Director: Brad Peyton
Writers: Ryan Engle (also story by), Carlton Cuse, Ryan J. Condal and Adam Sztykiel
Stars: Dwayne Johnson, Naomie Harris, Jeffrey Dean Morgan, Jason Liles (motion capture)

Synopsis: When three different animals become infected with a dangerous pathogen, a primatologist and a geneticist team up to stop them from destroying Chicago.

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On tonight’s episode of “So You Think You Can Out-rock The Rock?”…

Where others in the field see as the peak of their careers, namely being a demigod for Disney, Dwayne Johnson reaches farther. In the omni-charming actor’s latest, he plays a primatologist who, other than the usual and perpetual buffness, is a master of ASL, driver of Ford’s new Bronco, semi-frequent flier of helicopters and single.
Still, that Goodall-hearted-in-Salmoni squared-physique appeal isn’t enough for Rampage to be a competent exercise in mindless fun, let alone a model for subsequent game-to-film adaptations to follow. The film tries to be more than what it is, which is valiant, but forgotten steps and clear bias for destruction renders the campaign an unsuccessful one.

And it’s odd, considering Ryan Engle (of February’s The Commuter), Carlton Cuse, Ryan J. Condal and Adam Sztykiel seem adamant on making that happen. Evident is the writing quartet spending considerable time to rationalize and fuse story into plot-free material — the 1986 eponymous game from Midway has players embody 8-bit monsters of destruction that were once humans (!) — but did no one remember to perform the step that can assemble their efforts into a united whole? Right now, the story progresses like a group PowerPoint in freshman year where each beat — and there are three, “BeastMania,” “Mighty Joe Young redux,” “‘90s cinema” — has its own voice and it’s obvious when the transitions happen. From the look of it, “Mighty Joe Young 2” is on after a segment of “BeastMania 12.”

The lack of cohesion also reflects in the performances as certain players bring clashing auras into the frame; some know they’re in a sci-fi actioner, some swear they’re in an actioner throwback and one (Naomie Harris) arrives in emotional-drama form only to be brazenly regarded as an afterthought by the film’s end. All that Rampage has to say about poaching and shady corporations? Consider them as traces of shoehorning rather than commentary.

Another interesting find about the cast: Provided that they don’t meet each other, or their worlds don’t encroach one another, all is well. In other words, we won’t confuse or cringe until we pass out. Take Jeffrey Dean Morgan for example, here in the film as government agent Harvey Russell. In every step of his quest to clean up the mess of sibling mad-and-bureaucratic scientists Claire (Malin Akerman, looking like True Lies‘ Tia Carrere’s twin) and Brett Wyden (Jake Lacy, whose over-the-top doofus act is better in a Farrelly Brothers’ film) — the chemical agent that causes a crocodile, a wolf and Johnson’s character’s albino gorilla friend (Jason Liles) to upsize uncontrollably is a creation of theirs — Morgan’s Russell behaves as if he’s from a time when cheesy one-liners rule and to be ‘Murican is to be Texan. And ever the cool sport, the actor pours every ounce of his being into the character; his grin after saying “whirlybird” is downright pure.

Frankly speaking, neither characters nor narrative is the most pressing matter on Rampage’s mind. Coming off of the set-piece sizzle reel called San Andreas, director Brad Peyton makes it clear that the scenery-squashing will be the better-to-best part of the film, to the extent that it will do its damnedest to erase whatever character beat that came before. Admittedly, it’s hard to not gleefully squeal when these sequences arrive; despite the familiar setting (downtown Chicago is on schedule for demolition again) they’re made inviting through intense detailing, Jaron Presant’s aptly large-scale photography and Andrew Lockington’s trapped-at-crescendo score. A word of caution: The camera won’t cut away when a beast’s action will lead a biped to its demise. The PG-13 ensures no gore, but an “oof” or two is a guarantee.

And as you can guess it, it’s George the gorilla, Ralph the flying wolf and Lizzie the titanic crocodile that will get all the attention.

Sorry, Johnson — but the beasts made a more impactful first impression than you.

Overall Grade: C-

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Director: Boots Riley
Writers: Boots Riley
Stars: Lakeith Stanfield, Tessa Thompson, Armie Hammer, Steven Yeun, Jermaine Fowler

Synopsis: In a dystopian not-too-distant future, black telemarketer Cassius Green discovers a magical key to professional success and is propelled into a macabre universe.

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After a music career that spanned over two decades, Boots Riley takes his first stab towards commercial filmmaking—taking the cake for the most rambunctious screenplay of 2018 thus far with Sorry to Bother You. The light handful of musically inclined artists who aspire to partake in the world of directing don’t always land the cleanest of transitions. Boots Riley in no shape or form falls victim to this. Seeing how high-strung and adamant he is about this project signifies the such scarce amounts of failure he’s been met with during the process of this film being made. Not only does he successfully create his feature debut, he sculpts something so principal in this age of film but still manages to occupy it with such inventive eccentricity. This should definitely make some waves come July, bet on it.

The rumors that began to circulate about how truly bonkers this film is have been floating all throughout social media since it’s Sundance premiere. Even then, those don’t quite do the film justice. Despite prospering with its own uncanny originality, there’s a larger-scale assessment in the film about the ethics of going against socially tolerable norms mixed with an exaggerated portrayal of certain professional hierarchies standards. This produces such a sharp-witted and evenly balanced debut from Riley. While ideally it holds nothing back, it doesn’t set the bar too high for itself. Specializing in the care-free normalcy’s of modern life yet still focusing on the confliction of our protagonists. Even if it does so in the most flagrant way possible, as it can occasionally leap into an element of self-awareness at times. Nonetheless, it still burns brightly with its level of relevance—even subconsciously making fun of the fact that it’s taking itself seriously.

Nearly any production containing a cast with Lakeith Stanfield or even Armie Hammer is bound to benefit from their overabundance of talent and increasing level of familiarity towards audiences. I’m not even accounting for the other distinct supporting cast members. There’s so many fresh and recurring facades pitted against each other in this production and story, all of which stem from such unique discographies yet maintain dedicated and committed to their role. In such cases that nearly every comedic attempt can genuinely thrive due to the cast’s radiance. The entirety of Danny Glover’s appearance and the hysterical implementation of trite stereotypes like “channeling one’s inner white voice”, is a sole example that I’m speaking upon in particular. There’s an obscene quantity of different gags/phrases thrown in that are as you would imagine, extremely humorous. And somehow all of that is due to the actors’ prowess and atmospheric presence. Simply one of the multiple departments of this film that the cast/crew flourishes in.

There’s something quite unequivocally fresh that begins to sprout in each direction from this screenplay penned by Boots Riley. Disregarding it’s fairly light-hearted tonal nature, it’s proposition on weighty new-world issues and its depiction of those who want to dream big collide for our stirring plot escalation. Protagonist Cassius Green is a character so effortlessly identifiable with due to his universal ambitions of a better life, despite being shackled to the normalcy of early adulthood suburbia. It even goes as far as to test his morality once he’s achieved such high status. Has he executed what’s perceived as right or has he left his friends and family behind while on this path to an inhumane lifestyle? It’s all put in to perspective but I still can’t truly preach enough about it. Along with all of that and the short-analysis on society/media scrutiny, it makes for a kinetic piece of storytelling. I’ll be rooting for this heavily to grab a screenplay nomination later during this year’s race.

As appealing to film lovers as Sorry to Bother You is, it isn’t exactly mutual for people who aren’t necessarily as passionate about cinema. General moviegoers might not be as fascinated in such a salacious story arc such as this one. It’s definitely not the most approachable feature for anyone to sit in a theater and watch this tale unfold. It has shades of satirical nature that it faintly co-depends on, but I can’t see a massive number of audiences connecting with the more brash and extensive allegorical themes. Therefore, they’ll just neglect it altogether without attempting to find anything beneath the surface. Which will then mount in to a domino effect for the lack of revenue/attention because of people’s disinterest. Anything is possible however. It’s definitely found it’s main demographic, it just becomes a matter of expanding upon that in to a more substantial audience now.

Sorry to Bother You is fabulously weird. One can’t help but adore its irreverence and boisterous style while taking content in its proclivity to tell a story. Hopefully it’s lack of narrative accessibility doesn’t tinge the project’s potentially deserving appraisal or lack thereof in those circumstances. It’s definitely not for everyone—even as much as I dislike using that term—it’s gonna provide a fluctuating array of consensuses once fully released. However, I can comfortably say it’s one of the most satisfyingly prevailing debut attempts from anyone as of late.

Overall Grade: A

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Hear our podcast review on an upcoming Extra Film.

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Director: Cory Finley
Writers: Cory Finley
Stars: Olivia Cooke, Anya Taylor-Joy, Anton Yelchin

Synopsis: Two upper-class teenage girls in suburban Connecticut rekindle their unlikely friendship after years of growing apart. Together, they hatch a plan to solve both of their problems-no matter what the cost.

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There are countless films that have explored empathy and apathy previously, but first-time director Cory Finley has tackled these notions in some rather invigorating ways in Thoroughbreds. There’s a visceral quality to this film that provocatively demonstrates empathy, or the lack there of, becoming entangled with its violent tendencies. The result is a compelling tale of two friends who end up questioning how empathy can evolve.

The film opens with Lily (Anya Taylor-Joy) reconnecting with her friend Amanda (Olivia Cooke), who had recently been in some trouble after committing some disturbing animal cruelty. As the two of them bond over small talk, their friendship turns somewhat into a partnership, where they hatch a plan to solve their problems for good. This, of course, unravels into something that neither of them expected.

There is much to unpack with this story, but what makes Thoroughbreds so fascinating is how it wears this facade of being violent – the film often talks about violence and heavily implies a sense of brutality – but Finley isn’t interested in showing you actual violence. It would have been real easy for a lesser director to delve into unnecessary and gratuitous hostility, but at every turn Finley restrains himself to illustrate something more internal. Something more emotional and human. Every major disturbance happens off-screen and yet there’s still a guttural ambiance rendered in how Finely frames, edits and scores those sequences.

Instead of becoming consumed in its violence, like many films of this ilk tend to do (looking at you Raw), Thoroughbreds is really more of an exercise in empathy and apathy. The violent underbelly that Finley implores here is simply a dramatic tool to amplify the progression of both Lily and Amanda – two women who become entangled in juxtaposing arcs in regards to empathy and that evolves in both of them.

Lily is a normal teenager, fully capable of human emotion and certainly emulates that throughout film. Everything from anger to sadness to fear to resentment to empathy as we see in those early scenes. But for Amanda, through some sort of disorder or psychological ailment, she can’t feel human emotion. She confesses early that all of her emotion is manipulated as her way of trying to fit in with her peers. And throughout the film Amanda is cold and unequivocally straightforward in everything she does, giving credence to those claims.

As the two become more involved with their plot to solve their problems, a captivating irony starts to unfold and by the end of the film, you could argue that the character – who by definition is the most apathetic – is the one who ultimately demonstrates the most empathy. And on the flip side, the character that can emote, and often does emote, is the one that converts into being the most apathetic and distant in terms of emotion. The transformation is subtle, but thematically poignant, in how Finely captures these fundamental changes without showing us the physical brutality of what happens. By showing the emotional devastation and lingering on character reaction, it gives the experience a heft that would have become lost in providing gore.

Much of this also resonates because of the performances by Taylor-Joy and Cooke, who are absolutely stunning in this film. Both of them tap into the evolution of their respective characters in powerful ways that help bring weight to Finely’s vision. They have a chemistry that also feels palpable. In his last role, Anton Yelchin provides a great performance as well. He gives his character of Tim a confidence that chews on dialogue and demands the screen. Yet, simultaneously there is a timidness to Tim at the same time. Despite little screen time, Yelchin provides a somewhat complex character that is necessary to the film’s overall plot.

Thoroughbreds isn’t going to be for everyone. It’s methodical, it’s not interested in being horror film and it attempts to upend your expectations. And for me, Finley succeeded in that by showcasing restraint in his direction and providing a though-provoking experience. There’s a poetic elegance in how he explores his ideas of empathy and apathy. Perhaps that’s not your style, and that’s fair, but if you’re willing to clutch the prowess of Finely’s artful approach, there’s a lot to appreciate here.

Overall Grade: A

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Hear our podcast review on Extra Film:

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Director: Steven Soderbergh
Writers: Jonathan Bernstein, James Greer
Stars: Claire Foy, Joshua Leonard, Jay Pharoah, Amy Irving

Synopsis: A young woman is involuntarily committed to a mental institution, where she is confronted by her greatest fear–but is it real or a product of her delusion?

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Just when you thought Steven Soderbergh had officially retired like he said he would, he finds another way to justify his unique approach at experimentation; he is an experimenter after all. And that is something no one can deny, that each of Soderbergh’s films serve as some form of genre and/or technical investigation, something that triggers him to get back behind the camera and tackle something he hasn’t done before. This brings us to Unsane, unquestionably another Soderbergh experiment, and yet nothing like Soderbergh has done before. Are you confused? Imagine how I felt leaving the theater right after seeing it.

Unsane is a film I had no idea what to make of, in fact I didn’t even know if I liked it. And still as I type my words onto this page, I don’t have a clear answer as to what Soderbergh’s end goal was. Told from the point of view of Sawyer (played by Claire Foy), a self-driven female millennial who inadvertently commits herself to a mental institution (against her will as she states), Unsane, notorious for being shot solely on an iPhone 7 Plus using only three Moment lenses, feels like it could be either one of two things: an attempt to dramatically surpass the genre tropes that typically come with films about mental illness, or a simple exercise in schlocky melodramatic horror, a common approach with movies of this subject matter (i.e. Samuel Fuller’s Shock Corridor and even Martin Scorsese’s Shutter Island). While the film has a lot of issues regardless, I have decided to review Unsane as the latter, a junky 1970’s-style horror film, because if I don’t then the film doesn’t work for me at all (in fact I find myself hating the film if this were the case); I am willing to give Soderbergh the benefit of the doubt.

What defends Unsane as a schlocky melodrama goes back to its cinematography, using that iPhone 7 Plus. The shots in Unsane look cheap, ugly, and dirty, much like a reel of security camera footage. Perhaps this was Soderbergh’s attempt at imbuing Unsane with a sense of realism, but I refuse to buy into that; it looks junky, and I firmly believe that that was the point. And in its melodrama comes more evidence to support the film’s junkiness, from the forced and strict commentary on corporate greed in the health care system (the willingness to lock away sane individuals just to make a dime reeks in absurd self-awareness), to the biting sense of humor between the various inmates (Jay Pharoah is especially a treat here). This is precisely why Unsane works more appropriately as a tongue-in-cheek exercise in sheer insanity, otherwise Soderbergh’s depiction of mental illness just comes off as an offensive trope and misguided scare tactic.

One of Unsane’s biggest narrative components has already been provided in the film’s marketing; Sawyer’s possible stalker, played by Joshua Leonard. While an aura of mystery still remains with regard to Sawyer’s mental credibility, Joshua Leonard’s performance (known as one third of The Blair Witch Project) may suggest otherwise. In Unsane, Leonard plays David (or George, depending on who to believe), and is fully unhinged in his performance; Soderbergh refuses to let Leonard hold anything back, and his performance is both troubled and incredibly hammy, the best kind of threat for the schlock that this film is. It’s a performance that wouldn’t feel out of place in even a grindhouse film, and is yet another element to the film that wouldn’t work without seeing Unsane as tripe filmmaking; you have to applaud Leonard for just really going for it, and it’s even better when he does great work.

And yet, even as I can accept Unsane more easily as schlock, it still so far from perfect that it’s actually quite frustrating. Narratively speaking, we get little to no setup regarding Sawyer’s possible stalker, and it is something we just need to accept when it comes into play. But even worse is the third act, which plays out with no surprises, anticlimactic revelations, and simply becomes overly tedious and repetitive. And then there’s Claire Foy’s performance, commonly seen as the best thing in the movie. This notion troubles me, going back to my questioning of the film’s overall approach; if Soderbergh meant for Unsane to transition itself from B-movie schlock to A-list drama, then Claire Foy’s performance really works, inviting in a sense of frightening realism. And that’s my problem, Foy is indeed really good here but perhaps too good, tonally off kilter with what I believe Soderbergh’s filmmaking approach is, and I can’t help but feel like her performance is out of a different movie.

I am willing to accept that there’s a lot to admire about Soderbergh’s experimentation here, if taken as a simple genre exercise. As anything else, it runs extremely close toward terrible offensiveness, and at the expense of saying a great director like Steven Soderbergh directed one of the year’s worst films, I’ll continue to judge Unsane as cheese. I enjoy cheese.

Overall Grade: B-

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Hear our podcast review on an upcoming episode.

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