Halloween (2018)

Score: 4 / 5

FINALLY. A Halloween movie worthy of the title. Move aside, Rob Zombie, nobody wanted you around anyway.

Jamie Lee Curtis is back in a big way as Laurie Strode, her iconic heroine, forty years after her introductory role catapulted her to stardom. Laurie lives an isolated life, dealing with her PTSD by fortifying her lone home out in the countryside. Unfortunately, her efforts to prepare for Michael Myers's inevitable return have also cost her more than physical labor and thicker walls. After two failed marriages, her daughter Karen (Judy Greer) was taken by child services, but not before Laurie worked to train her with weapons and combat. Karen, now an adult, still lives in Haddonfield but maintains a strained relationship with her mother, largely trying to keep Laurie away from her granddaughter Allyson (Andi Matichak).

The story itself begins and unfolds much as that of the 1978 film: Michael breaks out from his asylum during a transfer and goes on a murderous rampage. This time, however, he isn't so much an unpredictable stalker-killer as he is a walking bloodbath. The body count is bigger in his first scene here than it was in the entire original film. Each death is more visually stunning and creative than the last, and while that sounds desperate on the filmmakers' part, it's actually quite effective in making Michael more terrifying -- he isn't restricted to a kitchen knife anymore. He also isn't restricted in his choice of victims now. He will kill and kill and kill on this night, seemingly making up for all the lost time.

In addition to the piles of corpses, this movie does some fascinating work in both re-imagining the original film and in following up with it. It quickly and absolutely discounts the events of all other sequels in the franchise, making itself the one and only sequel that matters. Which it arguably is. I'll always consider the 1981 sequel canon, because it's just fabulous, and it continues the story from the original quickly and concisely (with the exception of the whole Laurie-and-Michael-are-siblings thing).

This picture maintains a high level of both drama and horror, with emotional outbursts from Laurie and her daughter and granddaughter interspersed with them each being badass. Of course, the rest of the film similarly balances comedy, character development, and -- already mentioned -- some surprisingly brutal violence. The visuals and editing are definitely more David Gordon Green than John Carpenter, but Carpenter's palpable influence permeates the picture through music and images (which is appropriate, as Carpenter is credited for music). Green clearly struggles to both isolate his own vision for the movie and honor Carpenter and his fans, though a few gorgeous moments eke their way onto the screen; when Michael returns to Haddonfield there's a long take of him walking amongst trick-or-treaters and entering houses to...well, you know.

And then there's the film's climax, when Michael assaults Laurie's house and all three generations of women. I gasped aloud when I realized, quickly, that the scene would play out as an ingenious reversal of the original's climax. Without spoiling too much, it's nice to see the victims not only turn the tables but to in fact use their apparent helplessness to their own advantage. In an era of #MeToo and accountability and both recognizing and overcoming trauma, Halloween isn't just a fun and spooky movie. It's an important one.

IMDb: Halloween

First Man (2018)

Score: 4 / 5

We all know the story; it's become a cultural watershed. The Cold War, the race for space, and the shining moments when Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin walked on the moon. A sort of nostalgia for an earlier America -- when, some might say, America was "great" -- when the sky was suddenly no longer the limit. The stories of real-life astronauts have been told so many times and in so many ways, from October Sky to Hidden Figures, and from Apollo 13 to, now, First Man.

It's a gorgeous film, shot mostly on 16mm and 35mm with practical effects. Claustrophobic in the best way, the movie keeps a tight focus on the man it takes as the hero, Neil Armstrong. Played by an excessively understated Ryan Gosling, the character acts as the movie's primary focus; very little spectacle is shown, and even moments that might ordinarily call for wide shots of the sky, space, the ships, or even the moon are restricted to his form, usually only his face or the reflections off his helmet. It's an interesting aesthetic for a movie that literally goes out of this world to stay so realistic, grounded, and gritty.

It's also an interesting choice to make the film such an intimate character study. Though it limits the scope of the film, I felt that it provides greater emotional payoff. We see the profound effects of this lifestyle on a single, iconic man; we see its toll on him personally as well as on his family, headed by a magnificent Claire Foy as his wife. And, though I found Gosling's performance nuanced and interesting, there's also nothing exciting or even memorable about it; perhaps that's because it's too small for the movie around it, though perhaps also because I found his character to be largely unlikable.

It's the technicality of the film that mesmerized me, and more than once I found myself dumbfounded while wondering how the hell some of the visuals were captured. Beyond that, too, is Damien Chazelle's clear labor of love here, dazzling and heartrending to behold. I only wish I cared more about the story or characters. I suspect this film might suffer a bit as a result of other, far more spectacular, space-adventure flicks in recent years -- thinking of Gravity and Interstellar -- which often favor spectacle and grandiosity in exploring metaphysics and even horror. It can be difficult to want to care about Ryan Gosling on the moon when every other superhero flick or sci-fi trip explodes with fantastic celestial imagery.

But, as a human drama and even, arguably, domestic thriller, First Man is a damn impressive exercise in craft.

IMDb: First Man

Bad Times at the El Royale (2018)

Score: 4.5 / 5

In his second outing as director, Drew Goddard turns his curiosity away from horror toward thriller. Unlike The Cabin in the Woods, however, this film doesn't so much as deconstruct elements of the genre as simply dissect them, analyze the pieces, and then reassemble them into a new beast. It's a magnificent achievement, and one far more aesthetically pleasing to this reviewer; unfortunately, its lengthy running time and occasionally awkward pacing will not suit everyone in the audience.

Bad Times at the El Royale is a heavily plot-driven movie that relies on complex narrative structure to intensify its twists and turns. We begin with a quiet time-lapse shot of a '50s motel room in which an unnamed man (presumably a criminal, played by Nick Offerman) hides a bag of money under the floorboards. He is promptly shot by another man, but the money remains hidden. The single shot is only the first of many tricks by cinematographer Seamus McGarvey (one of my favorites!), whose uncanny eye for ingenuity and impressionistic stillness marries well with this tale of crime, greed, and Hitchcockian voyeurism.

Soon after, we meet the ensemble cast in the lobby of the El Royale, a once-great motel (however small it may be, it is clearly exclusive) on the borderline of California and Nevada. We have a forgetful and world-weary priest (Jeff Bridges), a charismatic salesman (Jon Hamm), a struggling singer on the road (Cynthia Erivo), a flower child with a bone to pick (Dakota Johnson), and the meek, lone employee of the motel (Lewis Pullman). None of these characters are who they say they are. None, that is, except maybe one, who has trouble following close behind. Bad times are indeed coming.

After their initial group scene, the film breaks apart into specific chapters, each centering on one of the characters, labeled by their physical locations. As if in an Agatha Christie story, we start tracking their movements and actions by where they are and at what time. It's a neo-noir mystery for the first half or so, as we learn that the characters harbor dark desires and secrets, and so does the motel itself. False walls, hidden passageways, and two-way mirrors help create an atmosphere of paranoia; those devices are paired with narrative devices that allow us to view the same event from multiple perspectives that change our understanding of various characters. Really, the first half of the film (or, perhaps, the first two-thirds; I wasn't eyeing the time) is a masterclass in screenwriting.

But by the second half (perhaps the final third; there is a rather clear moment when the film dramatically alters its makeup), Bad Times gets pretty messy. Seemingly crucial characters meet unceremonious ends, several new characters are introduced haphazardly, and in what should be the climax, the action screeches to a deafening halt. While this may -- and likely should -- be seen as a critique of conventional narration, the scene nevertheless continues its agonizingly slow descent into controlled madness with yawn-inducing deliberation. Even a sexy, insane Chris Hemsworth (who actually shows some real acting here, for what might be the second time in his feature film career) can't save the lengthy scene, despite its Manson-familyesque roots and bonkers murder games. His character as written just isn't interesting enough.

Despite some lovely ensemble work and some drop-dead gorgeous storytelling from the camera and script, my favorite element of the film -- and what saved the climax from my disdain -- is first-time feature film actress Cynthia Erivo. Her Broadway background is made clear through her repeated (often a cappella) Motown renditions, and gorgeous as they are, her dramatic performance is no less awesome. I wondered if, when in the climax she delivers a feminist smackdown to the Big Baddie about how the rain is more interesting to her than men, some of her lines were not written specifically for her, not just for her character. Hopefully she makes a whole lot more movies. Apparently she will also star in Widows this season. Sounds like she's starting with a real bang!

Bad Times is a great time at the movies. An almost epic experience, a nostalgic throwback, a postmodern manifesto, and one of the freshest neo-noir films in years. Its sensory impact matches its dramatic, and while it may contain more possibilities than it entertains, it entertains us plenty.

IMDb: Bad Times at the El Royale

Venom (2018)

Score: 4 / 5

Deadpool can take a seat. Venom was always my favorite antihero in the Marvel comics. Funny and clever without relying on vulgarity, Venom also works well because he's just terrifying. A sentient alien blob who melds its form with that of its host, the Symbiote known as Venom allowed Marvel comics to tap into anxieties about alien life, parasites, and the age-old problem of doubles. The character is a novel spin on the Jekyll/Hyde relationship (or the Hulk situation) in which the two consciousnesses -- human and alien -- are in constant dialogue. And we're privy to it! "We are Venom," indeed.

Venom is a fine origin story, but it's a fabulous flick in its own right. Blending action with hardcore body horror, the film is a sort of breathless race to its finish line, wherein we laugh as we cringe and sit there in awe as it takes us on a wild ride. Its drastic tonal shifts might put some viewers off, but for me this structure effectively put me in the headspace of the character. It's weird. It's supposed to be weird. And in a field of far too many superheroes for our cultural good, Venom bravely carves out a space for itself.

Here's the deal: If you go in not wanting to enjoy the movie, you will hate it. If you actively fight its simplistic turns and whirlwind of plot points and action, you will hate it. But if, like Eddie Brock, you allow yourself to submit, Venom will give you satisfaction and a new appreciation for what it's trying to do.

I'm not going to waste time with the plot, because you know it. And if you don't, go see the movie and you will learn. The film's energy and style really worked well for me until the climax. Though the film relies on Tom Hardy's performance, the moments of action often rely on visual effects; the climax becomes an absolute mess of confused images and blurred action in a fully computer-generated realm. It's not appealing, and it's all too common in superhero movies these days. Thankfully, it doesn't last long.

Tom Hardy delivers his usual excellent craft as host Eddie Brock, but here he imbues the character with a magnificently dry sense of humor that mixes flawlessly with Venom's bloodthirsty earnestness. It's also a refreshing view in our times of a world-weary but genuinely content reporter who enjoys speaking truth to power. Michelle Williams shows up as his ex and also new love interest, and though I feared the film would squander her -- and it kind of does -- she shows up in a few lovely scenes, especially near the end when Venom bonds with her for a hot (and pretty queer!) moment. And Riz Ahmed is just wonderful, always. Here he's an idealistic scientist trying to perfect the human species by looking to the stars; he gets his comeuppance when another Symbiote bonds with him and they become Riot.

An interesting correlation presents itself between this film and Upgrade, which came out earlier this year. That film starred Logan Marshall-Green, who I've often called the poor man's Tom Hardy. And while it seems likely that Venom had a larger budget, I'd argue that Upgrade more effectively captures the body horror and marries it to a unique aesthetic vision. But there's no doubt Venom has a lot more fun doing it. I mean, it's absurd that this parasitic bond-turned-bromance relies on one half trying to stop the other from biting off people's heads, but the film owns it absolutely. And by the end, their relationship is even endearing. That's no small feat. All that said, it's also fair to maybe rethink the labels we use here: Venom resides comfortably in that uncomfortable space between antihero and full-on villain, and we need to be okay with that.

Some people lament that Venom won't work without Spider-man. I did. But then I saw this movie. And I'm ready for a sequel already. And, given the mid-credits scene, I'm praying it's Carnage.

IMDb: Venom

A Star is Born (2018)

Score: 5 / 5

"Music is essentially twelve notes between any octave," says the grizzled old man played by Sam Elliott. "Twelve notes and the octave repeats. It's the same story told over and over forever. All that the artist can offer the world is how they see those twelve notes. That's it." It's a moment that fully validates the logic behind creating yet another version of this movie.

There are stories that transcend time and culture. Think of Romeo and Juliet, the star-crossed lovers and the tragedy of their families; it's one of those essential stories that will always exist and constantly finds ways to reinvent itself to stay fresh and exciting. And of course there's A Star is Born, the 1937 romantic drama of a fading celebrity who helps a young artist rise during the course of their doomed relationship. You might say A Star is Born is a spin-off of R&J, where the lovers aren't star-crossed so much as, simply, stars.

It's the ultimate cinematic depiction of the glories and horrors of fame, framed in a gorgeous love story. That's why it's been re-made (adapted, really) twice before. It just works, and it can clearly be applied to multiple cultures, contexts, and even art forms. From movies to musical theatre, and from rock to country, A Star is Born may rely on familiar plots and characters, but each time we've seen it, it feels fresh and urgent, beautiful and ultimately heartrending.

Easily my favorite version of the story, this film is sure to be a top contender for lots of awards, and rightfully so. Director Bradley Cooper has crafted an amazing film, proving himself to be as awesome behind the camera as in front. For his first time doing it, Cooper pulls some deft tricks with style, camera, and arresting emotional beats in a story we all know too well. As a performer, this might be one of his best outings. He disappears so completely into the role I forgot several times who I was watching. It's clearly a passion project for him, and there is not a moment you don't utterly believe everything he's giving you. And his voice is amazing, dexterously fulfilling the needs of both rock and country.

And then there's Lady Gaga, who matches him perfectly in each shot, with each beat, and through each note. The movie is as much hers as his, and the two have chemistry that will put every other romance this year to shame. And while her acting chops are proven multiple times here, Cooper is smart enough to let Gaga play her strengths too, belting out ballads in some scenes and twitching her dance moves in another to a synth-pop bop. In fact, more than once I had the unnerving impression I was watching Gaga in some sort of autobiographical performance, recreating some of her own life for us, allowing us to see what no audience member should ever see of their favorite celebrities.

I could go on forever praising this movie. The close-up camerawork keeps things that should be larger-than-life horribly, palpably intimate. Its grounded realism is also deeply impressionistic, forcing us to feel every second in our heart, pounding its joys and sorrows into us with every drum beat and guitar string. In fact, go see this movie in as big and beautiful a theater you can. Get one with a great sound system, because the sound mixing and musical editing is something you need to feel as much as hear.

Now go and tell everyone you know to go see this movie. And buy the soundtrack. And play it on repeat. It's unbelievable. And knowing that Gaga insisted for most of it to be recorded live on set makes it just that much more incredible. Plus, several of the songs are only partly performed onscreen; the soundtrack gives you full songs and -- trust me -- it's worth it and then some. This is musical and dramatic gold, y'all. Dig it.

IMDb: A Star is Born

The House with a Clock in Its Walls (2018)

Score: 3.5 / 5

Who the heck knew Eli Roth directed this? Because I sure didn't!

In a setup not unlike other coming-of-age fantasies, young Lewis Barnavelt is orphaned and sent to live with his eccentric and mysterious uncle Jonathan. He discovers that his uncle is a warlock and that their old, creaking house is riddled with magic secrets. Their neighbor, Florence, is a much more powerful witch, but tragedy has hampered her abilities. When Lewis unwittingly revives the dead on Halloween, the trio must work to stop an undead sorcerer from awakening his Doomsday clock -- built in uncle Jonathan's house!

The House with a Clock in Its Walls is easily my favorite Roth-directed film yet. And I don't mean that pejoratively. His Cabin Fever and Hostel are really interesting and valuable parts of horror cinema history. But nothing he's helmed has so captured my enthusiasm and good humor as this picture. Its infectious sense of fun bleeds into the details of script, performances, and even design. Think Disney's The Haunted Mansion having a baby with Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. It's a consummate work of childhood's dark fantasy in the suburban Midwest.

Of course, the "childhood" part contains its pitfalls, some of which damage the full impact of this picture. The '80s movie nostalgia is as full in force as the breakneck seasonal phantasmagoria (as some have called it) Roth is puking out onto the screen. Speaking of which -- the film also pukes. Pumpkin puke and griffon-hedge leaf-mulch-shit litter the film in excess, reminding you at each turn that, no matter the level of magic and fantasy and fun, some people will always enjoy the baser matter. While we might be thankful that Roth doesn't give us the same kinds of bodily fluids we might expect from his gore porn features, he proves himself able to translate the same ideas into a kid's movie.

Well, a "kid movie" that hints at some surprisingly dark moments. I was totally shocked, I admit, by the story's subplot involving the Big Bad Isaac Izard (Kyle MacLachlan). To undo the horrors of WWII, the villain makes a deal with the demon Azazel to create the eponymous clock that will turn back time and eliminate the history of the world. The plan may be silly, but the sudden appearance of the impish demon is a terrifying moment in the film, one that pairs nastily with the abrasive and dark nature of the evil magic we see. Bloodletting and pentagrams and all kinds of crazy stuff in this movie make the religious conservative arguments against the first Harry Potter sound even more laughable than they were.

Rote as it sometimes feels in its coming-of-age and fantasy elements, this movie holds its share of pleasant surprises. Most belong squarely to Cate Blanchett as Florence Zimmerman, the witch from next door, always decked out in fabulous purple stitches and wielding some powerful magic up her sleeves. Her tragic story, slyly referencing the horrors of the Holocaust, combines nicely with her character's foil in Jack Black's uncle Jonathan. The two bicker and insult each other in endlessly delightful banter, and then team up for some star-power badassery I never knew I wanted. Plus, Florence's story is an inspiring look at turning from shame and victimhood to glory and avengership.

And, of course, Roth's able direction makes this spooky and silly mess of a movie a thoroughly entertaining addition to any family-friendly Halloween movie list.

IMDb: The House with a Clock in Its Walls