Allied (2016)

Score: 4.5 / 5

Yet another example of poor marketing, Allied is one of those brilliant pictures that people aren't going to like because they have very specific expectations. Whether you go in wanting another Mr. & Mrs. Smith or some epic wartime romance, you will leave disappointed. If, however, you take it for what it is, it proves an intoxicatingly paranoid vision of marriage under extraordinary pressure. And while the film features several big-budget Robert Zemeckis trademark effects shots, his understanding of the relationships at its heart is made hauntingly clear.

In two knockout performances, Brad Pitt and Marion Cotillard play two spies in French Morocco on a secret mission against the Nazi ambassador. While falling in love against their own better judgement, the Canadian Max and French Marianne successfully complete their mission and flee with their lives to London, where they marry and live happily ever after. The specter of war, as we know, did not leave London unscathed, however, and as the Blitz terrorizes the city, we learn from Max's commanders (Jared Harris and Simon McBurney) that Marianne is suspected of being a German spy. The mother of his child, he argues, is no such thing, but when the commander reveals suggestive information that their previous mission was not as it seemed, Max is ordered to lay a trap for his wife. The rest of the film follows the tortured Max as he alternately seeks the truth and denies the possibility that his wife is unfaithful to him and to country.

It's a slow-burner of the most excruciating kind. If you go in wanting smash-bang firefights, quick wit, and steamy sex, you may feel let down. If, however, you go in wanting damn impressive design work and period detail, a few thrilling moments of horror, and an unusually well-acted romance, this movie will stick with you for a long time. With the exception of a languid ending, predictable and almost ludicrously sentimental, the film keeps things taut and raw. Zemeckis perfects what he tried to do in What Lies Beneath. Grounded and only slightly stylized as only he can do, the director focuses our attention on the shaky balance between domesticity and what Freud called the unheimlich, that which is mysteriously familiar or uncanny.

Of course, we do have some fierce action scenes, notably during the Blitz. The last time I saw a terrifying Blitz sequence was in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, and this one ranks with that. the assassination scene also doesn't disappoint, and its surprisingly violent execution sets up the brutality that we should expect in the climax. Unfortunately, that climax is nothing of the sort, and despite the awful writing during the last twenty minutes or so, Zemeckis does his best to keep things romantic and exciting. He only partially succeeds.

Hitchcockian in the best way, Allied will leave you hungry for another period thriller. I'd recommend, well, Hitchcock's Notorious, and argue that Marion Cotillard (in case you didn't already know) is basically the ultimate old-school leading lady. Every time we see her on screen, she gracefully steals the shot in gorgeous costumes and with a beguiling eye, an arresting presence and furious command of timing. It's the goddess in her element, and it's fabulous. Pitt, on the other hand, feels like he's gone back in time: Virile and strong, youthful and engaging, it feels like he hasn't aged at all, if you ignore the last seven years of his movies. Most important, he's still got it where it counts, and if you want some nice steam heat this winter, go on and check out this picture. The two of them lounging on a Casablanca rooftop or getting busy in their car amid a sandstorm certainly keep things hot in an otherwise chilly movie.

IMDb: Allied

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (2016)

Score: 4 / 5

Nervous as we all were about this new venture, Fantastic Beasts proves itself worthy of its notable talent and high expectations. Sure enough, this is no Harry Potter, and it has little in it worthy of much comparison. Whereas the Potter series thematically concerns itself with death, friendship, courage, love, and hope in its coming of age narrative, Newt Scamander's new series seems (at least from its initial installment) more interested in empowerment and autonomy, cleverness and kindness, multiculturalism and diversity, and just a dash of environmentalism. As you might be wondering, yes, this is about as timely as we could want.

It's also unabashedly fun. Eddie Redmayne's Newt is immediately lovable, sweet and quirky, lost in his own mind (and, often, briefcase). Apparently an ex-Hufflepuff, he finds himself quite alone in New York City in the early 1920s -- during the reign of terror of one Gellert Grindelwald -- having come to America to release one of his prize pets in its natural habitat, Newt knows precious little of the Jazz Age and American magical culture. We experience his awe at the detailed cityscape, replete with bobs and pinstripes, speakeasies and typically ignorant No-Majs (the unfortunately named Muggles this side of the pond). While Newt seems all too ready to reveal himself to a No-Maj named Jacob (the scene-stealing Dan Fogler), the ruling magical body MACUSA strictly enforces the secrecy and submission of its citizens. When Jacob inadvertently releases several magical creatures from Newt's care, an ex-Auror named Tina and her sister Queenie get involved. Together, they recapture the lost animals in lovely mini-adventures around the period city.

Of course, JK Rowling couldn't make the film so simple. So in addition to the mesmerizing period detail, she deftly sets up a dual plot, laying down only the skeletal tracks of the latter to, presumably, be fully realized in subsequent films. The second plot concerns young Credence Barebone (Ezra Miller), an abused orphan whose adoptive mother (Samantha Morton) preaches publicly for witch hunts. Her bigotry and violence may seem a bit cheap to those of us familiar with the likes of Bellatrix Lestrange or Dolores Umbridge, but its blatant cruelty stand out in the otherwise buoyant film as impeccably timely.

The film's allegory for empowerment of suppressed culture is made perhaps most abundantly clear in young Credence, a character who is ultimately described as a Squib, but whose repression at the hands of his abusive mother has created a dark force of destructive power, the very force that has been wreaking havoc on the city. Percival Graves (played to perfection by Colin Farrell), a chief Auror, has secretly made Credence his informant through false promises and one of the most chemically intoxicating seductions of the year. Handsome, charming, and single-mindedly Machiavellian, Graves seems hellbent on discovering the violent spirit spreading chaos across the city, and when he does find it, his intentions for it become alarmingly clear only just before his disguise is stripped away.

Dressed in impeccable Colleen Atwood originals, Colin Farrell steals the whole movie away. He looks like a sort of Cruella deVille, and his presence onscreen is at once pleasing and fearsome. His only rival in show-stopping glory is Carmen Ejogo as Seraphina Picquery, President of MACUSA, though the film doesn't use her nearly enough.

What else can we say? The film moves almost too fast at times, and it will require multiple viewings to get all the references and Easter eggs. Watch out for news headlines, names bandied about, background creatures, and a certain symbolic necklace, to warn you about just a few. It's so packed with visual magic that, at times, the film feels anything but magical, and the action gets airy and inconsequential. The movie doesn't delve much into any backstories for the characters or even American culture, and it spends a fair amount of time setting up what will surely be the narrative trajectory of any subsequent films. While the film's obvious pandering to its target audience may cause us some irritation, there can be no doubt that seasoned director David Yates is fully in his element. His awareness of style and heart have few matches in modern big-budget cinema.

IMDb: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

Arrival (2016)

Score: 5 / 5

Arrival, based on the fabulous "Story of Your Life" by Ted Chiang, is the surprise of the year from visionary director Denis Villeneuve. By now, anything he does shouldn't be a surprise. Masquerading as a sci-fi blockbuster, the film is far more involved than you might expect. After several alien "shells" appear around the globe, the army enlists a linguist (Amy Adams) and a physicist (Jeremy Renner) to make contact with the occupants. In terms of plot, the film is straightforward: as the pair learns the alien language and attempts to discern their purpose on Earth, tensions around the globe escalate until violence breaks out. A breakthrough from the linguist prevents any carnage, however, and the aliens depart in peace.

Sound boring? Think again. The "breakthrough" in the alien language is more of a spiritual awakening in our linguist, wherein she glimpses the nature of the alien "Heptapods". Their language allows them to be in all times at once, rather than experiencing linear time. They reveal to her that, as she learns their language, she has begun to see the future, and that her free will may be exercised not by changing the future, but by adhering to it and learning from it. I can't say much more than that without spoiling the cinematic experience, but be aware that your tear ducts will get a full workout during the last twenty minutes.

Villeneuve, for all his subversive tendencies and cerebral wit, has outdone himself here. Taking the best parts of his previous work (the emotional heart of Prisoners, the dreamlike horrors and existential crisis of Enemy, and the climactic cinematography of Sicario), he fashions a startlingly cerebral film the likes of which I've not seen. I might compare it to a more beautiful version of Memento, in its non-linear structure and pacing. Actually, this film succeeds in every way that Interstellar failed, and if you saw that movie, you know exactly what I mean. There is no forced emotion here, and the nuances of Arrival are at least based in scientific and philosophic principles, whereas Interstellar goes for spectacle with little understanding of its own theoretical rules.

In his typically astonishing mastery of atmosphere, Villeneuve directs cinematographer Bradford Young (A Most Violent Year, Selma, Pawn Sacrifice) to the beautiful and strange, turning the plains of Montana into an ethereal vale of thick white fog. Long wideshots and graceful editing keep things grounded and picturesque, while moments of surrealism are accented by unweighted pans, not unlike in Gravity, that force us into a visual recognition of nonlinear storytelling. Notably, the scene when the humans enter the alien craft is the first time the camera becomes a character itself, and we watch in dizzying fashion as the scientists leap from their grounded lift to the walls of the vertical tunnel, and an artificial gravity anchors them. Much later, during the climax, our protagonist finds herself in the weightless, vertigo-inducing white mist where the Heptapods live, and the lack of distinguishable features forces us to similarly experience her ecstasy and enlightenment.

If you had told me my favorite movie of the fall would be about aliens, the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis, and a strange hybrid of free will determinism, I would have laughed at you. But as we free-fall into Oscar season, I hope you take the time to see this one. It's solid sci-fi with minimal blockbuster crap, and a lot of heart to boot. Amy Adams perfectly plays as our haunted lead, and her usually Disneyfied princess smile is replaced with a tragic stare, and she shows us every subtlety in her character as she reclaims her past (her future? I don't know anymore) and declares her autonomous decision to continue living. What's better than smart, beautiful, feminist science fiction that sends your sensibilities on a postmodern trip while playing your heartstrings like a cello? Not much, my friends.

IMDb: Arrival

Doctor Strange (2016)

Score: 4.5 / 5

I shouldn't be surprised by what Marvel Studios produces anymore; with a budget that big, they can do just about anything and gt away with it. Yet Doctor Strange is not unlike Ant-Man in providing a suitable origin story for a new hero (who is unconventional and nauseatingly typical at once) while expanding our understanding of and appreciation for the world of the MCU (Marvel Cinematic Universe). Sure, it's got its dull, prideful hero who suffers a loss and spends the rest of the film seeking redemption. Sure, it's got its fake anti-hero villain with creepy eyes and accent who gets disintegrated at the end. Sure, it's got a potentially great female love-interest/sidekick who is woefully underwritten. But it's still a ton of fun.

If you can get past Benedict Cumberbatch's American inflections, he performs flawlessly as the doctor, showcasing his own intellect in a markedly different manner than we've seen before. He imbues some remarkably deadpan comedy to the wealthy, proud New Yorker, even when he has come to the end of his hope. He plays the character not unlike Robert Downey Jr.'s Tony Stark in the first Iron Man, and his best moments are during his training in Kamar Taj and especially its library (his interactions with librarian Wong steal the movie).

Frankly, I was expecting a nightmare of visual effects, like in Ant-Man, as our hero bends reality and traverses  alternate dimensions. And while it is largely just that, the filmmakers have a couple of tricks up their sleeve. Most important is that everything feels weighted: great cinematography and sound mixing (and, yes, VFX) keep it all feeling substantial and grounded. While the images on screen begin to look like Inception run amok, director Scott Derrickson (Sinister, The Exorcism of Emily Rose) keeps the action focused precisely and tightly on the actors. He also lets the background chaos order itself into impossible kaleidoscopic shapes; I wonder if the patterns that result are in fact easier for us to watch, allowing both Derrickson and the audience to peripherally absorb it without becoming too distracted.

Doctor Strange might host the best cast of any Marvel movie yet. Mads Mikkelsen plays Kaecilius, the baddie with glowing purple eyes and cracks in his face, and Chiwetel Ejiofor hammers out his Mordo with conviction and the promise of becoming a future anti-hero (stick around after the credits, guys!). Rachel McAdams is not as present as much as she should be, but she proves herself to be a capable and fully-functional heroine in her own right. Of course, the best parts of the film belong solely to Tilda Swinton, the Ancient One who teaches sorcerers in Kathmandu. Ethereal and surprisingly funny, she handles power and control of the film in a way Anthony Hopkins would have liked to in Thor. And then she made me cry at the end.

In context of the other films, this one fits nicely behind Ant-Man for the reasons I gave above. It feels a little disjointed after Civil War -- because dammit I want to know what happened to everybody! -- but it provides several pieces that will come into play later on down the franchise path. It reveals the Infinity Stone of Time and its power. It connects to the "multiverse", which we've heard of before in Thor and in Ant-Man. And it sets up (or, rather, teases) what we might expect in Ragnarok one year from now. The mid-credits scene (which I suspect comes from the third Thor, much like the Civil War scene we saw after Ant-Man was lifted from that film) shows Strange offering to help Thor and Loki find Odin. Which seems a bit, well, strange, since the last time we saw Odin and Loki was in The Dark World, when Thor thought Loki had sacrificed himself, but the latter was impersonating an apparently absent Odin. I guess we'll have to wait a while to find out what shenanigans are happening in Asgard.

One last note: the score in this movie is everything. Michael Giacchino is brilliant.

IMDb: Doctor Strange

Hacksaw Ridge (2016)

Score: 4 / 5

It's everything you thought it would be. A typically simple yet visceral exhibition from Mel Gibson, Hacksaw Ridge is the feel-good war movie of the year. If you didn't know, the film concerns Desmond Doss, the conscientious objector to WWII who served in the hellish Battle of Okinawa as a medic. Doss was later awarded the Medal of Honor for saving the lives of over 75 men on the titular battleground. Gibson has a way about him that works in his favor here. Whereas, say, Clint Eastwood has a specific target audience that he understands and caters to, Gibson (despite his personal faults) manages to create sweeping epics that can touch everybody.

Can. The film doesn't portray the Japanese in a very humane light, which is problematic but also not surprising in a war movie. Unexpectedly irritating to me in this film is Gibson's lack of subtlety or complexity. While there is a lovely focus on a unique and fascinating character in Doss, the film is little more than formulaic, even droll. Brightly lit and generally clean, the first half of the film feels like a Hallmark special. The septic hue alters somewhat as Doss finally approaches the battlefield in the second half, but the grit and detailed atmosphere of, say, Apocalypto, is gone. What we have instead is a sickly sweet sentimentality, one that marries religion and love to a sweet, handsome boy who just wants to piece together a broken world.

But that's less a problem for me than a mild irritant. Honestly, I love that a war film can so beautifully talk about what's really on its mind. I love that the hero is a pacifist. I love that he's pure and kind and humble. I love that he lives what he practices in seemingly impossible situations. I find comfort in the film's obnoxious ability to play my heartstrings so easily. Andrew Garfield is pitch-perfect as our hero, no question there. The surprise for me is in Vince Vaughn, whose Sergeant Howell is fierce and surprisingly hilarious. His introductory scene of meeting his new recruits steals the film away, and had me guffawing outright in the packed theater. Everybody else plays their part fittingly. Hugo Weaving has a few really nice moments as Doss's tormented father.

Perhaps I find comfort in the picture's sentimentality because of the centerpiece of the film. The Battle of Okinawa atop Hacksaw Ridge is one of the most brutal scenes I've ever seen on the big screen. Sure, I haven't seen Hostel yet, but a war picture hasn't been this violent since Fury, maybe even Saving Private Ryan. It's almost like these scenes were the only ones in the clean, sparkling picture directed by the vision behind Braveheart and The Passion of the Christ. The body horror and graphic gore of those pictures is in full display here, and the lengthy sequences of fast-paced action and bloodshed is challenging to watch, to say the least.

IMDb: Hacksaw Ridge

Inferno (2016)

Score 2 / 5

It's pretty much what you'd expect. Which is not a good thing for a mystery-thriller.

The third Robert Langdon film (adapted from the fourth Robert Langdon book) gracefully steers us away from the Church and toward, well, something else. Not as graceful in transition is the new focal point, and so the film wavers unsure in the midst of humanistic concern, vague religious and artistic references, and an attempt at being the next great action flick. But summer is long over.

Let's not make the mistake of expecting more from this film than we should. It's a Dan Brown novel after all, replete with bizarre leaps in logic, lengthy soliloquies of encyclopedic knowledge, secret societies and ulterior motives, and melodramatic, apocalyptic themes. Let's not judge the film, then, too harshly on those things. Rather, let's focus on director Ron Howard, cinematographer Salvatore Totino, and writer David Koepp. With a crew this excellent (with the arguable exception of Howard), I expected more, and not just because these three guys also worked on the other Langdon films (Koepp only worked on Angels & Demons, but his considerable work elsewhere influences my opinion of him). So I wonder why the change in their aesthetic style. Sure, The Da Vinci Code was almost painfully true to the book, while its sequel took more than its fair share of liberties. But both those films had a grandiose style, a picturesque quality that matched their awareness of place and theme.

Inferno, on the other hand, is gritty and shaky, presented to us mostly through handheld camera and dizzying cuts between points of view. Sure, the shots of Florence and Venice are beautiful, but they are brief and interrupted by cheap chase scenes down crowded streets. The climax, which could easily have been the most beautiful and haunting part of the film, became a confused mess as we saw our lead characters fighting in chest-deep scarlet water; the editing was so bad I could scarcely understand what I was seeing, and all I wanted was for it to be over. Probably not the filmmakers' intended effect. I should say, however, that the best part of the film for me was early on, when Langdon repeatedly experiences vivid visions of hell on earth; seeing the words of Dante incarnate on screen in such imaginative and visceral ways was something that should have belonged in a better movie.

I wouldn't quite argue that this one is worse than Angels & Demons, but Koepp's screenplay seems pretty forced most of the time. It's almost as though Howard wanted the film to be more important or significant than it is, so he and Koepp tossed in as many references to Dante's Divine Comedy as they possibly could, thinking that they would impress audiences with their arcane knowledge. To be fair, a lot of the old white people in the theater with me did seem impressed with the same. Perhaps Howard knows his target audience a little too well.

Even so, the film's frantic pace, frenzied editing, and chaotic script leave much to be desired, perhaps most of all near the end, when the film completely derails its emotional impact by introducing one of Langdon's colleague as an old flame and potential love interest. Maybe if the writer had stuck to the source material, the film wouldn't have fizzled so badly at its most intense part. Most of the film gives us so little understanding of what's happening that we have no one to root for, no reason to get ourselves involved; that romantic revelation feels so obnoxiously force-fed that we don't want to root for anyone.

Of course the movie is silly. It's preposterous. And that's totally fine. Its sin, however, is that it refuses to have any fun with itself. That's how Die Hard works. With an action-mystery-thriller like this, you've got to either pack it airtight full of smarts, or let the action usher in the fun. Inferno commits the sin of doing neither, and so it sinks into one of its own circles of hell.

IMDb: Inferno

Ouija: Origin of Evil (2016)

Score: 3 / 5

Almost anything would have been an improvement over the first Ouija. And this one doesn't quite disappoint.

The rare horror sequel that stands full well on its own, Origin of Evil ties cleverly into the original's premise by mining the history of Lin Shaye's character's past. Shaye was easily the most interesting part of the first installment, and while she is absent from this movie (excepting the post-credits shot), her character takes center stage. Played by Annalise Basso, young Lina Zander navigates a struggling family whose youngest daughter becomes enamored of the titular spirit board. As the child exhibits supernatural abilities and horrifying changes in character, Lina and her mother seek answers and help.

Sound familiar? Perhaps the better question: Did you expect anything else? It's not a unique story by a long shot. Most of the scares aren't even unique, though I'd argue that their opaque nature is aggressively surprising. The filmmakers have stuffed so many visible, tangible monsters into this haunted house that any guise of subtlety or subversion is gone. It's a nice change from the oeuvre of recent possession films, where a good half of the movie focuses on the scary things we can't quite see. I'm not saying that more is better, but it does make for an entertaining change in style, especially when the gags aren't good enough to be anything but jump-scares at best.

Even with its cinematic equivalent of pounding you over the head with its scares, Origin of Evil works by serving up a square helping of heart with its horror. Director Mike Flanagan (Oculus, Hush) never loses sight of his actors, and focuses his energy on letting them carry the film. While he infuses the film with an entrancing sense of time and place (the 1967 period work is charming), he seems keenly attuned to the relationships between the three leading women. Lina, her mother (Elizabeth Reaser), and sister Doris (Lulu Wilson, in a star-making performance) balance each other so well that as Doris distances herself, we feel the tension and fracturing of the family far more than we see it. That's not an easy sensation to cultivate.

As far as horror movies go, it's not great. But when you consider how fabulously better it is than the first one, Origin of Evil is one of the most surprising movies of the last decade. The scares are fast, furious, and often silly, but they work well with each other. You could do worse this Halloween.

IMDb: Ouija: Origin of Evil