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