Director: Denis Villeneuve
Writers: Hampton Fancher, Michael Green, Hampton Fancher (story by), Philip K. Dick (based on characters from the novel “Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?”)
Stars: Harrison Ford, Ryan Gosling, Ana de Armas, Jared Leto, Robin Wright

Synopsis: A young blade runner’s discovery of a long-buried secret leads him to track down former blade runner Rick Deckard, who’s been missing for thirty years.

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Take a moment to consider this: If the 1982 film was a cloud, it would awe any nephologist in existence. Not enough people were there to appreciate it upon debut, but it kept on successfully demanding for a second, third, fourth and fifth look. Then there’s its shadows, which are visible in subsequent genre entries (live-acted and animated), music, fashion, and understanding of future concepts. A cloud that, for 35 years, not only refuses to dissipate, but instead grows in the collective conscience of filmdom – isn’t that a meteorological miracle or what?

“Eh, not really” sure isn’t what this writer think at the close of his tour of 2049 California. Houston that afternoon was identical to that in Theater 9: drenched, in both rainwater and the tungsten shade that d.o.p. Roger Deakins let permeate in most daylight scenes. Has Blade Runner’s influence reached a point where it could affect the weather? The unnerving-yet-fascinating thought was nullified when other moviegoers pulled out iPhones and Galaxies rather than tapping their palms, who arrived in everything but sliders from Peugeot.

Anyhow, even without that little reality-blurring act, Blade Runner 2049 still assembles enough magic to frame itself as the year’s most transcendent experience. In every way, this is the unicorn 2017’s box office has been seeking.

“Retiring” older-model androids is the job of K (Ryan Gosling), a blade runner working for the LAPD and under close supervision of Lieutenant Joshi (Robin Wright). He looks young-ish, but is experienced in dealing with occupational hazards – as long as none of them resembles a date that may undo K’s identity and upturn the order that replicant-maker Niander Wallace (Jared Leto) has long cherished. Despite two narrative branches herculean in significance and ramifications, writers Hampton Fancher and Michael Green have woven them with an elegiac thread, referencing the past in brief-but-potent notes while concurrently sowing intriguing futures. The looking-ahead mentality makes watching the (Final Cut of the) first film optional instead of compulsory, but do consider it nonetheless. Time it with a rainy day. Double-bill, even, if possible.

Sorry for the vagueness, but us Texans have a few bullet points to abide to. Whatever floats Warner Bros.’ boat, perhaps, yet the marketing department is revealing “forbidden” elements themselves. Also, similar to its predecessor, the juiciest part in 2049’s story lies in its themes and not proceedings.

In the same vein as another Ridley Scott-involved sci-fi released in May, Alien: Covenant, there are a few world-building shorts worth taking a look at, contained narratives that are mentioned in passing in the big film. Humans or otherwise – time is running out for both kinds in 2049, and the survival of one may require the complete submission of another. As with all of his previous smaller-in-scope and more-grounded films, director Denis Villenueve taps into the narrative’s psychological tides, those whose ebbs and flows kindle the existential quandaries Philip K. Dick raised right from the title of Blade Runner’s source material. With this approach, at certain times Villenueve lets the images speak for themselves, no need for other filmic elements to play intermediary.

No need for doubt, too, when meeting the faces Villenueve has picked to populate 2049. Comparing to Deckard (Harrison Ford, returning here), Gosling moves through the film with as much coolness and, noticeably, more of the doubt resulting from his actions. Quite funnily, the story shuts down K’s human-or-replicant argument in the first act as opposed to allowing it to roam for decades. This is actually wise, since Blade Runner’s focal is a matter of “many” rather “one,” affecting both those with flesh-and-blood and those with circuits-and-clockwork. Grand conversation topic, indeed, but K’s delicate and loving companion, Joi (Ana de Armas), always expresses it with concision and endearment.

Regarding the villainous side, while Leto graces with a soothing turn as a blind and erudite visionary, making more of an impression is Sylvia Hoeks who plays Wallace’s dutiful assistant Luv. Don’t be fooled by the disarming name: There is a scene where she is seen executing an airstrike while getting her nails done. At times when tears are racing down her chin, Hoeks doesn’t just preserve Luv’s menace but, perplexingly, manages to amplify it. What the Dutch actress has done will breezily vault her to the upper echelons of many “best performances of 2017” lists.

Audiovisual, however, is on another level of greatness. Deakins’ work ought to get him that overdue Oscar; there is only beauty and clarity no matter if the scene is cluttered with details or just the raging, pitch-black ocean. It should be noted that some of the most breathtaking details are all in-camera, done via a projector in a foggy room or lights through rippling water. Also varied in style yet consistent in quality is Hans Zimmer and Benjamin Wallfisch’s score, which switches between riffing Vangelis to elegantly materialize the specter of memory and, presumably, employing a Ducati to teleport viewers to a riotous metropolis inundated with ads, secrets, and Syd Mead/Metal Hurlant-inspired structures.

In short, this is the kind of photography and score that can make flowers sprout from rubble. Instead of using these aspects to mask flaws, like a fair share of films from this year, 2049 makes them the second cherry-on-top sundae above the one made by the cast and rest of the crew.

Never “seen a miracle,” a replicant gruffly said to K, passing out the first breadcrumb to a sensational truth. Little does K know, but what’s for him is also for the viewers, and – look away if needed – here is what lies at the end for us: A perfect sequel and, arguably, film in recent memory.

Overall Grade: A+

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Hear our podcast review on Episode 242, coming soon.

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Director: David Gordon Green
Writers: John Pollono (screenplay by), Jeff Bauman (based on the book “Stronger” by)
Stars: Jake Gyllenhaal, Tatiana Maslany, Miranda Richardson

Synopsis: Stronger is the inspiring real life story of Jeff Bauman, an ordinary man who captured the hearts of his city and the world to become a symbol of hope after surviving the 2013 Boston Marathon bombing.

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Inspiration. What does that mean exactly? Walking into Stronger, the latest from David Gordon Green, I did not expect the film to question the merits of its impact, but that’s exactly what Green does with this film.

Jeff Bauman (Jake Gyllenhaal) is trying to re-connect with his on-and-off again girlfriend Erin (Tatiana Maslany) when he found himself at the Boston Marathon in 2013. Of course, that day would prove to be tragic and life-changing for Jeff, after losing both of his legs in the bombing. Throughout the course of the film, we see Jeff struggling to accept that he’s some sort of a hero for his involvement with helping the police capture the bombers and surviving the ordeal. He constantly drinks, ignores the people who care about him most and he blatantly questions the pedestal he’s been placed on. All the while, Erin and Patty (Jeff’s mom played wonderfully by Miranda Richardson) are trying to keep him from going insane as he adjusts to his new life.

There are many biopics that have depicted terrible things happening to good people with hope serving as the vehicle that carry these individuals though to the end. It’s in that, the overcoming of adversity, where inspiration roots itself. Stronger has no interest in that, however. Green and screenwriter John Pollono stare at inspiration in the face – more specifically the “Boston Strong” mantra that came about as a result of this horrible tragedy – and they directly point out the potential flaws of using that rhetoric. From Jeff’s perspective, “Boston Strong” means nothing to him. He doesn’t understand what’s so inspirational about his story. “Thanks to you we’re not going to let the terrorists win,” a couple says to Jeff at one point. His response? “Are you sure about that? They’re at least on the scorecard.” To Jeff, the terrorists did kind of win and there’s a disingenuous aura to the way people react to his dilemma. They may mean well, and you sympathize with their wanting for unity, but they simultaneously only look at Jeff symbolically. There’s a conflicting reality at play between Jeff and strangers off the street that consistently collide adding to the film’s complexity.

Stronger had every right to be another schmaltzy and stirring film about a man overcoming something that is absolutely gut-wrenching. We could have forgiven the the film for doing that given the nature of this story. But credit to not only Green and Pollono, but the real Jeff Bauman, for allowing this film to argue why affable gestures are disingenuous when you don’t truly understand what people are feeling when coping with tragedy. It’s a risky move that pays off in big ways here, resulting in a product that transcends familiarity to become something refreshing for this kind of movie.

Jake Gyllenhaal is great in his evolution as Bauman. The writing of Bauman may feel thin, but Gyllenhall demands the screen every time he demonstrates his frustrations in regards to those aforementioned themes. We may not truly know Bauman by the end, but do we? I would argue that Stronger is less of a biopic, and instead it’s grappling with something much (ahem) stronger. That’s where Gyllenhaal truly shines here. All of that said, Tatiana Maslany gives one of the best supporting performances of the year. As good as Gyllenhaal is here, the film does suffer without Maslany’s presence and how she pushes back against Jeff as the film crystallizes. The two also had a great chemistry that makes you root for their relationship.

It’s also worth noting that Carlos Sanz has a major impact on the film with a limited role. He plays Carlos, a man who helped Jeff immediately after the bombing. Carlos is only in the film for two major scenes, but the interactions he has with Jeff offer new perspective that deeply move him.

It’s ironic when you look at the marketing for Stronger, which very much plays into the “inspirational” nature of this story. And for good reason, it feels good to see Jeff come out on the other side okay and doing well. It’s very human to feel that way. It’s also what makes the approach here so provocative. The film flips expectations on their head and it questions the very reason we’re rooting for that inspiration. In the end, Jeff’s revelations are certainly in a better place, but he’s far from being a saint. He’s a man learning to embrace his new identity. If you ask me, the way Stronger explores that is quite great.

Overall Grade: A-

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Hear our podcast review on Extra Film:

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Director: Jonathan Dayton, Valerie Faris
Writers: Simon Beaufoy
Stars: Emma Stone, Steve Carell, Andrea Riseborough

Synopsis: The true story of the 1973 tennis match between World number one Billie Jean King and ex-champ and serial hustler Bobby Riggs.

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Billie Jean King came to be when the world blatantly and fervently conspired against her. And her tennis-playing sisters. Heck, her gender.

Even with the World No. 1 title, King was minimized by the guys of the sport as yet another housewife solely purposed to liven the kitchen, yet another set of teeth nibbling the bread won by her man. “Women play about 25 percent as good as men, so they should get about 25 percent of the money men get,” Bobby Riggs told King at one point. Unfavorable odds aside, she sliced her way through the virile squall, becoming more than just a woman tennis player of note. King, to this day, remains proof that women, those with athletic careers and otherwise, are to be perceived as so: can be equal, can be complementary, and – should the air turns competitive – can be victorious.

Yet lengthy sighs abound upon watching Battle of the Sexes, a film that, as if on default, only glances at King’s incredible achievements and struggles. It is so occupied with creating the “feel-good”-ness that it defangs the feel-bads, making the flood of endorphins at the end expected but not satisfying. On paper, the impact and relevance of King (Emma Stone) and her motivations are so primed to affect audiences, as King herself noted that the eponymous battle – in spite of its showiness, in-(arguably)-good-fun nature – can decide if a woman’s position, beliefs and advancements have any worth.

“Battle of the sexes” is more than just a term for exhibition tennis games between a man and woman in King and Riggs’ (Steve Carell) eyes. Whoever snatches the match point in this well-publicized, watched-by-90 million (and played in Houston, huzzah!) event will cement their gender’s footing for the next n-th years. Before this point, however, the film explores King’s many roles off the court: wife to caring husband Larry (Austin Stowell), demolisher of dismissals from the sport’s establishment – represented here by Jack Kramer (Bill Pullman), and the other half that completes admirer-slash-hairdresser Marilyn (Andrea Riseborough). Side note: While the real Marilyn was indeed King’s partner, she was a secretary (whose interactions deserve its own feature). So, is Schwarzkopf doing a subliminal advertising campaign here?

But, alas, Battle of the Sexes’ 121 minutes is all we have, and writer Simon Beaufoy has to divvy up time to focus on each role – the tennis-playing one included. The vignette-by-vignette unfolding gives little cause for anyone or anything to become memorable or affecting, even if it should be noted that everything is addressed with beautiful sensitivity and – welcomingly – zero bite into the circus surrounding the match. The formation of the WTA and the Virginia Slims tourney, rivalry with fellow tennis player Margaret Court (Jessica McNamee) and the bond with Marilyn are all intriguing King-centric events that would have been better addressed in separate pieces. In one setting, though? They all zip by, developments that miss their point in being significant and instead being props to accelerate the film toward the duel.

Nonetheless, disappointing slumps in crafting King’s story are wonderfully compensated with charged performances from everyone. Such is definitely the perk of having directors Jonathan Drayton and Valerie Faris in your crew, the duo who grouped three acting generations in a Type 2 van and got them radiating on equally powerful terms in 2006’s Little Miss Sunshine. Same with Beaufoy’s wise aversion to the sensational, Dayton and Faris’ direction highlights the talent rather than the easy-to-dramatize shenanigans. Riggs’ chauvinistic theatrics are attention-grabbing, sure, sure, but more prominent is Carell’s showcase of them, ultimately, being his character’s poison. From the sidelines, Riggs’ wife Priscilla (Elisabeth Shue) can do little except keep her hurting muted, part of the “package” of being a woman in this era – even if she is, deducible from appearance alone, the household’s source of finance.

Also having to restrain her voice is King herself, whose feelings for Marilyn in a lavender-lit motel room one night tax those for Larry throughout; Stone portrays the turmoil well, a soul standing in front of three doors named “preserve fame,” “preserve marriage” or “preserve love.” Keeping things upbeat – and deserving much more screen time – are King’s motherly-at-heart agent Gladys (Sarah Silverman) and warm wardrobe designer Cuthbert (Alan Cumming).

Truly safe from the film’s fleetingness – in other words, capable to be appreciated in full – is Nicholas Britell’s score as it isn’t projected on screen. No-frills is again the winning style; there is only a hummable and rousing leitmotif that crisscrosses different background instruments. There is an expectation that many of the tracks will be featured in motivational videos, graduations, and sports commercials.

On a more serious note, however, as the notes stride, escalate and evoke a sense of triumph, one can almost see the perfect (or at least better) version of Battle of the Sexes: less of a harmless crowd-pleaser and more of a reflection of a real-life monumental milestone.

Overall Grade: C+

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Hear our podcast review on Episode 241, coming soon.

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Director: Doug Liman
Writers: Gary Spinelli
Stars: Tom Cruise, Domhnall Gleeson, Sarah Wright

Synopsis: A pilot lands work for the CIA and as a drug runner in the south during the 1980s.

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American Made is the new film from Doug Liman, the director of The Bourne Identity and Edge of Tomorrow. It tells the story of Barry Seal, an ex-TWA pilot turned drug smuggler during the early 80s. Seal was cornered by CIA and offered a business (called International Air Couriers – not the most helpful acronym) which was a cover for delivering guns to the anti-communist rebels currently fighting in several central American countries. Unable to make a decent money doing this dangerous work he falls into cahoots with the Medellín cartel and begins shipping drugs back to the US, avoiding the attentions of the Customs agents thanks to the support of the CIA.

Tom Cruise plays Barry Seal as a morally ambiguous, always optimistic, adventurer, despite the real Seal looking like a linebacker – more Tom Arnold than Tom Cruise. The film is a lively, constantly entertaining flick that avoid much of the more dubious parts of the tale (much of the guns supplied by Seal were used by Escobar to murder hundreds of people back in Medellín and Seal chose to be a drug smuggler) – make no mistake this is not Narcos. However the film contains an utterly winning performance from Cruise and a decent sleazeball numbnuts performance from Dominhall Gleeson as Seal’s CIA handler, Schaefer. The rest of the cast are all fine, they just blend into the background and get lost in the Seal story.

Likewise Liman’s direction is slick and nifty, but nothing special. The story is very interesting, and well told, but it isn’t anything you’ve not seen before. There are some very fine flying stunts and photography, and the sense of the 1980s drips from every frame through the use of retro studio logos, multiple different video stocks.

American Made is a lightweight flick but well worth a look for a good story told well, and deploying its star’s megawatt charisma to great effect. The film doesn’t do much to further the cause of cinema, however it is heartily recommended for a great night out.

Overall Grade: B+

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Hear our podcast review on Extra Film, coming soon.

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