with a dilemma.  Should they have taken the “popular” route, choosing to glorify the man or take a more “dirtied” look at his legacy and its wide-reaching implications?

The answer, I’d say, is that the crew opted for a moderate approach.  Without a doubt, Lincoln casts the former President in a positive,  ”grandfatherly” light more often than it does a dastardly dictatorial one, but it chooses not to ignore some of the man’s contemporary critics.  This, I think, is important.

Among other things, the choice to portray Lincoln as a tangible human being—and not a flawless idol who never second-guessed the weighty decisions he grappled with—makes him relatable.  Most often these moments come in his interactions with Mrs. Lincoln (Sally Field), as she attempts to reconcile the untimely death of their son, Willy, while facing the reality that their eldest is hellbent on joining the ranks of the Union Army (and, by all accounts, also meeting an early end).  It’s striking, too, to see the man lie; an act that is borderline heretical if mentioned in the same sentence with “Honest Abe”.  For example, when the movie sees the House of Representatives poised to vote on the 13th Amendment, it’s brought to the representatives’ attention that Mr. Lincoln has, in fact, delayed a “peace delegation” from the Confederate States that seek to the end the conflict, sending everyone in attendance into an unmitigated frenzy.  Before the votes can be cast, the decision is made that word from the President must clarify this one way or another.  Several breathless pages are sent to the White House, where Lincoln, without batting an eye, pens a note that says he has no knowledge of such intentions by the Confederacy.  This, of course, is a bold-faced lie, and only one of the pages—a man who has been hired to try and round-up the votes necessary to pass the Amendment—is willing to deliver the message.

The rest, as they say, is history.

The point of all this isn’t to point out the man’s shortcomings.  Instead, it’s designed to emphasize that none of his decisions were arrived at lightly; that he wrestled with them (often angrily) and ultimately decided to commit an impeachable offense because he saw it as the morally appropriate thing to do.

How historically accurate the movie’s portrayal of Lincoln’s true motivations are depends on which biographer you talk to.  Either way, the sense that Abraham’s essence has somehow been captured is ever-present, and thanks to the spirited performances of Day-Lewis, Field and Jones the wiry, larger-than-life figure who only posed or a handful of photographs is bought to life for all of us in one of the most human ways imaginable.

  out of 5