All the Money in the World (2017)

Score: 5 / 5

Can we please give Ridley Scott an Oscar already? Not only is All the Money in the World one of the best films of this year. Not only were its expensive reshoots a potentially disastrous gamble that should never have worked. Scott celebrated his 80th birthday less than a month ago. How does that not earn a director all the praise in the world?

For those of you unfamiliar with the true-crime tale of the Gettys, the story here concerns the kidnapping of young Paul Getty in Rome, 1973. His kidnappers demand millions of dollars in ransom from his wealthy family, specifically his billionaire grandfather, J. Paul Getty. Through flashbacks, we learn that Paul's mother Gail had divorced her husband (Getty Sr.'s son) and rejected his money, leaving her unable to pay the ransom and forced to negotiate with her tyrannical tycoon father-in-law. He publicly refuses to pay any ransom money, and so Gail and a former CIA operative take on the task of hunting down Paul's whereabouts to rescue him. One by one, the lives of everyone involved being to unravel, either because of their lust for money, enslavement to money, or rejection of money. As they all learn eventually, all the money in the world cannot save them from the pain it brings.

It's not a terribly surprising or unpredictable story -- at least not to anyone familiar with the crime -- but that doesn't stop Scott from making it a riveting motion picture. It's edge-of-your-seat thrilling at every turn, with deliberate and heavy-handed stylization both on screen and behind the camera. Frenetic editing, sometimes dizzying camerawork, and some of the most gorgeous cinematography this year (from a personal favorite, Dariusz Wolski) all effectively compel you to invest yourself in the movie. This is storytelling at its very finest, by a group of artists at the top of their craft.

Of course, everyone will be talking about Christopher Plummer, whose presence as Getty Sr. isn't seen so much as felt. The character is a force of nature, deceptively eccentric in his old age and brutally vicious in protecting his money. There's a bitter tragedy to his character that the film explores with comic tension, a sort of satirical view of the capitalist man on top that drives a stake into the heart of money-obsessed America. What do you do, after all, when your wealth has made your children and grandchildren targets for torturous ransom? Do you give in and invite further blackmail? What do you do when your sole treasure in life -- treasure itself -- is powerless to give you the love of a family, safety and security in a world as desperate for coin as you? Plummer's brilliant reading of the character breathes compelling strength to the film, all the more impressive because of his impossibly brief preparation time before a mere week of reshoots.

But even more amazing for me was Michelle Williams as Gail. Her part is a pretty thankless one, but she steals each and every scene. Her movement and voice work stuns as it provokes. I've rarely seen someone look so uncomfortably stilted and polished in a movie when it's so appropriate for the character. Between her clipped accent and tense body, I never once disbelieved that she came from money and so absolutely resented it. I never once doubted that she had to train oh so carefully to "fit in" with the Getty family like a wretched Eliza Doolittle. And when the patriarch denies her the money to save her son, we can literally watch her poise and privilege melt off her furious figure. It's a transformative, transcendent performance from Williams, especially when contrasted with her recent turn in The Greatest Showman.

While the film resolves with an improbably brisk conclusion, it didn't bother me overmuch during the screening. Similarly, while the stereotypical Italian kidnappers are writ large and flat, and their victim is played by a less-than notable actor, their scenes are eminently watchable by virtue of solid editing and cinematography. But for me, the glory of this film lies with the artistry of Williams, Plummer, Wolski, and most of all Scott, who has proven that even troubled production runs are no excuse for pumping out bad movies. Let's just keep praying that we never lose him.

IMDb: All the Money in the World

The Disaster Artist (2017)

Score: 4.5 / 5

This is the validation his fans have been waiting for the last few years.

Star and director James Franco has crafted one of the biggest Oscar-bait movies this season in The Disaster Artist, a re-creation of the making of The Room, widely regarded as one of the worst movies ever made. Having never seen that film, I wasn't entirely sure what I was walking into. Thankfully, Franco and his filmmaking team make it totally accessible, and by the end I felt that I had seen all of The Room that I will ever need to see. Franco himself plays that film's actor and director Tommy Wiseau, and his performance is one for the ages. A masterful blending of movement and vocal work, mystery, and stunningly perfect comedic delivery, Franco as Wiseau will surely be in the race for an Oscar.

The Disaster Artist chronicles the development and production of the cult film while it also recounts the affectionate friendship between Wiseau and Greg Sestero (played to perfection by Dave Franco), his line producer and fellow actor. The film is far more than a buddy bromance or situational comedy about failed moviemaking. It's a consummate work of art, a film about the artistic process and the toll it takes on his craftsmen. Not unlike Birdman and other films, it has both side-splitting humor and deeply moving pathos, asking the audience to consider our own perspective on celebrity life and movie culture, and ultimately what we would do in pursuit of our dreams. Like this film's depiction of Wiseau, is it so bad to "fail" when we managed to chase and achieve our own goals?

As a movie about movies, this flick is also a meta-commentary on filmmaking, and in that regard Franco shines still more bright. He has loaded the film with stars and cameos, from Bryan Cranston playing himself to Jacki Weaver (who always deserves more screen time) as a supporting actress. Josh Hutcherson and Zac Efron pop in as newbie actors, Alison Brie and Sharon Stone and Megan Mullally play some of the women in Sestero's life. Really, the whole thing sounds like an ensemble piece. But it's not, and though it could have easily been an old fashioned madcap comedy, Franco -- I think rightly -- keeps everything realistic. Bizarre, certainly, but grounded in honest hopes and fears that resonate in an age when art and freedom of expression are being assailed by our government.

And, of course, it's just fabulous entertainment.

IMDb: The Disaster Artist

The Greatest Showman (2017)

Score: 5 / 5

An exuberant love letter to show business, The Greatest Showman is also one of the best pictures this year. Directed by Michael Gracey in his feature debut, this film is at once safely familiar and improbably fresh in execution. Though the historicity of its source material -- the real-life P.T. Barnum as he creates his renowned circus -- is never more than dubious, this movie is not meant to be a biopic. It's a musical, for heaven's sake! Rather, this film plays out like a fantasy (in the style of Chicago, Nine, Burlesque, or Glee) of life on the edges of society lived to the fullest. Its songs each mention stars, dreams, and love, and the film is full of each of these elements. The film is a nearly perfect marriage of style and substance, though the style is infinitely more engaging from this viewer's perspective.

The best thing about this movie -- and there are almost no bad things to consider, so the list is lengthy -- is its soundtrack. It's easily the best soundtrack this year and the most cohesive in thematic scope, surpassing even the Fifty Shades sequel soundtrack, which is again amazing. Scored by Pasek and Paul (Dear Evan Hansen, La La Land), the pop-Broadway beats and flair carry the film with seemingly little effort. Rousing ensemble numbers like "The Greatest Show", "Come Alive", and "From Now On" each grow from quiet intros to explosive dance beats and choral glory. Even soft solo numbers soar to heartrending heights, as in "Tightrope", "A Million Dreams", and my personal favorite, "Never Enough". And, of course, the romantic duet "Rewrite the Stars" deserves a place on every radio station. Taking the cake, though, is the Golden Globe-nominated song "This Is Me", which was featured on the trailer for the film as well, a powerhouse ensemble number declaring personal and communal empowerment for everyone who has felt out of place or different.

While the basic premise of the story is problematic when summarized -- Barnum grows through toil and strife to become the dreamer of fabulous dreams whose primary motivator is money, which he gains by exploiting "freaks" and undesirables -- the film does not solely focus on Barnum's character, played to perfection by Hugh Jackman. Its heart, rather, lies with the entertainers in his circus and the other lives around him, including those of his business partner (a typically excellent Zac Efron) and family (his wife is played magnificently by Michelle Williams). And while the film spends most of its time on these rich white people, I would argue that the most emotionally resonant scenes come from its freaks. The turn of the film is also the first act finale (were this to become a stage musical, which I hope happens) "This Is Me", in which Barnum is totally absent. The performers, excluded from a high society party by their boss, regroup and march through town, saying, "I'm not scared to be seen / I make no apologies" and showing that they are capable not only of running the show themselves but also of owning themselves in a world that hates them.

The film is thus an inspiration for the outcasts, the losers, the freaks. People with different skin colors, sexuality, abilities, and backgrounds are the heroes here. They band together not to fight the things they hate but to celebrate the things they love. They embrace themselves as they are and put it all on show. And in the process they change the hearts and minds of young hegemonic people who see them perform. It's a film so dripping with social justice commentary that it plays out like a manifesto of those who are and have been terrorized by the Trump administration. While not all its commentary is ideal -- there are always the problems of capitalism and exploitation looming -- it also doesn't necessarily promote those things at odds with its plebeian gospel.

Of course, it's also the most fun I've had at the movies in ages. Not a moment passes that isn't as richly detailed, sequined, glittering, or joyful as anything in Burlesque or even a Baz Luhrmann movie (Gatsby, I'm looking at you). I was crying through the whole thing because it's just that full of infectious happiness. To be sure, this is a movie for all the artists and performers out in the world. But it's also a movie for the dreamers, the stargazers, the outsiders and insiders, and the whole family. Start your kids watching movies like this while they're young, and our future will be just fine.

IMDb: The Greatest Showman 

Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle (2017)

Score: 4 / 5

"Who plays board games anymore?"

That's a question that might strike at some of our hearts but carries some weight in an age when video games are free on phones, fabulously creative, dangerously addictive, and totally immersive. The cursed Jumanji game comes to understand its own irrelevance in the first scene of this new movie, and it changes overnight into a video game. Rather than unleashing exotic animals and weather patterns into the real world, however, this incarnation of the game sucks its players into its not-so-virtual world. That's what it did to Alan Parrish (Robin Williams) as a result of bad luck some thirty years prior, and that's what it does again as a default setting.

Once in the game, the rules are slightly different than before, and so is the format. Playing off video game conventions, the filmmakers here stress specific levels of the game -- indicated by ominous drumbeats echoing through the jungle -- as well as the unique skills and abilities of the players. Of those, we have four of central concern, kids caught up in detention. Their avatars in the game are decidedly unlike themselves, and as the film progresses they learn the values of teamwork, sacrifice, perseverance, problem solving, and owning their respective identities. It's a fun family movie that is at once more fun and more intelligent than it had any right to be.

The leads show off their pitch-perfect comedic timing, playing off each other with crackling wit. Dwayne Johnson, Kevin Hart, and Karen Gillan are all a delight, Nick Jonas pops in for some hilarious studly scenes, and even Bobby Cannavale makes a bizarre appearance as the buggy big baddie. None hold a candle, though, to Jack Black, whose character is easily the most enjoyable part of the film. He plays a teenage girl obsessed with her phone and virtual following, and his scene of learning to pee as a man is the stuff of comic genius.

It doesn't always feel like a sequel to Jumanji, at least not to those of us raised on the earlier film. But mad props to these filmmakers who did something nobody really wanted and made it absolutely entertaining. It's not a great film, to be sure, but who would expect it to be? It's fun, and sans Robin Williams, that's an admirable goal to have achieved.

One does begin to wonder, though, with that subtitle of Welcome to the Jungle, if there will be more installments of this unexpected franchise. Or if it was just an excuse to rock out to the song during the credits.

IMDb: Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle 

Star Wars: The Last Jedi (2017)

Score: 4.5 / 5

I will spoil the movie for you. You've been warned.

The first thing you need to know about The Last Jedi is that it is infinitely superior to The Force Awakens. That film was a rehashed "Best Of Star Wars" scrapbook of fan fodder, expertly executed but lacking in any substance. Well, beyond its cast of fabulously diverse newbies. It was also a mess of plot holes and unfinished storylines, and by the end of the film we still didn't know much about any of the new characters or the new mythos of a galaxy far, far away.

Rian Johnson, however, has crafted one of the better Star Wars movies with Episode VIII. It's a deeply emotional movie with real stakes, troubling moral ambiguity, and complex relationships. For a two-and-a-half hour movie, it's also incredibly tense, even when the pacing tends to lag. People get hurt. People die. A lot of people die. Hope is ever-fading. It's a strangely apocalyptic vision of science fiction not unlike Revenge of the Sith; whereas that film ended with a comparatively safe sense of nostalgia and hope, The Last Jedi is far more bleak. That's partly due to our utter ignorance as to where this franchise is going. Disney holds all the cards now. Let's just hope the Force is with them.

Speaking of the Force, let's dig right in. We pick up the saga not long after the end of The Force Awakens. The Resistance fleet is on the run, pursued through space by the First Order, which was apparently not seriously set back by the destruction of Starkiller Base. General Hux (Domhnall Gleeson) and Kylo Ren (Adam Driver) have developed the ability to track their prey through hyperspace, and most of this film concerns what is essentially a car chase with spaceships. The Resistance fleet (...of three ships?) is low on fuel and doomed unless Finn (John Boyega), BB-8, and newcomer Rose (an excellent Kelly Marie Tran) can hire a computer pirate (Benicio del Toro) to save them. It's a bizarre little side adventure through a casino populated by war profiteers, slavers, weapons manufacturers, and people who brutally race alien horses. All is for naught, however, when the pirate sells out to the highest bidder, and the Resistance is forced to hide at an old outpost. Almost all of them die, including (probably) their second-in-command Vice Admiral Holdo (Laura Dern, who really deserved more screen time), but General Leia Organa survives. Unfortunately, and ironically, that is one of the most heartbreaking things about this movie.

Thankfully, this movie provides her with much more screen time than the previous episode. I'm a bit concerned about what will happen to Leia now. She could have died at least three times in this movie alone, and I find it troubling that the filmmakers didn't account for Carrie Fisher's death. We'll have to wait and see how they fashion the next installment. Han is gone, and as of the end of this movie, so is Luke. Mark Hamill gives a riveting performance as a haunted rogue Jedi, and we get a fair amount of backstory on him and his failed Jedi revitalization project. He trains Rey (Daisy Ridley), sort of kind of, and is forced to face his own shortcomings. There's a great scene when the ghost of Yoda appears to him, still instructing him, saying that failure is the greatest teacher. But in his final moments, after expending his life force to save what's left of the Resistance, Luke disappears and his empty cloak floats off into the wind.

Which brings us to another point. I'm not sure about this sequel series playing fast and loose with the mythology. Kylo can stop a blaster's laser in midair? Leia gets blasted out into space and can survive by pulling herself back into an air lock? Yoda's ghost can cause a lightning strike? Luke can astral project?! I had some misgivings about the directions this franchise would take when Disney took over, but things are getting a bit wild. Similarly, while this film answers plenty of questions from the first and fills in some extra plot holes -- the most fabulous being that Rey's parents are nobodies; she is a strong independent woman and she don't need no fancy bloodline -- it keeps us in the dark about just as much. Who is Supreme Leader Snoke? He has a glamorous golden bathrobe, but we still don't know who or what or why he is, and now we may not. Kylo kills him in an otherwise really cool scene (he and Rey fight together against the guards and a burning backdrop). Who was Max von Sydow's character in The Force Awakens? Still don't know, probably doesn't matter. What's Phasma's story? No idea, and she (also probably) dies too. There is a new canon book about her, so hopefully that helps.

Despite my meandering thoughts, I cannot deny the sheer beauty and power of this film. It's a visionary masterpiece, pushing the Star Wars limits in ways I never expected to see. It's a tapestry of color and light, gorgeous special effects and dazzling storytelling. Its menagerie of alien species gets a little weird at times, but it all works together to create a nearly perfect escapist experience. Even moments that could be a dangerously close throwback to The Empire Strikes Back are quickly altered to be novel: The climactic battle on salt-crusted Crait isn't just snow and AT-ATs like it was on Hoth; arresting red dust billows from the ground and none of the enemy's weapons are destroyed. The infiltrating team of Finn, Rose, and DJ the pirate don't shut down the tracking device like Old Ben did on the Death Star; they get caught and almost killed.

In this way, the movie is a (successful) meditation on failure, its price and its cost as well as the lessons it teaches. It's a thematic work of genius, and I can't wait to watch it again. Sure, there are some awkward comedic moments, some earned and some not, but nothing caught me off guard so much as little moments of insight and affection between characters in intimate proximity. I wept openly through lengthy sequences, and choked up so much I could barely breathe. After saving Finn at the potential cost of her life, Rose tells him that's how we win: "Not by fighting what we hate, but by saving what we love." Take my tears and my life, why dontcha? Other than Rogue One, it is the most dense Star Wars yet, and if that's any indication of the franchise's future, I am HERE FOR IT.

PS: For those of you who are as in love with Oscar Isaac and Poe Dameron as I am -- just kidding, no one rivals my affection -- you will be pleased to know that he has some great moments in this film. He connects with all the major players in heartfelt ways, he leads a mutiny, his hair is on point. And he gets a new leather jacket.

IMDb: Star Wars: The Last Jedi

Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri (2017)

Score: 5 / 5

Martin McDonagh's newest film might also be his best, a razor-sharp black comedy that delves deep into the hearts of people in pain. While never quite as absurdly funny as Seven Psychopaths, and not as fabulously [insert descriptor here] as In Bruges, this movie is surprising in its heart, its depth, and its timeliness. And here I thought Coco would be the timeliest movie this Thanksgiving weekend.

Mildred (Frances McDormand in one of the best screen performances this year), grieving after the unsolved rape and murder of her daughter seven months prior, rents three rundown billboards near her home in rural Missouri. Infuriated with the apparent apathy of the local police force, she uses the billboards to openly criticize their incompetence and presumably spur them to action, though that is never explicit. The town quickly turns on her, largely because Chief Willoughby (Woody Harrelson) is dying of cancer, and Mildred and her son (Lucas Hedges) are harassed and threatened with arson and violence.

Mildred remains firm in her convictions, despite everyone else's hatred. Her righteous anger is not always sympathetic, however, which is where McDonagh hammers home this little morality play. While it is exciting, funny, and somewhat empowering to see a strong, unapologetic woman in her position, her sense of justice is decidedly skewed; though we might applaud, for example, when she attacks her sadistic dentist, we cannot help but cringe because we see her as a cannon starting to come loose. Mirroring this anti-hero is her foil, a racist and homophobic officer named Dixon who takes immense pleasure in "allegedly" torturing suspects. His psychotic anger breaks the surface early on, and only intensifies in his hatred of Mildred and her disrespect for authority, as he sees it. His stupid, evil anger is an exact opposite of Mildred's -- he brutalizes the young man who leased the billboards to Mildred as well as his girlfriend -- until, that is, it isn't. Dixon undergoes a radical dramatic shift that suddenly aims for vigilantism.

Three Billboards, in addition to being an idiosyncratic satire of rural law and prejudices, is also a riveting drama about the morality of anger. Of course we start sympathizing with Mildred, but as the other characters slowly show their cards, we begin to suspect we've been playing the wrong hand. Anger begets violence, bigotry begets violence, and it's all funny until the violence begets worse violence. McDonagh, in an incredibly risky move to play it safe (figure out that paradox), ultimately reveals no sense of justice. By the end, no one is humbled or gracious. No justice has been served, though it may be argued that some of the characters have reached a better understanding of each other. And there is no real resolution. There is only the suggestion that violence may come again, at the whim of whoever is angriest for the best reason. 

These themes feel like a clarion call for America's heartland at a time when such righteous anger burns in many of our hearts. The film is even titled after a textual phenomenon that so many of us hate, but so many of us re-enact via posts on social media for our own corporate brands. It's speaking to us about the absurdity we reveal in ourselves and the violence we can do with our words, about our choice to ignore other people's stories and feelings, and about the dissolution of both legality and morality in an age when vigilantism is lionized.

And it's entertaining as hell.

IMDb: Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri

The Man Who Invented Christmas (2017)

Score: 3.5 / 5

Bah, humbug?

There is no doubt that The Man Who Invented Christmas is a fabulously festive flick, nor that it is a ton of fun for the whole family. It's fast-paced, relatively straightforward, flashy and colorful, and campy as a drag queen in a Hallmark special. Director Bharat Nalluri (who made the giddily enchanting Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day) riddles the film with theatrical effects and works seamlessly with his production designers and cinematographer to craft a dazzling fantasy. Whether it's a roving spotlight or stark white back-lighting, or in those moments that the ghosts pop into presence, the film enacts liberties on our awareness of visual reality.

And that's where my consternation begins. This flamboyant flouting of reality undermines the basis of the film: that is, the supposedly real-life story of how Charles Dickens wrote A Christmas Carol and thus changed the holiday of Christmas into what we celebrate today. This film does make the case that that short book did indeed alter the holiday, and its playful way of shaping the novel's characters, dialogue, and themes in the character of Dickens's mind is convincing if contrived. But, due to the theatrical artificiality of everything on screen, I just didn't believe that any of it is based on reality. I must admit that I don't know much about Dickens or how he wrote anything -- because I'm not a fan and just don't care -- but this film is so silly and so outrageous that I certainly don't believe anything it tried to teach me. Maybe that's for the better, generally, but for a movie advertising itself as a true story, it's an arresting dilemma.

That said, I cannot deny the pure entertainment value here, nor can I say this film won't make its way into my holiday film canon. Its final effect -- if you ignore its claims to historicity -- is to playfully re-present the mythic tale of Scrooge. In many ways, we see the story of A Christmas Carol re-enacted by its own author, who is haunted by the characters he creates in the days leading up to Christmas. Here we see Scrooge's basis not only in interesting people Dickens (played by a frenetic Dan Stevens) meets and observes, but also in his own manic mind. As he develops his tale out of necessity rather than inspiration, its characters spring to life in his mind's eye, interacting with him and forcing him to confront his hidden past and reconnect with his family. None is more effective, as you might guess, than the old miser himself, played by a gleefully wicked Christopher Plummer (though I confess a little confusion here as well; Scrooge is simply bitter and doesn't take pleasure from his cruelty, but Plummer certainly plays him as if he does).

For some fabulous holiday fun, and quality PG-rated entertainment, you could do a lot worse than The Man Who Invented Christmas. And God bless us, every one!

IMDb: The Man Who Invented Christmas

Coco (2017)

Score: 5 / 5

The first thing you need to know before seeing this movie: The typical Disney "short" that plays prior to the feature is actually about 20 minutes long. Called "Olaf's Frozen Adventure", it plays like a television special about Elsa and Anna & Co. celebrating Yule festivities. While I felt it was a little long for a pre-show show, it's a heartwarming and thoroughly entertaining fantasy that features some really excellent music and laugh-out-loud comedy. And while it may be questionable to put a short about white people before a movie about Mexican culture, there is a connecting theme of traditions and family that serves each story well. And, I have to admit, I was bawling by the end of the short, and it just didn't stop.

Coco follows young Miguel as he chases his dream of music, despite his large family's hatred of it. On the Day of the Dead, Miguel is accidentally transported to the land of the dead, where he will remain until he can get his ancestors' blessing. They, however, won't bless him unless he becomes a shoemaker like the rest of the family, and so Miguel flees, searching for his great-great-(maybe more?)-grandfather, a famous musician. Along the way, he learns the pain of family secrets, the dangers of trust, and ultimately the love only a family can give.

Dazzling special effects make this film fly off the screen in a colorful kaleidoscope, while some fabulous music (scored by Michael Giacchino) keeps your toes tapping all along. But what really makes Coco work is its infectiously warm heart. Honoring the traditions of Mexican culture -- as far as I understand -- the film centers on the concept that remembering family ancestors is what keeps their essence alive. Understanding where we come from is key to understanding where we're going, though it can come with the danger, as Miguel quickly learns, of being false history and of limiting our perspective on different lifestyles. And far from being morbid or overly macabre, the film displays an amazingly tasteful way to engage with children about the processes of death and aging, one that remains endlessly entertaining as well as thoughtful and sensitive.

Richly detailed filmmaking here does not distract from pure storytelling -- complex and dynamic characterizations and plotting -- but it does help the film worm its way to your heart. I can't spoil the ending, but I related a little too much to the dynamics of a family whose matriarch's memory is all but lost. There are so many things we don't know about our own families, our histories, and it is so easy to think it doesn't matter. But it can, and -- as Coco suggests -- probably should matter. And if the holidays aren't the best times to reconnect with family, I don't know when is. Oh, and in case you were wondering, there is a certain theme of rebellion that resonates powerfully in our current political climate. Shots fired, Disney. Bravo.

IMDb: Coco

Roman J. Israel, Esq. (2017)

Score: 3 / 5

Roman J. Israel, Esq. should have just been titled Denzel, because a) nobody can remember its actual title and b) he's the best part of it.

Roman Israel J., Esq. is a character drama of the highest caliber. Delving deep into the consciousness and conscience of an impossibly complex character, the film revolves around its titular protagonist (Denzel Washington, in a mesmerizing performance) as he works to save his job. He's the behind-the-curtain brains of a two-person law firm until his partner (and former professor) has a heart attack. Taking over, Roman finds that his firm is broke and that it had engaged in some morally bankrupt deals. His idealism wounded, he begins to work for George Pierce (an impeccably dressed Colin Farrell) and he uses his knowledge on a case to collect reward money for identifying a killer. With his newfound wealth, he attempts to live the life he has long denied himself: he goes on dates with a beautiful woman with similar passions for justice (Carmen Ejogo), he leases a fancy apartment, he buys stylish suits.

J. Roman Israel then becomes a clear-cut morality play, and by the time a heavy-handed touch of fate sends consequences his way, Roman's time begins to run out. Until this third act gets a little too contrived, the movie is as excellent a character drama as you are likely to find. Of course, it's also a twisty legal drama that never quite allows its elements to coalesce, much less take flight. And by the time this weird and thrilling climax happens, we're left wondering why there was so much ado about so little. This ending is the kind I'd expect from a real-life story, one that allows its denouement (as the movie does) to succeed where its tragic hero failed, to show that his life was not in vain and that justice prevails. I half expected to see text about the real life Roman and the impact his work had on the justice system. But, of course, this whole damn thing was fictional.

Maybe Esq. Israel Q. Roman would have worked better for me if it were all a thriller, instead of just the climax. Maybe it should have been a pure character study and cut out some extraneous scenes and characters. The movie soars when Washington and Farrell square off: Pierce is exactly the sort of rich bitch Israel hates in the business, and as they butt heads they also rub off on each other. Ejogo, though playing the part as well as she can, can't overcome a screenplay that does her character no favors. Early in the film she was pragmatic and strong, but her speech to Israel during their date is almost absurdly uncharacteristic, wallowing in compassion and sentiment. Similarly, there is little to no sense in Israel's gamble to finger a crook and collect the reward money, and there is nothing as astonishingly stupid as Pierce tailing the hitman out to shoot Israel. Why do these characters suddenly do ridiculous things? You might say money, you might say friendship. I say, poor writing.

For me, Roman Esq. Jr. missed its mark. But it might work for you. There's certainly nothing wrong with seeing Denzel showing his acting chops or Colin showing his beauty for a couple hours. If you want a razor-sharp character study that thrills and chills and rips apart institutions, do yourself a favor and go watch Nightcrawler. That was some fine Dan Gilroy work.

IMDb: Roman J. Israel, Esq.

Lady Bird (2017)

Score: 5 / 5

By now, you've probably heard that Lady Bird is one of the best movies of the year. And while I wouldn't say it's one of my favorites, I can't deny that I was totally enthralled from the first shot. It's an unspeakably quiet film, devoted to its pure and honest look into the life of its quirky and fun protagonist.

It's a fairly average coming-of-age story, though the remarkable thing here is that it focuses on a young woman. Taking place in 2002 California -- evoking a dirty sort of Bush-era nostalgia, the kind that we don't want to go back to now that we see where it has led us -- the film follows young "Lady Bird" Christine (Saoirse Ronan) as she navigates adolescence, school, family drama, work, and sex. I won't recount the plot because it is mostly immaterial and familiar.

What is not familiar, however, is the arresting approach of the filmmakers. Greta Gerwig's directorial debut is like a breath of fresh air in an age of sexual misconduct and gender and identity issues, violent politics and jaded cynicism. Her story and her film grow naturally, gracefully sidestepping gimmicks or conventions. There isn't a minute we don't believe these eccentric, broken, loving people or their ambitions and fears. An amazing cast -- including Lucas Hedges, Timothee Chalamet, Tracy Letts, and Lois Smith -- fit seamlessly into a film that is really only about its lead woman. Well, and her mother, played to masterful perfection by Laurie Metcalf, and if she doesn't make you cry you're doing it wrong.

Lady Bird is easily the funniest movie I've seen all year, standing apart from run-of-the-mill comedies by virtue of its heart of gold. Its quiet feminism is enchanting, its novelty inspired, and its power indisputable. She'll change you, if you let her.

IMDb: Lady Bird

Goodbye Christopher Robin (2017)

Score: 1.5 / 5

Goodbye Christopher Robin concerns the true story of Winnie the Pooh creator A.A. Milne and his family and is told in three parts. In the first, Milne (Domhnall Gleeson), traumatized by his experiences in World War I, moves his wife Daphne (Margot Robbie) and son out of London into a gorgeous country house where he hopes to continue writing in peace. Their nanny (Kelly Macdonald) joins them and has primary -- indeed, almost exclusive -- contact with you Christopher Robin Milne. In the second, Milne begins to bond with his son by creating the world of Winnie the Pooh. His writing about this childhood fantasy catapults their family to fame, though the boy can hardly bear it. In the third, Christopher Robin grows up and goes off to World War II, but not before condemning his parents for appropriating his childhood.

I wanted to like this movie. The trailers were so sweet and emotional I teared up every time it played. I hoped for a nostalgia-inducing fantasy and a compelling family drama. I admit, I knew nothing about the source material except that it came as a balm after the "war to end all wars." I should have done some research.

This movie is as bleak a family drama and coming-of-age tragedy as they come. Milne and his wife are unspeakably wicked parents. Self-absorbed and disgustingly selfish, they utterly neglect their only child and abuse his nanny. Milne staggers around like a Frankenstein creature, shouting and shaking every time a balloon pops, and wastes time scouring the woods when he should be writing to support his family. Daphne doesn't do much of anything apparently, except hang laundry out to dry and sit around speaking daggers at anyone who approaches. Once, fed up with Milne's inability to write, and instead of helping his trauma or fostering any creativity in him, she abandons the family to go party for weeks in London.

Of course young Christopher Robin grows up attached to his nanny, but his behavior is hardly any better. Are we supposed to excuse him because he's a child? Perhaps, but that doesn't make it any easier to watch such a spoiled, willful child whining his way through a nearly two-hour movie. His greatest crime, though, is when he spies his nanny -- on her night off work, mind -- going out on a date with a gentleman caller. He immediately tells his parents that she's getting married (implying perhaps immoral sexual relations, dereliction of duty, and attempting to leave her position), and so they confront Olive in a heartbreaking scene of absolute cruelty. Olive, easily the only sympathetic character in the entire movie, finally quits, and the next morning the boy runs around calling for her as if he forgot the whole episode was his own damn fault. He's old enough to know far better.

Am I being too harsh? I think not. While the story may in fact be true to real life -- I don't know, and frankly now I don't care -- that does not excuse the filmmaker's portrayal of events. Given this icky domesticity, they persist in making the film look like an idyllic family fantasy deep in a hundred-acre wood. Look at the movie poster I've attached down below. That slightly foggy, sun-drenched look with light, amberish tones is the entire film's aesthetic. They drag out scenes of people crying and skate over the scenes of abuse and neglect. The problem, most simply, is this: The director, editor, composer, and cinematographer want to do one kind of movie, while the screenplay is clearly a different kind. The former set want a touchy-feely sentimental fantasy, while the latter is patently a heavy domestic drama about the failure of one's coming-of-age. In this irreconcilable conflict of artistic visions, the film languors and dies much like the nostalgia it hoped to evoke.

IMDb: Goodbye Christopher Robin

Novitiate (2017)

Score: 4.5 / 5

I kept telling people at work last night to go see this movie, and not a single person had even heard of it. Then again, if movies like this had big enough budgets to advertise themselves all over, they might not feel as authentic or important when we see them in a small, empty theater.

Novitiate follows the life of young Cathleen (Margaret Qualley) as she falls in love with God and, much to the horror of her mother (Julianne Nicholson), enters a convent to become a nun. The film then broadens to include the stories of the other nuns and novices cloistered in the church. As the year is 1964, of primary concern here are the new directives from the Vatican II, ordering the church to relax its strict disciplinary atmosphere and to be more tolerant and forgiving. This does not sit well with the all-powerful Mother Superior (Melissa Leo), nor with many of the other nuns, and the seams of convent life begin to stretch.

I don't want to give too much away, but the film follows in the grand (if often soft-spoken) tradition of quality religious dramas that look behind the veil, so to speak, at lives devoted to serving God and the church. Half the film feels like a documentary, simply engaging the audience with daily routines of the nuns -- their habits, if you will. We get intimate perspective on not only their belief system but their opinions about their belief system (including the repeated idea that they are literally married to God), and access to the inner sanctum of a woman who claims her own voice to be God's.

I'd compare this film to two others in content and message. Doubt (2008), one of my all-time favorites, similarly concerns life behind the walls of a convent and ends with a faith-shattering climax of moral ambiguity and, well, doubt. Whereas that film, though, is intensely plot-driven with the mystery of a priest's possibly inappropriate attention to underage children, Novitiate is more character-driven, portraying the various responses the nuns have to changing norms, questioned faith, and burgeoning sexuality. The other film, oddly enough, is Goat (2016), a fascinating and horrifying look into the lives of fraternity hazing. While Novitiate features almost no men, the content is surprisingly similar, if less violent. The nuns are expected to radically change their lifestyle for God, and so it is no big deal when one starves herself sick or when they "discipline" themselves by night with a medieval-looking whip. Gripping moments also feature the novices being made to crawl on the pavement praying for mercy, or kneeling in a circle while confessing their "faults" and enduring accusations and criticism from the others. The process of humiliation and degradation is presented calmly enough, which makes it all the more disturbing.

That said, the film is also remarkably feminist in its concern with the agency and integrity of these women. Some nuns leave the convent (such as Dianna Agron, who departs in a cold fury after being denied information about Vatican II), while some novices are cast out for failing the rigorous demands of the Mother Superior. But all are given due screen time and at least one major scene that reveals their opinions and, more importantly, their choices. They all desperately want this life, for one reason or another, and as we follow their chosen love affair with God and the church (and, sometimes, each other) we see the consequences of that choice. We see the pitfalls and hardships of their chaste servitude, and we see sometimes the rewards.

Novitiate is a marvel precisely because, though it does not shy away from difficult storytelling or honesty, it stops just short of preaching. It's not a rallying cry against the Catholic church like Philomena or Priest, but it shows a sympathetic view of church life at a terribly difficult time in its recent history. Post-script tells us that some 90,000 nuns left the church in the mid-'60s, and when we see the Mother Superior lying on the sanctuary steps yelling at God for abandoning her, we can certainly see why.

P.S. Melissa Leo as Mother Superior is terrifying and fabulous. Margaret Qualley as Cathleen is a revelation.

IMDb: Novitiate

Wonder (2017)

Score: 3.5 / 5

Ordinarily I don't go in for this sort of thing. Sickly sentimental flicks that usually show up between February and April with an A-lister or two to deliver some kind of sermon about love and family and friendship. Kids and pets are usually interchangeable, adults do mean adult things, and the star comes of age by learning to be his best self or be true to herself or using an odd quirk to save someone and be a hero. Sometimes they're sweet, sometimes they're trash, and I usually avoid them.

I'm not even sure Wonder is any different. But I loved every moment.

There's something to be said for a film that knows what it's doing (because everyone knows what it's doing) and still pumps it out with artistic integrity. This isn't just another dramedy. This one has intense conviction. It's not just yanking your heartstrings to make you cry; it's literally begging you to be human. In our age of social media, clickbait headlines, and obsessive labelling, this movie holds fast to its convictions that we're better than that. This movie doesn't just steer our emotional logic. It tells us exactly what we should feel every step of the way. It's manipulative and calculated and dangerously specific.

But it also takes time and effort to remind us why we should feel that way, a gamble that pays off riches in the end. Its sincerity in portraying realistic and idealistic love between parents, siblings, children, and friends is astounding. I cried my way through the movie because it's a portrait of absolute kindness and love. It's not even all about Auggie (an unrecognizable Jacob Tremblay), the lead who was born with serious facial deformities and is now scarred from 27 surgeries. It's also about his sister, who feels neglected by her mother and best friend but finds attraction in a young man from drama club. It's about his mother, who put her life on hold to care for her children. It's about a young man, balancing between popularity at school and genuine friendship. It's about an old friend, changing as she comes of age and navigating a difficult family life of her own. It's about young people banding together as oddballs to make community.

And, ultimately, it's an ensemble drama about how all these lives correspond and overlap. Whereas other big ensemble pieces find pleasure in the connections and no more, Wonder goes above and beyond. This movie shows how these interrelated lives not only connect but strengthen each other, build each other up, and empower us all to be our best selves. If every movie in this nebulous genre had this level of emotional intelligence and honesty paired with social conviction and sentimental sincerity, I might be able to fault this film for other flaws. But here we are, and I will simply sing its praises. If ever I enjoyed being emotionally manipulated, it was during Wonder.

IMDb: Wonder

The Zookeeper's Wife (2017)

Score: 3.5 / 5

Jan and Antonina Zabinski (Johan Heldenbergh and Jessica Chastain) run the popular Warsaw Zoo in 1939. Their idyll is shattered when the Nazis invade Poland, and their zoo is not spared the bombings. As Polish resistance fails and winter sets in, and many animals in the zoo dead from bombs or Nazi gunfire, the zoo becomes a pig farm for a Nazi zoologist, Lutz Heck (Daniel Bruhl). Under this cover, the Zabinskis begin to shepherd Jews from the ghetto to their zoo, and from there to whatever sanctuaries they are able to find. After five years of Nazi terror and violence, the approach of the Soviets causes Nazis to retreat and Warsaw is liberated. Though badly damaged, the zoo is eventually repaired and reopened. A postscript tells us that the Zabinskis saved some 300 people through their zoo.

It's not an original story. In fact, at times it feels more like a Hallmark special than a theatrical feature. The movie progresses with a sentimental eye for quiet moments of gentle affection, blurring the edges of shots and suffusing scenery with warm light reminiscent of Touched by an Angel. In terms of the plot, it's a little problematic that the Jews and the animals are viewed in much the same way, not just in where they are physically, but in the Zabinskis' (and our) emotional attachment to them. Many are nameless, though a few become familiar; that statement applies to both parties.

Contrasted with the likes of, say, Schindler's List -- which is, I think, what we automatically think of -- The Zookeeper's Wife falls woefully short of the genre. But its faults are mostly similar to those of the novel on which it is based, and as an adaptation of that work it is magnificent. It heightens the sexual tension between Antonina and the rival zoologist, a tension that, if it existed at all, was very subtle in the novel. It brings the beauty and warmth of zoo life to vivid reality, and plays your heartstrings with reckless abandon during the Nazi advance. Other moments work especially well too, such as Jan rescuing Jewish children under watchful Nazi guards' eyes and the burning of the ghetto during Passover. Those images will haunt as much as Spielberg's little girl in the red coat.

I'm not sure, though, that the film asks for this comparison. It's not titled The Warsaw Zoo, which we might expect to giver broader scope and greater detail to the horrors Nazis inflicted on Polish Jews and the ways the zoo saved people. The film is about a woman afraid for the lives of her family, her home, and her beloved animals. In fact, she doesn't even particularly want to help the Jews at first; when her husband rescues one, however, she proves indispensable, and her caring and gentle demeanor provides as much shelter for the hideaways as her home.

I'd go so far as to say this film is both timely and important in significant ways. It's one of the first films I know about World War II to give this much attention and agency to a female character, and Chastain's understated performance is a perfect parallel to the film's quiet strength and laserlike insight into the human heart. The film celebrates emotions and concepts almost never seen in movies about this era: sacrifice, patience, kindness, charity, empathy, integrity, and hope. It pairs these intangibles with children, animals, and women in revolutionary (if predictably sentimental) ways. Most of all, the film is a small, still prayer for peace, kindness, and gentleness in an age of wall-building and deportations, neo-Nazis taking to the streets, and, yes, efforts to roll back restrictions on the hunting of African elephants. As the face of America has changed drastically over the course of this year, The Zookeeper's Wife looks more and more prescient. We would do well to remember.

IMDb: The Zookeeper's Wife

Justice League (2017)

Score: 3 / 5

I've said it before, but I feel a bit of a disconnect with these DC movies because I'm not a hardcore DC fan. So I have no scruples about specific characterizations or honoring classic comics. As movies, I have found Man of Steel, Batman v. Superman (the extended cut, because it's much improved), Suicide Squad, and Wonder Woman to be fabulously entertaining, if sometimes darker and heavier than I'd prefer (though Wonder Woman might be one of my favorite movies this year, period). I don't know that they're really "good" movies, but that's mostly subjective anyway. Zack Snyder has his issues as a filmmaker, and here we see him trying again; what I'm not sure about is the extent to which Joss Whedon remade parts of this film. You can certainly see his touch (by which I mean his ham-handed machinations).

And, as in other cases, I found Justice League to be fabulously entertaining. Batman and Wonder Woman (Ben Affleck and Gal Gadot) are trying to gather strength in the wake of Superman's (Henry Cavill) death. A new threat appears in Steppenwolf, leading an army of bug-men from portals that open above mystical power boxes. These "Mother Boxes", once combined, will apparently destroy Earth, something Steppenwolf has had experience doing, and he ruthlessly attacks Atlantis and Themyscira to collect the boxes hidden there. While he hunts for the third, the team slowly assembles, including self-loathing Cyborg (Ray Fisher), self-doubting Flash (Ezra Miller, as the film's comic relief), and hunky Aquaman (Jason Momoa). Even with their combined strength, they are determined to get more help, so they revive Superman (he's back, thank heaven) to aid them.

What's most interesting to me with this movie is that, at least to my mind, it tried really hard to make things feel like a comic book. A lot of the visuals have intensified colors, dynamic angles, and sometimes laughably poor special effects -- poor, that is, from a realistic perspective. But when you have Atlanteans and Amazons and aliens and cyborgs and metahumans battling oversized bug-people, how realistic can the effects be, really? Some moments unfortunately look like they were lifted directly from Snyder's other films, especially 300, for better or worse. I don't find any of that off-putting.

What I do find off-putting here is the screenplay. The first half of the film is laboriously episodic, almost as if the filmmakers are establishing exactly where commercial breaks will go when this starts airing on television. We lurch from character to character with little sequential logic, learning vague bits of their backstories and getting some grim foreshadowing before we jump to someone else somewhere else. I'm not sure exactly how the filmmakers could have done it better, what with 3 new protagonists to familiarize and get us to root for, plus all their respective secondary characters. And I'm not saying it's bad, just distracting.

Similarly, it feels at times like the writers were battling for control over the film. We have incredibly tense, dramatic moments with the Amazons or with the revived Superman and Lois, but then we have some really funny punchlines the likes of which we haven't seen in this franchise. It's as if the producers and writers decided to take people's complaints about Batman v Superman and try to do the exact opposite with this movie. We have comedy, we have a super simple plotline, we have only one villain, we have much more action and less moody-broody-ness. This is a prime example of how audience reaction can dictate franchise content; I will refrain from monologuing about artistic integrity. What I will mention is that, while the humor ends up a bit predictable and sometimes groan-inducing, there are some gems here. In one scene, Aquaman begins to emotionally discuss his feelings about the team before realizing he's sitting on Wonder Woman's truth-telling rope. In another, the Flash saves a Russian family and, trying to say "goodbye" to them, says "Dostoyevsky!"

Other than those issues -- which are more about preference than anything -- I fully enjoyed Justice League. Well, those, and the fact that the villain was pretty awful. Though voiced by the lovely Ciaran Hinds, Steppenwolf is a totally CGI character, and frankly, it's not great CGI. It's like Polar Express-level animation, which just doesn't fit. Add to that the character's single-minded ambitions and rhino-like fighting style, and you've got a flat megalomaniac who is apparently powerless without his killing axe. I was so much more invested in the almost-fight between the revived Superman and the rest of the Justice League than in any scene with Steppenwolf.

Be sure to stick around during and after the credits, folks. The mid-credits scene is very funny, and the post-credits scene made me angry, but you already know I don't like Jesse Eisenberg.

IMDb: Justice League

1922 (2017)

Score: 4 / 5

Netflix's second Stephen King adaptation this year isn't as beautiful or brutal as Gerald's Game, but certainly matches its haunting quality.

1922, adapted from the novella in Full Dark, No Stars, follows Nebraska farmer Wilfred James (Thomas Jane, giving an awesome performance as what could easily be a flat caricature) as he navigates pride and hard work. Desperate to keep his land, threatened by his city-loving wife (Molly Parker) wanting to sell, "Wilf" gains the trust of his son Henry, and together they murder her. After slitting her throat, they dump her down the well; to excuse their filling it in, they also drop a cow down there, but not before Wilf sees rats feasting on his wife's corpse. It's all a bit icky, but it fits the backwoods-aesthetic well, not to mention Jane's morbidly fascinating deep-voiced drawl as he narrates the proceedings.

Henry, meanwhile, has impregnated a neighbor girl, whose angry parents (including Neal McDonough of Arrow infamy) send her away to be cared for. Henry, haunted by what he's done, leaves Wilf and helps his girlfriend escape before the two become robbers and she is fatally shot. With her death and the baby's, Henry kills himself. It's now the dead of winter, and Wilf's house is infested with rats. One bites his hand, which becomes infected and has to be amputated. Doors open and floorboards creak, and in full Fall of the House of Usher style, his dead wife returns to tell him the tale of his son, whispers he calls the knowledge of the dead. It's all nasty and still pretty icky, but mighty effective: A cascade of rats come down the stairs with her, and as they crawl around Wilf's helpless body, your skin will crawl too. (Oh, and fun fact for you King fans, the setting here is Hemingford Home, from The Stand!)

When Wilf finally sells the house, it is for mere scraps, as his neighbor wants nothing to do with Wilf or his (now dead) family. He moves to the city, drinks away what money he has, and tries to follow Henry's footsteps. Rats follow him, however, and eventually, haunted by the ghosts of his dead family, he writes the account of his tragic failures before the rats chew through the walls of his room and, presumably, kill him. This differs slightly from the novella, which I recall ending with the notion that Wilf's body was found with bite marks that may have been self-inflicted. That twist is not quite present here, though his sanity in the last scene is certainly questionable already. I liked the idea, though, that these rats ate his confession as well, something left unresolved here.

As it is, 1922 is a properly chilling haunted (farm)house flick, one that brings into sharp focus issues of financial strain, urbanized crime and isolation, and family dissolution. It's a tragedy of the highest order, a sort of Macbeth-in-the-cornfield in which one man's pride is his downfall. The film thus becomes a slow-burner of the most maddening variety, one that never terrifies you but gnaws at your skin like so many rats, causing you to suffer while you watch Wilf's punishments continue.

IMDb: 1922

Murder on the Orient Express (2017)

Score: 3 / 5

Everyone may be a suspect, but guilt may lie with the filmmakers here.

As if another Murder on the Orient Express was necessary or even really wanted, Kenneth Branagh helms this stylish whodunit with panache if not passion. He and his team do some fun and interesting things with the familiar tale, but its overall effect is cheapened by stuffy sentimentality, repeated attempts at superfluous spectacle, and a surprisingly unfocused screenplay by Michael Green (whose amazing breakout year has included American Gods, Logan, Alien: Covenant, and Blade Runner 2049).

It all starts with a strange opening scene at the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem, one that introduces not only Branagh's own Poirot (who I had more than a little trouble believing, but that's just my own taste) but the film's forced efforts at leaping into the twenty-first century. It's a bizarre little plea for interfaith harmony disguised as an introduction to Poirot, as he wryly solves a silly but consequential little mystery for a rabbi, a priest, and an imam. Unfortunately, the modern social commentary doesn't stop there. While the presences of Penelope Cruz, Leslie Odom, Jr., and Manuel Garcia Rulfo are a lovely addition, they do change the texture of the story in dramatic and unnecessary ways. If we're going to change the source material, can we please have a better reason than publicity?

Regardless, it doesn't take too long and our hero has boarded the titular train on his fateful journey. A particularly dour Johnny Depp plays Ratchett, a businessman afraid for his life, who unsuccessfully bullies Poirot into protecting him. Poirot is a man of apparently unshakable morals, it seems, and as he says early in the film, there is right and there is wrong. His opinion of Mr. Ratchett doesn't change for the better when the latter is found murdered in his bed. The thirteen passengers of that coach are all suspects, and as Poirot interrogates them and collects evidence, lies and trickery pile up into one of Agatha Christie's most beloved works. It's certainly one of my favorites, with a killer ending that, in my opinion, is one of the most satisfying and disturbing in all mystery literature.

Unfortunately, this film doesn't measure up to previous incarnations by a long shot. Sidney Lumet's 1974 version, though it too changed a few character names, is one of my favorite movies of all time. This film, like that, features no small amount of grandeur and style, in extravagant costumes and sets as well as in really dynamic camerawork by Haris Zambarloukos (Eye in the Sky, Sleuth, Mamma Mia!, Thor, Locke). His long tracking shots and attention to fabulous lighting are worthy of admiration. And while a feast for the eyes should be enough for a twisty mystery like this, Branagh and Green seem to think they need to add an irritating amount of spectacle. Swooping vistas of eastern Europe are grand in the 65mm film, but the extreme close-ups on actors' faces are a shallow attempt at intimacy and claustrophobia. Similarly, a few other camera gimmicks didn't work as well as Branagh may have hoped, such as the crime scene investigation, which all takes place overhead; cool, I suppose, but we are unable to see any faces or their emotion. Ratchett brandishes a gun at Poirot; one woman gets stabbed in the shoulder; a strangely Romantic lightning strike that causes an avalanche doesn't just stop the Orient Express from proceeding, but literally knocks it off its tracks. The film avoids any possible claustrophobia (a poor decision, I say) by having Poirot interrogate the suspects in various places around the train at various times, including one "picnic" as he calls it outside in the snow, as if he would do such a thing, much less expect it of a strong-willed British lady.

Irritated yet? Just wait. The film includes two ludicrous action scenes, which I would have laughed aloud during had I not been so anxious about what would happen. In one, a man attempts to burn incriminating evidence; he does so by inexplicably going outside the train, into the scaffolding under the bridge, and almost dying in the process. Why couldn't he have simply tossed the documents out a window? They're on a bridge in a snowy mountain range! Or burned it in the train, and scattered the ashes? It's just a cheap ploy by the filmmakers, who seem to think a good mystery has to have action sequences. In the other scene, another man shoots Poirot in the arm as he claims responsibility for the crime and the scene proceeds to turn into a fight between Poirot and the man. I could have accepted the scene, except of course that it is absurd and ends with no transition to the climax. Poirot wouldn't be caught dead fighting like a street thug, and more importantly, he'd never have to.

Speaking of characters, for the most part the cast is solid. The script does not allow for much characterization of anyone but Poirot, a sad fact for those of us who like character-based mysteries. Each interrogation of the suspects is interrupted either by (you guessed it!) spectacle or bewildering editing, which results in our inability to fully understand the criminal timeline and evidence amassed -- even those of us who know the story intimately. There are a few gems in the cast, mostly the A-listers who get the lion's share of screen time, including Michelle Pfeiffer, Johnny Depp, Josh Gad, and Daisy Ridley. Most of the rest of the cast gets severely limited exposure, especially Derek Jacobi, Lucy Boynton, and Olivia Colman. Judi Dench does her brief thing of scowling imperiously over everyone else, and Penelope Cruz turns the role that won Ingrid Bergman another Oscar into a bitter, shallow wretch of a Spanish missionary (wait, I thought this was supposed to be more culturally sensitive?). Whereas Christie and Lumet made their insular, claustrophobic stories to examine issues of human rationalization and projection, deception and delusion, and awful guilt, Branagh here mostly attempts spectacle and pleasure for a modern audience in focusing on celebrities in a more or less period film.

Apart from the film's reliance on spectacle, its greatest failing lies in its dripping sentiment. Nary a shot isn't Romantic or romantic, and while I like some eye candy like Branagh strutting along the roof of the snow-covered train for literally no reason, it doesn't mesh well with what is one of Christie's most disturbing and enchanting mysteries. We don't need to see Poirot fawning over a photo of his lover and repeating her name ad nauseam to have sympathy for his character. We don't need to see, at the climax, the suspects arranged in the mouth of a tunnel like the Last Supper to understand what's happening (and as if Princess Dragomiroff would deign to march through snow drifts!). And then there's the one-line groaners like Poirot's "There is right, there is wrong, and now there is you." There's a suspect's almost gleeful inability to maintain a lie during questioning, as he changes accents and behaviors on a whim without even attempting to look desperate, embarrassed, or ashamed. There's the revealed mastermind's "You are a clever man" before sobbing hysterically. And, worst of all, there's the flashback scene that depicts the murder in black-and-white; over the drama (which Lumet filmed as a straight-up horror scene to awesome effect) is played a romantic piano ballad that sounds like something from Twilight. It's not creepy, it's not warm and symphonic, it's not even a grandiose "AHA! It is solved!" Instead it's a sickly love song that makes no sense overlaying a gruesome murder and served only to irreparably rip me from the moment.

What else is there to say? It's an entertaining film -- until that climax -- and handsomely shot. I was disappointed more often than not, but if that's what it takes to keep Christie alive in the public eye, maybe it will be worth it. The ending suggests pretty overtly that the door to a sequel is wide open, but I certainly hope if Death on the Nile is green-lit, the filmmakers do it some justice. And, honey, do something about that mustache.

IMDb: Murder on the Orient Express

Gerald's Game (2017)

Score: 5 / 5

I may have misspoken. IT was a fabulously fun and terrifying flick, but it's not the best Stephen King adaptation this year. That label belongs firmly on Gerald's Game, available on Netflix. Mike Flanagan's newest film is yet another jewel in his severely underrated crown. It joins his masterpieces Oculus and Hush as some of the most emotionally intelligent, psychologically thrilling horror movies ever made.

If you still haven't read King's novel or seen the film, proceed with caution. Spoilers abound. Part of the thrill of this game was, for me, having no idea what might happen next.

To save their sexless -- even touchless -- marriage, Jessie and Gerald escape to an isolated lake house in Alabama. A successful lawyer, Gerald harbors expensive tastes and an assertive personality, while Jessie seems mostly along for the ride. She stops her husband from hitting a stray dog in the road, then cooks insanely expensive meat to feed the beast. When Gerald pops some Viagra and pulls out some handcuffs for a sex game, she seems a little unnerved but willing to entertain his desires. Unfortunately for her, he quickly becomes aggressive, even beginning to enact a rape fantasy, and she tries to stop him. Either due to her kicking him off, the emotional stress of the situation, or the extra pills in his bloodstream, Gerald has a heart attack, falls off the bed, hits his head, and dies.

This is only the first twenty minutes or so.

What follows for over an hour is intense psychodrama into Jessie's mind. Her attempts to free herself are unfruitful, and as dehydration sets in, she begins to hallucinate. Gerald taunts her and they discuss their failed marriage; a vision of herself appears and reminds her of a glass of water on the shelf above. The visions seem as real as the dog, who enters the room and begins to feed on Gerald's bloody corpse, and a haunting specter who appears at night with a box of bones and trinkets. She refers to the deformed man as "made of moonlight," and Gerald suggests that he is Death incarnate. Jessie begins remembering the past; as a girl, her family vacationed at a lake house where she was sexually abused by her manipulative father. For the rest of the film, flashbacks and hallucinations and reality meld into a nightmarish descent into her mind.

Carla Gugino gives what might be a career-best performance in a very difficult role, riveting our eyes to the screen and allowing each new horror to take her for a ride. Close-ups on her face provide her with ample opportunities to mine each moment for all their dramatic worth, and her multi-layered efforts are never taken for granted by the camera. Bruce Greenwood is almost as absorbing as a man navigating the waters of power and influence in a marriage. His is a thankless part, but one that allows for range and depth; at times he is vindictive and dangerous, at others sweet and eager to help.

Mike Flanagan's direction here makes what could easily be a boring or stuffy story a sort of Icy-Hot exercise. Alternating between heated, close-up action shots and distant, chilly horror shots, the film proceeds with calculated, deliberate pace, forcing us to invest our attention and feelings. He makes the film a sort of chamber piece, and more than once I wondered if he was making a case that this could (and should) be done on stage. Almost the whole film takes place in the bedroom of the lake house, and even those that don't seem informed by the bedroom set. Memories of a solar eclipse might well have taken place just beyond the outer wall; memories of dinner, cut hands, and daddy issues bleed into the waking reality of Jessie's situation. Especially in the second half, impressionistic lighting challenge our understanding of atmosphere and perception, as the vibrant red of fading sunlight warp shadows and inform the film's editing (well done, editor!).

Oh, and in case you were wondering, the specter of Death was actually real, a grave robber/necrophile/serial killer/cannibal who spared Jessie because he prefers male victims. The finale -- through no fault of the film, mind, but the source material -- is a bit weird, I'll admit, and I'm still not sure how I feel about it. It's horrific, to be sure, but there's a certain level of gimmicky coincidence that bothers me. Thankfully, it is tempered by Jessie's character arc, which triumphs over diseased, fatalistic modern masculinity and allows her to walk, at last, out from the bloody eclipse and into clear yellow sunlight.

IMDb: Gerald's Game

The Void (2016)

Score: 4 / 5

What do you get when you cross John Carpenter, Stephen King, and HP Lovecraft? Well there are a lot of answers, but one might be The Void. It's a tight little horror movie that, apart from some bewildering editing, keeps taut pace with its visceral scares. Fabulously unpredictable and thick with atmosphere, the film's low budget is no hindrance to its efficacy, thanks to directors Steven Kostanski and Jeremy Gillespie.

A cop finds a man crawling along a forested road and takes him to the nearest hospital, a small rural building manned by a skeleton crew. The hospital had recently suffered a fire, and the staff on duty are preparing to move; they are not as well prepared for a patient. The doctor, nurse, and intern already have one sleeping (or comatose?) patient, as well as a very pregnant Maggie with her grandfather. After the cop and his new patient arrive, all hell breaks loose. The nurse removes the skin on her own face before murdering the unconscious patient. Two strangers brandishing guns show up intent. A tentacled monster attacks the group. The cop has a seizure and envisions an alien landscape and enormous black pyramid. Cult members -- robed with bizarre KKK-inspired hazmat suits -- gather outside brandishing knives, though they seem more intent on keeping the hospital on lockdown than on invading. And that's just the beginning.

"Lovecraftian horror" gets thrown around a lot without much consideration for what it means. In the case of The Void, it's an apt descriptor of the horror at work, so let's talk about it. The film's immediate descent into senseless horror (the first scene features two young people fleeing a farmhouse before its inhabitants shoot the young woman in the back and set her on fire while she's still alive) effectively breaks any moral sense we bring to the movie. The characters are thinly drawn and thinly acted, suggesting that they don't matter; this is supported by (SPOILER ALERT) the fact that almost all of them die. In fact, only two survive, and they didn't seem to deserve it (I don't mean to sound harsh, but it is a horror movie, and I expected at least some conventional logic). The monsters -- oh, right, there are lots of re-animated corpses that play host to monsters with tentacles -- are slimy and fluid, with too many limbs and tendrils; these beasts are obviously not of terrestrial origin. (That said, the monsters are fabulously realized with hardcore old-school practical effects, and rubber aliens haven't looked so good since John Carpenter's The Thing!)

These elements are essentially Lovecraftian. The thin veil of reality is shredded by The Void as the impossible horrors of the unknown are made visible. Senseless terror and violence make the movie memorable, especially when we learn their cause. The doctor, bereaved by the death of his daughter, has been experimenting against God and nature and opened a portal to an "abyss", a triangular hole to another world or dimension. He attempts to re-create his daughter, to defeat death, to -- well, who knows what all? I'm not even sure he himself knows. In a lengthy, nightmarish monologue, he says, "You'd be surprised at the things you find, when you go looking," seemingly enchanted by the arcane knowledge he's absorbed. And, of course, though the climax does bring an end of sorts to the horror at the hospital, it by no means wraps things up cosmically. At least two characters remain stuck in the void, staring up at the shadowy alien pyramid. One of the two surviving characters in the hospital cries, "Is it over? Is it over?" We know it will never truly be over.

IMDb: The Void

Thor: Ragnarok (2017)

Score: 5 / 5

Easily the best of the Thor movies and perhaps the funniest installment in the MCU yet, Thor: Ragnarok is the opposite of the end of the world. Its visual attention to comic book style, bright and lurid colors, and absurd imagery provide a feast to view. More importantly, the film boasts fresh humor -- thanks be, no doubt, to director Taika Waititi -- that reveals character and propels the story while making for a bizarre, buddy-comedy that also happens to be about superheroes.

While searching for Infinity Stones to no avail (a quest he embarked upon after Age of Ultron), Thor has run afoul of a fire demon who prophesies the apocalypse, Ragnarok, and reveals that Odin (Anthony Hopkins) is missing. Upon vanquishing his foe and returning to Asgard, Thor confronts Loki (who had been posing as Odin since The Dark World while the Nine Realms fell into disarray) and the two search for Odin on earth. In a hilarious little scene, Doctor Strange sends them to Norway, where Odin reveals his imminent death. His firstborn, Hela (a deliciously campy Cate Blanchett), is freed from her prison by his passing, and she appears in gothic glory as the goddess of death before destroying Thor's hammer and casting both Thor and Loki into the void of space as she travels to Asgard.

The rest of the plot is largely inconsequential. Heroes do heroic things, villains do villainous things, and just about everyone delivers killer punchlines. Thor ends up on the waste planet Sakaar, lorded over by the Grandmaster (Jeff Goldblum doing the Jeff Goldblum thing, in a bluish getup like that of Benicio del Toro in Guardians of the Galaxy; the two are related somehow, if I remember my lore) who forces him to become a gladiator. After fighting the Hulk ("I know him! He's a friend from work!") and getting roundly smashed (Loki takes particular joy when Hulk tosses Thor as a rag doll, à la Loki's abuse in The Avengers), the two plan to escape back to Asgard and stop Hela. Why stop her? Well -- and here's where the film is strangely serious -- Hela's mission is to expand the colonial Asgard empire. She seeks cosmic domination, as though nine realms were nothing, and her giddy lust for power manifests as ruthless, wanton violence against her inferiors. The film does not shy away from implicating Odin in this imperial horror, and Hela's subtext is clearly to spread her master race across the universe. It's a subtle shift from mindless destruction to designed genocide; an incredibly timely portrait of the evils of supremacy and the privileged few who not only allow it to happen but are complicit in its ravages. In these moments, the film hits surprisingly close to home, especially given the ties to Nordic culture and religion often claimed by white supremacists.

But that social commentary is only a small part of the film, though I'd argue the most important. Some more fun if messy plot happens. Badass Valkyrie 142 (Tessa Thompson, who we will need more of, please-and-thank-you) joins the team, along with two other gladiators Korg and Miek (Korg is voiced by Waititi, Miek is silent and just as funny). They start a rebellion and commandeer a ship or two and do a lot of fighting along the way. Eventually they return to Asgard and stop Hela and Skurge (Karl Urban, in a sadly small role) from annihilating the citizens and Heimdall (Idris Elba). Then the Big Battle commences, and I'll let you watch the rest. Just know there's a giant wolf, a fire demon, a sacrifice, an eyeball, and a lot of smashing.

As a comedy, Ragnarok is stunning. Who knew Chris Hemsworth's secret skill was pitch-perfect comic delivery? As a superhero movie, it is no less impressive. Considering the amazing Civil War, I wasn't sure MCU could out-do itself, but lo, and behold the spectacle here! Of course it's all pretty absurd, but then this is a movie about gods and aliens, not billionaires and science projects. The tone aptly fits the material, and this movie's self-referential jabs reveal its refusal to take itself too seriously. Consider Thor's repeated efforts to calm Hulk by using Black Widow's "sun's getting real low" line, which obviously don't work coming from the earnest god of thunder.

Then again, this movie sets up some really interesting ideas moving forward. After two years of Hulk taking over Bruce Banner's (Mark Ruffalo) body, Banner fears that if Hulk emerges again, Banner will never come back. The climax features Banner letting Hulk rage, and we are left wondering if that was Mark Ruffalo's exit from the franchise. Also, (SPOILER ALERT) the destruction of Asgard and exodus of its people suggests that Thor will reign as king and set up a new home in Norway. Just as I was wondering if that is something we're going to see in a future film, the mid-credits scene happens, in which a larger spaceship intercepts their earthbound ship. What is happening? We just don't know yet.

IMDb: Thor: Ragnarok