Director: Jake Kasdan
Writers: Chris McKenna (screenplay by), Erik Sommers (screenplay by)
Stars: Dwayne Johnson, Karen Gillan, Kevin Hart, Jack Black

Synopsis: Four teenagers discover an old video game console and are literally drawn into the game’s jungle setting, becoming the adult avatars they choose.

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Once in a while, the planets align and give us something we want least — like a sequel to Jumanji. Not that the 1995 film ends with all its doors closed, though it’s an acceptable vice to be blind to what transpires when Francophones roll the dice. But Welcome to the Jungle is real and is here, and while it doesn’t bore the unevenness in its party tricks renders it inferior to that time the jungle comes to New Hampshire. Had the film actually been a game, it will be a production from Ubisoft in 2014 and EA in recent times.

Presumably provoked after a jab at board games in the opening sequence, writer and illustrator Chris Van Allsburg’s hazards-aplenty tabletop transforms into a 16-bit video cartridge. Four high-schoolers come across it during detention, not accidental of course due to the drums, and two button presses later they become the character they chose — lanky brainiac Spencer (Alex Wolff) is now the perpetually pumped Dr. Smolder Bravestone (Dwayne Johnson), NFL prospect Fridge (Ser’Darius Blain) is two feet removed height-wise being zoologist-slash-moving inventory Moose Finbar (Kevin Hart), selfie-aware Bethany (Madison Iseman) bids adieu to her runway-bound attributes as the plump cartographer Sheldon Oberon (Jack Black) and mostly diffident Martha (Morgan Turner) struggles to adapt to the Lara Croft-esque appearance — midriff-baring, proficient at butt-kicking — of Ruby Roundhouse (Karen Gillan). After fleeting lessons on “cutscenes” and “non-playable characters,” or clunky reminders that the setting is a video game, the teens and their avatars are tasked with lifting a curse blanketing Jumanji after the literal insect-magnet Russel Van Pelt (Bobby Cannavale) has acquired a sacred jewel.

Van Allsburg’s picture book is no haute literature, but the film adaptation manages to overcome its mainly-kids-go-hurrah premise with endearing performances from its grown-up leads — especially Robin Williams — set pieces exploiting the wonders of cognitive dissonance. Welcome to the Jungle has neither; stiltedness mires the design of the five-man screenplay’s emotional outreaches and the many effects are wreaking havoc in their rightful playspace. On its own terms, the gags have this annoying tendency to behave like Mario Kart‘s Item Boxes, tolerable one moment (gaming lingo, riffing on avatars’ attributes, Hart’s height) and terrible the next (uninspired penile humor, the swearing-equals-badass routine), and the action’s scope noticeably decreases in size as it goes on. At least a solid cast with solid comedic chops is assembled here. Johnson and Hart is Central Intelligence redux, yet there’s still life in that; Gillan surprises by always arming herself with a spark as she distracts and dance-fights intimidating non-playable characters; Black is deliriously amusing as the vessel of a Plastic soul, and the farther he is from Baywatch-levels of obsession about anatomy the better. That’s a plus. Ish.

Oh, hi, Nick Jonas.

The celebrity is here either because director Jake Kasdan is a cast member short, screen-testing for the film version of Uncharted (Heaven forbid), or just to further beautify the frame. Today’s gaming generation would go all in on the third theory; it fits their visual-first tenet as well as the pulsating works of production designer Owen Paterson, d.o.p. Gyula Pados and composer Henry Jackman, who most notably scored the fourth Nathan Drake adventure. Now that we’ve mentioned it, the editing in the cutscenes of this Sony game — Spencer’s room, seen in the film’s beginning, is basically a mini PlayStation Experience event — is more filmic than what editors Steve Edwards and Mark Helfrich had done in Welcome to the Jungle. Despite building the narrative around and regularly waxing lyrical about cooperation, the choppy style ensures the idea remains obscured. It also forces the adventure to barrel rather than walk toward its conclusion, and from that we find Jumanji 2.0 does satisfy one thing on our wishlist while watching this after all.

Overall Grade: C-

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Director: Stephen Cone
Writers: Stephen Cone
Stars: Jessie Pinnick, Rebecca Spence, Malic White

Synopsis: Eager to escape life with her depressive single father, 16-year-old athlete Cyd Loughlin visits her novelist aunt in Chicago over the summer. While there, she falls for a girl in the neighborhood, even as she and her aunt gently challenge each other in the realms of sex and spirit.

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Sometimes the most naturalistic approach to filmmaking, whether that be in a respective film’s performances, its direction, or its writing, is driven by a lack of physical conflict. Instead, conflict remains internal, an introspective one, the way a teenager evokes confusion rather than agitation. This describes Stephen Cone’s approach to writing and directing Princess Cyd, in the attempt to keep things simple and grounded even when family members remain at odds with one another. More importantly, however, this naturalistic approach describes Jessie Pinnick’s performance as the titular character, in one of the year’s best and most hypnotizing performances. If the film itself doesn’t always work, just call me a sucker for conflict-less films; who needs conventional conflict anyway?

Princess Cyd is a rather lovely film that challenges the varying viewpoints between the innocent and the experienced. Teenage Cydney, having dealt with a tragedy at a young age, goes to live with her aunt Miranda, an established novelist in Chicago, who still resides in the home her and her sister (Cydney’s dead mother) grew up in. She also still lives alone, a crucial component to her emotional arc. Cyd and Miranda couldn’t be more different, but their dichotomy surpasses that of just typical jock vs artist. Their varying beliefs are a combination of inexperience but also experience, in which their “arguments” range from religion to sex. But thankfully, it’s never antagonistic, a most refreshing feat; instead, we witness two distant family members get to know each other again by challenging one another, and they both likeably and openly welcome the challenge. Both Cyd and Miranda are instantly sympathetic.

Much of that is also due to the film’s two leading ladies. Rebecca Spence as Miranda has quite the credibility among her writing community as a successful author, and it’s something she rightfully takes pride in; and yet, isolation haunts her. She lives alone (as I stated above) but also shows an interest in the lives of others; she writes stories about other people, and it seems clear that this middle aged adult still hasn’t quite grown up and experienced yet. This confusion is reverberated by Cyd, but more innocently; her sexual confusion is palpable and erotic, but ironically (and much like Miranda) she resists the need to experience due to a past tragedy. Cyd chooses to close herself off, and there’s genuine pain in her without having to have Jessie Pinnick say a thing. As I stated up front, Pinnick gives one of the year’s best performances, with a hypnotic presence that gives dialogue to a simple wordless gesture. I simply couldn’t take my eyes off her.

It’s pretty clear who Stephen Cone is influenced by; Princess Cyd chooses to sidestep conflict in the same way Richard Linklater would through natural conversation. He also deconstructs the human condition in the way he physically stages his characters, much like the late and great Jonathan Demme. And to be honest, the script doesn’t always work; it rushes the romance that forms between Cyd and Katie, played by Malic White (which is unfortunate as she too is really good here), and Cone’s attempt to avoid physical conflict can lead to plenty of contrivances and artificiality. But if conflict is what you want to avoid, I admire that, and Jessie Pinnick makes it real when it counts.

Overall Grade: B+

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Director: Brett Morgen
Writers: Brett Morgen
Stars: Jane Goodall

Synopsis: The life and work of the renowned primatology scientist, Jane Goodall, especially on her research about chimpanzees.

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A woman who had the ability to communicate with another species. Could Brett Morgen’s Jane by the year’s best superhero movie?

Produced by National Geographic, Brett Morgen’s documentary on the African adventures of Jane Goodall is as cinematic as any adventure film you’ll see this year, a classic origin story through and through. Piecing together what was thought to be lost footage of Goodall’s Tanzanian quest, Jane flows like an actual movie, with a narrative that moves so effortlessly with a clear beginning, middle, and end. Morgen, who directed the better of the two Kurt Cobain documentaries from 2015 (Montage of Heck), should really be applauded for giving this experience such a rich pathos and a clear thematic focus. Never has a documentary felt this epic in scope, yet with such a seamless narrative progression.

Jane Goodall herself was a merely simple, yet adventurous human being, whose high spirits and open-mindedness landed her the opportunity to live with the chimpanzees in the Gombe; she was a mere secretary at the time for archaeologist Louis Leakey. Leakey believed that the study of great apes would provide a link to human evolution and ancestry, and asked Goodall to take charge in those studies, solely because she did not have the education or scientific background; she didn’t even have a degree at the time. Leakey wanted a no-biased approach to this study, and Goodall was the perfect fit. Having always been passionate about animal life in Africa, how could Goodall say no? Thank goodness she didn’t.

Seeing Goodall progress from outsider to observer to coexistence is the film’s biggest emotional draw. Soon after, Jane provides names for her chimpanzee subjects, such as David Greybeard, and devoted mother Flo and her children, in particular newborn son Flint. The character building around the chimps themselves is so well established, this may as well have been yet another entry in the Planet of the Apes franchise. And in watching them, we as the viewer witness love, curiosity, companionship, selfishness, and protective instincts; sounds rather human, does it not?

It’s no surprise why Jane herself found such a fascination with Flo specifically, especially around Flint’s clingy relationship with her. As we witness this relationship between mother and son (which crystalizes in one of the year’s most heartbreaking sequences), Jane too sees the parallels to human behavior. At this moment, Jane had already married photographer and colleague Hugo van Lawick and birthed a son named Grub, and to see such parallels between Goodall’s own duties as both wife and mother when compared to her animal subjects is the film’s most endearing and human attribute.

It’s not just Goodall’s ability to communicate with another species that made her superhuman, but her courage to share that communication to the world, which gives the film’s final minutes on the importance of global communication such thematic purpose. But it’s also her humanity, her ability to acknowledge her sense of caring but also her selfishness; keeping Grub around with her in Africa may have been for her own selfish reasons, but realizing his eventual need for proper schooling is arguably counterbalanced in selflessness. Perhaps as a family they didn’t always work out, but neither does the African wildlife. Nature has a way of aligning us all, and Jane Goodall knew it. This is one of the year’s best films.

Overall Grade: A

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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.

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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

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Hear our podcast review on Episode 252, coming soon.

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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.

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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+

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Hear our podcast review on Episode 251:

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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.

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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+

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