The Mummy (2017)

Score: 2.5 / 5

Not much can be said in favor of Universal's newest reboot of a classic. The Mummy looks and feels nothing like any mummy movie we've ever seen. Gone is the aching romance and mysticism of the 1932 original; skipped over are the kinetic energy and joyous good humor of the 1999 Stephen Sommers remake and its sequels. We are left, instead, with a bizarre mishmash of half-baked ideas, flagrant borrowing from other (better) horror films, and a spectacle that is anything but spectacular.

We start with an older, supposedly more mature Tom Cruise and his partner (played by Jake Johnson) slaughtering "Iraqi insurgents" in an attempt to hunt a mysterious hidden treasure. Whether the sequence is meant to be an ironic statement on American horrors in the Middle East or if it's just using the tragic and unnecessary war plaguing millions of people as a "relevant" plot device, the whole thing is undeniably tasteless. The duo eventually, of course, discover a hidden tomb and desecrate it by removing the sarcophagus via helicopter. Never mind the enormous camel spiders or the pool of seething mercury, everything will be just fine.

Enter the ladies, who certainly don't seem to mind being cast in archetypal roles. Annabelle Wallis (The Tudors, Annabelle) plays a young archaeologist whose one-night stand with Cruise informs their relationship, in which he repeatedly saves her. She has almost no other purpose, except to introduce Cruise to a secret society of anti-evil fighters, but more of that later. Sofia Boutella then enters as the mummy herself, Princess Ahmanet, who is revived and quickly becomes the incarnation of evil or something. There's a minor plot point or two about her past, using men to gain power and selling her soul to the god Set (god of storms, violence, and the desert, which seems appropriate), but basically she's a two-eyed, four-pupilled, tattooed megalomaniac who wants to destroy London by turning glass back into sand. Work it, sweetie.

Cruise's character Nick Morton, however, has a psychic connection to the mummy. His friend and partner-in-crime was possessed (via a bug entering his ear) by Ahmanet's power and attacked the plane ferrying the sarcophagus before being killed by Morton. Having miraculously survived the plane crash, Morton (oh, wow, I totally didn't get the "mort" thing in a movie about the undead, imagine that) is haunted by the wisecracking phantasm of his buddy while navigating this new violent world of gods and monsters. Speaking of which, his not-quite-girlfriend is a secret member of the secret society with some secret silly name (Prodigity? Prodigium? Problematic?) that not-so-secretly hunts and eliminates secret threats. In their secret headquarters are secretly housed secret artifacts and mementos of their secret successes, including what looks like a claw/flipper/hand of one Gillman from a (no doubt secret) black lagoon.

The prodigious (pragmatic? prognostic? presbyterian?) secret society is headed by one Dr. Henry Jekyll (yes, that Dr. Jekyll), played by Russell Crowe. Why, exactly, Jekyll/Hyde is a character here is a debate best held elsewhere, but there is little that works about his presence. We're not quite sure if his methods are moral, we're not quite sure why he wants what he wants or does what he does, and we don't really care about all that because we're just waiting for his transformation scene. The character's presence does not mesh at all with the themes of a mummy movie, and it doesn't pair well with this mummy movie, but it does effectively feed my curiosity about where Universal's Dark Universe might go. Namely because Jekyll/Hyde was not one of the classic Universal monsters. But since the character is in the public domain, and since Abbott and Costello met him (played by Boris Karloff, who was also the original Mummy) in 1953, Universal obviously seems to think it'll work.

Unfortunately, Universal also thought this movie was going to work. Granted, I'd agree that this was a better starting place for their Dark Universe than Dracula Untold, though I'm not sure why they're casting that fun little flick aside now. It's just a shame that the writers (and producers, apparently desperate for a studio franchise) couldn't be more original. They stole and borrowed and adapted so much from so many sources that the film boasts nothing substantial to recommend itself. And while this movie is fun and exciting for a lazy summer afternoon -- I enjoyed it, but then I'm down with most monster movies -- it's a sad excuse for what has come before, and for what might have been.

IMDb: The Mummy

47 Meters Down (2017)

Score: 3 / 5

Nothing like a killer shark movie right when the heat is about to drive you into the water. Two sisters -- different as can be, with all the drama attached -- on vacation in Mexico attempt to drink and dance away their problems, namely the boyfriend of one who recently dumped her for making their relationship boring. The adventurous sister, however, strikes up conversation with two local hotties who invite the girls to go swimming with sharks from the safety of a cage. Disregarding all the ominous foreshadowing, they all travel out to the open sea and lower the cage with the boys inside. All goes well, and the girls jump in next. As we know, the cable snaps, sending them plummeting from 5 meters down to 47 meters, where the water is murky at best and they are just out of radio reach.

47 Meters Down is exactly what you expect. What it isn't, unfortunately, is as good as it could be. Before long, it becomes dreadfully clear that the budget is just not there. We're treated to lengthy scenes of chatter filtered through face masks wherein the women repeat their desperation and fear. The sharks aren't often visible, the ocean itself is lackluster (maybe I wanted the grandeur of Finding Nemo, okay?), and the plot skirts some real dramatic possibilities. In lieu of intelligent and ballsy action, such as we see in The Shallows, here we get frustrating inaction that makes us want to shout out advice as the characters do seemingly foolish things. Then again, in their situation, I probably would act even less rationally. Director Johannes Roberts does some interesting things with this film, primary of which is keeping things very close and dark. There's not a lot of light this deep underwater, and the mounting pressure makes the viewer feel as though we're buried alive. Rather than scoping broad aquatic vistas, we're forced into uncomfortable close-ups that remind us of how limited human vision really is.

In fact, this flick feels more like Buried than like Gravity, considering its claustrophobic vision and lack of existential theme, which may not be such a bad thing for a summer thriller. I just wanted a bit more action, a bit more frisson, a bit more bite. The sudden appearance of large, toothy sharks is gasp-inducing, to be sure, but gone is the long build of terror as they come swimming along; here they lunge out of darkness as if the ocean floor were a haunted house. Not always bad, but not great either. Most of the anxiety of the film comes with quickly emptying oxygen tanks and attempts to make radio contact; once or twice the women have to swim outside the cage to free it from debris or collect supplies such as a flashlight and more air tanks. But even these brief excursions feel more like the fabric of The Blair Witch Project than Jaws, as the dark water closes in and the characters lose all sense of direction. And then there's the final act, with a twist I didn't see coming and a complex ending I'm not sure the movie deserved. I'm not even sure it's a good ending; I felt cheated then confused then angry and now just ambivalent. Then again, the movie needed something to set it apart from others of its ilk.

IMDb: 47 Meters Down

It Comes At Night (2017)

Score: 4.5 / 5

As a mysterious plague ravages the world, one small family has holed up in a remote house in forested foothills. Mourning the loss of their patriarch "Bud", his daughter, son-in-law, and grandson remove the body from the premises and burn it in a shallow grave. The disease (if that is what it is) is apparently highly contagious, and the family redoubles its quarantine. One night soon after, they catch an intruder, desperate for water and shelter, whose family is hiding nearby. Once these newcomers arrive, however, the dynamics of these survivors clash and sorely test the bonds of family and of civilization.

It Comes at Night, the second directorial venture from Trey Edward Shults, is an absorbing work. The definition of minimalist, the film reminds us that in our age of live-streaming and big-budget digital effects the most horrifying things are often what we don't see. In fact, it feels less like a feature film and more like a play: long shots, deliberately stretched dialogue and scenes, almost entirely taking place within a small boarded-up house in the hills. In fact, the only "spectacle" in the film comes, as the title suggests, at night, in the form of hallucinatory dreams had by the protagonists' son. He dreams of his dead, diseased grandfather coming to him, boils on his face and black goo pouring from his mouth. The whole thing is quite Shakespearean, if not as articulate.

The problem is, this film thinks it's up to more than it is. It certainly provokes lots of thought and discussion after viewing, if the clan of middle-aged women huddled in the aisle of my theater was any indication. And while it serves up no small amount of atmospheric tension and psychological horror, this film almost never thrills or chills. Maybe it doesn't have to. Certainly true horror doesn't rely on gore or bogeymen, but this movie leaves us with so very little to hold on to. What is this plague? How is it communicable (because several people contract it, and we have no idea how)? Is it local or global? And, the most frustrating to me, what exactly is it that comes at night?

Maybe most of those questions are unnecessary. We've seen perhaps too many plague/zombie movies already, and Lord knows we can imagine the proceedings well enough by now. Perhaps, too, Shults is emphasizing an esoteric or even symbolic ailment: More than once in the family psychodrama we suspect that paranoia, suspicion, or violence are the real disease, and by the end, I for one felt that possibility was more than justified. By the end of the climactic fight scene, you will too.

Then again, I consider other independent horror masterpieces of the last couple years, especially It Follows and The Witch, both of which we might consider minimalist. They don't answer the questions they raise, and their titles are as ambiguous. I'm left, though, wishing that the horrors of It Comes at Night were a tad more fleshed out. Maybe my real problem is with the title. What comes at night? The plague? The intruder? Paranoia? At least It Follows has the decency to embody "It", even when its precise identity is negligible. I guess the filmmakers wanted my consternation, and to provoke spirited conversation. I wonder, too, if with these themes Shults isn't trying to tap into the horrors of our current sociopolitical climate. Aliens arriving at night, "others" stealing our food and water, violence threatening domestic order, medical disaster, apocalypse and its aftermath; there are reasons, you see, that Joel Edgerton's character had stockpiled and reinforced his remote rural house, and certain characters have certain ethnic texture and color.

Ultimately, the filmmakers leave us satisfied if curious, engaged but unnerved, and moved yet bewildered with a masterful chamber piece of anxiety. It may not be a new horror staple, but it's a hell of a flick.

IMDb: It Comes At Night

Wonder Woman (2017)

Score: 5 / 5

People are saying it's the best DC movie. Some are hailing it as the best superhero movie ever made. Certainly it's one of the best I've ever seen, and I'm not even a big DC fan. Actually, I knew exactly nothing about Wonder Woman before I saw this film, other than that she was in Batman v Superman long enough to save the boys. With just that bit to go on, I wasn't expecting much. I've thoroughly enjoyed the other DC films, even when I can't defend their merit as movies, so why would Wonder Woman be any different?

Maybe because it's just so well written. Writer Allan Heinberg (creator of Marvel heroes Wiccan and Hulkling, just so you know how much I like Heinberg!) shapes a magnificent origin story of epic scale. He handles heavy exposition -- gods and creation and Amazons and war -- remarkably well in a dense script that takes massive shifts from character-building and thematic concerns to fierce action. Not a single scene is superficial or unnecessary. He marries the dialogue to the action by keeping everything grounded in a focused story, and even moments that in other films would be pure spectacle or entertainment are here essential to understanding character and theme. An example? Okay, during the climactic battle between Diana and Ares -- the time when, in other DC films, buildings start collapsing and there's so much dust you can barely see the action -- the violence showcases Diana's resourcefulness and perseverance in the face of raw power. Concurrently, the dialogue between the two characters and Gal Gadot's performance highlight the revelation that she, not a sword, is the "Godkiller" and that her life has been leading to this moment. It's a powerful sequence, all the more so because it defies our expectations: She doesn't learn the truth of herself in the quiet before the storm and then go kick ass. She kicks ass, comes into her own, and then saves the day. It's a minute difference, but an important one.

My only complaint is that the film is structured as a flashback; we've already seen Diana in the present day, so why are we shooting her looking fabulous in Paris as she receives the original photo of her in World War I? It felt silly and fake to me. I had a similar reaction to the way Captain America: The First Avenger was structured; now that I think on it, it's a very similar movie. But then, Gadot's costume is on point in that opening scene, so we'll move on.

The other key player here is director Patty Jenkins (2003's Monster). She films the proceedings (which span the many genres of action, war, history, superhero, and fantasy) with a distinctive flair that repeatedly defies conventions. More importantly, she forces us to pay close attention and to think. The beauty of her work is twofold, as the big-picture drama is glorious to behold and the showstopping details are enthralling to catch. She doesn't tell you what to watch for or expect and then follow through; she tells a rich and complex visual story with each individual shot. She paints the screen in such a way that your eye is forced to travel. That is masterful storytelling.

I'd compare her directorial style in that way to Peter Jackson's in The Lord of the Rings. Each shot is a carefully calculated story in its own right. Whether it's the longer, dramatic scenes that keep us riveted and bouncing from character to character or the intelligent kinetic energy of battle, Jenkins knows how to isolate the important images and promote her themes. The beachside battle between German soldiers and the Amazon warriors is an excellent example of this, where we see spectacularly unique action that also serves the story and the world Jenkins is creating. That's what made Jackson so successful in Rings. Later when the action revs up in Europe, it continues to make sense. We never feel lost or confused about what we're seeing. We care about the people in each shot. There's not so much apocalyptic dust or frenzied editing that we can't tell what's happening.

What else can we say? Beauty is woven into the film through its costumes, locations, effects, and performances. No less beautiful are themes of perseverance, honor, trust, and love. The film is a damning critique of fragile white masculinity, as Diana navigates a world of warmongering men and a dishonorable culture of sexist double standards. Especially noteworthy are the scenes between Gal Gadot and Chris Pine, where their banter steals the movie and highlights the unnecessary nature of men in "pleasures of the flesh" and their otherwise "average" physique. I found it unfortunate, though, that a film with such progressive messages would stoop to such lows as having a physically disfigured villain (ugliness = evil?) and caricaturing races in our heroes' strike team. Similarly I was hoping that, considering the Girl Power basis and an island of Amazons, we might see a bit of queer rhetoric if not outright queer characters, but the film repeatedly reinforces heterosexuality as the name of the game. Still, it's a far better venture into metahuman territory than I was expecting, and easily one of the best movies of the year.

IMDb: Wonder Woman