Joy

★★★★★★☆☆☆☆

Director David O. Russell has been refining his style for past several years, which, based on conversations with cinephiles, is either a love-it or hate-it kind of deal. I personally love it. I think it’s imaginative in a sort of understated way. The best way I can describe it is, sweepingly cinematic. The lens by which he views the and then creates a world is a kind of magical realism.

Joy had echoes of his style in his recent films, and not just because of the familiar casting decisions, but altogether it was the least David O. Rusell-esque film in recent history. The problem was he seemed stuck between going “full-Russell” and a plainer, more boring directing style devoid of his usual magic. In these less-inspired periods of the film, Russell’s camera still sweeps, but the tone feels heavy and belabored.

The movie tells the story of Joy Mangano, a mother whose life is much less than the sum of her dreams. Her obnoxious family and a needy ex-husband hold her down, while the only source of support comes from her grandmother, our bizarre and unnecessary narrator.  Joy regains the confidence to come up with a great invention— the first self-ringing mop— and sees it through to becoming a reality and big hit on the up-and-coming QVC television network. This happens despite troubles along the way and continuing trials even after her mop is in the homes of thousands of Americans. Joy is supposed to be the story of fighting for your dreams. It should have been so great.

The script is in concert with the directing, in that it’s disjointed. Things from the beginning don’t seem relevant by the end. In fact entire characters don’t seem so important. The film goes from being about fighting for your dreams then devolves into a biopic, hampered by all the problems that come with those. The second act is significantly less imaginative. A film that was once playful becomes too severe. In Silver Lining’s Playbook, Russell merges the serious and the comedic masterfully. Here it falls flat.

The film wasn’t terrible, though— far from it. It had moments where it began to lift off. But the film’s potential makes the fact that the potential wasn’t reached all the more disappointing. Jennifer Lawrence was fantastic. The movie pretty much rested solely on her talent and charismatic energy, in the way of performances, and she didn’t drop the ball. It was like how Meryl Streep was great as Margaret Thatcher, despite The Iron Lady being completely uninspired.

The Hateful Eight

★★★★★★★★☆☆

The Hateful Eight is Quentin Tarantino's eighth feature length film as a director— a director who so owns his style that it would seem self-aggrandizing if his overall canon weren’t so brilliant. And The Hateful Eight is a very welcomed addition to the canon, balancing strong characters, racial tension, blood ties and plenty of pulp.

Not surprisingly with the promise of eight important characters, all filled with some kind of angst if not quite full-fledged hate, there’s a lot to fit into one film. So, as it’s one of the pillars of Tarantino’s signature style, he made another super-long movie. (This one comes in at 3 hours if your theater decides to give you the 15-minute intermission) During a Wyoming blizzard in post-Civil War America, John Ruth (Kurt Rusell), a bounty hunter who prefers to leave his captives alive so they can be hung by the proper authorities and is thusly called The Hangman, encounters another bounty hunter, Major Warren (Samuel L. Jackson). Warren prefers to just kill those he’s after. Warren hitches a ride with Ruth and his $10,000 prize, the unsavory murderer, Daisy (Jennifer Jason Leigh), as they both need to make their way to Red Rock to deliver the criminals they’ve caught. Before reaching a resting place, they pick up Chris Mannix, a former confederate soldier who claims that he’s to be the next Sheriff of Red Rock. The four, along with the three dead bodies strapped to the roof that Warren plans to deliver to Red Rock authorities, stop at a little inn, where they must wait out the blizzard for the next few days. There they meet four more suspicious characters.

The rest of the film takes place at the inn, first quietly brewing until we’re smacked in the face by the insanity we’ve come to expect from a Tarantino film. The set up and uneasy waiting period were masterfully constructed. Despite the prolonged sense of mystery and waiting, just watching the characters interact was enough to satisfy. Of course the expectation of forthcoming brutality does raise the stakes. In this way, Tarantino uses himself, or, more accurately put, he uses the audience’s knowledge of his signature style as a sort of history that plays into how we anxiously await what our characters are in store for. This is why the only chapter where the film feels long is in an extended flashback. The tension of what’s to come is gone, because we’ve already seen it. So in this chapter we’re just watching needed background information. This, though, is not a big problem.

Tarantino is a master of, well, pulpy fiction. But there are two things that really separate his films from the rest of the noisy pulp films that end up being more trash than treasure. First, Tarantino’s keen awareness of history. He’s studied the time periods he inhabits and harnesses the circumstances of time and place as well as any writer/director. Secondly, Tarantino’s dialogue is a combination of being both telling and hilarious, often at the same time. Whether the words just come to him or not, we’re left with the impression of a the more likely scenario— that Tarantino meticulously chooses each phrase, word, and piece of punctuation to create a strong sense of character rooted in truth. Then, like a child playing with a toy train and Legos, he rams the world he’s built with a barrage of the crass and gory.

In addition to Tarantino’s brash genius, the performances of Jackson, Leigh and Tim Roth (who I could have used even more of) helped elevate the film. But Walton Goggins, donning a goofy southern persona compounded by an unsettling penchant for racism, is the ultimate standout.

Brooklyn

★★★★★★★★★☆

In Notting Hill, a movie star, played by Julia Roberts, stands in a bookshop looking squarely at a regular man, played with irregular charm by Hugh Grant, and she says, “I’m just a girl, standing in front of a boy asking him to love her.” What the filmmakers hoped to do was strip this love relationship, made particularly noteworthy because of Robert’s character’s fame, down to its bare bones. In this moment, we are being told that the only thing that really matters is that they love each other. That being said, what brought audiences to find this love story worth watching in the first place, was the fact that this famous actress was falling for a normal man, making the circumstances of the love-finding extraordinary. So before getting to the moment where all is laid bare and made simple, we are intrigued by the set up.

Brooklyn is essentially the opposite in that Eilis (Saoirse Ronan), a homesick Irish girl who sailed to the United States and falls in love with an Italian plumber, does not seem particularly extraordinary. Outside of Eilis’ journey, nothing about the set up seems to beg for the story of Eilis and Tony to be told. At a point it seems as if discrimination, to be found in a conflict between Irish and Italian families, would be a broader connecting theme, but it turns out not to be such a big deal.

Sweeping romances usually have this broader connecting theme that the audience understands to be the reason for a certain love story to be of note. There are class tensions in Pride and Prejudice, scandal in Atonement and Anna Karenina, and a strong feminist message in Far From the Madding Crowd from earlier this year. All these films feel connected to something broader.

So the question is: What is special about this story?

Eilis’ struggles with loneliness and uncertainty may be universal, but still seem small and self-contained. What I mean is that her struggles are so specifically related to her individual circumstances. This contrasts, for example, the struggles in Pride in Prejudice. Elizabeth struggles with marrying Mr. Darcy because she doesn’t want to be Darcy’s trophy and she feels constrained by the placement of women in the society. Darcy is afraid to marry below his station. These issues (wrapped up in the character’s pride and prejudices) are broader themes that make the story more broadly relevant.

Brooklyn somehow, though, joins the ranks of these epic romances, despite not having a broader theme.

At the heart of the film is the genuine love between Eilis and Tony (Emory Cohen). Trying to pinpoint exactly what makes the cinematic experience of this love so deeply real is almost as hard as defining what exactly love is. We’re left with the sense that soul mates do exist and that these two ordinary people love each other in an extraordinary way. In part, the brilliance of creating such moving love lies in the performances. Emory Cohen makes you believe that love at first sight is a fact of life. He seems to ache for Eilis, not at all clouded by thoughts of sensual passion, but because he knows, deep in his heart, that he has never and never could hope to meet a woman more essential to his being than Eilis. Eilis takes a while to come around to realizing that she loves Tony. This hesitation is important for the second act set primarily in Ireland. But thanks to Saoirse Ronan’s perfect performance, Eilis learns what love is as she transforms into an adult before our eyes.

Colm Tóbín, who wrote the novel, no doubt did a lot of the work to get us to feel this love. Director John Crowley and screenwriter Nick Hornby deserve a lot of credit for making the love so visceral in the film, a medium in which stories need to be more robust. What I realized is that, though there is no broader theme that makes this story worth watching (like underlying discrimination, societal constraints, scandal, pride or prejudice), what makes this story noteworthy is that we’re made to experience true love that needs no other explanation as to why it’s important. Isn’t that what love is supposed to be when it’s laid bare?

Macbeth

★★★★★★★☆☆☆

Macbeth, the play, is a masterpiece because of the way it sharpens its focal gaze on the villains. Shakespeare, well before the current era of the television anti-hero, thought to show us the inner conflict of those who commit evil acts. Unlike his Don John in Much Ado About Nothing, who says, “it must not be denied but I am a plain-dealing villain,” and leaves it at that, Macbeth and his lady are aware of their villainy, yet struggle to live with it.

And this, the latest film version of the Shakespeare drama, picks up on that so well, most notably through the phenomenal performances. First Macbeth himself, Michael Fassbender, who after receiving word from a trio of “weird sisters” that he is to be king, takes that destiny into his own hands by killing the current king and subsequently seizing control of the Scottish kingdom. Almost immediately, he falls into madness, seeing the ghosts of the people he’s had killed. There is a scene where Fassbender sits on the palace floor, visibly shaken and paranoid, speaking in a way that terrified anyone who heard, including the audience.

Still it was Marion Cotillard who shined brightest as Lady Macbeth, the impetus for her husband to steal the throne for them. Cotillard really grabbed ahold of the sinuous treachery of Lady Macbeth, who so obviously would have simply taken the throne for herself if living in a society where a woman could be recognized as the ultimate leader. Cotillard’s performance was layered, exuding more strength than Macbeth the warrior, assuming the grace of a queen and eventually a more quiet and heartbreaking madness after realizing that her husband would never live up to her expectations of her king even as he sits on the throne.

This iteration of Macbeth was also so visually striking. From the first frame of the first battle scene we are invited into a dangerous, yet gorgeous world. The beauty of it all was almost too much to bear. The cinematographer, director and the whole team paid such attention to every detail, color and captured moment, from the smoky greens and grays of the first battle to the piercing red-orange in the final one.

After watching Macbeth, I can’t help but imagine, though, some man with a very healthy beard thinking, ‘Yes, I’ve mastered Shakespeare in the 21st century.’ (Believe it or not, I had this thought before seeing a picture of director Justin Kurzel or his beard) My only major qualm with the film is that it feels like one long droning hipster’s masterpiece. The best way I can explain it is that it's like listening to the Christopher Nolan bass-ful “BRAAAAMMM” for 2 hours straight. There weren’t really any levels of feeling throughout. This hurt the film most in the transition into the final showdown, which wasn’t really a transition at all. It just sort of happened all of sudden with no build up or fanfare.

That being said, it’s still a marvelous film worth watching for many reasons. I wish I had this version to watch when I was in high school English class.

Chi-raq

★★★★★★★☆☆☆

As our narrator, a pimped out Samuel L. Jackson, tells us, Chi-raq is based on the Greek comedy Lysistrata, in which women band together to enforce peace by collectively refusing to have sex with their men who are at war. In fact our protagonist, played with an extra dose of oomph by Teyonah Parris, is named Lysistrata.

The name of the film has caused quite a stir in Chicago for relating the city, undoubtedly riddled with gun violence in the southern half, to an unstable country in the Middle East. But the name Chi-raq, which is also the rap alias of Demetrius (Nick Cannon), head of Chicago’s fictional Spartan gang and Lysistrata’s romantic entanglement, all plays into the satire which highlights the absolute absurdity of gang violence and its persistent threat to communities.

When the women of Chicago organize, refusing to offer the gift only a woman can give, Spike Lee achieves the desired effect of using wit and comedy to uncover the ills of the world he sees. The satire is as pointed as it is in Dear White People, though perhaps not at sharp. The female lockdown spreads throughout the city affecting every strip club, and brothel. And it eventually causes a movement in cites across the world, leaving men everywhere very bothered. It’s a confluence of feminism and racial justice that to some will feel more like a conservative nightmare than a satirical reckoning.

Then there is the earnest story of a mother’s loss. Irene (Jennifer Hudson) loses here daughter in the cross hairs of gang gun violence. The storytelling here is poignant and moving. Lee uses this time to not only say that gangs are embarrassingly infantile, but takes on the economic and social factors that lead to a lack of opportunity and systemic structures that benefit and aid the senseless violence. Hardly any group is left without having to endure a scathing rebuke.

The film is quite good, meaningful and is yet another example that strikes down the tired argument that black people don't talk about the violence committed by other black people in our communities. One problem with Chi-raq has to do with the storytelling. These two stories, while happening at the same time, mix like oil and water. It’s not just satire reflecting the real world; it’s a total satirical universe trying to operate alongside the real world, and they never quite feel related, though it’s obvious they are thematically, until the end of the film. Chi-raq feels like, and probably could be, two films. Hudson (who is underutilized) is pushed to second place by the primary storyline.

Additionally, it seemed that Lee refused to compress time in certain moments that could have been shorter. For example we are treated to an entire eulogy and a full lyric video that no doubt was cut in iMovie. But these “full” moments are Lee’s vehicle to be a teacher, so though they’re overlong, they’re still meaningful.

Though the storytelling is not clean, the message is unmistakable. Chicago is not just called Chi-raq because of violence in the streets, but because the real victims are just people stuck in the middle of so many power struggles. They are the ones paying the ultimate price.

The Big Short

★★★★★★★☆☆☆

Making The Big Short probably seemed like a bad idea to someone. If we’ve learned anything from other films about the financial crisis that led to the Great Recession, it’s that the audience wants to know what is going on even if it’s complicated. Without this knowledge it’s hard to grasp the gravity of the situation. That’s why films like 2011’s Margin Call and 2010’s The Company Men felt like they were missing something, though those films were missing more than just and explanation of the financial crisis.

When the subject matter is complicated, like the illegal and sleezy practices that led to the collapse of the housing market, making it interesting is a difficult hurdle to clear. Writer/director Adam McKay and his team rectify this by having, for example, a famous chef explain collateralized debt obligations and teen pop sensation explaining synthetic CDOs. This helped with the basics. An inquisitive mind will have more questions by the end of the film, but they gave enough to understand that what happened was really messed up and Wall Street is to blame.

The film follows three groups who bet against a fraudulent system: first, Michael Burry (Christian Bale), who pretty much invented the credit default swap; then a fund led by Mark Baum (Steve Carrell) working with Jared Vennett (Ryan Gosling); lastly two young hot shots aided by hippie ex-banker Ben Rickert (Brad Pitt). These are the people who noticed that the housing market was propped up by outrageously risky loans and bad investment practices all to make financial institutions tons of money at the eventual expense of regular Joe’s and Jane’s. By film’s end we are sufficiently mad at the slimeballs in suits, but there is no joy. The movie sets up our players and how they will eventually outsmart Wall Street and profit royally from it. This set up begs for a kind of Ocean’s Eleven moment when the gang, in this case two separate groups and a separate individual, revel in joy of taking down the financial giants. But before that moment can ever come, we are reminded that though these few will profit, the demise of the financial system means regular people will suffer. Now the argument can be made that the Ocean’s Eleven moment never comes because that’s not how it happened in real life. My rebuttal is that there are moments in the film where things most certainly did not play out the way we see them onscreen. That's the magic of movie making. At one point an actor looks into the camera and tells us that a particular moment didn’t really happen this way. So the showrunners could have taken a little more creative license when turning a book about the financial crisis into a film. Then we would have, at least for a moment felt the joy of sticking it to the man.

Though the film does a good job in ramping up tensions as things are about to spin out of control, it is still missing something in the way of emotional resonance. We feel the most from Carrell’s character, who is given the most to do, but even so it’s not enough to feel invested in the character’s life. Bale’s character is active at first, but because he is so isolated, for the remaining two-thirds of the film, he just sits in his office sending emails and waiting for the bubble to burst.

Creed

★★★★★★☆☆☆☆

Before almost any sporting event we are treated to the most emotionally manipulative stories about a team or player. Just like in sports films, sports channels hope to surround the event with a rapturous frenzy building up to a showdown. Of course sports channels are limited by time which often leaves us with something that doesn’t resonate. ESPN’s 30 for 30, on the other hand, has more time to explore the themes pre-game packages can only hint at. So what about a film upwards of two hours?

The final fight scene in Creed is so incredibly engulfing that it makes you want to stand up, clap and cheer for the underdog who triumphs against all odds. Yet the build up, i.e. the other two hours and three minutes, lacks much of any resonance and only scrapes the emotional surface like those five minute pre-game packages.

It’s almost baffling how a film of such length, and involving promising young talent on every level, can leave so much underdeveloped. From Adonis Creed’s relationship with his cliché-spewing neighbor, played by the lovely Tessa Thompson, to his relationship with his maternal figure, to the reason why Adonis (Michael B. Jodan) felt so compelled to fight. Sure, he says, he needs to fight, but the explanation, while meant to reveal something about the protagonist, adds to the mound of clichés. Also Adonis says he’s been fighting his whole life, which sounds like a nice, if not overused, metaphor, but unless he means this literally it isn't true because his life has been quite comfortable by nearly any standard. So while we will succumb to rooting for Adonis in the final battle like we’re told to, there’s not much under the surface that makes him a compelling character.

Then there’s the relationship between Adonis and his eventual trainer, Rocky Balboa. This could have worked, but any chemistry was burdened and stifled by contrived dialogue.

It wasn’t a bad movie, just less than it could have been. Ryan Coogler, a talented director, nailed the fight scenes. There was one midway through that was one continuous shot. It weaved in an out of the middle of the match as punches were being thrown, out to Rocky on the side and back in the match. It was choreographed as carefully as a ballet. And back to that final fight scene. The tone was set so perfectly with all its frenetic hysteria. Coogler and the showrunners also hit the right balance of nostalgia. It was able to connect to the earlier Rocky films without drowning us in the past.

Still it wasn’t enough to make up for all the film lacked nor was it able to come close to reaching the heights of the first Rocky film.

Beasts of No Nation

★★★★★★★★☆☆

Beasts of No Nation is a haunting tale of one boy’s metamorphosis into a child soldier. Agu is a 9-year-old African boy whose family is stuck in the middle of a civil war in which warring rebel factions have all but stolen the power from whatever regime was in charge. We aren't told where in Africa we are or what war is being fought because ultimately that’s inconsequential. Despite some beautiful large-scale tableaus that establish place, this is very much a study of characters.

The most genius part of the entire film is its beginning. That’s not to say that is the best part per se, but its function is so incredibly necessary. In a film that conjures so many emotions on the negative end of the spectrum, the opening images inspire the exact opposite, an immense amount of joy. We see Agu with his hilarious friends screwing around while school is out, he hangs with his older brother whose gaze is fixed on a local girl and Agu is protected by his mother’s love. All the while things in the family’s village are being upended as refugees from other parts of the country flee to their village after being displaced by rebel fighters. Agu’s father helps these refugees get resettled. What we’re being shown are those things that, at the heart of all people and all relationships, matter most. Agu and his family are endearing. This opening is so well done and so important because it sets up who Agu truly is as his life begins to darken.

Soon rebel fighters overrun Agu’s village. Agu’s father decides to stay behind to help, but sends Agu away with his mother and baby sister to be refugees as the tides have turned. Only Agu is forbidden from leaving with his mother because there is no room for him. So he is forced to stay behind with the men in his family as his village is attacked. The rebels come and Agu is left alone. This is when a commander for a different rebel group, as far as we know, comes along to add Agu to his troupe of young fighters. Agu joins hoping to avenge his father and with, frankly, no other alternatives.

A triumph of the film is in its direction by Cary Joji Fukunaga, an American filmmaker, who invites us to experience the horrors of war from a child’s perspective in a hauntingly sincere way. It’s an absolutely gorgeous film, but thankfully Fukunaga isn’t solely concerned with creating something beautiful. The most poignant moments in Agu’s life as a child soldier are given the space and time to unfold into moments that pulsate with meaning. As things become increasingly unstable, Agu’s life of war is juxtaposed against the joy of life from the film’s opening.

Fukunaga isn’t the only standout in this production. Idris Elba is remarkable as the commander who manipulates and literally abuses the mind and body of an innocent child. Still it is Abraham Attah as Agu who steals the show in honestly one of the best performances of the year. In his eyes we feel his pain as Elba’s character convinces the young boy to morph into the murderous child soldier. It’s because of Attah’s performance that we still have compassion for the boy despite his continued devolution. Along with the help of a lovely script, in which we hear Agu’s inner thoughts, and a tenderness in the direction, Attah allows our hearts to break not only for the victims of his brutal violence, but for him as the perpetrator as well.

The primary issue with Beasts is common in many war movies. It’s a problem of linear storytelling. Not that linear or chronological storytelling is bad or somehow uninspired, but like so many other films we go from one confrontation to the next, each picking up a bit more information about the characters. It all feels a bit long (the film is two hours and 17 minutes) and tedious by time we get to the third act.

This leads me to my comments not about the film itself, but about how it was distributed. Netflix bought the distribution rights for Beast of No Nation. While it is playing in a few theaters, a requirement for Oscar contention, most will watch the film on Netflix like I did. This has me torn. On the one hand, I love the idea that I basically get to see the film for free, or at least it feels free because I’m paying the monthly Netflix subscription fee no matter what. And having just moved from one city with astronomical movie ticket prices to a city with even higher movie ticket prices (Chicago to New York City), I appreciate being able to catch a break. That being said watching a serious film like this one is hard to do at home where there are so many distractions. Netflix, with its endless choices, has inadvertently made viewing a movie more than an hour and 45 minutes feel like some sort of investment that fewer and fewer are willing to make. So on the one hand the access is great and a lot more people will watch the film in it’s first few weeks of release than if it had only been released in theaters. But there is and always will be something magical about viewing important films in a theater where, especially if you go alone like I do, the distractions are kept to a minimum. For the art form I wonder if the theater is better.

Steve Jobs

★★★★★★★★☆☆

So many things about Steve Jobs, the movie about the man, work from the gorgeous cinematography, several great performances to the surprisingly bold film direction. But what was the biggest flash of genius in this film about a genius’ journey to be regarded as one comes in the screenplay penned by Aaron Sorkin.

Sorkin, who wrote The Social Network and HBO’s The Newsroom, treats this script in similar form to these recent projects. Nearly all the characters are silver-tongued speed-walkers and talkers. But it’s not the style of the script that makes it truly outstanding, but it’s structure. Whether it was Sorkin alone or a group of people who decided to construct the film in this way, more than any casting or directing choice this was the most critical one that was made in the process.

Nearly every biopic is doomed from the moment someone gets the idea that a person deserves a movie about his or her life. So often they are an overlong series of happenings “inspired by true events” that result in a product as boring as watching a life unfold day-by-day-by-day. So to make these things work requires some serious thought as to what to highlight and innovation in telling the story.

So the showrunners of Steve Jobs nipped this problem in the bud by focusing in on three critical events in the computer visionary’s professional life. First was the launch if the Macintosh computer in 1984 where we’re introduced to all the major players from his co-workers, his confidante and his daughter. After a less-than-spectacular sales performance for the first iteration of the computer that is now the consumer gold standard, Sorkin jumps forward four years to the launch of Jobs’ black box computer with his company NeXT. Finally we skip a decade to 1998 when the world will be introduced to the iMac.

What’s remarkable is that in these three scenes we learn so much about the man whose mind so many have come to admire. All his genius and shortcomings are revealed in these few scenes— and not only subtly but with some depth and attached meaning. Sure there are some flashbacks here and there that are carefully placed to help fill in the gaps, but it only adds to the intricately woven narrative.

Now that the story’s framework has been brilliantly constructed everyone else can do their jobs. Starting with director Danny Boyle (Slumdog Millionaire), who somehow turned a film of primarily three nearly identical settings into the type of marvelous visual tapestry that he’s known for. The film is a triumph in pacing. Boyle takes the intensity of Sorkin’s script and runs with it and then decelerates to draw out moments of poignancy that show us how our main character struggles with who he is and has become. Then there’s magic when Boyle forces the hairs on our necks to stiffen as different events excite. Instead of taking us from one physical place to another Boyle takes us from one visceral feeling to the next.

Then there are the performances. Jeff Daniels, Seth Rogan and Michael Stuhlbarg (who has a Robin Williams-like quality) are all quite good. Michael Fassbender transforms into the uncertain narcissist. Kate Winslet, though, as Joanna Hoffman, Job’s right-hand throughout every up and down, gives a particularly memorable performance. We don’t get the many faces of Joanna like we do of Steve, but we see her deal with the many faces of the genius in a very real way.

The Martian

★★★★★★☆☆☆☆

At this moment somewhere on earth a director and his or her crew are shooting a film about space that will be in theaters around this time next year. I’m expecting it because once Hollywood finds a trend, it sticks with it until it has killed it. (Re: vampires) Whoever that director may be should take note that their movie should add something novel to the canon, which most recently includes Gravity and Interstellar. Unfortunately this latest one does no such thing.

When Interstellar was released last year many compared it to Gravity from the year before. In fact, Interstellar was really more in the vein of 2001: A Space Odyssey in that it had an inventive plot and pushed storytelling boundaries. The Martian is much more comparable to Gravity. Like that film, this one is a long string of events that lead to an astronaut’s return home.

The Martian, based on the novel by Andy Weir, opens with a six member NASA team having to make a hasty exit from our neighboring planet to dodge a storm. Astronaut Mark Watney (Matt Damon) gets stuck on Mars when he is separated from the rest of the evacuees as they flee. Watney is presumed dead and the others begin the 9-month journey home. Watney of course isn’t dead and he must use his scarce resources and skills as a botanist to stay alive while the folks back on earth figure out a way to keep him that way long enough to rescue him and bring him home.

The film is at its best when the action takes place in outer space. There’s a thrilling sequence toward the end. Gravity was so visually breathtaking because we felt that astronaut’s struggle to survive in vast darkness. The majority of this film, though, takes place on our planet and the red planet. Outer space is much more interesting than watching a man growing potatoes on Mars.

The beauty of films set in space, besides the great potential for visual beauty, is that they can be the vehicle for childlike imaginations to run wild. Not that these films have to be Star Wars or Guardians of the Galaxy. They can be realistic while still inspiring a sense of awe and wonder. That’s the genius of the score for 2001: A Space Odyssey and it’s what’s missing here.

The Martian feels like it’s trying really hard to make people laugh in the style of Guardians of the Galaxy, with its never-ending wink-wink jokes from Damon’s Watney as he kept his video diary and its barrage of silly 70s disco tunes. It came across, though, as the difference between a comedian telling a well-crafted joke and a daytime talk show host trying to be funny.

This is the biggest problem of the film. Besides Jeff Daniels’ NASA director character being insufferably smug, Damon’s astronaut rarely feels in dire straits because his wisecracks never cease. All the tension that could have been was totally diffused. Did he really ever feel like he was going to die? I can only assume so because he briefly mentions that he did. Additionally the filmmakers ask the question, “Is Watney going mad?” but they answer it just as quickly as they asked it with a resounding, “Nah!” In fact it wouldn’t be a stretch to imagine that for the majority of his stay on Mars he is enjoying himself and even thriving in solitude.

The film is filled with big-name actors, but there are no real standouts. And while the film is visually appealing, it’s not particularly inspired. In terms of seeing a red desolate planet, there was more beauty to behold in the tableaus of Mad Max: Fury Road from earlier this year.

Sicario

★★★★★★☆☆☆☆

Sicario is another addition to the canon of films about the drug trade along the U.S. Mexican border. Outstanding FBI agent Kate Macer (Emily Blunt), who, through her work in Arizona, has seen the effects of the drug trade, but hasn’t been on the front lines, is asked to join the fight in a joint operatives team. The team has a special informant Alejandro (Benicio Del Toro) and is led by Matt Graver (Josh Brolin). Kate is quickly suspicious of Alejandro’s true identity and the motives of Graver and his team, despite being told her mission is to cut off and catch Manuel Diaz, a big player in the drug pipeline from Mexico to the United States.

The film begins with quite a bang. We see Kate in her element as the leader of a team uncovering some pretty sordid stuff, which is why she’s ultimately asked to join the team. Now this film has received mostly positive reviews, but the problem as it develops is chiefly its lack of intensity when the stakes are so high. We understand that Kate is perturbed that she isn’t getting the whole truth from the leaders of this joint operations team, but that’s about the only thing we feel throughout the entire film. There’s no sense of anxiety, horror, fear or suspense. It’s one thing for a film to be slow, which this one certainly is, and it’s an effective tactic when we’re going somewhere, but here it doesn’t work. There was a sense of helplessness in the last moments of the film thanks to good performances by Del Toro and Blunt, but it was too little too late to serve as the pay off for the two hours preceding it. It is unfortunate that there is no tension, because what can be surmised is that director Denis Villeneuve wants there to be some. Yet it’s never quite materialized in any detectably visceral way. It’s the difference between actually feeling suspense, and someone telling you to feel suspense.

Another problem is the space we feel between the main characters. In the trailers we expect Blunt and Del Toro to stand out, but Josh Brolin’s character is equally and, in the end, too present because it becomes clear that he’s ultimately inconsequential. We know Brolin’s character is less important because we never learn anything about him outside his role as an operative. What he does, of course, is link Blunt and Del Toro’s characters, and maybe because he’s around so much the other two never truly feel connected. Their interactions are obviously important, but they are so incredibly brief. And even though we slowly learn more about Kate and Alejandro the information about them doesn’t make me feel like I know them any better.

The Intern

★★★★★★★☆☆☆

About 35 minutes into The Intern it occured to me that the reason we go along with the idea that a male intern has this much access to the life of his beautiful 30-something-year-old boss is not because the intern is 70 years old. It’s because there’s not even a hint of sexual tension between the two. Now you may ask, isn’t the fact that there’s no sexual tension due to the fact that the intern is so old? But I ask you to imagine that instead of Robert De Niro playing the role of the agèd intern, what if he was played by Jack Nicholson or even Woody Allen? This is all to say that during the beginning of The Intern I was more interested in the alternate versions of the film that I cooked up in my mind than what I was watching on screen. But Meyers brings it around at the end. (Independent of the creepy allegations against Woody Allen, his version of this film would be hilarious)

The bored, retired, and endlessly earnest widower Ben Whittaker decides to send in a remarkably rehearsed video application for the Senior Intern Program at a booming e-commerce startup. (I think it would have been more interesting if he had beat out college-aged applicants instead of fellow old people) Ben, who’s a company man, is assigned to be the personal intern of strained CEO Jules Ostin (Anne Hathaway) who is more irritated by his presence at first, but comes to warm up to him. The film takes a while to get interesting. The beginning was filled with tired jokes about how kids these days don’t tuck in their shirts and don’t know how to speak to each other face-to-face, which there is not evidence of in reality. Throughout the entire movie there is a non-stop barrage of joyful music playing— the kind of stuff from one of those supposed-to-be hip 21st century new musicals. The characters can hardly get a word in edgewise before a bouncy piano and hope-filled strings are re-introduced. This gave the whole thing the fluidity of a giant montage.

Writer/Director Nancy Meyers is interested in creating a beautiful, sterile world where the American Dream is not just a philosophy but an undeniable reality. There’s no grit whatsoever. And in an age where a movie based on a Nicholas Sparks novel comes out every year it’s easy to throw a cynical eye roll to any film that embraces sentimentality. But like most of her other films, The Intern still works despite its shortcomings. Ben and Jules actually grow to become good friends, which is difficult to show and develop onscreen. They have this oddball chemistry that makes you believe that they like and even need each other. Ben could have easily been a one-dimensional old man, but when he finally strips away his upbeat can-do attitude Meyers adds poignancy to a movie that’s already fun.

At the end, like at the beginning, I did want to see something more. This time not because I was distracted or uninterested, but because I wanted to know what would happen next. MINOR SPOILER: There comes a point in the film when it’s obvious that there’s no way Ben will die during this movie. It would be far too devastating and it’s not Meyer’s style. But I wondered, what if Ben had died? He is 70. How would Jules have handled it? To me that feels like an opportunity lost.

Pawn Sacrifice

★★★★★★★☆☆☆

Pawn Sacrifice chronicles the ups and downs of real-life American chess aficionado Bobby Fischer (Tobey Maguire) who sought to be world champion of the board game. But of course it wasn't just a game. Fischer devoted his focus and energy to the checked board from an early age and, though chess can't be blamed for Fischer's insanity, playing the high stakes game in the public eye certainly didn't help whatever was going on in his mind. The film sought to answer, or at least offer conjecture, as to what exactly was going on in the mind of Bobby Fischer, a man with unlimited delusions of grandeur, no empathy and ever-increasing paranoia. He would make unrealistic demands of tournament directors and his team, composed of a priest and a lawyer. Despite using the song "I'm a Man" by the Spencer Davis Group, one of the hippest songs of the 60s, as an audio transition between Fischer's childhood and manhood, Fischer never actually became a man. The film works best when simply showing just how troubled and troubling Fischer was, not unlike Howard Hughes in The Aviator. But unlike in The Aviator we don't feel a sense of compassion for Fischer like we do for Hughes, and this is a problem. His erraticism is further highlighted by the composure of his primary foe, Boris Spassky (Liev Schreiber), a Russian player with very cool sunglasses. Their showdown served as some sort of metaphorical moment of truth that would determine the superiority of one political philosophy (western capitalism) over another (communism). And while this raised the stakes, for many it won't be enough to make chess feel of ultimate importance, no matter how many times Fischer gets a call from U.S. political heavywieghts like Henry Kissinger. The fact that this board game served as some sort of pre-allegory to the goings on in international affairs illuminates the absurdity of Russia, the U.S. and the rest of the world that watched. Still the most interesting thing about the film isn't what it says about ideological warfare or the link between narcissism and madness, but the film itself. What I mean by this is that despite offering no redeeming qualities for Fischer, the filmmakers still want us to root for Fischer at the end when he faces off against Spassky. One could say that Fischer's brilliance as a chess player is redeeming, but not uniquely so because the same brilliance can be attributed to the Russian player before they begin their tournament. So the only thing that the filmmakers could hope would make us want Fischer to win, despite seeing all of his personal shortcomings, is the fact that he's American, which for many, particularly in the international audience, won't be nearly enough to convince us to root for Fischer over Spassky. In this way he's not at all like the anti-heroes we've grown accustomed to in film and during this golden era of television-- characters who have some expression of love or code of ethics that redeems them in our minds despite the evil things they do. It's a strange choice to rely on the protagonist's American-ness as the source of his likeablity, especially when the antagonist has so much charismatic energy.

Black Mass

★★★★★★★☆☆☆

For those who thought Johnny Depp had used up his last bit of talent and fully devolved into a dog-smuggling eccentric, you may be gernerally right about the latter part, but in Black Mass, Depp shows us what I imagine he's been trying to show us for a while now-- how he can totally immerse himself into an out-of-this-world character. It only took a real-life character for him to give one of his best performances in years. Beneath the thinning hair, discolored tooth and behind the impossibly sky-colored eyes, Depp gets lost playing South Boston gangster James "Whitey" Bulger. It's another one of his transfromations, but this one works so well for the opposite reason some of his other character metamorphases have failed, and for that matter have also succeeded. Depp's Bulger is rooted in something real. But why Johnny Depp wasn't just a good choice, but the perfect choice to play the notorious fugitive is because there's something likeable about him, which only makes him all the more terrifying. The film follows the many years in which Bulger was an FBI informant, which in his mind is not the same as a snitch. While he did help bring down a big mob family in Boston, he mostly used the FBI to cover himself, while his crimes grew and expanded. The story, though, was really equally about John Connolly, the agent who brought his childhood friend into the FBI fold and protected him for years. Connolly was played by Aussie actor Joel Edgerton, who had his own brand of sinuous treachery. Though the two characters shared some scenes, for the majority of the film Bulger and Connolly felt like characters in different films when they were apart. This may be because each actor so dominated his own world in a distinctly sinister way. It's as if the film could have gone one of two ways: either fixing its primary gaze on Bulger, like the trailers would have you believe, or on Connolly. So even when the two stood alongside each other the movie never quite felt unified. Another pitfall of the film is the way it was, kind of, structured. Bulger's former compatriots would recall the old days to some sort of prosecutor from prison. The device is a bit played out and the prison interviews felt too infrequent to offer much of a reason to warrant their presence. There are moments of the film that are reminiscent of Martin Scorsese's films, which is no accident-- films like Goodfellas. But unlike some of the best Scorsese film, we never feel like any of the characters had any fun at any point.

The Man from U.N.C.L.E.

★★★★★★☆☆☆☆

Everything is style. That's probably the thesis statement for director Guy Ritchie's entire body of work. And if you take that adage to heart, like I kind of do, then you'll probably like this film reboot of the 60s television show of the same name. People walk around like they have springs in their shoes; they stare so deeply and blink in slow motion; and each character holds a bombastic accent, almost comically so. In the film we see the pairing of American spy, Napoleon Solo (played by briton Henry Cavill), and KGB operative Illya Kuryakin (played by American Armie Hammer). Solo and Illya hate each other, but become partners after their two governements are forced to work together to stop the evil Vinciguerra family from weaponizing a nuclear warhead at the end of the second World War. The film makes slowing nuclear proliferation sexy, something the politicians on Capitol Hill could stand to do right now. The two spies must recruit German mechanic (Alicia Vikander) who is the daughter of the nuclear scientist in the Vinciguerra's employ. The movie is fun and spritely. The problem is not that it's necessarily all style and no substance. Instead what's missing are levels. Everything feels the same. The back and forth between the two unwilling partners quickly feels belabored, that Illya falls for the German girl is to be expected and the stakes, despite being about the potential for nuclear destruction, don't ever quite seem high enough. The film is most intriguing when we meet the magnetic Victoria Vinciguerra, played by the impossibly tall Elizabeth Debicki. Debicki is probably most known for her role in Baz Luhrmann's recent adaptation of The Great Gatsby as Jordan Baker. Here just like there Debicki uses her mortal instruments to completely emody character, space and the times. More than the others she embraces Ritchie's cartoonish energy and style. Without her the film would not have worked, though her presence isn't quite enough to raise the film from just being pretty good.

Mistress America

★★★★★★★★☆☆

Writer/director Noah Baumbach makes some pretty good films on his own (take While We're Young, or at least the first half of it, from earlier in the year). But when he's working with his inspiration, Greta Gerwig, his talents are elevated to a higher level. Like in 2012's perfect Frances Ha, Baumbach and Gerwig co-write this comedy in which Gerwig also stars. Two common through lines in Baumbach's films are 1) his astute observations about the feelings of inadequacy that seem to define being in your late-20s or early 30s and 2) characters that are strangely familiar yet rarely ever seen in film, especially center-screen. Gerwig and Baumbach reject the idea that for a protagonist to be relatable he or she must be some sort of everyman or everywoman. Instead their characters' relatability (particularly the ones Gerwig inhabits) shines through in very specific moments when we are shown the humanity lurking behind the awkwardness of Frances, or in the case of Brooke Cardinas, Mistress America herself, her razor-thin confidence. The story starts with Tracy (the quite funny Lola Kirke), a college freshman with dreams of being a fiction writer. Her personality seems to be completely dependent on her connection with other people. For example, she is riding high when she strikes a friendship with a boy from school after they both get denied entrance into the selective literary society whose members eat cheese and drink wine at their meetings. When she finds out that the boy is actually dating someone else she returns to being a shut-in. That's when she meets Brooke,  her soon-to-be "new sister" as Tracy's mom is scheduled to marry Brooke's dad around the Thanksgiving holiday. Tracy is lifted as Brooke, her senior by more than a decade, invites her into her life where she dances and makes out with basists from rock bands. Brooke thinks pretty highly of herself and always speaks as if she's on the brink of some breakout moment that will lead to both the respect of hipsters and the admiration of the rich. She has many self-proclaimed talents, including singing and interior design, which is more of a freelance gig. She talks in this self-affirming way that suggests that she's completely self-actualized (the reason she can never go to therapy) and in control. Tracy sees through the facade from the get-go and even writes about it in a short story that she hopes will get her into the aforementioned college literary society on her second go-around. But ultimately Tracy is having too much fun to ever tell Brooke that she's full of it. Brooke's newest venture is to open a "homey" restaurant, which Tracy tries to help with at every turn. Soon, though, the restaurant dreams are in jeopardy along with pretty much everything in Brooke's life. She begins to unravel and the facade, verbalized in her ridiculous sayings and her utterly bizarre way of conversing, gets harder to maintain. Everything leads to a brilliantly built farcical scene at the expensive suburban home of Brooke's former fiancé who is now married to her ex-friend and nemesis. Though Brooke is an absolute filibuster from the moment we see her, we're never allowed to completely laugh at her. Just like Tracy, who is undeniably intelligent, we can't help but want to be Brooke's friend too. Brooke is struggling with not having the life she dreamed of, which she realizes is a result of her own failures and dearth of talent and commitment. That is the genius of this movie. In this concise and hilarious film, Baumbach and Gerwig have created a dense character who we can't help but view with compassion all while tapping into the anxiety of confronting your own shortcomings.

Straight Outta Compton

★★★★★★★★☆☆

In many ways Straight Outta Compton is similar to a standard biopic in its construction. One thing leads to another in a long chronological string of events. And there are certain scenes in the two and a half hour film that felt like they were inserted because someone might accuse the filmmakers of being irresponsible if they were omitted. Despite this, Straight Outta Compton feels less like a droning biopic and more like the films inspired by true events that generally flood the last few months of the year. It is poignant on a relational and human level and on a much larger political and human rights level. Director F. Gary Gray's film details the rise and break up of California rap group N.W.A. who burst on the scene with angry and sometimes violent lyrics that expressed life in the poor, black neighborhoods the group members grew up in. While there were several members of the group, the film focused the camera and our eyes on Ice Cube (played by Ice Cube's son and ultimate doppelganger), Dr. Dre (pre-headphones) and Eazy-E (played with particular depth by Jason Mitchell). The group's songs and popularity gained fans across the country and the attention of several law enforcement agencies. And while news stations blanketly covered the rap group as some great potential societal menace, what the film does, far too long after songs like 'Boyz-N-The Hood' were released, is provide context to these songs. Take 'F*** Tha Police' for example. When you've been pushed down to the ground and stripped of dignity for no apparent or given reason, it's no wonder your sentiment towards racist cops and the institutions that keep them from going to prison, even with compelling video evidence of their misconduct, would be one filled with rage. The fact that frustration in the face of such demoralizing experiences was expressed creatively is to be applauded. The film's larger political themes are no less relevant today. Like in last year's Selma, in this film the scenes of civil unrest mirror, even more directly, the events and protests happening across the U.S. now. In addition to being such a meaningful film socially, it is no less effective as it examines the personalities of the three protagonists and their original sleazy manager, Jerry Heller (Paul Giamatti). After Ice Cube left the group, the two factions began to feud. Then Dr. Dre exited N.W.A. to begin his own project, which would lead to a whole new set of problems. No one is a pure hero. The vicious back and forth between the once-friends and creative partners was silly and we see the rappers party in a wild and reckless way. These types of scenes could be found in any flick about a rock band, which brings up another subtle lesson about the country we live in. For some reason we so often find the use of drugs, the excesses of wealth and reckless behavior, which are in no way specific to any one group of people, visually more deviant when people with darker skin are the primary actors. Straight Outta Compton is a feast for the eyes, but mostly food for serious reflection.

Irrational Man

★★★★★★★☆☆☆

Something about Woody Allen's latest film has the feel of one of his mid-career movies of the 80s and 90s more than some of his most recent work. Leading lady, and Allen's latest muse, Emma Stone, is framed like Mia Farrow, Diane Keaton and Dianne Wiest. Still the story driving Irrational Man deals with the philosophical questions Allen has been grappling with in his movies in both the past and in recent years. And this story is one of the best and most creative vehicles in which he goes exploring. The tale centers around despairing philosophy professor Abe (Joaquin Phoenix) and Jill (Stone), the promising young student who falls for him. (Allen seems unashamed to remind us of the crimes he's been accused of) Jill at first seems to be fascinated by his sadness, but that's not quite it. She's really in love with his deep-thinking mind, which has led him to a depression that originates from the lack of meaning and joy in life. Jill, who has more joie de vivre, is the image of upper-middle-class whiteness with her equestrian sports and overabundance of tan trousers. She's in a relationship with a fellow Gap enthusiast when she falls for Professor Abe. The prof. attempts to reject her advances while also trying to have an affair with a married science professor who is also fascinated with him. Are these people who flippantly quote Heidegger really so smart are just full of themselves? Allen seems content to let us think both realities are possible, but that's not the primary question. Instead it's how can you be happy in life in the absence of any true justice. Sad Abe discusses his worldy travels doing humanitarian work that have left him empty because he can't make an actual difference in a world where corruption is so present. It's only when he's confronted with a chance to help a stranger that his life turns around despite the amorality of lending that helping hand. Without giving spoilers, this choice between normative morality and his own feelings of self worth puts a strain on his relationship with his student who comes to see him as, you guessed it, rather irrational. His conflict of morality harkens back to a classroom discussion about Kant's Categorical Imperitive in which, for example, Kant says that it's never okay to lie. Of course the professor does a lot more than lie. Abe and Jill take turns narrating the film. During these times it doesn't feel like actual human beings are speaking. And who exactly are they talking to? It doesn't quite feel like they're talking to us. The rest of the dialogue is more believable whilst being scholarly. What is so rewarding about some of the best of Allen's movies, and this one too, is that we are let into the mind of the familiar writer/director who seems to never, for a second, stop being thoughtful. And he expresses it all through the art of storytelling.

Ant-Man

★★★★★★★☆☆☆

A hero in a special suit that makes him the size of an insect. The last time I saw a comic book movie with such a goofy premise I was pleasantly surprised by the nearly perfect Guardians of the Galaxy. The last time I saw a comic book film where the character's "real name" wasn't that of the well-known comic character I was severely dissappointed. (Halle Berry played Patience Philips, not Selina Kyle in the mess that was Catwoman) The most famous Ant-Man is Hank Pym, who appears as an elder played by Michael Douglas who trains the would be next itty-bitty crime fighter, Scott Lang (Paul Rudd) Ant-Man falls somewhere in between those two films, thankfully erring on the side of GotG. The biggest problem with Ant-Man wasn't some dire plot contivance, but the fact that the film was so standard. You have an ex-convict who's trying to turn his life around and is secretly full of compassion. We're treated to a taste of emotional death, a training montage, witty one-liners and comebacks and a budding romance. This is the majority of the film and with the exception of some scenes where ants respond to human commands, there's nothing novel. But things begin to pick up in the last third as Ant-Man confronts the villain who has created his own shrinking suit. And thus tiny fight scenes ensue. In the world where a cell phone appears to be the size of a skyscraper things are much more interesting. Our perspective of what can be harmful or terrifying totally shifts. Somehow in these moments, the film has achieved what 3D has consistently failed and IMAX pretends to do, provide a visually immersive experience. It's grand fun, goofy and clever all at once. Despite being one of the most innovative, Ant-Man isn't the best Marvel has offered, but there's some real potential. Ultimately it'll be interesting to see how this pint-sized protector will fit into the ever-expanding Disney/Marvel film universe. And speaking of that universe, without giving away spoilers, Ant-Man travels to a special and peculiar place that I imagine has to do with the Infinity Stones we've seen in several other Marvel movies up to this point.

Amy

★★★★★★★☆☆☆

I can't remember the last time I saw a documentary on the silver screen, but truth be told, the life of Amy Winehouse is one that could have been written for the movies. Amy was more enthralling than most Hollywood biopics, which often suffer from an overexpansive linear rehashing of a life. That story structure was used here, but Winehouse is arguably one of the greatest artists to emerge in the 21st century so to go from start to finish wasn't dull in the slightest. We meet Amy in her late teenage years, just before she records her first album Frank. We go back at times to learn more about her parents and their divorce and Amy's childhood friends, but we're mostly relegated to the 2000s. In those early years we see Amy's charisma and the more uneven parts of her personality that shed light on both her brilliance and eventual downfall. Then we follow her as she tours and breaks through to the mainstream after the release of the song Rehab on the Back to Black album. We see her struggles with an eating disorder and her ping-ponging sobriety. The film shines brightest, as does Winehouse, when we see her as a master lyricist and those lyrics are used as the most compelling narration to her life's story. After all Amy was a musician and her music, not her lifestyle, was her greatest gift to Western culture. There were several surprises throughout the film, like her hauntingly sad confession on the night she won five Grammys, though they become less frequent as we enter her relatively short time in the public eye. The sheer amount of home video footage from throughout the singer's life made the film feel abundantly more intimate than most historical documentaries. This could become the new normal as more and more people document the smallest moments of life on social media. Still one cannot help but wonder if being let in behind the scenes in conjunction with the use of so much paparazzi footage that Winehouse was so obviously not a fan of, means that we become the sort of creepy voyeurs that contributed to the madness of her life. The filmmakers decided to either not shoot or just not show the freinds, family, producers and body guards who narrated the story in any interview settings, instead opting to constantly flash their names on the screen whenever we should hear one of their voices. Maybe the idea was to prevent distractions from the primary personality, but visually it would have been helpful to break up the barrage of fuzzy footage that fills the film. The cinematographer also shot sweeping scenes of different places, mostly in the U.K., but they hardly provided a sense of place because those shots felt so detached from the grittier, grainier footage. Additionally, I can't remember the last time I saw a documentary that was more than two hours. The filmmakers could have made more, albeit tough, decisions to cut things with the goal of presenting a more concise film. To decide conclusively what ultimately led to Amy's death wasn't the purpose of the film, though it lays out several potential objects of blame: the enabling men in her life, namely her father and former husband, Blake; the obsessive and cruel media coverage of her behavior; or maybe it was, in the end, all Amy's fault. What the film clearly shows is that Amy wanted to be a great maker of music. She didn't crave fame. She just wanted to sing with Tony Bennett.

Dope

★★★★★★★★★☆

Films infused with social messages are rarely so much fun and generally have low replay value. But Dope, a film with so much to say, is a movie that can be watched over and over again. It talks about gang violence, bad teachers in poor schools, the politics of unequal drug policy and the necessity of social understanding. Despite all of these bullet points writer/director Rick Famuyiwa makes a point to hit, it never feels too preachy, which maybe because there are so many things to say in the first place. Instead, it brings to light the complexity of a diffucult life through an engrossing story. Isn't that what film is all about? The story centers around three high school friends from crime-ridden and underserved Inglewood, California. But they're not your typical crew. They dress like the 90s hip-hop stars they admire, make up a punk band named Awreeoh (pronounced like Oreo) and are all incredibly bright. The narrator tells us at the beginning that the trio doesn't fit in at their predominantly black school for doing and liking things that are considered "white," such as getting good grades and Donald Glover. The Harvard-bound Malcolm is the group's ring leader. His timidity with girls and almost any other social interaction brings comedy to the dire situation the three find themselves in. After being invited to a drug-dealer's birthday party, Malcolm unknowingly gets stuck with a delivery of MDMA (or Molly as it's known on the streets and music festivals where everyone is dressed like half-naked hippies). The drugs then become the responsibility of Malcolm and friends. So we follow them through the ups and downs of hiding the drugs, figuring out who to give them to, plus the uncontrolled sensual happenings of youth. I saw Dope the same day I saw Me and Earl and the Dying Girl, another film where the serious and the comedic are masterfully balanced. (I saw the first film at 10:05 a.m. and the second one at 10:05 p.m. I'm off this week so don't judge me.) There are two things that both films do exceptionally well. First, presenting real blackness. Earl in Dying Girl is not just black for diversity's sake. He is not a character that just happens to be black. His blackness matters to the character's history without making him a stereotype of black culture. In Dope all the main characters are black. (Even Tony Revolori's character is "14 percent African") These nerdy teens are allowed to be both meaningfully black, which is to say that their blackness is of daily importance to their lives, while also being distinctly individual. Through this, both film's represent the diversity in the black American community without dismissing the importance and struggles of that community. Secondly, both films highlight the power, not of romantic connections, but of friendship. Both trios in both films feel deeply connected and have a love for each other that transcends the superficiality of most high school romances. In fact, one downfall of Dope is that the brush with romance Malcolm shares with Nakia (Zoë Kravitz) feels a bit half-baked. But despite this, Dope is one of best films of the year so far.

Me and Earl and the Dying Girl

★★★★★★★★☆☆

If we've learned nothing else from the Red Band Society, Fox's cancelled and forgettable drama about sick teens in a hospital, we know that telling moving stories about cancer is difficult. And somehow adding the high school context just makes it even harder. Me and Earl and the Dying Girl wants to establish from the get go that it is the exact opposite. It rejects contrived dialogue, cliché carricatures and obvious plot twists. In fact our narrator, Greg (who is the 'me' in the title), will even begin to describe what might happen in one of those sappy cancer movies and then bring us back to the seemingly less cinematic truth of his friendship with Rachel (the dying girl with leukemia). Not only is the film the direct antithesis of the Red Band Society, but it also sets itself apart from the last year's The Fault in Our Stars, which was quite good. The film screams to the audience, "get those preconceived notions of what a teen cancer movie should be out of you minds!" But of course, the film wanted some of the same outcomes-- to hit our emotions with the cruel reality of a youthful death and the pains of a "doomed" relationship. If the film has one downfall, it's that through all of its decrying of fake and forced sentiment it has to fight a little harder to prove that the emotion of this film is somehow more real. I didn't buy every attempt at genuine emotion, but by the end the film made me really feel something and actually had interesting perspectives to add to the canon of movies where a protagonist's disease is of primary concern. So who is Earl? This whole time I haven't mentioned him. Earl is Greg's best friend, though Greg would never say so. The pair remake classic and obscure films into goofy rip-offs. For example, instead of Midnight Cowboy, they made 2:48 P.M. Cowboy. Instead of the naked female mannequins that surround the British delinquents in A Clockwork Orange, miniature statues of Michelangelo's David surrounded sock puppets in bowler hats in A Sockwork Orange. Rachel becomes the only other person Greg and Earl allow to see their ridiculous films and she comes to expect to see a new one each time they visit her. At the behest of a fellow classmate, Earl and Greg decide to make a movie just for and about Rachel. The three strike up a friendship, one in which Greg, who was forced to hang out with Rachel by his mother, becomes the one who is forced to work through his identity problems through the pressing of his two friends. These three young actors were wonderfully cast and you never doubt for a second that they all really like each other. Greg (Thomas Mann) has wit almost impossible for someone his age to have acquired. Earl (RJ Cyler) is neither a carricature of black culture nor an attempt to meet some quota by just making one of the characters black. Then there's the dying girl (Olivia Cooke) who has masterfully balanced wide-eyed charm and apathy. And the film has masterfully balanced being uproariously funny and emotionally poignant.

Jurassic World

★★★★★★★☆☆☆

It's been 22 years since the Spielberg-directed, first-ever Jurassic Park movie was released. Despite that length of time it is impossible not to compare the first one with the latest, and possibly final (but probably not with all the money it made this weekend), installment. Jurassic World, though set in a different time, contains a similar sense of wonder and awe as that first film. And that very well could be the greatest compliment the film could hope to garner. Though most of us have seen scaly velociraptors chasing a group of human beings who seem hellbent on tripping over themselves, the story feels exciting and fresh. It's the story of several characters, chiefly an ex-navyman, Owen (Chris Pratt), whose new career involves connecting, almost telepathically, with the aforementioned raptors. Owen is brought to Jurassic World, a giant dinosaur zoo and themepark, by park manager-of-sorts, Claire (Bryce Dallas Howard), to assess the park's newest genetically modified monster that's more ferocious than a t-rex. Naturally the great beast escapes and has a run in with two wandering kids who happen to be Claire's nephews. A John McCain-esque military bro who wants to use the velociraptors as war weapons gets thrown into the mix to make things interesting. The plot is layered enough and the scenes serve to bolster the characters and relationships well. Every choice of what to add and not add works for the sake of clear storytelling to facilitate what we've come to the movies to see-- ancient reptiles bringing at least a portion of humanity to its knees. I believe in the philosophy of taking every movie in context when evaluating it. For example, this film gets seven of ten stars from me just like Ex Machina, released back in April. Surely Ex Machina is a better film, but it's held to a higher standard because of the kind of film it is and previously formed expectations. That being said, I don't subscribe to the thinking that a bad film is good because it's not trying to be what it isn't. This circular argument was used to describe the confusing mess that was most of the Fast and Furious films. That franchise could take several notes from Jurassic World. 1) Be devoted to clarity of story whilst bringing the thrills. 2) Create characters, not caricatures and 3) Maybe, try, just a little, with the dialogue.

Love & Mercy

★★★★★★★★☆☆

I can't help but think about all the problems that plague most every biopic. No bigger issue is there than that they are hindered by reality, but not necessarily by truth. What I mean is that they're based on reality, which can be excruciatingly dull when laid out chronologically and leaves filmmakers to scrape the bottom of the barrel of a person's life to derive some meaning and yet we still can't be sure that the film we're watching is actually true as there always seems to be some points of contention about what really happened. And biopics about musicians may be even more susceptible to this problem and they continue to populate the genre. (Honestly, if you don't get a biopic within 50 years of your death, then did you really contribute anything to music?) Love and Mercy, though, is a fresh burst of energy. It's not just about saying look how hard this person's life was, but about how the musician (Brian Wilson of the Beach Boys) needed both of the title words to dig out of a deep, deep hole. One thing that helps break up the monotony of the linear biopic is the film's construction. Paul Dano plays the younger Wilson, while John Cusack plays the older in the 80s. But instead of being a film of frequent flashbacks (a confusing problem for 2014's Get On Up) it is actually two story lines developing alongside one another. In Dano's timeline where half the footage is made to look like discovered behind-the-scenes video of recording sessions, the Beach Boys are riding high on the success of their surfing tunes. Wilson starts listening to the voices in his head that help him create the Pet Sounds album, a total departure from the Beach Boys sound. He's tormented by people who don't get him, chiefly his own father, which plays into the broken man Cusack embodies in the 80s. In this timeline the older Wilson is hardly autonomous as he is watched over vigorously by Dr. Eugene Landy (Paul Giamatti) and is heavily drugged and manipulated. Wilson befriends Melinda Ledbetter (Elizabeth Banks) who wants to set him free. The 80s timeline is more interesting because it feels like we're moving somewhere. In the earlier one we know what we're moving towards because we're watching the eventual conclusion of that past at the same time. Also, John Cusak is phenomenal on screen as pain and sadness feel fully actualized. The film doesn't rely too heavily on nostalgia because director Bill Pohlad knows that he has to hyper-focus in on one thing-- Brian Wilson, no matter which era we veiw him in. The film feels only just shy of being either exhilaratingly inspiring or heartbreakingly sad.

Maggie

★★★★★★★☆☆☆

Maggie has been getting some positive buzz coming off of the Tribeca Film Festival for Arnold Schwarzenegger's subdued performance as a father waiting for his daughter to be taken from him by a viscious virus. To be clear from the outset, Maggie is a zombie flick, a genre of film that is wildly more inventive than its cousin-- the vampire film. And with each iteration there's a distinct feel and a new set of rules to abide by. Here, those infected "turn" within six to eight weeks after being bitten. When the soon-to-be undead have reached a point where they are no longer safe to be around, they are sent to the ominous quarantine where they will eventually die by drinking a syrum that kills them rather painfully. So we know that by the film's end Maggie (Abigail Breslin) will die and a few different ways for her to go are laid out as possibilities that Schwarzenegger must weigh. The great triumph in this film is the gorgeously morbid world that is created. The world is visually constructed by draining the saturation, simple camera work and allowing quiet events and conversations to happen while letting them soak in the brevity of the situation. It's all done in an unassuming way. It's a film about death and dying. And therein lies the reason zombie apocalypse movies (or shows) work better than vampire ones-- becuase they're allegorical. Schwarzenegger is a surprise as everyone has noted. We don't even care to know how an Austrian ended up on a farm in rural America. And Breslin is quite good in her return to zombieland as the dying teen in a film that's more effective than most dramas about cancer. In a very smart move, the filmmakers made Maggie layered by showing us brief, yet intimate, interactions with her school friends, which are some of the most moving scenes. All in all, it's a hauntingly beautiful picture that is among the best in the zombie genre.

Welcome to Me

★★★★★★☆☆☆☆

Kristen Wiig is arguably one of the funniest people working in entertainment right now as illustrated by the long list of recurring characters she played on Saturday Night Live. But what's more interesting than the overtly funny Wiig is Kristen Wiig the film actress. Her latest string of indie films seem to suggest that she's looking to work on projects that have some sort of emotional relevance. Like a few of her other attempts Welcome to Me is not quite the perfect vehicle for this, but she must be applauded for her boldness. Wiig plays Alice Klieg, an Oprah-loving, VHS-hoarding woman with some sort of mental illness. She sees a therapist who tries to get her back on her meds, has a best friend (Linda Cardellini) who seems to have unending patience and, oh yeah, she ends up winning California's $86 million lottery. So how does she spend the money? By bank rolling her own late night (or early morning really) television show. Everything seems to be going great from her perspective as she's one step closer to being just like Oprah. Becuase of all the money she throws at them, the low-budget, early hours production company overlooks the fact that Alice decides to make the show all about herself. Alice's mental illness functions as a way to make the heights of her meglomania plausible. But where the line of reality rests is elusive. What I mean by this is that it's hard to tell what's supposed to be funny in a 'just for laughs' outlandish way or if rather we should just feel sad becuase Alice is so delusional. The endearding charm of Wiig's character lies in her strange disconnection from the rest of the world. (I think I'm supposed to find her endearing, but I can't say for sure.) But the strangeness of the film's events don't work quite as charmingly. With a story that deals with mental health and comedic elements the line is a hard one to establish. 1975's One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest set a clean line, allowing the audience to inhabit a comprehensible world where fun things happened to pitied people. While parts of Welcome to Me were funny, the film isn't ever fun. Ultimately there's a lack of clarity in the storytelling, which means the film's goals and purpose don't distinctly resonate.

Far From the Madding Crowd

★★★★★★★☆☆☆

On the surface Far From the Madding Crowd, based on the book by Thomas Hardy, is like your typical British period drama "featuring a strong female lead." (If you've ever watched a Meryl Streep movie on Netflix, you'll know that that's borrowed language from a suggested Netflix list) Carrie Mulligan, who is excellent in everything, has to deal with three suitors throughout her life and the consquences of the choices she makes. But despite all the familiar tropes, it's really at its core a feminist film. Mulligan's Bathsheba Everdeen asserts her independence whilst maintaining her femininity even before she inherits land and a higher station in life. That independence is the reason she cites when she turns down a marriage proposal from the shepherd, Garbiel Oak (Matthias Schoenaerts). From the outset we know Mr. Oak is the preeminent suitor, if not for his ruggedness and humility, then becuase he's the first of the three we see. Additionally, among the only times Bathsheba is allowed to be her real self is with Mr. Oak. But Hardy's book and the film make it clear that, though she's wooed and at the behest of the men in her life, she is most truly herself when she's alone and in need of no one. She whips a fledgling farm back into shape as the commanding officer of her primarily male subordinates, one of which is Mr. Oak eventually. Out of context when Bathsheba must ride to stop Mr. Oak from leaving her farm by stressing how much she needs him, it may seem as if she's unable or unwilling to go through life alone. The truth of the matter is that the ultimate reason Mr. Oak is the ultimate suitor is because he is the only one who understands that Bathsheba manages quite well alone and is not desperate for him for any other reason but love. She doesn't need his strength or his station or connections or money. The film is her journey to finally realize that she simply loves Mr. Oak and that's all. And that's the subtle purpose of the film. To strip all the other reasons for marriage and relationship down to what matters most. Michael Sheen adds his talents to the pool of wonderful performances as the older, more rigid suitor. Still it's Mulligan's moment to shine. Just as she was perfectly cast as the naive, but resilient teen in An Education, here she's a determined woman with only the false promises of love and romantic tradition holding her back. The film doesn't quite convey the extent to which Bathsheba and Mr. Oak are hurting. Because Bathsheba is directly affected by the unfornate events that derail her life, we get more of her pain than the largely introspective pain that Mr. Oak feels watching Bathsheba suffer. 

Ex Machina

★★★★★★★★☆☆

In my last review (Avengers: Age of Ultron) I mentioned that that film won no points for originality for its plot about an artificial intelligence trying to destroy the earth. I stand by those words, but that was not to say that films about artificial intelligence have no room for orginality. Ex Machina proves that they do. In fact beyond focusing in on the AI's sentience alone, the sexuality of the robot, named Ava, and how she uses it, is of primary importance. The events of Ex Machina take place over the course of a week in the sterile home/lab of technology wizard and founder of Blue Book (pretty much Google), Nathan. Nathan (Oscar Isaac, who is supremely talented) is both serious and a post-grad bro-type. And the fact that he's this contradiction makes him feel all the more dangerous. He has invited Caleb (Domnhall Gleeson), who is so unassuming that he can't help but be victimized, to come in and test if Ava can truly think and feel for herself. Then there's Alicia Vikander who plays the aformentioned Ava. The power of her performance lies in the subtle movements in her face, which we see often, and her body, which we hardly see at all. As Ava convinces Caleb that she is independently thoughtful, which raises the question what does it mean to be human at all (there's a wonderfully intense scene where Caleb questions his own humanity), Vikander has the tougher job of convincing us that she is an artificial intelligence so real that she's nearly human. These three performances elevate an already good film-- a film, where things move along slowly, but to call it slow-burning feels wrong (and the film's all about feeling). Instead it's more methodical as writer/director Alex Garland has carefully chosen everything he wants us to see. 

Avengers: Age of Ultron

★★★★★★★★☆☆

Blade Runner... Terminator... I, Robot... Transcedence. The plot construction, centered on the ever-present artificial intelligence called Ultron, is not new ground in film. We've all seen the movie where the sentient tech-droid meant for good turned on the human race and became bent on destroying the world. And while Avengers: Age of Ultron, like pretty much all of it's predecessors, has its own spin on the tale, it doesn't win any points for originality. Despite this, the film, thanks to director Joss Whedon, is filled with so much perfectly paced and presented fun. My arguments against the film are few. It feels a bit like a place holder movie as it does less to advance the franchise toward it's eventual climax than last summer's Guardians of Galaxy, which did quite a lot. Speaking of that film, Avengers: Age of Ultron is just shy of the brilliance of last year's great Marvel movies. Still what makes this film, and what Marvel has managed to achieve, so great is not the metallic robot suits or how much bigger the Hulk is compared to Lou Ferrigno, but the heart of the characters and what they feel. Thanks to the mind games of the female half of the superpowered Maximoff twins, played by Elizabeth Olsen, who brings a sinewy danger to film, we get a sneak peek into the depths of our hero's pasts and fears for the future. Backgrounds, motivations and philosophies are revealed giving the characters, in a movie packed to the max with power players, dimensions. To be clear, this feat is so remarkable because rarely is there a film where there's at least one explosion as well as just one character with a personality. Lastly, with each film that's added to the Disney/Marvel list, the well-plotted universe unfolds not so unlike the detailed world J.R.R. Tolkein created. Fanboys and girls have known this for some time (we have encyclopedias for our favortie comic books and characters), but to see it all slowly unfold year-by-year, film-by-film is truly exciting.

While We're Young

★★★★★★★☆☆☆

Noah Baumbach, who wrote and directed 2013's fantastic Frances Ha, does the same here for this film about relationships.Where Frances Ha is about the two post-grad friends moving in different directions, While We're Young is about a couple in their forties (Ben Stiller and Noami Watts) struggling in their friendships with couples their age and who form an odd connection with a couple in their mid-twenties (Adam Driver and Amanda Seyfried). The two main couples also deal with difficulties within their own marital relationships. The film is funny, glides seamlessly and is maybe even brilliant. There's a fantastic few scenes showing how the "old couple" are the ones always on their phones and looking to the digital, while the bohemian youngsters listen to records and make things with their hands. Age stereotypes are flipped as it seems the aged ones learn from and even admire the younger. Stiller's character wants to be more generous and unassuming like Driver's character seems to be. All the while, as this quartet grows closer there's something unsettling lurking beneath their perfect fusion, which we can't wait to figure out. So why only a seven out of ten? People sometimes ask why I rank things certain ways. Well I'll explain this one. As more is revealed about the characters the more the film changes. It becomes a much rougher ride as the film shifts from being about relationships to about something else almost completely. We get this long stretch where Stiller is in every scene and Seyfried all but disappears. Everything delightful evaporates into a discussion about the merits of documentarianism and Stiller becomes irrate. Suddenly the director becomes Noah Baumbach from Greenberg (2010). Now, Greenberg wasn't panned by critics at all, but it does elicit some strong dissent. I really had trouble with it. While We're Young is essentially two films represented in the two leading men. Driver who appeared in Frances Ha represents the perfection of the film's first act and the irrate Stiller, who stars in Greenberg, represents the fizzling final third. As the film closes Baumbach seems to hope to salvage his discussion about age by pretending we didn't just dive head-first into a rabbit hole. And while Watts and Stiller bring things back to the original conversation when they talk about being better in their forties at the end, it's hard to say that their characters learned anything at all.

Furious 7

★★★★★★☆☆☆☆

The first voice we hear when Furious 7 begins tells us a lot about the film that we are about to watch. No, it's not the voice of one of the members of the high-octane crew from any one of the six previous films, which are an even more direct presage of elements in the movie. That voice, instead, comes from none other than (MINOR SPOILER ALERT) Jason Statham, whose body of work indicates the kind of pulp trash this film eventually devolves into. To prep for this film, which was released on a weekend with no other major wide releases that could even come close to attracting the box office draw of this movie, I watched Fast and Furious 6, the only one of the Furious films I missed up to this point. Critics and the everyman alike have come to simply accept that in the context of the earlier ones, numero 6 was not so bad. But it was. I'm a firm believer that not all movies need to be emotional or groundbreaking to be good. But that doesn't give action films the right to stink. Six was grossly simple-minded in plot and the usual problems of stupid, clichéd dialogue and a lack a character development that have plagued each other film in the franchise were abundantly present. And what lifted Fast Five, and this latest and final installment for that matter, was missing in 6. That added element was the wild high-flying outrageous stunts that are carefully crafted and that satisfy the inner daredevil. There's that scene from the trailer of a car crashing out the window of an Abu Dhabi skyscraper only to crash into the window of a parallel building. Then there's another scene involving planes, parachutes, a literal cliffhanger and of course those speedy automobiles. The line between thrills and sheer silliness is a difficult one for director Justin Lin to discern. He crosses the line in this film's messy final action sequence. The franchise has always had its shining moments in scenes that aren't shot like a 90s rap video and that don't involve the characters speaking, like, at all (outside of some grunts and gasps) Any attempt at emotion is weak, but we didn't come to the theater for that anyway. Still, the franchise's final moments, a tribute to Paul Walker, who died in November 2013 while filming this movie, were relatively moving.

What We Do in the Shadows

★★★★★★★★☆☆

What We Do in the Shadows is surely what the end-product of a documentary following four "batty" vampires in the modern world would look like if it were actually made. Cameramen, who we are told are wearing crucifixes from the get go, follow the quartet of bloodsuckers living together in a flat through life all leading up to the annual ball known as the Unholy Masquerade, where anyone who's anyone on the vampire scene in Wellington, New Zealand can be found. The comedy is written brilliantly by Jermaine Clement, of Flight of the Conchords fame, and Taika Waititi. Both men also star in the film as two parts of the fanged foursome that carry the movie to its height. First there's Deacon, a narcisistic guy who chooses what humans to drain like he's choosing a partner for a one-night stand. Vladislov (Clement) is a more than 300-year-old vampire who has lost a bit of his mojo. Petyr is the oldest and most Nosferatu-esque of the bunch. Last is Viago, who emerges as the documentary's most prominent voice. Viago is a bit of a square who in the beginning of the film is showing his flatmates a rotating chore chart describing who-should-wash-the-dishes-when. His fangs act as a replacement to the identifiably nerdy bucktooth overbite that kids who get picked on at recess sport. But his most endearing quality is that he's a romantic, wanting to make sure his houseguests have pleasant final moments before he peirces their neck with his sharp teeth. The documentary follows the group through all the ups and downs of being a vampire: the sun allergy, navigating New Zealand night life, dealing with love lost, having a showdown with werewolves not swearwolves (you'll get it when you see it), and of course, as Viago gently puts it, "The unfortunate thing about being a vampire is the need to drink human blood." The film is rarely short on laughs and very few feel cheaply earned. And though what leads up to the masquerade is more fun than the masquerade itself, What We Do in the Shadows is a ridiculous and fresh take on the all-too-familiar vampire flick.

Maps to the Stars

★★★★★★☆☆☆☆

The film, which made its festival debut in Cannes last year, was released in U.S. arthouse theaters over the final weekend in February. The film is directed by David Cronenberg whose recent projects dealt with themes found in this film-- certifiable madness in A Dangerous Method and obtuse violence in the unfortunate Cosmopolis. For some teenage girls Robert Pattinson could be thought of as a movie theme, so he too was present in both Cosmopolis and Maps to the Stars. The film afforded Julianne Moore a Golden Globe nomination in the Best Actress in a Motion Picture, Musical or Comedy category. Of course this film is about as much a comedy as it is a musical. But whatever you may consider it, it is difficult to write about in a review because everything unfolds slowly and naturally like a good book or even perhaps as life does, so to reveal even starting details would be to say too much. Despite the plot being revealed minute-by-minute, our questions about what the film truly is about are not squarely answered. Through the most carricatured characters, Julianna Moore's twisted actress who complains that she can't believe she spent $18 thousand dollars when exiting a high-end store, or John Cusack's pseudo-spiritual capitalist author or a drug-addicted 13-year-old child actor, the film seems to speak of the infiltration of destructive celebrity culture to what would otherwise be an artform and the decadence of Hollywood by taking the insanity to new levels. One thing is for certain about this film-- it is haunting, thanks to a soft-spoken and withdrawn performance from Mia Wasikowska.

Kingsman: The Secret Service

★★★★★★☆☆☆☆

Based on the starting concept, this film is made for the man, British or otherwise, who possesses the boldness to mix a pattterned oxford with a patterned necktie and the ability to do it rightly. This picture would seem to be as perfectly fitted to this man as the bespoke suits Colin Firth sports throughout Kingsman: The Secret Service. That man will enjoy it, but may not be fully satisfied at film's end. Though it relies heavily on the acting chops of Mr. Firth, we see the film through the perspective of Eggsy (Taron Egerton), a twenty-something Briton, from the unposhest of families who can be found in poor living quarters with his mum and on the wrong side of the law. Firth's Harry Hart comes to his rescue and offers him the chance to be part of the secret intelligence agency called Kingsman. Eggsy must compete against several Oxford-types to win a position at the selective Kingsman table. So posh male privilege is the subtext in the film's first act. And it works quite well as Hart explains to his superior, played by Michael Caine, that a gentleman is not necessarily always cut from the same fabric. The film's goals are aparrent from the start. 1) It's a nod to the earlier, less serious, Bond films. 2) It's a hypothesis about what the modern, more inclusive, gentleman should be. For example, a gentleman not only looks sharp when wearing a suit with the choisest fabrics of Savile Row, but also when wearing a crispy pair of high tops. And 3) it wants to be fun. And by-and-large these three goals are met. Matthew Vaughn, who directed the very similar looking, at times, X-Men: First Class, does some marvelous camera choreography with the fight scenes and Samuel L. Jackson, lisp and all, is his usual boldly talented self. But about three-quarters into the film, Kingsman gets a bit lost. Eggsy has evolved into a Kingsmanly gentleman so we're just left with resolving the plot. To compensate the film gets more cheeky and colorfully pulpish. Parts of the end look more like Scott Pilgrim vs. the World than the movie to which we just dedicated the last hour and a half. And it's not that the film ever runs out of steam, it just doesn't quite execute what it has set up. All in all the original concept is better than the end product, but it's still a fun ride.

Jupiter Ascending

★★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆

Jupiter Ascending was originally slated to come out in the summer of 2014. My best guess is that after the studio saw a cut of the film they realized it would not go well with summer viewers looking for top of the line thrills in cinemas. (Imagine this film directly juxtapoed with the brilliance of Guardians of the Galaxy... eek) Bad word of mouth seems to hurt action movies in the summer more than any other time. (The Green Lantern is the ultimate example) It's a wonder how studios can consistenly pour money into big films that they hope will be epics. Don't they know that very few films will actually succeed at becoming the timeless stories we gush about for decades. Everything that worked in the first Star Wars film is missing in this one. First things first-- character development. Any attempt to make us have the tiniest bit of interest in any character feels like going through the motions. The most promising part of the film was its premise that the human race didn't begin on earth. But that becomes an after thought as the movie gets complicated with a neverending hopscotch game from one place to the next and many unexplained plot twists. There was a point when Sean Bean was just gargling at Mila Kunis instead of saying actual words and syllables. Lastly, if you're going to use allegory as a device, especially one about the corporitization of society, brief passing mentions is not going to cut it. Director/writer duo, the Wachowski brothers, best known for the Matrix trilogy, lost me when they ruined my favorite childhood cartoon, Speed Racer, so it's no surprise that they have the potential to create a stinker. That being said we know there's something there. So here's to hoping that the next project will be a true epic. To briefly mention the performances, Brits Douglas Booth and Eddie Redmayne seemed to have fun on screen playing brothers with Shakesperian personalities and egos in outer space. Unfortunately Channing Tatum, no matter how pointy his ears or yellow-ish his facial hair, can't seem to break out of being himself on screen.

Black or White

★★★★★☆☆☆☆☆

I was hanging out with some friends recently, one of which is a breakdancer. She invited a couple breaker friends to join us. Turns out most, if not all, breakers do at least a little DJing. And so the friend of a friend explained to us that the job of a DJ is to create a vibe. One song has to logically flow into the next joining together to set a single tone. In many ways, that is exactly what this film lacks. It's not that a film with comedic elements can't also be heartwarming. James Gunn achieved this with surprising effectiveness in Guardians of the Galaxy. Here it's not effective at all, which may be the reason that when the film was very obviously trying to "get down to the serious business" the audience that I unfortunately had to share the film with, was still laughing. So that's the major problem, but it doesn't end there. When a film is called Black or White and is promoted as some important race relations film you'd think that the filmmakers would have something important to say on the wider themes about race in America. In reality, it's just a film about an individual issue among a bi-racial group of people that hardly connects to anything bigger. This means the only mention of the themes implied by the film's title amounted to nothing more than race-lite: The idea that saying the n-word doesn't make a white person all bad, or that some black people are just itching for moments to play the race card. These things added nothing to a conversation that so many are having nowadays in America (many for the first time). None of the performances are particularly noteworthy, but the worst undoubtedly comes from the child actor who plays Eloise, the biracial girl stuck in custody battle between her alcoholic grandfather and her deadbeat dad. From my cynical worldview, both men had too redemptive of an ending for my liking. For the past 10 years or so we've been spoiled with some rather good child actors in the likes of Freddie Highmore, Chloë Grace Moretz, Hailee Steinfeld and Quvenzhané Wallis. This poor child actor jolts us back to the pervasive negative connotation of the term as we watch her wooden character assume that she will tug at our hearstrings just because she's a cute little girl. Lastly, there was a horrendous saxophone-heavy score. While it was reminiscent of Taxi Driver, because it lacks the iconicism of Bernard Herrmann's theme, it's really more comparable to all the forgettable movies from the 80s.

American Sniper

★★★★★★★☆☆☆

Because American Sniper was directed by arguably the oldest living cowboy, Clint Eastwood, the film does take ideological and philosophical viewpoints, if not a particularly political one. Whether this viewpoint is subtle or overt seems to depend on your own thoughts going into the film. Many have criticized the film for not portraying the real Chris Kyle, which begs the question, what is the responsibility of a filmmaker, if any? But as a believer in trying one's hardest to objectively view art, in this instance, I can only comment on Chris Kyle, the character created by American Sniper's showrunners and Bradley Cooper, who embodied the man known as the country's deadliest sniper. What Eastwood has been most effective in doing in his films is juxtaposing scenes of intense violence with tender, human moments. We see that here, though the scenes on American soil were not as effective as they could have been. We see that this man struggled with PTSD,  but there was a refusal to dive into the reasons and deeper effects of it. This is why the suggestion that the film was all about a man's struggle with the after-effects of war doesn't hold water. Cooper could have had the opportunity to give an even richer and more layered performance, but to go there would have been to admit that Chris Kyle (the character) wasn't as strong as his physical presence suggested. The war's context was missing from the film, but the argument that this addition would have distracted the audience from the primary point of the film is understandable. But again the question remains about an artist's responsibility, if any. The final war scene was especially memorable out of a handful of more repetitive ones. So Eastwood creates a good and solid film, but it doesn't reach the visual heights of the 2008's The Hurt Locker or the emotional depths of even earlier war films like 1998's Saving Private Ryan or 1978's The Deer Hunter.