The Monster (2016)

Score: 4.5 / 5

Lizzy has had enough of her mother. During her times in Kathy's custody, she finds herself a victim of alcohol-fueled abuse and a nurse, cleaning up afterward and caring for sloppy mommy. We see episodic scenes from their life together that range from borderline tolerance to unmitigated loathing, when Kathy's intoxicated rage manifests in verbal and physical violence. A central scene comes to mind, in which Kathy lets out a string of expletives (August: Osage County-style) at Lizzy in the driveway before getting in her car and abandoning the child. At the beginning of this movie, however, it seems the two have reached a breaking point, and a hungover Kathy drives Lizzy home to her dad, for what may be a final time.

The family drama seems to come to a head when their car breaks down on a lonely stretch of forested road. Of course the deep of night and intermittent rainfall restricts the duo from exiting the vehicle, and their uncomfortable situation feels more oppressive by the second. The slow-drip of toxicity between the two is sure to reach a blistering climax. But just when we think we've pegged Kathy as the titular monster, the shadows beyond the headlights take on a sinister shape.

Writer/director Bryan Bertino (you may remember his seminal creation The Strangers in 2008) once again shows off his mad skills in The Monster, and though it falls short of his breakthrough film, this one is a beast of a different color. Deceptively simple, it marries isolation thriller with monster horror in a grim, meditative family drama that utilizes the narrative of myth or urban legend. It's "about" the survival of mother and daughter. It's "about" the nature of monstrosity in a postmodern world, where even those who come to help (a repair mechanic and an EMT team) are collateral damage. It's "about" feminist refusal to be victimized. It's "about" the monstrous effects of alcoholism.

Too many claims? Try again. It's not any old breakdown that stops our ladies' progress on the road: Their car strikes a wolf. How many times does that happen in fiction? Rocks, logs, nails, deer, cows, sure, but a wolf? Actually, I can only think of wolves stopping young women as living predators in extensions of the story of Little Red Riding Hood. Hell, even last week's Beauty and the Beast is a prime example of that. And while the wolf here fulfills its function in stopping the girls' journey in the woods, they also almost immediately kill it. A subtle subversion, but an important one. The wolf serves yet another purpose beyond plot and theme: foreshadowing. Its presence suggests a greater predator in the forest, one that might have left the deep wounds on its torso, and one that might return for dinner.

It's not a lengthy movie, but Bertino milks the suspense for every last chill. Much like our experience in The Blair Witch Project, we begin to see the monster well before it appears in every shadow and behind the atmospheric veil. When it does at last venture into the light, we see a beast that looks vaguely like Alien, its shiny, leathery skin stretched batlike between its muscled limbs and a nightmarish head riddled with enormous teeth. It's a grimy regurgitation of Kathy's alcoholism, a foul specter that is unmistakably an incarnation of brutish overindulgence.

Of course it's a blatant symbol for the monster Kathy must face to restore her bond with Lizzy, but before you criticize the heavyhanded storytelling, most cinematic horror does correspond to reality. Do your homework. More specifically here, the case could be made that the monster is little more than an extension of Kathy's psyche, a manifestation of the evil in the woods of her life preventing a loving connection with her family. Like in The Babadook or It Follows, like in The Brood or even The Exorcist, we are left questioning the parallels. Is the monster (visible or invisible, external or internal) a literal product of the characters' turmoil, a symbolic examination of the sins in question, or an unrelated external form of evil that incites the drama of the film? Could it be all in one? One might wonder if it even matters, but the lens through which we view any movie will change our interpretation of it as well as our reaction to it.

Zoe Kazan plays mother dear, and her performance is an awesome display of her talent. Bertino's screenplay daringly challenges our suppositions about addiction's power over even the primal bond between mother and daughter. More impressive, he's willing to work with Kazan to make Kathy just a terrible person. As a raging boozehound and old-fashioned scream queen, she electrifies the screen with her presence. Incredibly, she avoids playing into the extensive symbolism of the film, imbuing her character with gritty realism and grounded vulnerability. Bertino's daring screenplay depicts Kathy as a terrible person. Kazan ultimately plays a harrowing journey of truth, fighting for the life of her child in a fierce crawl to redemption against horrific odds. Earlier scenes of cruelty and hatred are switched for heartrending love as Kathy and Lizzy take turns protecting and comforting each other. Ella Ballentine is no less fabulous as the fierce Lizzy, wise and brave, unafraid of confrontation and determined to stand up for herself and eventually her mother.

Of course, it's also pretty cool that even when The Monster is thrilling and chilling us -- it's far more a mood piece than a rip-roar scare-fest -- it affirms its characters' humanity and our own investment in their redemption.

IMDb: The Monster

Life (2017)

Score: 4 / 5

Drifting in space longer than they intended, a small crew of researchers studies the soil of another planet only to find, astoundingly, the presence of alien life. Though initially excited by the discovery, the young life quickly advances and asserts itself with violence. One by one the crew members' lives are taken by the smarter and stronger monster who kills with inventive, gory spectacle, until a final showdown is staged in an attempt to stop it from reaching Earth.

Sound familiar? Life is essentially a revamped telling of Alien, Ridley Scott's seminal 1979 masterpiece of science fiction horror. It would be wrong, however, to write it off as a cheap remake or reimagining. Apart from its basic plot, Life differs in significant ways from its inspiration, especially in theme, characterization, atmosphere, and of course budget. Life is foremost an ensemble piece that uses its diverse cast well, centering on their working relationship in space, a sort of artificial life apart from Earth, and how they cope with their environment. Jake Gyllenhaal's character (the Ripley rip-off, sort of) has been in space for a long time and his body's atrophy indicates a physical need to return to the planet. Hiroyuki Sanada's has to watch via webcam as his daughter is born. Ryan Reynolds's uses a sharp tongue and wit to keep everything light and silly, while Olga Dihovichnaya and Rebecca Ferguson hold their own with a curious mixture of strength, fear, and discipline. Ariyon Bakare plays their fearless scientist who is almost immediately punished for his extraterrestrial curiosity, and his performance stands out in the otherwise effect-and-story-focused film.

In many ways, Life is to Alien what The Shallows is to Jaws. Not quite a remake or reimagining, it deals with similar elements -- setting, plot structure, even villain -- to consider an alternative form of the story with varied themes and state-of-the-art special effects. Though far less cerebral and iconic than their muses, these new films are prime examples of expensive, solidly made B-movies with bankable casts and entrancing visuals that draw us in and spit us back out, providing a solid slice of entertainment in the meantime. Life is aesthetically no Alien: no clear sexual undertones, no gritty and grimy Gothic sets, no heartstopping scares. It honors its predecessor a few times, and one homage in particular made me squirm as the young alien orally rapes Ryan Reynolds and wreaks bloody havoc on his innards. On the other hand, it also declares itself independent of its predecessor; the beast's first act of aggression here is not to use its hand to latch onto John Hurt's face, but rather to viscerally break the hand of Ariyon Bakare. The alien's destruction of the symbol -- the hand equals mankind groping where it doesn't belong -- at once reinforces the motif and stakes out its new path in similar thematic territory.

The film also feels like a response or a companion to Gravity, with its awesome weightless cinematography and comparable meditations on the sanctity of life and the nature of rebirth. While writers Rhett Reese and Paul Wernick are too comfortable in their comedic skins to be totally effective, they do manage to surprise us with especially dark moments of arresting horror, notably Jake Gyllenhaal's recitation of the children's book "Goodnight Moon", a moment that should have been extended. Far more successful is cinematographer Seamus McGarvey (a personal favorite) who focuses images to their most grotesque, intimate and immediate, and creates a space for the emotions of the moment to reach through the screen.

Life won't be the most horrific thing you've ever seen, but it's a hell of a good time.

IMDb: Life

The Belko Experiment (2017)

Score: 1.5 / 5

The day begins as any other for the workers at the Belko Industries office building. It's a sizeable structure in a remote location in Bogota, Colombia, and its many inhabitants mill about like stylish worker ants, busily doing something but allowing themselves plenty of time for interpersonal drama. Suddenly a voice speaks over the intercom, informing the 80 workers present that a few among them must die or many will be killed. When metal walls seal up the windows and doors, the victims seek any means to escape, but as time ticks on, more lives are taken.

Nihilistic and bleak, The Belko Experiment is a sort of critique of extreme capitalism, showing us the commodification of human life and the brutal ways we use our peers in competition. As the stakes are raised for the employees, we see the classist structures of the company break down much like the many dead or dying bodies. Most moral mores are gone or proven immaterial; it's a vicious microcosm wherein anyone can die and anyone can kill. Initially we root for those who value human life, who hide instead of fight, who seek order over chaos. It doesn't take long for our sympathies to switch.

That might be a stretch. My sympathies never really switched in this movie, they just fluttered away. While a worthwhile premise and intriguing theme for a horror-thriller, the film repeatedly fails to be horrific or thrilling. Sure, it has its jump scares and a few particularly nasty gore-porn shots, but beyond those its effect is similar to that of the first Purge movie: After a promising setup, it focuses too much on a sentimental core to be truly chilling, and by the time it's over, you realize how much you were cheated. Thankfully, the Purge franchise has gotten infinitely better.

But I'm not sure we need another Belko. Greg McLean, the director of brilliant horror movies Rogue and Wolf Creek, and writer James Gunn seemed a bit overwhelmed with this project. It suffers from whiplash pacing, incoherent themes, bizarre editing, and from taking itself too damn seriously. Perhaps it was meant to be deeply serious -- moments do feel claustrophobic, and its fatalistic outlook is far from entertaining -- but then why are parts so outlandish and funny? Perhaps it should have taken its cue from similarly-themed films such as High-Rise or Snowpiercer, beautiful films which both tackle class warfare in enclosed spaces and both effectively balance horror, action, and aesthetic style. Or, on the other hand, perhaps it should have taken a self-aware leaf from Scream or even You're Next. It might have melded better with the film's more grotesque elements, such as the implanted tracking device in each employee's skull that doubles as a fatal explosive.

Overthought, overwrought violence is at once less visceral and more icky than it should be. Lurid shots of fun sparsely infiltrate a film populated by flat and boring characters. Stylized carnage suggests subversive intent until you realize there is none. What should be a conceptual masterpiece of apocalyptic horror -- corporate banality torn asunder by hyperviolent minions -- quickly becomes a rote exercise in invention-less sadism. And then there's that ending that tries to be profound but succeeds only in showing that the movie knows it failed and hopes a ridiculous sequel can save it.

IMDb: The Belko Experiment

Beauty and the Beast (2017)

Score: 5 / 5

It's everything you could want it to be, piled with even more on top. While some will no doubt question and criticize an almost shot-for-shot remake of a beloved classic, this new vision overcomes any and all pitfalls along its way with style and splendor to spare. In an age of remakes that don't always work (think of the abysmal Cinderella in 2015) and re-imaginings that only occasionally do (Pete's Dragon, as opposed to Maleficent), it is certainly a risk to be aiming for the Golden Era of Disney musicals. With the likes of Aladdin and The Little Mermaid coming soon from the studio, one can only hope that Disney is up for the challenge. But if this film was any indication, we're in for a new golden age.

Taking up the torch of other fabulous remakes, Beauty and the Beast does everything right. Like the 1996 101 Dalmatians, it expands the story just enough to round out the characters, fill in plot holes, and address a new audience. Here we get a bit more of Belle's melancholy backstory, and while it doesn't seem quite necessary, it helps us understand the new dynamic between Belle and Maurice, played to perfection here by Kevin Kline. Maurice's sentimental vocation consists of making music boxes while Belle is now the inventor. This film slyly patches up shady holes from the cartoon such as its dubious timeline and the nature of the enchantress's magic. Not much is done to address the Stockholm syndrome or bestiality inherent in the story, but then again, why would it? That's the fun stuff. And while the marketing of this film was deeply flawed regarding its "gay agenda", let me assure you: there is no difference between this film and the cartoon in terms of LeFou. He was a simpering sycophant then and he is again here; representation of gay characters may be important, but so is good representation, and a flamboyant minion of the big baddie whose unrequited affections earn him physical punishment and emotional distress is not good representation. That said, the character does fare better than in the original, and here he is shown to break from Gaston during the climax to help the castle's inhabitants in repelling the violent townsfolk. And while the character is no more gay here than he was 26 years ago, we do see him dancing briefly with another man during the finale. Kind of like what happened at the end of Mamma Mia!, except without Colin Firth taking his shirt off.

It also, like last year's The Jungle Book, stays almost painfully true to the original -- down to exact musical numbers and bits of dialogue -- so that its state-of-the-art special effects and live-action visuals enchant us anew. "Necessity" be damned; I'd happily watch an exact replica of a classic cartoon done in live action any day, because animation doesn't always do it for me. It's just preference, so stop your bellyaching purist crap. There is so much detail carved into every single frame of the film that you'll never be able to catch everything. Richly detailed sets (production designer Sarah Greenwood also worked in Atonement, Anna Karenina, and the recent Sherlock Holmes films) and costumes (Jacqueline Durran, with similar credits) fashion a tangible tapestry with more style than you can appreciate. Realistic CGI mesmerizes you into believing in magic, and if that sounds paradoxical, it's just a testament to the colossal achievement of these filmmakers.

Other technical elements might deserve more praise than I can give, but lastly I'll mention the music. Hearing these beloved songs re-orchestrated is a magic on its own. We hear little countermelodies and darker edges to familiar tunes that make them seem fresh, as though we're hearing them for the first time. Alan Menken wrote some new music for the film with Tim Rice, and the songs fit in perfectly. They will also be new favorites. Of course, they gave one to Kevin Kline to sing that will tug at your heartstrings (and stick around for the credits, because Celine Dion sings it again, much like she did the title track for the original). They also gave a new one to the household staff, and while it's no "Human Again", it's a similar idea and no less lovely. The best, however, is saved for Dan Stevens (of Downton Abbey fame), who belts out the transcendent "Evermore" as he climbs the castle, watching Belle ride off to save her father. It's a brutal yank at your heartstrings that, I promise, will leave you feeling things.

Thankfully, as you might have gathered, Bill Condon shows that he knows how to use his fabulous ensemble cast to the best of their varied abilities. It's not easy to do, but here he finds the perfect moments to highlight everyone at their most fabulous. Luke Evans shows off his impressive singing chops while Josh Gad does his comedic thing, and the two share some great scenes together. Even better, the animated castle staff all have their places firmly staked out, and whether they're animated or not, all perform admirably. Keep your ears open for Ian McKellan, Stanley Tucci, Gugu Mbatha-raw, and the incomparable Audra McDonald. I was a bit put off by Ewan McGregor's Lumiere (mostly because who is Lumiere but a Maurice Chevalier wannabe?), but it didn't take long for him to grow on me too.

But the greatest success of Beauty and the Beast is its unequivocal sense of Joy. It's pure and intoxicating from the first rapturous musical number. A furious cascade of song and dance, style and substance, color and light, the film flies through its two-hour running time with ease, puking its happiness out of the screen and into your heart. It's not a sensation we feel often in movies these days. But, then, don't we want more than this provincial life? It's here to say, "Bonjour!"

IMDb: Beauty and the Beast

Colonia (2015)

Score: 1.5 / 5

Against the backdrop of a military coup, fascist frenzy, decades of human rights violations and corrupt political regimes, Colonia sets itself up for great success among liberal-minded audiences who get hot and bothered about such things. Layer in a plot about a cult, sexual abuse, social segregation, torture and murder, religious mania, political secrets, and underground tunnels, and place the cherry on top in the form of Emma Watson, and what is there not to like?

A lot, apparently. The film begins like a Hallmark romance between a stewardess (yes, I know, but it's the '70s), and an activist in Chile, rousing crowds and snapping photographs. Unfortunately, his camera is confiscated and then he is confiscated. Daniel Bruhl plays the German-born activist also named Daniel, and after he is whisked away from his lover, he is interrogated and tortured in an undisclosed location. Emma Watson plays Lena, and the movie is hers: Intent on finding her love, she seeks out a mysterious compound called the Colonia Dignidad, which labels itself as a charitable mission under strict religious rule. Going undercover, Lena infiltrates the compound as a drab, pious woman seeking God and eventually finds Daniel. Watson is by far the best thing in the movie, and her tireless, self-sacrificing efforts to rescue Daniel are admirable.

Of course, if you know your history of such things, the colony is a fearsome cult founded and overseen by Paul Schafer (played by a lackluster Michael Nyqvist, who nevertheless looks terrifyingly like the real man). Power-mad and perverse, he twists his religious proclamations to enforce adherence under penalty of torture and death while sexually and violently abusing the children and women of the compound. His business relationship with the new regime (the compound is a sort of detention camp for political troublemakers) and the intrigue of cult society would certainly make for a fascinating film. Too bad this one isn't.

Wasted on the structure and strictures of a period romance, these provocative elements are pared away to their most basic shape, and moments of psychological profundity become groan-inducing cliches. A straightforward thriller or even a documentary would have been infinitely more effective at telling the story and revealing the horrors, without forcing us to slog through a laughable screenplay and heavy-handed direction. Too many happy conveniences, too many coincidences, and ultimately not enough logic stop us from losing ourselves in the picture. Despite a chilling premise, the energy only really ramps up at the end, after (spoiler alert) the couple escapes from the colony and has to fight their way through an airport to reach safety. Unfortunately by this point, when we should be bursting with objection over the evils we've witnessed, the gimmicky "thriller" elements totally defuse any remaining thematic tension.

To summarize: How disappointing that a wicked cult leader and a violent military coup stopped two young lovers from enjoying a week off.

IMDb: Colonia

Kong: Skull Island (2017)

Score: 3.5 / 5

While not quite measuring up to the likes of Peter Jackson's 2005 remake of the classic monster movie, Kong: Skull Island certainly carves out its own place in the pantheon of monster flicks. Featuring an unusually large incarnation of the titular primate, the film crashes along like an equally monstrous beast, shamelessly enjoying its own spectacular style and mindless action. Even occasionally poking fun at itself, the film is essentially the first summer blockbuster of 2017, coming at least two months too early. A sort of breathless adventure that easily scoots you along its two-hour running time, it reminds us that Oscar season too comes to an end, and that the age of extended franchises and multiverses remains alive and well.

If you've ever seen a Kong movie, you know the plot. If you haven't, shame on you. I won't bore you with the mundane details of the premise except to say that this picture is indeed a part of a larger franchise: the Warner Bros. / Legendary Entertainment MonsterVerse, begun by the brilliant Godzilla in 2014. The post-credits scene indicates the direction of the new franchise by revealing the studio's acquisition of other monsters, apparently including Mothra, Rodan, and Ghidorah. Whereas Godzilla felt like an art-house flick that happened to have an enormous budget, Kong feels every bit the costly major studio bash it is, replete with screwball soundtrack and tons of thick CGI. Avoiding the epic scope of Jackson's film, this one instead seems content with being a messy little fever dream of violence. Silly little jump scares and up-close monster battles edited at a frenetic pace keep us bewildered and excited. Layer in the tongue-in-cheek dark humor and pseudo-dramatic close-ups and you've got a beast of a picture that's not quite as horrifying as giant lizards and spiders but more exhilarating than an island of giants. So to speak.

Characters are thinly written, as if the writers are reminding us that we should only be watching for the spectacle. Dry, dark, and occasionally hilarious (though only meaning to be so half the time), the characters fill out an ensemble a little too big for its own good; even as each team member is introduced we ignore their names and roles because we know they will end up dead eventually. The ones who do matter capture our attention through sheer beauty (because the script gives them almost no help): Tom Hiddleston and Brie Larson are the two that matter here, make no mistake. While likable performers surround them, these two stars allow their characters to be fleshed out even in silence, existing fully in their world through the sensation of touch. They strike up a familiar rapport in the film and always seem to have each other's back, a nice dynamic shift of camaraderie in a film of violent mercenaries.

With its vivid, feverishly colored energy and '70s-style vibes, we might wish that it had given into its wild side a bit more. There's so much potential for craziness in a tale like this, and when married to pulsing lights and vibrant hues I can't help but feel the writers missed some golden opportunities. Instead they stick to formula, ignoring the potential fun in the native human presence, other giants on the island, and even the invading characters themselves. Casting the likes of John Goodman and Samuel L. Jackson was smart, but could have been better if their characters had contracted the same sort of apish madness that, for example, John C. Reilly's has caught. On an island where they clearly don't belong, they probably should have demonstrated some Heart of Darkness-level of crazy.

Then again, I was totally fine ignoring the lack of story and characterizations. I was busy filling my eyeballs with Tom Hiddleston being the perfect gentleman-mercenary in that tight blue t-shirt. Holy bananas.

IMDb: Kong: Skull Island

Goat (2016)

Score: 4.5 / 5

After surviving a violent assault, Brad starts his college experience trying to connect and belong. Seeking the promised protection and popularity of his older brother's fraternity, he pledges, though his brother's reservations threaten their rapport. Pledging this fraternity, however, may be more than either brother bargained for, and as Brad is tested so is their relationship.

A damning indictment of modern American white masculinity, Goat pulls back the veil on the status quo. Under the guise of pushing boys to become men, the ritualized hazing process is revealed to be a torturous, brutal experience with dire consequences. The promised safety and camaraderie is only earned through violent humiliation, and a hierarchical culture of silence keeps the brotherhood operating on its own terms. This element of common college life, so often relegated to prejudice and punchlines, is under the microscope here, and its darkest sins are laid bare.

Clearly filmed with a cinema verite awareness, the film comes dangerously close to making broad statements about fraternity culture. While it stops itself at the last moment, it does do a few other interesting things, especially in analyzing the psychology of violence at the heart of American manhood. Individual moments of the film may feel like dramatized depictions of salacious headlines, the context of these scenes brilliantly helps its audience understand (if still revile) the motives and reasoning for such behavior. No amount of bodily fluids (and trust me, it's all here) can wash away the stain of unleashed machismo and "bro" culture's fierce policing of self. In fact, one might argue that the amount of puke and piss and sundry liquids indicate the film's awareness that torture is what happens when your insides are made to be outside.

In this way, the film broaches the body horror genre. What happens when the male body is subjected to eroticization and objectification, and when the subjectors are themselves male? Without getting too graphic, however, we might also consider this socially. The community of radically heteronormative cis-men (the "body") polices itself by tearing itself apart (letting its innards loose) and re-forming it in its own image. The brothers' constant use of demeaning names, cruel punishments, and inhumane tasks destroy the sensibilities of incoming pledges, so that subsequent everyday interactions won't be seen for the casually sexist, classist, heterosexist behaviors they are. Their apparently solid masculinity, their strict adherence to traditional gender roles, is revealed as rife with anxiety and fear, angst over perceived rigidity and violence as the answer to challenges.

The other primary function of the film works as an exploration of PTSD in this culture. Brad (played masterfully by Ben Schnetzer) suffers after his pre-college assault, and his brother Brett (a grounded, passionate Nick Jonas) is shown to be a loving, generous influence. Apparently seeking more of that, however, Brad joins a brotherhood that repeatedly re-enacts his assault. Brett sees the proceedings for what they are, even when Brad himself chooses not to. It makes us wonder why these pledge processes are so determined to traumatize newcomers; perhaps it's a sort of Stockholm syndrome where the initiates perversely bond with their torturers. Regardless, as the film illustrates in its rather sensationalized final act, these behaviors are not without their consequences.

Difficult to watch, Goat is a horrifying experience. It's not without its occasional misstep, and frankly I think it even played things too safe in a few scenes. But it does what it set out to do, and in mesmerizing fashion. If you can make it through a trying hour and a half, you'll be rewarded with deep thoughts and good conversation. If you can't tough it out, though, it will still inspire your consideration. You just won't have to see James Franco shouting at college boys to suck his cock.

IMDb: Goat

Logan (2017)

Score: 5 / 5

The tenth installment in its franchise, Logan is the game-changer no one expected. Besides the hype for Hugh Jackman's final performance of the legendary character and the morbid enthusiasm for an "Old Man Logan" adaptation, the film does so many things right that it feels more an unfortunately late Oscar contender than big-budget superhero movie.

Logan, now aged, drunk, and ill -- an apparent effect of long-term adamantium poisoning -- wearily works as a limo chauffeur and drug hustler on the dusty Texas border. He and another mutant (Caliban, at a much different time than in Apocalypse) care for the ailing 90-something Charles Xavier, whose failing mind and sporadic seizures threaten the lives of everyone around him. Apparently, we learn during the film, one such telepathic episode resulted in the deaths of many X-Men, who are now extinct. No new mutants have been born for a couple decades (the film's setting is 2029), but Xavier vaguely prophesies that one will come to them with a mission. In the same way that Unforgiven seemed to signal a sort of death of the Western genre, this film -- with its trio of dying, bitter men living as vagabonds in an impoverished post-apocalyptic desert -- seems to betoken a new genre: the death of superheroes.

When a nurse from biotech company Alkali-Transigen (yes, that Alkali) approaches our lackluster hero and importunes him to safeguard young Laura, Logan's nihilistic perspective is more fully articulated. The nurse's subsequent death at the hands of Reavers (cyborg thugs working for Transigen) reveals the company's murderous intent for Laura and seemingly all remaining mutants. Logan gathers Xavier and flees with Laura to "Eden", a haven for survivors. Along the dangerous journey, Logan eventually learns that Transigen has been using the blood of mutants to create their own, and that Laura is...well, that would be telling.

It's a strange structure for a film, at once detailed and simplistic. A stylistically postmodern Western married to an anti-superhero plot, Logan works best when its grizzled characters allow their heart to show through the cracks. The characters, so guarded and afraid, also love each other, and in those moments the film sparkles with the tears of our youth. Conversely, the film rocks its hardcore action sequences in a way that Apocalypse could not; fluid, organic physical violence that requires less digital effects and more old-fashioned smarts. A risky move, but brilliant and necessary.

This is not a film for children. Earning its R-rating and then some, its brutal, bloody violence shares screen time with no less brutal character development and emotional depth. If you thought Logan was world-weary in other installments, you've seen nothing yet. Jackman's nuanced performance is matched, however, by Patrick Stewart, whose now feeble character is pitiful and tragic, broken by his past yet still attempting to help the children in harm's way. When you're not gasping for air amidst the fighting, you're choking back tears. Besides strong language and buckets o' blood, the movie features few themes apart from death. Don't fool yourself, you won't feel good when it's done. That's the movie, bub.

IMDb: Logan