Assassin's Creed (2016)

Score: 2.5 / 5

Distinctly underwhelming but still a hell of a good time, Assassin's Creed is first and foremost a video game. I've never played it, and now I don't feel like I need to. The film's two-hour running time might seem fair for a sci-fi/action/fantasy/adventure flick about secret societies, martial arts, the Spanish Inquisition, and an eagle that just keeps showing up. While its overplotted, bewilderingly paced narrative slogs on, however, we are absorbed into the jittery, jerky fight scenes that give us neither blood nor much sophistication, leaving us unsatisfied yet craving more. Much like most video games.

Similarly, while the nature of an action-based film suggests a specific style of cinematography suited for handheld intimacy and kinetic grit, the camerawork here almost completely lost me. Director Justin Kurzel (Macbeth) continues his tendency of style over substance, but here he also employs an enormous budget. Rather than enhancing the drama at hand with better focus, detail, or insight, he douses each shot with so many visual effects that nothing looks real. Ethereal and foggy, lit with operatic spotlights and saturated in color, the images are both lovely and superficial, unweighted and ultimately inconsequential. The most memorable moments are those in which one of our leads faces off against the other, often with tears in their eyes, and the camera zooms in close. If the rest of the film would only make you care about them, you might tear up too.

That said, the only thing I found to make this movie bearable were its leads. Though they are robbed of significant screen time, they all perform admirably, especially Marion Cotillard. Her typical suavity and intrigue are about as opaque as the CGI dust swirling around, but that doesn't mean she doesn't rock at what she does best. Michael Fassbender is no less spellbinding though his role here is largely physical, and damned if he doesn't make a white undershirt and gray sweats look sexier than sin.

Brendan Gleeson pops in for a couple wasted scenes, and Jeremy Irons, while lovely to behold, is largely cast aside. Charlotte Rampling makes a surprise appearance, one that we might expect to continue in a sequel or five, however many the studios churn out these days. Speaking of which, the ending does indeed feed into franchise frenzy, one that here does not seem deserved. Maybe it would have if the film was as cheery or fresh as some of the Marvel ilk, though to be fair, I totally enjoyed this picture's solemnity and lack of humor. Maybe it would have if it weren't bogged down by its own mythology, explaining itself in repetitive cycles yet still managing to ignore sizable plot holes. Maybe it would have had it allowed its best special effects -- Fassbender and Cotillard -- to shine through the digital-visual swamps and not just look pretty. Then again, their mere presence in this half-baked semi-conscious quasi-coherent picture is miraculous enough.

IMDb: Assassin's Creed

Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)

Score: 5 / 5

It's the Star Wars we've always wanted.

Stepping away from the Skywalker saga was a risky move on the franchise's part, and one that has more than paid off. We finally get a better understanding of galactic life away from the Jedi and the famous protagonists of the other films, an experience of war unlike any we've seen in the series. Of course, those of us who love the books have entertained these stories for years, but to see them in all their glory on the big screen is quite different. I suspect this film will also speak to fans of the video games, as it features violent action in a more grounded way than a cadre of Jedi with their lightsabers.

In every conceivable way, this is an improvement over The Force Awakens. Where the latter uses recycled plots, vague foreshadowing, sentiment and nostalgia, and ultimately nothing visually new, Rogue One features a totally fresh and inspired narrative, a contained standalone premise, intrigue and uncertainty, and constant new images, places, and sensations. From its first desolate scene, this picture revs up the energy and the novelty, and from there it keeps getting better. There is some shaky editing and pacing in the first half hour or so, as we jump from place to place and various characters with breakneck pace and bewildering connection, but it mellow out by the halfway point and brings the strands together in focused precision. By the time we reached the climactic battle on an idyllic beachfront, I was so overwhelmed with awe and excitement I was shaking in my seat.

A word of forewarning: you may want to reconsider taking your kids to this one. The film is about spies and impostors, paranoia and violence, and in case you weren't sure, war. There's a lot to admire in its female hero -- who doesn't succumb to a narrative of romance -- and its ragtag team of misfits who band together to bring down the Empire, a trope I expect we'll see a lot more of in the next four years of our political climate. And yet children may not appreciate or understand that our fabulous rebels are panicking, ruthless and desperate, and that their behaviors include targeting each other out of suspicion and self-interest; there's a lot of tension when the people you're working with will kill you at the slightest provocation, and when they're targeting the people you love. Similarly, while the film features little bloodshed (these are blasters and lightsabers, after all, not guns and machetes), it is first and foremost a war film. With its extended battle sequences, be prepared for some fatigue and the deaths of loved ones.

I might add that it's not all gloom and doom. It's a rousing story, one which surpasses its somber ending by sheer virtue of its ability to find light and hope in the darkness. This is achieved through an expert script, a fabulous score, and its little nods to the rest of the franchise. Keep your eyes open for Darth Vader, who is featured in a scene that will remind you of Halloween in its horror and violence; it reminds us why he is actually a bad guy. A few surprise visits from old faces such as Bail Organa, the thugs from the Mos Eisley cantina, our favorite robots, rebel senators and pilots, and of course our princess in white keep things interesting and fun. The most shocking (and apparently hotly debated) appearance comes from a digitally recreated Peter Cushing as Grand Moff Tarkin. While some have criticized his appearance, I'd say he looks pretty good for being dead for 22 years. I don't think the filmmakers should have featured him as much as they did, considering they had an almost equivalent villain in Ben Mendelsohn's Director Krennic, but his presence was certainly enjoyable.

I might be blinded by my own enthusiasm, but this was for me one of the best pictures of the year. Timely and smart, risky and strong, it parades its spectacle out in arresting beauty and haunting import. Felicity Jones leads the adventure with intense command, and the visionary Gareth Edwards yet again shows his skills as a big-budget director with an eye not just for explosions but meaning. Make sure Rogue One is on your holiday list. You won't have a bad feeling about this.

IMDb: Rogue One

Moonlight (2016)

Score: 5 / 5

Moonlight is one of those films impossible to effectively describe, because any attempt at doing so lessens its importance, impact, and beauty. But obviously I'm going to try to do that here.

In a form befitting its theatrical origin, the film follows young Chiron through three stages of his life, each named after the labels and identifiers others place upon him. It's a calm, calculated, and precise film, focusing in on the character drama at play as we quickly fall in love with our main man. With intimate camerawork and lyrical style, the film engrosses our attention as it seduces our senses, enveloping us in a very specific world we almost never see on the big screen.

Director Barry Jenkins leads with intoxicating compassion, setting up the places and people in his picture and almost immediately subverting our expectations, shattering stereotypes and narrative tropes with deceptive tranquility. Most importantly, he unravels his complex themes -- notably questions of identity -- in such a way that long-silenced voices may be heard loud and clear. Despite the seemingly preachy nature of its themes, including family, poverty, sexuality, black masculinity, gay masculinity, crime, addiction, and adolescence, the film doesn't actually try to get a single message across; rather, it offers us a glimpse of a beautiful life on the edge, and we are left with impressions and emotions and understanding, to handle as we are able. Chiron (played alternately by Alex Hibbert, Ashton Sanders, and the incredible Trevante Rhodes) ventures through a world of isolation and a culture in which he seeks meaningful connection, and as we follow him we lose ourselves to him. His silence speaks volumes, and in an otherwise somber picture, his life shines through as a flame of hope.

It's like nothing I've ever seen on film before. If I had to, I'd compare it to Boyhood in sheer scope and emotional effect. But where that film proudly declares its importance, Moonlight quietly slides under your skin and shakes you to the core. Its unassuming, unpretentious style paradoxically heightens the film beyond a simple story of a young man coming of age and turns it into an iconic masterpiece. See it. It'll change your life.

IMDb: Moonlight

Miss Sloane (2016)

Score: 4 / 5

A political thriller of the highest caliber, Miss Sloane sears across the screen and into our eyeballs with ferocious wit and impeccable style. It is also in some ways the essence of why this Oscar season doesn't feel like an Oscar season.

Look at the recent releases in cinemas. Sure, big blockbusters can be more common as we leave summer and approach the holidays, but we've seen a surprising lack of real awards season contenders since October. Besides Arrival and Moonlight, can you even think of a real major Best Picture candidate? The last I would have guessed might have been Hell or High Water, but that was released almost half a year ago. I know we still have some major films coming up from Scorsese and Chazelle, among others, but it seems like this year's race is a last-minute hustle.

In Miss Sloane, we have a fierce screenplay that fizzles out at the end. We have a superstar performance from a leading woman that is ultimately overshadowed by unfocused direction. We have storytelling that is anything but original in design. Sound like other films we've been seeing all year? I don't want to get down on this particular movie, because it really is fabulous. But my anxieties have peaked with the looming of Golden Globe nominations tomorrow morning, and so I'm finally expressing my frustration at the lack of gold-worthy pictures this year.

That said, I loved this movie. I love political thrillers, courtroom dramas, feminist icons, high style, and sassy scripts, and this has all that and then some, and it's all here. Our titular hero is a lobbyist, formidable and vicious, famed and hated for her cunning and dubious means of achieving success (Does this sound timely to you??). Despite her gray-area ethics and debatable methods, Sloane cuts away the crap, reveling in her own sense of purpose and skill and thriving as she mows down her opponents. I felt invigorated and inspired as I watched her, but I would not be surprised if others felt alienated and even threatened by her (much like what people feel when they watch Frank Underwood do his thang on House of Cards). Jessica Chastain delivers a knockout performance in stunning costume, riding a tidal wave of seething emotion with grace and restraint. I'd argue that she is the only thing that keeps the film from a great big flop into obscurity.

While her performance is more than worth the viewing, the rest of the film suffers from less-inspired delivery. Perhaps it's our age of instant news and publicly shamed politics, perhaps it's the incessant white noise of crime procedurals and legal thrillers on television, but almost nothing about the story here feels urgent enough to deserve a feature-length production. It's like an episode of Damages or Scandal stretched over two hours' time with little melodramatic payoff and even less bloodshed. That doesn't mean the dialogue isn't heightened and sharp, even gasp-inducingly clever, it just means it all feels a little stale. And don't even get me started on the conceptually fabulous yet terribly executed ending. Thankfully, John Lithgow presides over the mess to keep things interesting.

So. Award-worthy? Maybe for Miss Chastain, but nobody else. Then again, who else really deserves an award anyway?

IMDb: Miss Sloane

Jane Got a Gun (2016)

Score: 2 / 5

For a run-of-the-mill Western, it's not bad. But in a genre all but dead, we definitely hope for something with a bit more kick.

Leading the otherwise traditional narrative is our female hero, Jane (Natalie Portman), whose skill with a gun is second only to her skill at emoting. While nursing her bullet-ridden hubby (Noah Emmerich), she prepares for the approach of a gang of outlaws, namely the "Bishop Boys" led by none other than Ewan McGregor with a black, triangular moustache and shiny prosthetic buck teeth. To aid her, she enlists her ex-lover Dan (Joel Edgerton) in booby-trapping her little home and fending off the raiders. As the climax approaches ever so sluggishly, we undergo flashbacks revealing the nature of the hatred between all parties involved, including the Civil War, lost letters, pregnancy, a boot in a river, and PG-rated prostitution.

Apart from its irritating title, Jane Got a Gun is a mess to watch. Thinly sketched characters, stock cinematography, and some of the worst pacing I've ever seen make viewing this movie a trip and a half, and that's before you've even broken out the whiskey. There's some nice set work, a nice performance from Portman, and occasionally nice visuals. But since when are Westerns "nice"? Poorly balancing between gritty action (when the movie succeeds) and sentimental melodrama (where the movie could succeed but notably fails), the picture teeters towards waste, forsaking the strengths of its lead talents in favor of shallow action and unfocused storytelling.

Even with its slim 90-some-minute running time, the film feels too long. There's no joy to be found in this world, unlike in Cowboys & Aliens, and even during what should feel like a rousing feminist climax and denouement, you really just pray it'll hurry up and finish. Conversely, if joy isn't your desire for Westerns, there's also only the shadow of darkness, no disturbing violence or moral compromises we have to endure like in The Hateful Eight or even parts of The Magnificent Seven (both of which arguably feature both joy and horror, seemingly perfect for the post-Western Western film).

It's worth a watch, if only for Portman, but only if you have nothing better to see.

IMDb: Jane Got a Gun

The Invitation (2016)

Score: 4 / 5

If you're looking for something dark and heavy to curl up with this winter, The Invitation awaits you right now on the Netflix. And while I usually don't care for spoiling plot points and climaxes for you, this time I'll refrain as much as possible. Not because this movie is a big mystery or unpredictable, but because the way in which it presents itself is so beautiful that summarizing it here would lessen the dramatic impact for you.

The film concerns a dinner party, one thrown in rural Hollywood Hills by Eden and her new husband David, who have been mysteriously absent from social life for the last two years. Invited are sundry past friends -- Tommy and his boyfriend Miguel, Clara, Ben, Gina, and Choi who is apparently running late -- and Eden's ex-husband Will and his new girlfriend Kira. Eden and Will had divorced while trying to cope with the sudden death of their young son, and each has dealt (or, rather, not) with that pain in vastly different ways. It's the first time this group has been together since that tragedy, and tensions run as high as their curiosities.

Most of the film is a riveting drama, focusing on the interactions of these individuals as they navigate the tough waters of maintaining social graces in awkward situations. Slow, calculated shots follow each of the players through their anxieties as the plot unfolds. There's something a little off about David and Eden, and once they reveal their whereabouts for the last two years, the thrills begin to mount. Careful writing and a gorgeous score work seamlessly together, heightening the already fabulous set and costume design, fashioning an elitist atmosphere of suspicion and paranoia.

Between the red herrings and devastating revelations, we as the audience are drawn into an acute awareness that these people are suffering not because of their current situation, but rather because of the polite constraints of their culture. Eden and David have seemingly sought out an answer for their pain and a means to escape the imprisoning niceties of society, and while the others are at times enamored or infuriated by it, none is more disturbed than Will, who slowly breaks down as he re-lives the tragedies of his past. Ultimately, of course, all hell breaks loose, and as their respective weapons are drawn, our cast neglects any form of decency and their baser instincts take control.

It's not really "horror", and if you're looking for action or wit, this isn't for you. As a keen observation of social graces and a piercing satire of the same, however, the film is a masterpiece, and one that requires a nice glass of wine and a darkened room to fully enjoy. Immersive and absorbing, the film offers a fairly unique vision that, while far from perfect, will stay with you for a long time after. Accept the Invitation, and see where it takes you.

IMDb: The Invitation

Moana (2016)

Score: 4.5 / 5

Another beautiful excursion in the era of Disney rebirth. From its opening short film, which sets up a narrative of self-discovery and infectious personal joy, Moana brings abundance of life to the big screen. While many parts feel derivative at best and downright racist at worst, ultimately the film keeps everything light, moving, and fun. To that end, the music by Mark Mancina, Opetaia Foa'i, and Lin-Manuel Miranda creates a fabulous sense of urgency and wonder, propelling us through the rich cultural world of Polynesia as we try to take it all in.

The story -- riding the wake of Frozen and Zootopia in the best possible ways -- brings together some of the strongest feminism and environmentalism we've seen from Disney yet. Moana, the chief's daughter, learns to lead her island while her heart calls her out to the sea (read: Pocahontas in the Pacific). Her pagan grandmother (Grandmother Willow, by extension), perceiving Moana's restlessness, reveals the history of the island and the nature of the troubles inflicting it. To save her people, Moana must journey across the seas to find the demigod Maui, who has stolen the heart of the life-goddess Te Fiti. Apparently only Maui can restore the heart, which will stop a terrible destructive darkness from consuming the world, but Maui is lost and in denial, having been overcome by the darkness he had unleashed.

Confused yet? Don't be. Apart from the occasionally confusing mythology (which is probably only confusing due to the rather white-appropriated vision we are presented with), the story is straightforward. Moana sets out across a beautifully realized seascape and some stunning visual effects with little but a raft/sailboat and a terribly stupid chicken sidekick. When she finds the selfish and proud demigod (who takes more than a little inspiration from Aladdin's Genie), she labors to convince him to help her, and ultimately understands that the quest is hers alone. Though the film repeatedly sets up Maui to be a reluctant hero, the climax features Moana as the true hero, braving impossible odds to make a stand against the vicious lava demon Te Ka and restore Te Fiti's heart.

You might have noticed the references the film makes. There are many more. Notably, and perhaps most obviously, there is a brief sequence that hilariously nods to Mad Max: Fury Road, but I won't spoil that for you. Still other moments hearken to The Little Mermaid, and one such holds off until after the credits, so stick around. Since there's such vocal online misunderstanding about this film and its supposed uniqueness in being culturally diverse, I would make a few points to that end. First, there is nothing groundbreaking here: We've never seen Polynesia quite like this before, but we have seen several Disneyfied indigenous films (Pocahontas, Brother Bear) as well as those with strong ethnic female protagonists (The Princess and the Frog, Mulan). Second, we will also notice that this film, like those, is directed by white men. Third, while the film may not get the nuances of culture correct (apparently there is some heated opposition from Pacific Islander culture), Disney almost never accurately portrays culture. Because it's animation. And a fantasy, at that. The characters aren't meant to be grounded and realistic, they are meant to be tropes and caricatures; if they weren't, it would be a live-action film, and probably a documentary. Does that make dangerous stereotyping and whitewashing okay? No, but it can inform our appreciation and discussion more than having people shout at each other on social media.

While some of this can get a little heavy, I don't mean to mislead you. The film is a rollicking adventure, one loaded with fierce energy and fabulous art design. It's a pretty conventional Disney tale done with anything but conventional style, and if it doesn't move you, Maui probably stole your heart too.

IMDb: Moana

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

The Accountant (2016)

Score: 2 / 5

If you're not a fan of Ben Affleck's stony-faced acting, you're going to hate this movie. If you, like me, don't mind it so much, you're going to be okay with this movie. If you like movies that don't really make sense, overreach their goals, and overstay their welcome, then this flick is all for you!

The Accountant looked like a potentially solid crime thriller and Oscar-bait for Affleck, who plays an autistic public accountant who moonlights as, well, another accountant for criminal enterprises seeking internal leaks. Affleck's committed performance is admirable; the rest of the film is not. Actually, it's a bit of a mess. While I enjoyed Bill Dubuque's script in The Judge (2014), I did not here. Most of its half-baked ideas could work if there weren't so many and if they all fit into the same story. I'd argue that the only reason to go see the film is in its heartfelt intention to provide a badass leading action man who happens to be autistic. And that is more than enough reason to go watch, by the way. It's just too bad that character wasn't in a better film.

The cast is lovely, but almost all of them are criminally underused. Anna Kendrick plays your basic damsel in distress, Jeffrey Tambor and John Lithgow are almost absent entirely, which begs the question why they are even involved. JK Simmons is given some nice screen time -- which of course he steals -- and Jon Bernthal masterfully commands the film's climax. The fight choreography is rather lovely, and a few of the action scenes are handled with entrancing skill by the cinematographer and editor. Not much else in The Accountant works. Not even its title.

And it's not all the writer's fault, as director Gavin O'Connor flies along without focus. Fleeting images and time lapses provide little more than a vague overview of the entire lifespan of our protagonist, making what should be a taut thriller about one particular case into a lengthy, vague origin story for what seems to be a potential franchise. Actually, more than once I wondered if I was watching an alternate-universe origin story for Batffleck. The only thing that brought me back from that dark precipice was the film's constant cliche-mongering. Cliches of disabilities lead to cliches of leading men in a cliched action plot, and all those cliches swim around in their own stew until about halfway through the film, when the plot finally begins to coalesce into a preachy cliche about embracing differences especially in your own family.

Maybe I'm just bitter because I wanted it to be better. But its hypocritical condescension and irritating banality make the film one of the biggest disappointments of the year.

IMDb: The Accountant

Deepwater Horizon (2016)

Score: 2.5 / 5

In case you forgot, this picture will make you angry at BP all over again. Without going near the dangerous waters of the real-life events at Deepwater Horizon, I can say that this film works on its own terms and packs a few not-so-subtle punches. For the most part, however, it's exactly what I expected it to be.

Turning an enormous tragedy into a small-scale disaster, Deepwater Horizon never feels necessary, and worse, never feels inspired. Rather than augmenting its familiar story with powerful performances or Big Themes (as we see in most major disaster flicks), this film plays it safe and small, sticking strictly to the action. While there are some nice touches to the action, it never has much heart to it. Thankfully, there is enough distraction that I never laughed out loud at the thin dialogue and frantic editing. The sound mixing and sound editing are notably impressive, and the apparently practical set design is a study unto itself.

So, technically, the movie is dazzling. However, there are almost no characterizations of the considerable cast, making the ensemble drama just that. We see some nice performances -- John Malkovich is particularly delightful -- but nothing worth gushing over. As such, the fatalities of the film fall pretty flat, and the emotional climax is more climactic because of the fiery background effects than because of the performances of our leads. In fact, the most emotional scene I saw happened about halfway through, as a nearby ship views the explosive oil spewing into the night sky. A bird flies in, crashing through the bridge of the ship, coated in oil and shrieking as it smashes into windows and desks before dying. If there is a central visual message from the film, that is it.

The film's worst sin, though, is its flat sense of inevitability. Seemingly after each of the initial scenes, the camera cuts away to the base and its underwater pipes, showing the immense pressure and looming catastrophe before the film has even set up its narrative focus. There's never a moment when we don't know exactly what's going to happen. Because of this, I was disappointed in director Peter Berg, who has proven himself fully capable and even talented in helming an action-thriller. Here, though, I couldn't see a creative inspiration at work. Instead, I see substance ignored in favor of technical skill; a routine form of shallow entertainment, as mindless as it is predictable.

IMDb: Deepwater Horizon

The Birth of a Nation (2016)

Score: 4.5 / 5

Not quite familiar with the story of Nat Turner, I found this film to be one of the most engaging and revealing visions of slavery-era America ever made. Flirting in turns with horror and with beauty, The Birth of a Nation captures the evils of slavery while providing a timely parallel for the horrors the black community still faces in America today. More importantly, it is yet another fine example of a recent surge of black film in mainstream cinema: movies made by black people about black people for black people. Of course, it's accessible to all of us, but it presents the rare tale of justice and empowerment specifically for the black man, and that alone deserves some applause right now.

The film concerns Nat Turner, the slave who led a rebellion in Southampton County, Virginia, in 1831. It was one of -- if not the -- most violent (and, arguably, successful) uprising of any slave group in the South. The intriguing part is that Turner was literate and a preacher, depicted in the film as seeing divine visions, whose understanding of the Bible radically changed from one accepting and encouraging slavery to one of wrath and justice for his subjugated people. As such, he undermined the slaveowners' rhetorical claim on the Bible and was able to amass his soldiers into a force that murdered dozens before they were stopped and killed. After the insurrection had ended, white militia and mobs murdered hundreds of black people in retaliation, and state laws all over the South instituted prohibition of black education and black assembly, and required that white preacher be present at all religious services.

Nate Parker proves his acting mettle as Nat Turner, and more than once moved me to tears with his gutsy delivery. I could criticize his direction and writing, however: His film, formulaic and preachy, winds its unbalanced way to a climax that is anything but cathartic. The real joys of his film are in the smaller moments of the first two acts; by the time we reach the brutal third act, we know exactly what to expect, and it's nothing new. Parker does something interesting, too, in focusing so tightly to Nat Turner's figure; we see everything from Nat's perspective, which to my mind makes the film more a biography or character study than a universal story of empowerment and vengeance. We see horrors on screen, to be sure, but the story turns on the rape of Turner's wife (played by the amazing Aja Naomi King), an event we don't even see. Showing it might feel like exploitation, and frankly I'm good with showing less sexual violence on screen, but it's an intriguing directorial choice, and one that, again, focuses on the man's reaction to the event rather than the woman's experience of the event (consider, as counterpoint, The Accused's handling of the subject matter).

A rousing sense of conviction and a passion for black empowerment more than make up for Parker's directorial missteps here; whether if, as various scenes change their aesthetic, we view the film as biographical history, racial horror, action drama, or something else entirely, we are sure to leave the film changed, if only by the sheer urgency of the film's message. The Birth of a Nation is sure to provoke conversations about the morality of retaliatory violence and the religious motivations for bloodshed. It excellently provides examples of how the Bible can be used in defense of opposing ideologies, and opens the door wide for debate on biblical authority and rhetoric. Hopefully it will also spur empathetic conversations about the ongoing need for justice and equality in America.

IMDb: The Birth of a Nation

The Girl on the Train (2016)

Score: 4.5 / 5

If you're going to see this hoping for the October thriller event this year, you might be disappointed. It's not melo. It's not huge. And it's definitely not as accessible as the couple sitting behind me in the theater would have preferred (Which is surprising to me, since the filmmakers pointedly changed the setting from London to New York City for no apparent reason).

If, however, you're going to see this to relish in the darkness promised by the book, you are in for a real treat. Less a thriller and more a tightly wound psychosexual mystery, The Girl on the Train plays out almost as an indie film, complete with shaky camera, abstract editing, claustrophobia-inducing closeups, and an entrancing sense of place. Director Tate Taylor (famous for directing big-budget feel-goods The Help and Get On Up) disappears into his craft here in what is easily his best film yet, losing himself to the character of Rachel almost as much as Emily Blunt does. He views the film with a sometimes blurred camera, disjointed plotlines, and images that we can't trust. Amazing how well he took the unreliable narrator of Paula Hawkins's book and translated it to the screen: Not unlike in Oculus, here we see events happen that are memories and skewed perceptions, and some that even exist solely in the imagination of the characters. Yet there's not a single moment when you doubt the director's control over the film.

Blunt, too, gives one of her career's best performances. Though some might take issue with her not being fat, she more than makes up for the character's self-loathing and indulgent vices. Bleary-eyed and convincingly inebriated, Blunt stumbles her way through the picture with intoxicating energy, at once cold and fiery, fearful and fearsome. She and her director must have had a gold-mine of detailed conversations on how to do this movie, because they magically take the book's suggestions and turn them into arresting realities. Together, they turn the whole movie into a voyeuristic nightmare, a malicious cocktail of cruelty and passions and secrets and lies that teeters on the precipice, begging to be rescued but threatening to take you down with it. And down we go, as the film counters its more erotic and violent sequences with pseudo-confessional moments of Rachel's narration; seeing her tear-stained cheeks as she questions her own soul is incredibly sobering for us, if not for her. Watching Blunt in her drunken fury is one of the most awesome things you'll see at the movies this year. Don't miss it.

Hitchcockian in the best way, the film marries genres like it's a game. Suburban sexual thriller meets feminist psychological drama, and we are completely absorbed in the lives of these beautiful, broken people. More than once, actually, I let myself forget the ending and convince myself that literally any of the main characters were the villain. Scene by scene, I suspected someone else, and I wondered if the filmmakers were going to surprise us with a twist ending unlike the book's.

Speaking of the ending, that was the only time in the film that I felt a bit distanced from the film. Danny Elfman's fabulous score is suddenly hushed, and the horror I remember feeling as I read the final 30 or so pages of the book is exchanged for a strange lack of horror. We see terrible things happening, but for some reason it's not as brutal as I wanted the final confrontation to be. It feels oddly emotionless and cold. I don't think it's bad in any way, and it certainly fits with the voyeuristic style of the rest of the film. I just wanted a bit more of a bang. Of course, watching the villain get screwed in the end was thoroughly satisfying, so maybe my complaint doesn't matter.

IMDb: The Girl on the Train

Queen of Katwe (2016)

Score: 4.5 / 5

This is the surprise of the year.

Queen of Katwe concerns Phiona Mutesi, the chess prodigy from Uganda who overcomes impossible odds to achieve international fame. Of course it's also the Disney feel-good drama of the year, and as such it relishes in the sentimental wash that made Remember the Titans (2000) work. What's fabulous here, however, is that this isn't an Americanized version of someone else's story; this picture is wholly a product of its time and place, namely what one of the upper-class children calls the "ghetto" of Katwe.

Phiona (played with astounding power by young newcomer Madina Nalwanga) lives her daily life in constant struggle for survival with her family. One day, as a result of her curiosity and resourcefulness, she stumbles upon a small church chess team. Though at first concerned that this game will not be lucrative for her or her family to survive, its coach (David Oyelowo in his usual pitch-perfect style) immediately sees her promise and works with her to improve her skills and her situation. The obvious pushback comes from Phiona's mother Nakku, who seeks to keep her family together; Lupita Nyong'o is the lynchpin of the film, and her performance steals the camera. Between her oldest daughter choosing to leave, her family getting evicted, caring for a toddler, and the inevitable injuries that come from her children's youth, Nakku provides a much-needed image of motherhood without flaws. She is many things but first and foremost she is love incarnate, and that is not exactly a common trope these days.

In fact, Nakku's character also reflects the nature of the film in that it is a much-needed breeze of cool air in an otherwise heated climate. First, the film features uncommonly excellent production design. Director Mira Nair and her team have fashioned an environment so believable, it's hard to remember it's a set at all. The richly detailed world of the Katwe marketplace is so immersive, I felt I could smell it, reach out and touch it. In our culture of high-action visual nightmares of computer-generated alien civilizations, it's nice to see a mainstream movie with none of that. Second, and far more important, our American audience is experiencing a lack of common-good-ness, and an abundance of leaders who are questionable at best and blatantly manipulative and divisive. Queen of Katwe provides an alternative, a story literally filled with characters who do nothing but care for each other, who reach beyond their situation and empower the unlikeliest among them, and who encourage and help each other with no thought of reward or even recognition.

It may not be the most original movie ever made, but it might be one of the best at what it does. And it couldn't have come at a better time.

IMDb: Queen of Katwe

Snowden (2016)

Score: 3 / 5

Oliver Stone surprises us again. This time, though, I'm wondering if it wasn't the lesser kind of surprise.

The enigmatic character of Edward Snowden and his apparent crimes against the US government seem to be the perfect basis for a political/legal thriller and an engrossing bio-drama. And so they do, as Oliver Stone shows us in the ensemble-driven spectacle that is Snowden. The odd thing with this film, however, is that Stone himself seems to, for what might be the first time in his many directorial features, shrink away from the possibilities of his own film. Whereas his style almost always gives his films' substance a run for its money, here, the only thrilling thing to be seen is the story itself. The fact-based plot and the obviously painstakingly detailed production design are the only things that hold our attention.

Well, okay, maybe not the only things. The ensemble cast (including Melissa Leo, Zachary Quinto, Tom Wilkinson, and even Nicolas Cage) are all at the top of their respective games. Leave it to Stone to handle ensemble casts better than almost anyone. Joseph Gordon-Levitt proves once again his fabulous ability to change characters without a single crack in his performance. He is not quite chameleonic -- we never forget who it is we're really watching -- but his delivery is so pitch-perfect and impassioned that he sweeps us away with it. The movie is stolen, though, by Rhys Ifans as his primary instructor. I won't give anything away, but that man knows how to do his thing.

The movie works best when it's telling its story of governmental espionage and whistle-blowing; it will downright scare you, if you, like me, didn't really understand what the secrets were Snowden leaked. I don't know that the movie convinced me of Snowden's heroism, probably because those tropes were played so heavily-handed. But it's an amazing journey either way, and one that certainly made me pause the next time I wanted to Google search something. The movie tries a few times to become a character drama starring Snowden and his girlfriend (played by Shailene Woodley, unfortunately), and those scenes are woefully underwritten.

I have heard that the 2014 documentary Citizenfour is even more thrilling than Snowden, and I intend to find that out for myself. I wouldn't be surprised; Stone's film often feels dry and uninspired, finding its uncertain way between a not-so-thrilling thriller and cut-and-pasted biography. In short, it's not one of Stone's masterpieces, and if you're watching it for his craft, you will be disappointed as I was. If, on the other hand, you want to see the excellent cast doing what they do best, this is one picture you just can't miss.

IMDb: Snowden

The Magnificent Seven (2016)

Score: 3.5 / 5

The Magnificent Seven might be the answer for those of us who weren't totally happy with The Hateful Eight, and while it's a hell of a ride, it's perhaps not as superlative as its title suggests.

I confess, I haven't seen the 1960 original, nor have I seen the Japanese film on which that was based. On its own terms, though, this film still manages to feel like a rehashing of old tropes and images. Westerns are a dying breed (if not dead since 1992's Unforgiven), and it was perhaps too much to ask for a novel Western that isn't paired with horror (The Walking Dead) or science fiction (Cowboys & Aliens). The camera pushes us into a realm of nostalgia with sweeping vistas of the dusty West and a sepia color palette. The story, too, is so simple that it reads more like a fable or tall-tale, which might have been just what writer Nic Pizzolatto (of True Detective fame) intended.

The real pleasure here is the cast, who are so well-suited for their parts that we don't doubt for an instant that any of them belong in their dirty world. Vincent D'Onofrio steals his scenes with humor and some surprising brutality. I was only a little annoyed by the casting of Peter Sarsgaard as the Big Bad, but then, every time he's on screen I feel a little annoyed. Maybe it's his voice. Everyone else was great in their motley crew of bizarre characters, and we even see, if too briefly, badass lone woman in Haley Bennett, heartthrob pioneer in Matt Bomer, and squinty-eyed henchman in Cam Gigandet.

It's a rousing, swashbuckling experience, and it serves as ample distraction for its over-two-hour running time. Explosive and fast, it features some of the better choreographed shoot-outs in recent movies (though nothing beats Anthropoid's climax), and it dishes out plenty of good humor and heart with the action. **SPOILER WARNING** Its surprisingly dour ending feels a bit out of place. It's good, mind, but the extended violent climax might have paid off a tad more had the film played up the camaraderie and humor earlier in the picture. As it is, the ending is moving and sobering; not so much to bring down your action movie high, but not enough to make the movie stick with you after you leave. With a little more heart earlier on, the ending could have been downright cathartic.

That said, the ending could easily set up a sequel. I, for one, would love to see more Red Harvest (and his biceps) on the screen.

IMDb: The Magnificent Seven

Sully (2016)

Score: 3 / 5

There are two good things about this movie. The first is Tom Hanks. Though he is uncharacteristically quiet here, he does great service to his real-life counterpart, the stoic Captain Sullenberger of the famed "Miracle on the Hudson". His nuanced performance won't garner him many awards, but it's definitely worth a watch, if only as a sharp change from his melodramatic verve in Captain Phillips (2013). I'd say Aaron Eckhart is the other good thing about this movie, but he's not in it enough to achieve that recognition. Actually -- and I can scarcely believe I'm typing this -- Clint Eastwood's direction is pretty good. To clarify: Eastwood and his cinematographer Tom Stern imbue the film with such fabulous atmosphere that it often feels as though we are present. Given the chilly setting, thrilling disaster, and even the icy demeanor of our protagonist, the filmmakers have fashioned a movie saturated with blue hues and a distinctly IMAX-like visual approach. Smart move, guys.

Other than that, the latest Eastwood film is typically underwhelming. The six minute flight that made global news would seem to take center stage in this film, and while it does make up the "spectacle" portion of the proceedings, the heart of the film lies not with facts but with propaganda. Eastwood's libertarian worldviews seem to have, yet again, overcome his artistic sensibilities, amping up the NTSB investigations and turning them into such a circus show that I half expected Richard Gere to drop from the ceiling in sequins, crooning about razzle dazzle. Think I'm wrong? Read Sullenberger's memoir.

Before you crucify me for not permitting artistic license, I'd like to point out that I am always in favor of stretching source material, and for making necessary changes in adaptations. However, those changes have to serve the story, and the only thing Eastwood's changes serve is his own mistrust of governmental oversight and his glorification of brave white men. Captain Sullenberger was a hero, to be sure, but Eastwood didn't need to create a villain for him to battle. In fact, Sullenberger wrote highly of the NTSB, saying that he felt "buoyed" by their encouragement and their determination that he and his copilot had "made appropriate choices at every step". What Eastwood fails to recognize here is that the NTSB is also a hero; he sees its investigators as clowns, malicious fools wrapping their victims in red tape, clueless and petty in their investigation.

Maybe the real crime I'm angry about here is that Eastwood totally squandered the opportunity he had in casting Anna Gunn as one of those investigators. That could have been lovely.

The shallow story and stoic characters would have worked fine for the relatively short running time, but they still felt stretched too thin. By the second half, Eastwood allows the bizarre pseudo-courtroom drama to wallow in excess and melodrama, which doesn't come close to meshing with either the titular character or the story up to that point. That's not the only way in which Eastwood and writer Todd Komarnicki fail us, however: They also can't get a grip on the basic narrative structure. We are pulled back and forth in time, forced into a strange limbo where the trauma of the flight is revisited upon us time and again, each time seen from a new perspective. After about the third time, it feels like the film is just spinning the one good idea it has, hoping that each time it will stick a little more.

The scenes of the crash itself are pretty darn good, but we've also seen it before, and better. Remember United 93? Remember the first episode of Lost? Again, Eastwood masters his atmosphere in these scenes, and perhaps the most memorable bit is the chanting of the flight attendants, "Brace! Brace! Brace! Head down, stay down!" That effectively aroused gooseflesh on my arms. The other scene that stuck with me was the opening scene. Sully, viewing the Manhattan skyline, as a passenger plane careens through the towers before crashing and burning into a metropolitan building. It's only a fever dream of his -- what could have happened to all those lives on January 15, 2009 -- but it heralds a film in which Eastwood promises he won't be playing it safe.

And then he plays it as safe as he possibly could have.

Is it a bad film? No, and it's worth a watch. Just be aware that Eastwood is up to his usual tricks, by which I mean the film is almost dull. Be aware that it's not an accurate representation of reality. Be aware that in casting Tom Hanks in a movie about a real-life hero, Eastwood has ensured that this film is a feel-good, tension-less escape from an exactly opposite political climate.

IMDb: Sully

Blair Witch (2016)

Score: 4 / 5

Maybe a 4 is a high rating, but I just loved this movie.

For a film over a decade in the making, suffering mishandled marketing, and released at a particularly bad time of the year (and after a downright fabulous horror film in Don't Breathe), Blair Witch could have been a LOT worse. It's both a sequel and a re-imagining of the original 1999 masterpiece of the found-footage genre, in much the same way that Friday the 13th (2009) was both a sequel to the original 1980 film, a remake of its 1981 sequel, and a reinvention of the franchise. Speaking of which, I certainly do hope this poorly-titled Blair Witch foray ushers in a franchise.

Before you freak out, consider the original film and the mess of expanded-universe crap that came from it: mockumentaries, video games, comic books, young adult novels, a sequel we all pretend never happened. And that's not to mention that the filmmakers themselves envisioned a series of films, all about the mythology they had fashioned, each of which engaging different aspects of the horrors in the woods. Not unlike American Horror Story, the franchise suggests several other chapters of horror, from Elly Kedward to Rustin Parr, from Coffin Rock to the child-snatcher in the river. With this 2016 re-introduction to the franchise, and its lovely higher production values, perhaps we can expect some more chills and thrills from Burkittsville. I mean, it's about kids in the woods losing their damn minds, and it's all right there on camera. Who doesn't want more of that?

In a lot of ways, I love this film because it brought me back to my love of the original, and because it (hopefully not vainly) promises more to come.

Let's focus on this film now. Blair Witch is imagined, constructed, and fashioned just like the original. Some people may find that repetitive, I find it entrancing. Its noticeably higher budget allows all kinds of flair and fun, and increased attention to the horrors of the woods at night. Now we don't just hear snaps and cracks echoing through the dark, we actually see the trees falling, the tents flying through the air, and an emaciated figure hunting our heroes. You may argue that it's all silly and doesn't do justice to the original; I wonder, though, if this film played it safe and presented us with little more than a psychological thriller, would you have written it off as a cheap duplicate? Of course it has to up the ante and shoot more shit at us. Consider The Conjuring 2 and its almost ludicrous exaggeration of style: It works because we need more.

And before you say, "well now it shows us too much, and there's not enough left to imagine," I assure you there are plenty of lengthy chases through the brush wherein we have no idea what's happening. There are plenty of sounds we hear that we can't explain; one in particular sounds not unlike the demon in Paranormal Activity, or the aliens in X-Files, like a walrus in a tank. Does it make sense in context? Not really. Is it creepy as hell in the moment? You betcha. The film also, kind of like Lost, plays with our awareness of time and mystery. Where the original seems to make linear sense as we watch, it's only afterward that we realize we don't know the full chronology of what happened. This film actively confuses us, and the characters themselves describe what seems to be a time loop: a single night seems to be five days with no sunlight, a found video at the beginning seems remarkably like one at the end, and our hero seems convinced that his sister, who disappeared all those years ago, is still alive in the woods. Ultimately, as you might imagine, there is no explanation of and no reprieve from the weirdness, which is maybe even more terrifying, but does feel a tad gimmicky.

The film works best when it points us back to the original. The long, final shot of the car is a clear indication of that. The first appearance of the stick totems is chilling, the second is terrifying. When our team crosses the river, when trees start snapping and falling, when we see the house again, we are reminded of our own experience with those images from 16 years ago. The film is meta in an odd way, not least because our characters know exactly what they're getting into, and they do it anyway. They fall into the same traps the original trio enacted, and they seem to expect a different outcome. The more flashlights they brandish, the faster the batteries die. Somehow their updated technology -- including, ingeniously on the filmmakers' part, a camera-equipped drone -- makes them more vulnerable or at least more blind to the raw power of nature and night.

If I could change one thing about it, however, I would have pulled an Insidious: Chapter 2 in the final act. Remember how that installment meshed up with its predecessor, and in multiple scenes it felt like we were watching the same movie again, just from a different perspective? That's kind of what I was hoping for here. With the obvious time-loop thing going on, I was sort of hoping that the disembodied screams and cries in the woods would be revealed to belong to Heather and her team from the original, and that in the last scene, we'd see that it was maybe our new heroes who ran into Heather in the house, knocking the camera from her hands. Better still, that Heather or her brother would end up killing the other, having gone mad in their arboreal hell. The movie as it is stands well enough on its own, I just would have liked a bit more trippy, cerebral material in the script, like in the original.

This film, lacking in psychology, somehow makes up by being even crazier and more violent. There's a visceral immediacy in the horrors here. We don't just see the trees falling; one falls on us. We don't just see the wound in Ashley's leg, we see it oozing until she pulls out something monstrous and indescribable. We are stuck in the tunnel with Lisa (in easily the best scene of the film) as she claws through the mud and roots. Actually, there is one other thing I would have changed about this movie: We see a couple times a figure in the woods, apparently naked, emaciated and with unnaturally long limbs. We are led to believe that this figure is the witch herself, though that point remains up for debate (along with just about everything else "supernatural" that happens). I wouldn't have shown that figure, simply because the whole point of horror for me in this franchise is that the "monstrous" is not embodied. There is no specific evil thing out to get us (which, logically, we can then outrun, outsmart, or overpower), but rather a general malice of place and intent, where the real physical threat comes from ourselves.

But that's just me.

As you can tell, I have a lot of feelings about this movie. It's not a great film, and really can't hold much of a candle to the original. But it's a lot of fun, has its moments of terror, and it can really get a geek to, well, geek out (obviously). I'm hoping it ushers in at least another film or two, just so we can flesh out a bit more of the mythology at work here. And, of course, so we can go back into the woods again.

IMDb: Blair Witch