Director: David Leitch
Writers: Rhett Rheese, Paul Wernick and Ryan Reynolds; Rob Liefeld and Fabian Nicieza (based on)
Stars: Ryan Reynolds, Josh Brolin, Julian Dennison, Zazie Beetz, Brianna Hildebrand, Karan Soni, Stefan Kapicic (voice)

Synopsis: Foul-mouthed mutant mercenary Wade Wilson (or Deadpool), brings together a team of fellow mutant rogues to protect a young boy of supernatural abilities from the brutal, time-traveling mutant, Cable.

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Watch your back, Toretto — a new family just settled in and, with their powers combined, they gon’ give it to you. Well, that was the intent.

The chimichanga-obsessed red-suited chatterbox of a masked merc Wade Wilson/Deadpool (Ryan Reynolds) has been busy; there he is again shaking down criminals, one person in particular an exasperated version of Lin-Manuel. Might just be these eyes. Anyway, in a revisit of the first film’s “human kebab-ing belongs in a boy-meets-girl story” gag, viewers are asked to believe that the on-going (slo-mo) chasing and goring of life’s bad apples is part of the family-movie experience. Does this mean the sequel is playable on Family Day? In Canada on the third Monday of every February, and in the States post-turkey dinner? Don’t forget, Deadpool works as a Valentine’s Day film and better than the Valentine’s Day film.

The answer is “not quite,” regrettably. Yes, the rating is not the only reason. While Deadpool 2 is Warren Buffett-like in doling out jokes, absurdities and wall-breakers — returning writers Rhett Rheese and Paul Wernick also give Reynolds a (proverbial?) pen for this occasion — it has no narrative to collect the golds. Though not the most obvious, the (anti)hero’s journey held Mr. Pool together in 2016; it transformed-by-pummeling the relationship between his ultra-irreverence and our wide-eyedness from a dogfight into an airshow. With the story becoming secondary to Deadpool’s jesting assets this time around, flow is absent and not feeling too well are character progression and the central suspense. It’s agonizing to see the lengths our anti-protagonist has gone to keep his ode to kinship afloat — mimicking his Australian (alleged) bedfellow’s end, searching for redemption by Logan-ning a feisty mutant young’un and cueing up the team-player spirit — don’t receive full marks in return. There’s a family tree built; it’s just not convincing and sentient at this point in time.

That said, for a character who is pretty much flaw-proof, a perk from literally being the embodiment of workarounds, his shortcomings will be overlooked. Or dismissed. It isn’t wrong to cite plot as the reason to see the Swiss Army knife of the comic world — in retrospect, that “The Real Heroes Here” credit in Deadpool is both a roast and an example of in iocus veritas — but the nerves of someone in the crowd may fray upon registering it.

On the other hand, Deadpool 2’s visual front will never be the subject of any debate. With key aesthetics-centric members from the John Wick films and Atomic Blonde, every frame is a looker, especially (yet unexpectedly) when bullets, trucks, cars, buildings, people and parts of people fly. The action’s crystal-clear and extraordinarily staged attributes are fascinating enough to forgive director David Leitch’s still-indifferent manner of teasing out emotions in quieter moments. We’re supposed to feel what Cable (Josh Brolin) feels in the times he reminds himself the point of chasing Russell (Julian Dennison), at one point under grape-purple lighting, but the framing and pacing’s impatience wedge a barrier between them and the viewer at least until the next fireworks show with, hopefully, an instance or two of Domino (Zazie Beetz)’s flaunting her wildly cinematic, pandemonium-inducing Lady Luck-sponsored’s moveset.

Despite still not knowing the family all that well, there’s still a desire to see what else Deadpool’s House for Dysfunctional Mutants has in its halls. Upgrading the visuals and the joke brigade is a wise move, yet effort isn’t maximized, and eventually the structure won’t hold, if subsequent outings continue to forsake the storyline. Deadpool deserves to see his franchise dreams realized, or at least growing. Please don’t wink.

And we should strive to live in a world where Deadpool will reveal that Celine is his mom. He persuades the songstress to back the film’s unabashedly Bond-like (!) intro, might as well go all the way, right?

Overall Grade: C+

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Hear our podcast review on Episode 274. We reviewed the first film on Episode 156!

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Director: Michel Hazanavicius
Writers: Michel Hazanavicius (script by), Anne Wiazemsky (adapted from the novel “Un an après” by)
Stars: Louis Garrel, Stacy Martin, Bérénice Bejo

Synopsis: During the making of one of his films, French film director Jean-Luc Godard falls in love with 17-year old actress Anne Wiazemsky and later marries her.

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Godard Mon Amour (Godard, My Love) is the U.S. title for Le Redoutable, the latest film from Oscar-winning director of The Artist, Michel Hazanavicius. Much like The Artist, this is a cine-literate take on a past era of cinema, in this case the French New Wave, but this is a much more exclusive film than the silent black and white masterpiece and is much more divisive a watch.

The film tells the story of Anne Wiazemsky‘s relationship with pioneering French film maker Jean-Luc Godard through the period of time where the famed New Wave director moved from being an entertainer though to being a polemicist, a man with very strong opinions who is not afraid to voice them. Anne and Jean-Luc meet on the set of the director’s ill-fated nod to the Chinese revolution, La Chinoise, a film the Chinese embassy rejected summarily when the director attempted to get it shown in the country. The film is widely thought of as not being very good, not understanding the politics of the subject matter, and doesn’t do very well financially or critically. Godard announces himself as dead, done with film-making, an actor playing the role of Godard.

Anne, infatuated with the great director, despite her being nineteen and eighteen years Godard’s junior, falls in love and the two embark on a passionate romance, culminating in marriage and, ultimately, divorce as Godard’s radical leanings and explosive, often offensive, political statements destroy his fan-base, his friends, his supporters and his life as once was.

Opening in 1967 the film’s initial focus is the effect the general strike and violent demonstrations by students desperate for change that ripped through French society in May 1968. Godard, Truffaut and the rest of the New Wave directors were also motivated to change in the depressed, shattered post-war French cinema industry, then churning out mediocre literary adaptations. The New Wave (La Nouvelle Vague) tore up the ‘cinema du papa’ rule book with lively, introspective, humorous, artistic films with visual innovation, a handheld documentary style, live audio recording and other startling techniques – it was the birth of the European art house movie scene and, when Jules et Jim, and Breathless became financial successes it was clear that something extraordinary was occurring in France at the time. Many of the New Wave directors combined their desire to re-invent cinema with politics, but none to the extent of Godard whose dislike of the established film industry went to extraordinary lengths and shook the European film industry to its very core.

This film is billed as a comedy, but, as I hope you can appreciate, it’s pretty dark and grim, especially for our leads. Both are excellent in their roles, Louis Garrel nails Godard’s slightly world weary hang dog look and sells the passionate defense of indefensible positions (at least to the view point of his liberal middle-class friends) perfectly. He is also bewilderingly complex, hard to get your head around, much like the real Godard. Stacy Martin as Anne is extremely good, not only as a visual match to the actresses of the New Wave (she looks impossibly chic in the period clothes), but also conveys the desire, fear and awe of being Godard’s lover – the responsibility for supporting and protecting him – even as he begins his self-destructive path. Both are excellent.

The film, also, is brilliantly put together. There is an energy and pop to the scenes and images, all stolen from New Wave techniques, but combined with realistic  scenes of violence during the depictions of the riots and the fear and terror of being on the streets during that time. Hazanavicius has a lot of fun with these nods and winks to the styles of the New Wave as he employs them to enforce his story. It is also dryly witty, sly and cunning in its humor. One scene has both leads in the nude discussing the requirements for nude scenes in films (and deciding that there is no requirement) – like I say, witty. It is not laugh out loud, it is chucklesome, perhaps on a par with a lesser Woody Allen. This is not this reviewer’s taste in humour, but it was nicely done.

The film, however, is not without its problems. Firstly, unless you are up on your French social history, the geopolitical situation of the World circa 1967, and French New Wave cinema, then a great deal of the detail, homages, story points, and jokes will be missed. I confess I was not up to speed on ANY of this before seeing the film and it is only afterwards, through reading more about Godard, New Wave and the like, that many of the points become clear. I think if you are interested in this period of history, or the New Wave cinema movement, you will get more out of the film than I did.

Secondly, and a little more troubling, is the lack of clarity as to WHY Godard chooses to become so destructive to himself. We get a very documentary-style look at Anne Wiazemsky’s time with Godard, but we get no insight into what is driving the man. I know the film is told from Anne’s point of view, but Godard is a complete enigma and Hazanavicius seems unsure as to how to play the story. Initially we feel that Godard’s leap into politics, and the clumsy naivety he employs, is a knee-jerk reaction to the reception of La Chinoise, but as the film progresses we move through possible mental illness, innate cruelty, political passion, dislike for those closest to him, or simple enjoyment from being so disruptive. There is a running gag that Godard’s distinctive glasses keep getting broken, literally rendering him blind to see what is happening, but he is willfully cruel to fans and friends, and the closer he tries to get to the youthful student movement, the more pathetic he seems, and the more the students themselves lose respect for him. Ultimately this is a film about the fall of a narcissist, and a cruel one, but one that also is a great artist. The trouble is we don’t get a chance to know who we should feel about this. Which is very New Wave in itself.

I enjoyed this film, I think it looks great, is very well acted, and is so French you can almost smell the garlic. It is exceptionally chic and stylish, it is sexy and playful, and Stacey Martin is superb. However it is slightly muddled and unclear, which means it is not a bio-pic in the truest sense of the word – we fail to come away with an understanding of Godard – but it is engaging, illuminating, and sad.

Overall Grade: C+

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Director: Anthony and Joe Russo
Writers: Christopher Markus, Stephen McFeely; Stan Lee, Jack Kirby and more (based on)
Stars: Robert Downey Jr., Chris Evans, Chris Hemsworth, Zoe Saldana, Karen Gillian (and ∞ more)

Synopsis: The Avengers and their allies must be willing to sacrifice all in an attempt to defeat the powerful Thanos before his blitz of devastation and ruin puts an end to the universe.

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14,000,605 to 1 — the likelihood of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes winning Thanos (Josh Brolin), the Mad Titan with a doomsday boxing glove waiting to be jeweled.

With that info, Anthony and Joe Russo remain buddies with the villains of Marvel-verse; this film being the third time in a row where the brothers enroll our heroes in a class about the prospect of defeat, the flip side of a saved day. Notice that it’s the team doctor, Stephen Strange (Benedict Cumberbatch), who reveals the aforementioned grim odds. Intel from someone with that title is unquestionable and final. That’s a lump, true, but the argument as to why we should still absorb it is compelling: Although burdened with enough scale that can minimize the meaning of “scale,” Infinity War rarely buckles when there are a million ways that it could. Now that’s a marvelous show!

Or perhaps half a show, as there will be another round of this stony struggle — time to brush up footage of the six colorful and powerful cosmic pebbles that have either cameoed or be the main draw in past films — around May 2019. As with another Disney tentpole, the Gore Verbinski-directed Pirates of the Caribbean, Infinity War is a two-parter without the “Part” subtitle. Surely, once the dust settles, you will feel irked, cheated and eager for a time machine. Also surely, you will think back about what has unfolded: the battles’ width and breadth, all directed with more assurance even if the editing is still too jumpy at places; where the ripples of an action reach; and the ways folks from worlds apart become attached. Like a mash-up that can function beyond “also-guest-starring” realms, the new bunch — like Strange, Black Panther (Chadwick Boseman) and Star-Lord (Chris Pratt) — and their respective supporting ensemble seamlessly interact with the originals — mainly Iron Man (Robert Downey Jr.), Thor (Chris Hemsworth) and Captain America (Chris Evans). To that end, the locales where each hero hails from and familiarizes with, while varied, get to populate the same fabric without strain — as envisioned and as it’s supposed to be. And so the “assembly” essence that forms the Avengers’ gets to be at its most pronounced — some conflicts from before must be tossed aside first — to the point unity is now a sense and a group shot is no longer a requirement (seeing one is still great, though!).

But enough with the positivity. Actually, that is it with the positivity. With the Guardians of the Galaxy on board something humorous will surface, but as this is a Russo brothers’ venture the ha-has — known among followers and dissenters as Marvel’s bread-and-butter — are the Easter eggs. It’s not a multiversal crime to do so; the MCU could always use more antagonists like Loki, Killmonger, pre-turned Bucky or Zemo (when he’s seen) to strain the do-gooders. Thanos definitely is one — easily the best, too, as Brolin’s voice has the right level of braggadocio and conviction to frame him as a man-on-a-mission instead of exclusively comic-book villain. And with the pixel work receiving more TLC than Steppenwolf, the world-cleansing program he’s on remains inviting if far from novel.

As seen in The Winter Soldier and Civil War, Infinity War lets the hostile party to hoard the spotlight with enthralling results. Thanos’ presence, or the hint of it via his bodyguard quartet The Black Order, is what keeps the film together and bloat-free amid changing perspectives, settings and even timelines. As if in honor of this, Alan Silvestri’s score emphasizes the somber mien over the heroism and Trent Opaloch devotes more beauty toward framing the rotten-hearted’s looks & actions. No need to have a hawk’s eye or ear to detect these: After the 10th anniversary logo is introduced — without the theme, by the way — and we get to know the time frame (post Ragnarok), we are “treated” to two substantial departures.

And that’s just 10 minutes in.

Since the purple-tinged overcast bears this much density from the start, Infinity War leaves little wiggle room for better and worse. Along with us having no choice but to fixate on the lengths Thanos will go to complete his mission, there’s a high risk of crucial emotional beats being registered as overdone melodrama. It seems the mantra of “go Marvel big or bust,” apt since the film is tasked with proving it as a product 10-years-and-18-films in the making, has seeped into areas it shouldn’t have, or not stopped when it’s possible to.

That said, there is more to embrace than repel here, even if Infinity War — with higher tension, villain-first angle and merciless deletions — sets out to upset. It’s an evil, yet not unnecessary. Only 365 days (or fewer if another date move is pulled) to go before the actual conclusion and — as death is supremely lenient in comics — the return of familiar faces, but one thing is clear: The MCU knows it needs a future, and the seemingly in-the-million bouts of despondency today is needed so a lengthy tomorrow can happen. “Suffer first, prosper later,” as the saying (?) goes.

Overall Grade: A-

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Hear our podcast review on Episode 271.

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