Director: Rian Johnson
Writers: Rian Johnson, George Lucas (based on characters created by)
Stars: Daisy Ridley, John Boyega, Mark Hamill, Carrie Fisher

Synopsis: Having taken her first steps into the Jedi world, Rey joins Luke Skywalker on an adventure with Leia, Finn and Poe that unlocks mysteries of the Force and secrets of the past.

[/info]

How about this take: The Force Awakens is one elaborate “Schrödinger’s cat” experiment. As “a bridge and a kind of reminder,” per the film’s director J.J. Abrams, the first rodeo in the galaxy far, far away after a decade-long slumber sees two contrasting forces working in tandem – future and past, new blood and old guard, delicious uncertainties and foolproof guarantees. Rey (Daisy Ridley) is both facing Luke (Mark Hamill) and her own reflection at the end; it is both the studio’s new hope and A New Hope that rouse the Force. By that logic, a viewer can be pleased and displeased with Episode VII.

But The Last Jedi isn’t another lesson in science-fact. In every aspect conceivable, the film no longer operates between two realms, and the result is the most gratifying big-screen Star Wars experience thus far.

While we’re at it, shut down the “another The Empire Strikes Back” line of thought, too. Abrams, in the same interview, suggested the new trilogy’s remainders will be full-fledged pioneers, the ones to see what the saga’s to-be-charted space of setting and storytelling has to offer. Now that is a seductive plug line, one that is gladly not exclusively so as the decision to let Midas touch-ready director Rian Johnson be in total control of the writing process (he receives sole credit) can attest. Personally, the magic begins right after the opening crawl, with a member of cinema’s most-obscure demographic – Asian (Vietnamese, to be specific) – spectacularly prevents the First Order, under the command of familiars General Hux (Domhnall Gleeson) and holographic-philic Supreme Leader Snoke (Andy Serkis), from expunging the Rebels in the middle of a mass evacuation. Surrounding this sliver of refreshment are others, too, including measured givings of a traditional-but-effective brand of wit – fired first with gusto by waggish pilot Poe Dameron (Oscar Isaac) – a palpable sense of desperation and – as the formers’ byproduct – an unwavering kind of giddiness that is borderline stratospheric.

One-hundred-and-fifty-two minutes, The Last Jedi’s runtime is, but all are flashes once you completely let Johnson be your guide. Other than the expected lift to great heights to flaunt the bread-and-butter interstellar duels, Johnson takes us down – literally, at one point – to Star Wars’ most universal and oft-referenced core: the spirit. While far from being an anomaly narrative-wise, this aspect has always left a vague, and ultimately blank, impression. That ends here in wholesome fashion when Rey’s search for the means to take down rage-drunk Kylo Ren (Adam Driver) in Luke uncover startling revelations (as if a disillusioned Jedi Master isn’t shocking enough!), when the resolute Finn (John Boyega) grows increasingly so as he teams up with the spunky Rebel mechanic, Rose (Kelly Marie Tran), and when the directorships of both lavender-laced wonder of a newcomer, Vice Admiral Holdo (Laura Dern), and ever-impassioned General Leia (Carrie Fisher) reach the pivotal hour. In perfecting the element Lucas conceived and Rogue One fleetingly depicted, Johnson may have end the franchise’s search for a bona-fide creative force. Emphasis on “may” – let’s not take Star Wars down Harry Potter‘s one-director-allowed route.

Eye-opening, too, is the film’s sets and look, having been respectively built and photographed by newcomers to the Star Wars universe. Under Tim Burton’s go-to production designer, Rick Heinrichs, there is more than just splendor-upon-splendor in the locale; the variety prevents whatever dominant mood susceptible to diminishing returns. The island of Ahch-To, house of the first Jedi temple and perfect-for-self-exile conditions, needn’t the eyes of Maz Kanata (Lupita Nyong’o) to be seen as solemnly mystical, but just as prevalent here are endearing joys – one in the form of indolent, upright-sitting maybe-sea cows and whimsical flying porgs that interestingly screech in every medium shot. The coastal city of Canto Bight, despite its glamorous Monte Carlo-lights and credit-draining games, is where abuse runs rampant, a fact Rose revealed to Finn while they’re locating a tech-savvy HVT (Benicio del Toro, with a stutter). And regardless if it’s time for a stroll or a run, Johnson’s regular d.o.p. Steve Yedlin keeps the flair high throughout, an attribute that goes into breathtaking overdrive in Act 3’s three-way battle for three separate causes – survival, hope and purpose. Cathartic is the prime directive here, and so committed to that cause are the cast and crew that you’ll be hard-pressed to not let out a clap, a “whoa,” a cheer, or a “yes” as everything unfolds. Maybe a “I want one,” too, when the crystal foxes of Crait, a planet whose thematically apt crimson-colored soil lies under a layer of blinding-white salt, scurry to not become war casualties.

If there is a flaw, it would be Bob Ducsay’s editing that, especially in the beginning, stops key moments just milliseconds short from their emotional zenith. But if this is a flaw, it amounts to stardust. Much like what The Cotton State did last night to the fabric of decency, The Last Jedi is a, if not the, much-needed adrenaline shot to the state of tentpoles. In that spirit, forthcoming Star Wars and what they have to share (Abrams with XI and Johnson’s returning for a new trilogy) deserve to be greeted with open arms, Murphy’s Law be damned, for finally the tale can go where it hasn’t gone before.

Overall Grade: A

[divider]

Hear our podcast review on Episode 252, coming soon.

[divider]

Director: Steven Spielberg
Writers: Liz Hannah, Josh Singer
Stars: Meryl Streep, Tom Hanks, Sarah Paulson, Bob Odenkirk, Tracy Letts

Synopsis: A cover-up that spanned four U.S. Presidents pushed the country’s first female newspaper publisher and a hard-driving editor to join an unprecedented battle between journalist and government.

[/info]

The first thought I had when I walked out of Steven Spielberg’s The Post wasn’t even about its quality, but rather how aptly it defines 2017 politically. The timeliness of this film will supplant it historically as one of the more important films of the year, regardless of how many awards it wins or doesn’t win. However, it doesn’t hurt that The Post is a significant step up from The BFG and arguably Bridge of Spies as well.

The script by Liz Hannah and Josh Singer isn’t concerned with deeply nuanced characters, as much as it is with deeply nuanced ideas and the important questions they provoke. As a result, The Post is a hard left turn from being a character driven experience à la Lincoln and instead it’s a riveting thriller that is driven by gripping plot mechanics and incisive direction. There’s an energy that Spielberg brings to this film that offers weight to the dramatic tension at play, and somehow Spielberg makes it feel graceful and effortless in how he highlights the immediacy of the media vs the government that is the backbone of this story. In turn, the questions that this film evokes become viscerally self-aware of how the events depicted here mirror that of our current political arena.

The Post centers itself of Kay Graham (Meryl Streep), who became the first female publisher of a major American Newspaper – The Washing Post – after her husband’s untimely death in the early 70’s. She’s very shy and timid, but doing her best to keep her family’s legacy alive and thriving. The paper’s editor Ben Bradly (Tom Hanks) is the antithesis to Kay in that he’s very confident, decisive and understands that getting there first is important. So, when he and his team come into possession of what became known as the Pentagon Papers, things heat up real fast. These papers reveal hundreds of government secrets around the United States’ involvement in the Vietnam War and the politicians involved. In an effort to suffocate the media’s attempt at revealing this information, Richard Nixon has threatened legal time over any newspaper outlet that publishes these documents. From there, Kay and Ben have to decipher their obligations to the public and the ramifications that may come as a result.

On the surface, Meryl Streep’s performance could come off as easy-going and simple, but I’d argue it’s much more than that. In fact, it’s better than some of her most recent Oscar-nominated performances. While the script does a pretty good job of giving perspective to Kay and why she wasn’t a conventional CEO, it’s Streep who gives weight to her timidness in how she taps into that shy behavior. Kay understands that she isn’t the most qualified to be in her position, but even more so she is fully aware of the stakes at play, that people could lose their jobs, her family’s legacy could be tarnished and she could even go to jail herself if she publishes. And yet, it’s fascinating to see Kay overcome these emotional restraints in order to change history in the way she does. There’s a subtle evolution that Steep portrays in Kay that dramatically feels earned in the conviction that is ultimately there by the end. There’s nothing flashy about it. There’s no catharsis or “Oscar-y” kinds of moments. But that progression of insecurity to confidence is remarkable.

Tom Hanks is also very good, especially in how we see Bradley embrace the film’s ideas of journalistic integrity. Hannah and Singer’s script deeply roots itself in asking questions around integrity and why maintaining that matters as the risks amplify and the consequences become real. And it’s captivating to see how integrity and morality become blurred in Bradley’s urgency to release these documents to the public, something that Hanks emulates very well in his performance.

While Hanks and Streep carry The Post in great ways, other supporting players such as Bob Odenkirk, Bradley Whitford, Tracy Letts and Sarah Paulson are also great in their small parts as well.

The Post doesn’t concern itself with everyday journalism like All the President’s Men, but instead Spielberg focuses on the broader meanings of what’s at stake with this story. It’s all about the fight for freedom of speech, especially when the government is wanting to suppress that freedom, and why a woman at the helm makes it even more compelling. Spielberg puts all of his attention into the pacing of the film, the editing and building tension in order to make that fight feel attainable.

The Post may not be top tier Spielberg, but it’s a far cry from being mediocre Spielberg. The film has a lot to offer in terms of cinema, but perhaps even more to offer in highlighting the viscous cycle of government lies and why the media unraveling those lies keeps things in balance. In many ways, The Post will be the film that defines 2017 when it’s all said and done.

Overall Grade: B+

[divider]

Hear our podcast review on Episode 251:

[divider]

Director: Craig Gillespie
Writers: Steven Rogers
Stars: Margot Robbie, Sebastian Stan, Allison Janney, Julianne Nicholson

Synopsis: Tonya Harding rises through the ranks of competitive figure skating only to find shame when her husband tries to eliminate her rival.

[/info]

You don’t really know you need I, Tonya until after you’ve seen it. Fresh off of 2016’s Black List – the best unmade Hollywood screenplays of their respective year – we’re finally provided a completely true, non-contradictory, “biographical” tale of what might’ve transpired on that infamous day of January 6th, 1994, including the buildup and subsequent aftermath. Although it’s approach to the source material are contrary to people’s traditional viewpoints of true stories, with the egocentric and absurd facets bound with it, hopefully it won’t leave a bad taste in audiences mouths.

Even with something as polarizing as this scandal, Gillespie, Rogers and even Margot Robbie prioritize an undercurrent of self-awareness that’s inimitable in this genre. The word genre is such a broad term however. Something as unaccustomed as I, Tonya prides itself on the irony and satirical nature of the ludicrous situation, almost like it’s acting as a parody for a non-existent adaptation besides the actuality of the events. It finds its growth along those lines and prolongs the often self-aware fourth wall-breaks while challenging our perceptions of truth, and what we ourselves grasp as true. That feature, while engaging, begins to get overly excessive as the film progresses.

It’s hard to bring up flaws when they’re so overlooked by the great, but in all simplicity, this narrative is wonky. This applied to the editing also. There’s never anything drawn out extensively and all of the ideas are there, the execution is just a bit askew. Perhaps it’s just because there’s such a few number of films that are like this to where it’s unavoidable, but the film is heavily reliant on the element of cynicism between Tonya and her mother to the point where it becomes so unwarranted. Its structure doesn’t fit with the editing either. Simultaneously jumping from past to present, once we’ve delved in to Tonya’s adult years it slowly starts to go south. It’s easily avoided if not being diligently examined but it didn’t go unnoticed to me.

Margot Robbie depicts this once acclaimed Olympic figure-skater, Tonya Harding and her epically fascinating fall from grace. The film does a good job at tentatively recalling her reign as the top-ranked skater in the world along with being the first female skater to successfully land a triple axle. And most importantly, the iconic Nancy Kerrigan scandal and the media frenzy that ensued. Sadly, most people associate Tonya Harding as a has-been or a what could’ve been, which as brilliantly shown in the film, tends to overshadow her previous achievements. Implying that everything she’s worked for up to that moment is now, well worthless. Nevertheless, Robbie is radiant, who in fact never seizes to amaze. Sebastian Stan as Jeff Gillooly undergoes a bit of a hot and cold session. They set his character up as this hot-tempered, meathead type of guy but soon lose interest in that shtick halfway through the film. Allison Janney as Tonya’s mother is quite possibly the true standout. Dialing her mentality and absurdity up to a ten, and never letting off the gas. Possibly a nomination or two with Robbie and Janney, but I don’t see a whole lot of noise being made in this category.

Steven Rogers is still recovering from his 2015 Christmas blunder with Love the Coopers. In fact, there’s a similar trend going on here. Gillespie and Robbie are also coming off of rather underwhelming films which gives I, Tonya a bit of a passion project feel amidst the three of them. It all seems to (finally) click here. It sets up the factually ridiculous scenarios in a conceited state toward its viewer that indirectly asks them why they’re watching this film. Also giving their fair share of cinematic middle-fingers from time to time. But that’s why it’s such a hit. There’s an arc that transitions them into these ‘awful’ people yet, you can’t stop watching it. An engrossing screenplay, with an alluring cast to back it up.

So is it all true? Well, one can never truly know. I, Tonya raises eyebrows. And for all the right reasons. Shimmering with eccentric performances from Robbie, Stan, and Allison Janney while disregarding principle, it’s overly entertaining. Almost overwhelmingly. It may not be the most advanced film technically, but are you going to remember a movie for its editing/lighting, or for its unequivocal creativity?

That’s her story, and that’s the truth.

Overall Grade: B+

[divider]

Hear our podcast review on Extra Film:

[divider]

Director: Guillermo del Toro
Writers: Guillermo del Toro, Vanessa Taylor
Stars: Sally Hawkins, Octavia Spencer, Michael Shannon, Richard Jenkins, Michael Stuhlbarg, Doug Jones

Synopsis: An other-worldly fairy tale, set against the backdrop of Cold War era America circa 1962. In the hidden high-security government laboratory where she works, Elisa’s life is changed forever when she and co-worker Zelda (Octavia Spencer) discover a secret classified experiment.

[/info]

Guillermo del Toro is one of the most compelling directors working to date, and his latest film The Shape of Water is another great example of why he’s so revered among film fans. In fact, The Shape of Water could be del Toro’s best work since Pan’s Labyrinth back in 2006. There’s an aura of compassion and empathy poured into every scene that gives this film a striking pathos.

If you know del Toro’s sensibilities as a filmmaker, it will come as no surprise that The Shape of Water is another adult fairy-tale that fully embraces its fantasy from the opening frame. The opening sequence is very dream-like in its visual representation, with voiceover narration from Richard Jenkins that lays out the foundation for this fairy-tale – “the princess without voice” and “the monster who tried to end it all” he even says at one point. From the onset, del Toro is playing in a cinematic playground that he thrives in and it’s beautifully alluring on every level.

The film is centered on a mute woman named Elisa (Sally Hawkins), who works as a cleaning hand at a secret government facility. Her work is mundane, but she has her best friend Zelda (Octavia Spencer), who talks constantly, to keep her company. One day she finds out that this facility is housing a creature of some sort, with human-like qualities, and she immediately has empathy for him. She starts bringing him food, she plays music for him and even teaches him some sign language. Scientist Dr. Robert Hoffstetler catches wind of this and is intrigued by the humanity of it, but there are Cold War implications to having this creature around, and this puts science and Elisa’s newly formed relationship on the back-burner.

The central plot plays out like a 50’s noir, also giving The Shape of Water a captivating dramatic urgency. There’s an escape attempt, Russians may or may not be involved and there’s an investigation that threatens Elisa and everyone around her. Michael Shannon gives an invigorating performance that re-energizes the film whenever he’s on screen. He chews on del Toro’s dialogue in ways that make you love to hate him.

While The Shape of Water has del Toro’s signature fingerprint all over it, there’s something about its dream-like quality, the film’s use of magical realism, Alexandre Desplat’s mesmerizing score and the lingering pathos revolving around its central romance that makes this experience singular and unique among del Toro’s other works. Del Toro wonderfully establishes his usual aesthetic and darker undertones, while fully embracing the film’s sexuality and passion. That is to say, The Shape of Water is endearing and surreal in its romance, similar to something like La La Land, but it also has fun playing with its bizarre premise – à la Crimson Peak.

As a result, yeah, the film is a bit weird in places, but that’s what makes it so charming and enjoyable. That, and Sally Hawkins. Her performance, along with del Toro’s vigorous direction, overcome any potential pitfalls that could come with this territory. Without saying a word, Hawkins conveys visceral loneliness and empathy. Her chemistry with Doug Jones – who plays the amphibious man creature – is also great in making the romance come alive.

Dan Lausten’s cinematography, coupled with del Toro’s vision for this film, is astounding and renders some breathtaking imagery at times. The use of green hues are visually appropriate given this story, but thematically it also adds nuance to these characters and how they deal with loneliness throughout the film.

The Shape of Water is no doubt one of del Toro’s best films yet. It’s a film that isn’t afraid to be transparent in its romance – there is vivid nudity at times which will be awkward for some audiences – and it takes full advantage of what this world has to offer. The characters are endlessly enjoyable thanks to a great ensemble cast that doesn’t feature any weak link. It has one of the best scores of the year, and the music overall is a major driving force. The Shape of Water is a rich and satisfying experience that I cannot recommend enough.

Overall Grade: A

[divider]

Hear our podcast review on Episode 250:

[divider]

Director: James Franco
Writers: Scott Neustadter (screenplay by), Michael H. Weber (screenplay by)
Stars: James Franco, Dave Franco, Seth Rogen, Zac Efron

Synopsis: When Greg Sestero, an aspiring film actor, meets the weird and mysterious Tommy Wiseau in an acting class, they form a unique friendship and travel to Hollywood to make their dreams come true.

[/info]

Don’t judge a person by their vampiric and three-quarters stoned cover, indeed, for they know how to make life advantageous. With the ability to turn a disheveled look into additional personal mystique and proof of incompetence – a 2003 “gem” of acting-directing-writing called The Room – into an enduring achievement, it’s befuddling that we have yet to pronounce Tommy Wiseau’s last name as “wise-au.” Sure, “weez-au” is what the diction teachers go by, but it fails to acknowledge the man’s niche form of genius.

Not quite like its shell, too, is A24’s movie-about-Wiseau’s movie, which despite the title isn’t much of a dive into the subject. That’s no reason to tear yourself apart, either, as what The Disaster Artist is – the formation of said subject’s finest creation – is just as compelling, not to mention loaded with veritable laughs and startlingly heartfelt. It’s the Christmas for, and of, comedy.

The story begins in a San Francisco acting class where Greg Sestero (Dave Franco) sees his acting dreams receive a beatdown from the coach. Judging from the stifled frustration and slouching as he returns to his seat, it isn’t the first time this happened. It might be the last, though, after he witnessed (and presumably heard Dave Porter’s operatic score) a long-locked cast-mate named Tommy Wiseau (James Franco) went all-out – groaning, climbing, chair-tossing and air-thrusting – in a rendition of A “NOLA” Werewolf in SF, minding not the snickers and perplexed eyes. The sheer confidence, tight-lippedness about his background and determination in pursuing a spot among celluloid stars – Greg continually finds a reason to befriend Tommy, and soon enough the duo decide to road-trip it to Hollywood to find success. It’s no spoiler that both guys, like their real counterparts, found it, even if their method is being involved in the “Citizen Kane of Bad Movies” rather than a critical darling or an award-winner.

“Nobody respect my vision,” Tommy wailed at one point. Well, the awards circuit ought to once The Disaster Artist lands in theaters. Utterly committed is the elder Franco’s work here, as actor and director, though more so being the former where unpredictability gets to thrive. The performance, defined by a brand of sense interpretable as near-delirium, is a masterfully tuned one; it lives up to the built-in weirdness that the marketing emphasizes yet ultimately gives more voice to the narrative’s more embraceable elements – a relationship’s phases and expectations-versus-reality – that writers Scott Neustadter and Michael H. Weber are adept explorers of. As a result, those foreign to the “Oh, hai” can still enjoy the film as a genre entry well-aware that the ha-ha fruits grew up high are worth a pick. And for those who have known the cult classic by heart? There is room here to see it as a dream made true, however unrefined, more than exclusively a subpar production that avoided oblivion.

At times, The Disaster Artist does chip immersion when it hosts an array of faces known for their fame, comedic oeuvre or appearances in fares co-starring James Franco. “Chip” is the keyword as the effect of “film one moment, SNL-esque playground” the next can be overlooked; the “Hey, that’s Judd Apatow” (or Alison Brie, Paul Scheer, Hannibal Burress, Seth Rogen, Zac Efron and so on) moment hoards the spotlight only milliseconds before it is rightfully evicted by James’ acting, a most enthusiastic turn from his younger brother Dave, d.o.p. Brandon Trost’s amiable faux-documentary style, or all of the above. The film’s finest reels emerge when the latter happens in which the Francos’ actually brotherly chemistry sparks, equally palpable are the elation when their characters find common ground and the sears in times not so. Consequently, nothing is gimmicky or shortcut-taking when one Franco casts another, just a nifty tribute to the real Greg and Tommy’s nearly blood-brothers dynamic and the heart of the 2013 memoir that the film adapted from.

After The Big Sick and Lady Bird, here is another remarkable tutorial for life delivered through the most outstanding of personalities and the most compact of films. And if they can court the big splashes which cinema desires on a more regular basis than tentpoles, let’s see more of youse. They hero.

Overall Grade: A-

[divider]

Hear our podcast review on Episode 251.

[divider]