Director: David Gordon Green
Writers: Jeff Fradley, Danny McBride, David Gordon Green; John Carpenter, Debra Hill (characters)
Stars: Jamie Lee Curtis, Judy Greer, Andi Matichak, Will Patton, Virginia Gardner, Nick Castle

Synopsis: Laurie Strode comes to her final confrontation with Michael Myers, the masked figure who has haunted her since she narrowly escaped his killing spree on Halloween night four decades ago.

[/info]

“There’s nothing new to learn. No new insights, or discoveries,” Laurie Strode (Jamie Lee Curtis, as magnetic as the silver coating her hair) said to two podcas– investigative journalists, Dana and Adrian (Rhian Rees and Jefferson Hall, underused), seeking to know what makes Michael Myers (Nick Castle, reprising his role) tick. While it’s right to interpret the words as they are — a plea to not reopen traumatic scars — it’s also not wrong to see them as an eulogy for the sequels, II, III, 4, 5, Curse and H20. Maybe the two Rob Zombie films, too. Thank Heavens for the lack of a “vs.” entry. With the embargo on elaborations, Halloween walks with a freakish ability to rouse viewers with little effort, even if afterward, after so much cheering, there’s no sign of the chills one once felt when The Shape was first on the loose. To not tremble at the sight of a 6-foot-plus killer whose presence will get the air going ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-dingding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding? That’s new.

With a more pronounced fear factor, Halloween could have maximized another neat spice it has besides K.I.S.S-ing the timeline: How people’s mental alarms today will more likely ring for aliens, internet challenges, other nations, D.C. and so on than a masked assailant in the backyard. A tragedy, indeed, when this notion resides within Laurie’s two successors — daughter Karen (Judy Greer, sharp) and granddaughter Allyson (Andi Matichak, capable) — rendering all that time the elder Strode’s has spent training the former (with guns, sandbags and traps) and advising the latter (be vigilant or move to Mexico) as an unhealthy obsession, lasting warpings of childhoods. At least Allyson is always willing lend an ear, so there’s her survival odds being higher than most the moment Michael re-descends upon Haddonfield. Should be soon, though, since the bus transferring him to a maximum-security prison has crashed. Time to hide your kids, hide your lovers, hide your pets ‘cause the Boogeyman is slashing everybody out there.

Similar to announcing your location to a knife-wielder with a “Hello?” it’s a mistake to underestimate David Gordon Green’s ability to stage a set piece. The director of Pineapple Express and Stronger — hope there’s a hand under that jaw — shushes naysayers right away with Dana and Adrian attempting to interview Michael on the asylum’s garishly checkerboarded courtyard. The British duo don’t get much for their assignment, unsurprisingly, but our inner selves, on the other hand, will glee and howl in unison with the surrounding inmates as we take in Green’s tribute to the Old-Fashioned/the franchise’s acclaimed past in his direction; the camerawork from d.p. Michael Simmonds is serene and genre frequenter Tim Alverson wisely goes uncharacteristic with a calmer approach to the editing. What’s more, right as the scene reaches its peak, the film launches into the stratosphere when it cues a melody classical enough to resurrect a stage-left jack-o’-lantern (father-son John and Cody Carpenter & Daniel Davies handle the impressive score). If that isn’t an example of working the crowd, what is?

But in loving its spectators so much, Halloween forgets to rein in its destructive impulses the closer it gets to the 109-minute mark. The patient-yet-overwhelming menace in the early hours, in the opener and a long take that doesn’t waste its Oct. 31 holiday backdrop unlike The Predator, gives way to cuts that too often distort the sense of space and disrupt the setup. The Green-Jeff Fradley-Danny McBride script notably prioritizes the business of conjuring an entertaining time — through humor, callbacks and one switcheroo (that is here because…?) — than that but living up the sensations of the horror genre. The 1978 film is one writer short, and yet John Carpenter and Debra Hill does more. Righter. Still, it’s hard to deny that the laughs are effective (bless whoever authored that banh mi joke), the bloodletting does impress, and the final-hour confrontation brings forth the internal dynamics. Consider the possibility of being the only one in the auditorium with a frown, too. Nothing like peer pressure.

Still, Halloween comes from a good place, and for that it deserves respect. The film could have been an excellent continuation that also doubles as an equally so course-correction — it’s so close! — had its scarier edge been more sharpened and its timely wheels better spun. Ultimately, let’s not deny what we have, for at least Michael has an improved legacy now. Laurie’s, too. That’s an important lesson to take home with. It’s not as intensely highlighted, but no doubt the more crucial one.

Overall Grade: B-

[divider]

Podcast review coming soon!

[divider]

Director: Ian Samuels
Writers: Lindsey Beer
Stars: Shannon Purser, Kristine Froseth, Noah Centineo, RJ Cyler

Synopsis: A case of mistaken identity leads to a virtual romance, but will he still like her when he finds out who she really is?

[/info]

Netflix has been cranking out movies and TV series lately, some are good, some not so much. But it seems like they’ve been steadily improving production quality and attracting bigger star power. Sierra Burgess Is a Loser is one of their latest attempt at another rom-com.

The gist of the story is: Sierra (Shannon Purser) is an outcast at school, bullied by Veronica (Kristine Froseth) the head cheerleader. She’s called a loser, fat, a mouth breather and variety of other things from the standard high school bully repertoire. While out with friends, Veronica is approached by teen heartthrob and rival high school quarterback Jamey (Noah Centineo). Veronica deems him unworthy because she thinks he has loser friends, and gives him Sierra’s phone number instead of her own. This leads to a virtual romance between Sierra and Jamey that feels a lot like catfishing.

One of the things I didn’t like in the movie was how we were expected to read the texts between Sierra and Jamey off of their phones. In some scenes they were almost impossible to see and only stayed on screen for a few seconds. Other films have done things like display the text in a larger font across the screen or as subtitles. I think if they had gone in that direction, we would have had a chance to better connect with the characters and maybe understand how they fell for each other.

There’s also a lot of questionable things that happen in the movie. For example Jamey’s little brother, Ty, is deaf and is played by deaf actor Cochise Zornoza. His role in the movie seems like an attempt to check off a list of diversity requirements, rather than add anything of purpose. There was hardly any signing and they don’t really develop that sibling relationship. Other characters make jokes and fake being deaf, and it was a tad awkward. The way the girls lied to Jamey and lead him on was also uncomfortable. There’s a scene where Jamey believes he is kissing one girl, but he has his eyes closed and the girls swap places and then switch back before he opens his eyes. It’s a moment that felt disingenuous and a little mean-spirited.

The movie did have its good parts though. The acting was decent, there’s a Lea Thompson cameo, and it had some relatable qualities with its themes. Dan, the quirky best friend (RJ Cyler), added some great levity to the film. “Hey, where are the Sour Patch parents?” was one of his better lines. As far as supporting roles go, he may be the best one in the film. The English teacher was also great (Loretta Devine). The leading man, Noah Centineo, is currently in at least three Netflix movies playing pretty much the same character, so I guess “teen heartthrob” suits him.

Overall, I really didn’t like the plot of the movie. The lying to Jamey, the mean girl shenanigans, the fat shaming, and how easily all is forgiven didn’t sit well with me. It wasn’t awful, but I have no interest in watching Sierra Burgess Is a Loser again.

Overall Grade: C

[divider]

Director: Shane Black
Writers: Fred Dekker, Shane Black; Jim Thomas, John Thomas (based on)
Stars: Boyd Holbrook, Olivia Munn, Thomas Jane, Keegan Michael-Key, Trevante Rhodes, Jacob Tremblay, Sterling K. Brown, Yvonne Strahovski

Synopsis: When a young boy accidentally triggers the universe’s most lethal hunters’ return to Earth, only a ragtag crew of ex-soldiers and a disgruntled science teacher can prevent the end of the human race.

[/info]

“Girl, he ain’t gonna catch you,” howled the lady in the seat directly behind, not giving a damn about her annoyed surroundings. The narration is for a moment where Dr. Casey Bracket (Olivia Munn), after accidentally tranquilizing her right foot, needs help deboarding the Yautja-immobilized bus she’s on (the roof of) and our lead, Army Ranger Quinn McKenna (Boyd Holbrook), is standing below with both arms stretched out. “Nuh-uh, he ain’t,” the lady continues, her voice warps into the amplifying score and noise. And lo, it happens: Quinn lets the dirt greet Casey just as she jumps. Even though 3/4 of the auditorium are laughing their guts out, the lady’s “Told ya, honey!” is five decibels higher than the rest.

But credit where it’s due: The lady, total absence of decorum aside, is still not as embarrassing as what is on-screen. The Shane Black-directed and co-scripted film — Shane. Black. — does everything it can to three-point lasered our interest and, in turn, continually giving the lady a chance to make random statements, ask her friends for a summary (a fella among them is also an up-and-coming in-theater commenter, joy!), discredit Casey, question Quinn’s intelligence quotient and offer spoken commentary as if we’re watching Discovery Channel made The Predator.

The only watchable sequence in The Predator, and the one where the lady stays attentive as a filmgoer should, is the beginning, among the stars where a spaceship (of the Shaq-height Yautja, the one that met Arnold) crash-glides above South America after being chased by a bigger one (of the Mureșan-height Yautja). Afterward it’s a woefully impetuous and muddled chain of events where Quinn — the first to encounter, and loot tech from, the Predator — Casey — she’s been researching the creature — Quinn’s autistic son Rory (Jacob Tremblay, again as an “abnormal” boy!) — who receives the tech after Quinn mails it to his Georgia home and activates it — a troupe full of undesirables — among them the jokester Coyle (Keegan Michael-Key), oft-bullied (since he has Tourette’s!) Baxley (Thomas Jane) and semi-charismatic Gaylord (Trevante Rhodes) — and sinister agent (Sterling K. Brown, whose splendid chords makes his grating introductory line, “They’re large, they’re fast, and f**king you up is their idea of tourism,” tolerable) appear on the Yautja’s to-kill list.

Frankly, past Predator films assume a “whatever” attitude to the script; as long as the beast can show its badassery and the body count rises all is well. Black’s involvement, however, much like his brand of subverting preconceptions (for better and worse), suggests the freakish hunter’s outing will have that and a new-but-solid foundation. John McTiernan’s suspense and Black’s love of surprises? How can you not volunteer as trophy, right? Then comes the decloaking that reveals the horror: The advertised “explosive reinvention” vision never shows up as possible golds — the suburbs as a hunting ground, Predator “Bulldogs,” Predator vs. (CGI-heavy Super) Predator, to name a few — are introduced and then traded for actual pebbles — questionable vulgarity, encouragement of infantilism and, most visibly, disorienting structuring — until that’s what the entire bag consists of. The insulting, or humorous, thing here is not that you’ve been lied to (deception is a marketing tactic, heartless as that sounds), it’s that Predator 2 is more engaging than this. Add Predators, too, while we’re at it.

Noticeably, a lot of The Predator is on the cutting room floor. Not just the chase with the flipping Humvee in the trailers, but also — being a hopeful creature here — a narrative where the beats of refreshment (or, at least, the minims of a stalked-by-Yautja film) are realized, harmless-and-mindless entertainment is offered, temporal progression is shown and geographical switches are acknowledged. Right now, everything feels pureéd together and effortful to decipher, the latter is rage-inducing when you have Larry Fong as your d.p. Remember that bit with the chasing starships? That’s the only time his lensing skills are honored, otherwise a frame is placed under a turbocharged woodchipper. What’s worse, though, is Harry B. Miller III and Billy Weber’s cutting style turns the film into a high-budgeted propaganda for those who worship the “boys’ club” mentality to use; as regular as the pickings on the disabled are Munn’s character being the epicenter of others’ barbs. One sure hopes it’s accidental that this shows up after the reshoots and however many passes in the editing bay. That Steven Wilder Striegel can be on the set is an already depressing enough matter, you know?

Still, every film has an audience, and The Predator certainly has that in the lady in the seat directly behind. Mulling over it now, it seems she is a cognizant individual: The experience is an obnoxious one, and what she is doing that is stating the fact in her distinctive way. Should there be a sequel for this — the ending screams so (such brass) — one hope she’ll be in the audience again, highlighting truth in a time when most struggle to define it. Bless your heart, lady. Bless your freaking heart.

And for those involved with the film: If you have a resume, leave this project out. Or retitle it “Yautja Skit.” Or something, as this is far from the Shane Black’s The Predator you’ve signed up for.

Overall Grade: D-

[divider]

Podcast review coming soon on Episode 291

[divider]