Sorry to Bother You (2018)

Score: 4.5 / 5

There's a lot going on in this film, but it became clear early on that Sorry to Bother You is far more complex than the trailers indicated.

LaKeith Stanfield plays Cassius "Cash" Green (yes, his name was the first knock over the head), living in his uncle's (Terry Crews) garage with his girlfriend Detroit (Tessa Thompson). His only prospective job is for telemarketing company Regal View, but he finds little success until an older man (Danny Glover) teaches him to use his "white voice" on the phone. Sounding confident, easygoing, rich -- and like the people to whom he sells -- he quickly becomes the best seller on the floor. His overseers celebrate his successes and eventually promote him to the upper floor "Power Callers" where he works and lives in luxury but must always use his "white voice."

Cash accepts the new position and considerable raise, but quickly realizes he has sold his soul. While his friends from the lower level strike and try to organize a union to protect themselves, Cash learns dark secrets about the company. He learns that they sell weapons and human labor from WorryFree -- a company that offers food and housing and no bills for only a lifelong work contract! -- and then he meets CEO Steve Lift (Armie Hammer).

Saying much more would spoil the plot, but the film is essentially a satire with strong elements of science fiction. Its strong anti-capitalist ideas are dense and layered but effective, assuming the film's target audience isn't already leftist-leaning. Everyone else can surely enjoy the performances, especially of Stanfield and Hammer. Most of the comedy even had me laughing aloud in the theater, and you know that's not really my thing. And for Boots Riley's directorial debut, it's a pretty amazing piece of work.

That said, the film also boasts a little too much muchness for my taste. It hits its notes a little too hard on the nose, and for most of its run time I felt I was being preached at or interrogated. The film's numerous subplots began to feel contrived and forced, and took some of the umph out of the main thematic thrust. And I couldn't help but feel that, though we can't reach the end of this film without the early parts, the film could neatly have been divided into two distinct movies, each with different appeal. By the second half, I felt as though I were locked in a carnival funhouse against my will. That may well be the intent, but it didn't endear me to the picture.

But if the worst thing about a film is that it's got something big and important on its mind and then nails it, I won't complain much.

IMDb: Sorry to Bother You

Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again (2018)

Score: 4.5 / 5

It may be a decade late, but Here We Go Again is a nearly perfect companion piece to the magnificent film adaptation of Mamma Mia! Everyone comes back for round two, which feels like a hardcore labor of love for everyone involved. And while it's nowhere near as infectiously joyful as the first film, this sequel has a passionate heart to share with people who felt a sequel was unnecessary, irrelevant, and potentially disastrous.

The story is simple enough. Five years after the first film, Donna has died and Sophie is grandly reopening the hotel on Kalokairi. Her anxiety peaks as her relationship with Sky is on the rocks and two of her dads may not make it to the party. Her efforts to reopen the hotel are presented in episodes that flash back and forth to 25 years prior, as young Donna made her way to the island in search of life and love. Sophie learns to increasingly appreciate her mother's strength, perseverance, and passion, even while recognizing that she is not her mother.

The film this time around is, of course, more somber, as the melancholy awareness of Meryl Streep's absence is keenly felt in the film. But Lily James makes a fabulous turn as young Donna, singing and dancing her way into the movie in a big way. Thematically, this film is more concerned with motherhood and sisterhood and womanly independence than the first, which revolved largely around men and female identity as it relates to men. Sophie constantly compares herself to her mother, wondering if she can "do this" and how she's upholding a legacy. But, as the ensemble cast helps her learn, Sophie is woman enough to succeed on her own.

The smattering of old songs helps keep the new ones (some I was woefully ignorant of) upbeat and joyous, as the film tends to delve into the thicker thickets of emotional resonance than the first film. And while, as a romantic comedy, Mamma Mia will never really succeed beyond representing older people finding love, as a movie musical, Here We Go Again is a rapturous exercise in how fabulous a sequel can be when executed properly.

When Cher shows up, the movie brings the house down. When Meryl shows up...well, let's just say I'm still not recovered from that.

IMDb: Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again

You Were Never Really Here (2018)

Score: 4.5 / 5

An action thriller shot like a horror movie, You Were Never Really Here is a tightly wound knot of violence that had my skin crawling for its entire 90-minute run time.

Joaquin Phoenix delivers a typically arresting performance as mercenary Joe who rescues abducted girls and wipes out traffickers. Joe suffers as a result of childhood trauma and his past in the military and FBI, and we see his flashbacks as he does, without introduction or even much rhyme or reason. They assault us as they assault him, often at inopportune moments, forcing us to question reality. Unfortunately, Joe has become world-weary and seems to be in constant agony. Whenever he's not caring for his elderly mother (Judith Roberts), he's obsessed with violence and death, often locating his anxiety around his own person. His suicidal fantasies blur together with actual suicide attempts in increasingly vivid scenarios.

It's an amazing performance, seconded only by the filmmaking. Writer and director Lynne Ramsay (We Need to Talk About Kevin) exerts her considerable control in full force here, proving her understanding not only of Joe's character but of cinematic craft. The story is a web of strands that don't always make sense; she controls our attention not on those secondary plotlines but on the psychological maze Joe travels. She gives us only the tiniest bits of information amidst impressionistic (or maybe expressionistic? I'm really not sure if this film distinguishes between the two) images and sounds, not allowing audiences to be lazy in the slightest.

The hallucinations and fantasies and flashbacks cloud the narrative enough to keep us engaged, but the close-up, clear-cut cinematography and razor-sharp editing keep us on the edge of our seat. Sure, when the blood spurts you might flinch, but I found the most violent moments to be the simplest, when Joe's agonizing existence rips through his cold exterior and he breaks down alone in his car or at the foot of his bed. When he remembers his mother counting as they hide from his abusive father. When, after shooting the man who murders his mother, he lies down next to him and holds his hand as they sing along to a song on the radio.

And, for all the violence, what impressed me most about this film is that, for a story about a hitman, the emphasis here is on the man. It's a dense character study with a few brutal punches to throw on screen, but a far more insidious agenda for your mind.

IMDb: You Were Never Really Here

Ant-Man and the Wasp (2018)

Score: 4.5 / 5

I don't know why Ant-Man gets such a bad rep among the MCU heroes. It can hardly be the character, because he's one of the funniest and most grounded characters in the series; perhaps it's that he's too pedestrian, and (out of his suit) not terribly special apart from his fast-thinking, safe-cracking mind and simple old-fashioned guts. It can hardly be Paul Rudd, who gives "dad bod" a smoking hot run for its money and whose wisecracking, heartstring-tugging performance carves out its own sizeable niche in the enormous MCU cast.

Perhaps the reason Ant-Man is so low on many fans' list of favorites is because, as a film, it is far more standalone than many others in the franchise. The other heroes who have tons of money, strength, powers, and influence change big, galactic things in their films. But Ant-Man's adventures are distinctly smaller in scope, and so these films don't feel as Big and Important as, say, a Thor movie. But they're not supposed to!

Ant-Man and the Wasp is a delightful, funny, sweet, interesting, and thoroughly entertaining romp that is both welcome and needed after the last few MCU movies. There's no big war happening. Thanos is nowhere to be seen. There aren't dozens of characters to keep track of. Michael B. Jordan isn't breaking our hearts and minds. Michael Pena does his speedy voiceovers again.

This is -- much more importantly -- the first time a female character has been given title credit, and Evangeline Lilly rocks every minute of her screen time as the Wasp. She's smart, funny, badass, in a suit that isn't particularly sexualized, and shows that leading women are long overdue in the MCU. It's also notable for having one of the most clearly queer-ish scenes yet in the franchise, when Janet van Dyne (the original Wasp, played by Michelle Pfeiffer) uses her quantum entanglement with Scott Lang (Paul Rudd) to reconnect with her husband Hank Pym (Michael Douglas). Scott changes his posture and his voice and suddenly he's channeling Janet, caressing Hank's face and holding his hand as they work together to rescue Janet from the quantum realm. The whole thing may just be played for laughs -- in the screening I sat through, there was riotous laughter from the back row -- but it's a sincere moment and Hank shows no discomfort or hesitation when Scott reaches out to him in tenderness.

The rest of the film is a fitting sequel to the first Ant-Man, featuring cinematic stylization unlike anything else in the franchise, fresh and unique humor, and some really ingenius storytelling. Think about it -- we're wowed by Doctor Strange's ability to warp the very fabric of reality, but that's a whole lot of safety netting for lazy writers: mess up or reach a plot hole, and have him cast a spell or two. But team Ant-Man has to rely on careful planning, fights have to be carefully choreographed, and the special effects can often be shot practically. I'm not saying one is better than the other, but it makes these films -- all of them -- far more rich when we can appreciate their varying aesthetics.

A final note: while Walton Goggins's villainous character is boring and flat, Hannah John-Kamen plays a fascinating antagonist called Ghost. While, like Killmonger, she's not a "villain" in the usual sense, Ghost is simply trying to survive and live a life free of excruciating pain. This path puts her at odds with team Ant-Man, and so their run-ins become fights. But her thankless role and dedicated performance shine in this film, and she may be one of the most interesting antagonists yet written in the MCU. Especially cool is that she doesn't die or need to be locked up at the end, but instead is helped by our heroes. Plus, her powers (if we can even call molecular breakdown a power?) are really cool to watch, even as we're aware that they're killing her. Ghost is also notable in that, in the comics, she is a male character. Hooray for having another powerful, interesting female instead!

P.S.: The mid-credits scene -- after the fun and funny film -- drives a stake right through our warm fuzzies when, while harvesting quantum energy to help Ghost, Scott gets stuck in the quantum realm when Hank, Janet, and Hope all disintegrate into ash. They were the only ones monitoring Scott when Thanos snapped his fingers and destroyed half of humanity. It's a brutally chilling reminder of where we are in the MCU storyline that is sure to wipe the smile off your face.

IMDb: Ant-Man and the Wasp

Sicario: Day of the Soldado (2018)

Score: 2 / 5

Oh boy.

The first thing you need to know about Sicario: Day of the Soldado is that it's a mess of messages. As a sequel, it sucks. As a standalone film, it's endlessly problematic. As a cultural product in 2018, it's shameful. And as entertainment, it's kind of fun to watch. Shall we unpack? Do let's.

Sicario was my #2 favorite film of 2015. Its glorious score, rapturous cinematography, slickly sly screenplay, and beastly performances haunted me ever since I saw it on the big screen. Sadly, the story of Emily Blunt's character ended with that picture, along with the involvement of director Denis Villeneuve, cinematographer Roger Deakins, and composer Johan Johansson (who died this February). We are left with Taylor Sheridan's new screenplay and a mostly new cast and crew for a sequel that no one expected and absolutely no one wanted.

Strife between Mexico and the U.S. has reached a crisis point, as ISIS terrorists are using La Frontera as the stage for suicide bombings. Matt (Josh Brolin) is given special permission to fight dirty with the drug cartels suspected of harboring these international terrorists. Of course he calls in Alejandro (Benicio Del Toro) for help with his latest secret mission: to set the cartels against each other and sit back to watch the fireworks. All does not go as planned.

Where to begin? First off, the movie has a terrible title. It should have just been called Soldado. Then again, it shouldn't have been called anything because nobody wanted a sequel! Did I already say that? I'll reiterate: nobody wanted a sequel. Moving on....

Whereas the first film featured a story of increasing violence and the slow revelation of U.S. complicity (read: absolute guilt) in border violence and the "war on drugs" -- framed with the effect of this violence on average families, especially of one Mexican family -- this film is a bloodbath with little (if any) dramatic purpose. Its themes are needlessly bleak, its tone irreverent, its target audience Trump supporters.

Too harsh? Think again. This film is almost total propaganda, and its placement in the 2018 calendar is shameful at best. At a time when families are being ripped apart and children are locked in cages, we have a movie whose logic indicates that this is not only normal but totally justifiable. The film suggests that Mexican drug cartels and ISIS are working together to create chaos for the U.S. and that the best way to fight them is by kidnapping children.

To make matters worse, the film has almost none of the aesthetic or technical brilliance of the first. In fact, it blatantly rips off from other -- more effective and original -- movies, including its own predecessor. Its story meanders, piling up improbabilities as often as offenses and trying to brush over it all with waves of violence. When we aren't subjected to crazy shootouts and car chases and torture, we're forced to hear racist people assaulting each other with words and ideas. Even the one instance of the film retreating to a rational position -- a throwaway line late in the film about how the ISIS bombers weren't from Mexico, but from New Jersey -- is at once completely inconsequential and utterly horrific in that, by this point in the film, neither the characters nor the audience can even register the violence that statement does to the story.

The closest I can get to appreciating the film revolves solely around Benicio Del Toro as Alejandro (also and by the way, why is Lady Gaga's song of the same name never featured in conjunction with this character? That is a missed golden opportunity!). His performance is no less committed here than it was before, and although his character is given shit by the screenplay, Del Toro manages to make the film both watchable and entertaining.

And while I'm not going to say the film -- taken for its all -- is culturally "bad" (after all, my single viewing and interpretation cannot comprehend all its complexities), it is dangerous and deserves careful consideration before, during, and after viewing. It's a fascinating look into a social watershed moment during this divisive summer of 2018, and while it's endlessly problematic, what isn't these days? Come for Del Toro, stay for the pulp, and leave determined to be a better person. If, that is, you can stomach the carnage you witness.

P.S.: I've heard the term "MAGA-sploitation" used in conjunction with this film, and I think that's a really fascinating concept. I've thought a lot, before, about Clint Eastwood's deeply problematic films and their tendency toward libertarian propaganda. But what's at work in Soldado seems to be something else, and MAGA-sploitation may be a useful tool to bring into film theory these days.

IMDb: Sicario: Day of the Soldado

The First Purge (2018)

Score: 4 / 5

After a dismal first outing, did anyone really want another Purge? It was such a promising idea, squandered on Ethan Hawke and a chilling but familiar home invasion thrill-ride. Then came Anarchy, a delicious sequel that took the action onto the streets and showcased the real horrors of Purge night, led by an incredible Frank Grillo. And then, of course, Election Year came roaring in the summer before Trump got elected, feeding off our very real cultural anxieties and becoming a resounding vision of a future all too close to reality.

Each film has gotten "better": more artistic, more horrific, more iconic, more mindful of social climate. Specifically, each has included more characters (and actors) of color and suggested that part of the story of the Purge involves the racial and economic divisions of our country. Consider Ethan Hawke and family from the first film, wealthy and relatively secure (though, if you remember, he was a scumbag profiteer). In subsequent films, we've fought alongside groups of survivors and rebels in the streets and come to understand that the wealthy white people in charge -- by and large -- use the Purge to attempt a social cleansing, to rid themselves of those wretched black and brown gutter folk.

At least, that's how the story has been painted.

And now, in The First Purge, we see how and why. As America reaches a boiling point with crime and overpopulation, an Architect (Marisa Tomei) develops an experiment for people to act on their most taboo desires and base hatred on a single night. Stepping right up to support her, the New Founding Fathers of America (NFFA), a new ultraconservative political party backed by the NRA, fund her Experiment in a controlled environment. Staten Island becomes quarantined and its inhabitants are offered money to participate. The island is closely monitored and on March 21 (yes, numerically that's 3...2...1...) the Experiment commences.

The film shows a lot of things we've thought about but haven't seen yet in this series. We see folks using lawlessness to party openly in the streets. But as the white folk in charge see a lack of violence (they have television audiences to please and incite, don't forget) they send in death squads to light a fuse for murder and mayhem. They're hoping the Experiment will succeed and their Purge will spread across the nation. We know, of course, that it will.

This picture is nowhere near as iconic as Election Year, nor is it as campy or pulpy. It's a fabulous good time, filled with violence and terrifying images and more than a few well-earned laughs. What makes this entry my close #2 favorite in the series, apart from its revealing plot points, is that it so clearly takes itself seriously. That's the first time in this franchise, and an important step to take looking to the future: apparently we will soon be seeing a Purge television show that will explore the reasons and preparations people make for the Purge night.

We get some really fascinating real-life social commentary and racial and socioeconomic theory. While perhaps some of this high-brow material escapes the film in practice, and surely escapes its target audience, the thoughts nevertheless seep out of the screen and into our heads. Meanwhile, we also get a breakneck ride through lives in trouble and a night of hell that is sure to keep you at the edge of your seat. And, yet again, we get a look at our own society that is much too close for comfort.

IMDb: The First Purge

The Seagull (2018)

Score: 4 / 5

I had to do some research after seeing this one. I saw Sidney Lumet's adaptation such a long time ago I can scarcely recall it, and I've never read the damn thing. It's one of those works we all know fairly well simply because it exists so fully in our cultural consciousness (even if -- maybe especially if -- we've never actually seen it on stage or screen).

This adaptation would be terribly interesting, I imagine, studied in context of previous versions and with more understanding of the original script. As I can do neither, I'll simply report on what I saw.

Annette Bening does what she does best (playing actresses) as Irina, the Russian actress and lynchpin of her family who gather at their country estate (here, a gorgeous lake house). Tensions rise between the various characters for various reasons, and while there is no conventional plot, the action climbs and falls according to the characters' interactions. The rich characters are matched by dense dialogue, filled with subtext and sly jabs at each other while they all seem determined to find happiness and fulfillment.

Notable in the ensemble cast (all of whom are excellent): Corey Stoll playing a famous writer who is the current lover of Irina; he falls in love with a neighbor's daughter. Saoirse Ronan is that young woman, an aspiring actress who is currently in love with Irina's son. Billy Howle plays that young man, Konstantin, a depressed playwright of experimental works derided by his mother but worshiped by his admirer. Elizabeth Moss plays that woman, Masha, daughter of the estate manager and perpetually melancholy and morose. These are but a few of the colorful players, though they shine brightest.

Michael Mayer helms this picture, and while it may not be as technically accomplished or, well, sparkly as many of his theatrical productions, it shows a competent artist doing some really interesting things with highly familiar material. Seeing the gorgeous lake and house certainly adds something to the text we just can't get from theatre (though it can't be ignored that for a Russian play, there is a sharp disconnect with the all US/Brit casting and accents and the landscape of New York state). Then again, the camera in the film is so kinetic that it never once feels like The Seagull could be a stage play. Things move, and they move quickly. Even scenes that could be played with long takes are broken up mercilessly. Dialogue is shattered by cuts and edits between cameras constantly moving. A simple conversation becomes framed by shots at varied, even unnecessarily contrived angles, making the film highly aware of itself. Unfortunately, I'm not sure why, which is why I'm not sure it was always the right technique.

Then again, even if the medium suffers from a restricted aesthetic vision, the dialogue and acting are still there to soar. It's still Chekhov. It's still the same fabulous melodrama. It's still a good time at the movies.

IMDb: The Seagull