Isn't It Romantic (2019)

Score: 4 / 5

Natalie is an Australian architect living in New York and hates romantic comedies, a genre she seems to blame for -- and use in -- her romantic self-sabotage and general low esteem. Rebel Wilson is an Australian artist who has made her name in feel-good satirical comedy. The two here are a match made in rom-com heaven, Isn't It Romantic, the kind of tastefully pleasant, quietly brilliant film that appears early in the year and then everyone forgets about until the next romantic holiday season. Not that there are many of those. But this one has a few surprises up its sleeve.

When the cynical Natalie gets knocked out by accident, she wakes into a fantasy world in which she is the star of a romantic comedy. That means her female coworker is her enemy (though they are, in reality, close friends), her boss is her lover (though he really doesn't know who she is). That means her male coworker is as lucky in love as she is (though she really has a crush on him) and her grumpy neighbor suddenly becomes her flamboyantly gay best friend. That means NYC streets smell sweet and the gross realities of her life have been glossed over with flowers and spring colors. That means people periodically burst into song, have makeovers in minutes, and have little or no need for money. That means Tom Ellis is your doctor and you can meet Priyanka Chopra on the street.

Our leading lady herself is on fire here. Her usual brassy, sassy self takes center stage here, and Wilson takes it and runs with it. Ready for whatever life throws her way, she steps into a role whose name and occupation seem more artificial than Wilson herself. In fact, I wonder if the writers should have just made a meta movie about Wilson. As it is, though, Wilson doesn't do exactly as we expect; that is, she doesn't always go for gold with whatever life -- or, in this case, a fantasy -- takes her. Instead, she allows for several moments of pure deadpan delivery and, dare I say it, relatively quiet reflection that allow her to deepen her own emotional resonance as a viable person instead of a caricature.

And the film, helmed by Todd Strauss-Schulson, thankfully doesn't wear out its welcome. Intelligent enough to keep its high concept shtick to a tight hour-and-a-half, it keeps itself moving. It also never once flirts with cynicism or cruelty, which too often metafictional humor uses to stay relevant. Technically, the film relies on tropes and tricks of the genre and is thus loaded with references to staples like Pretty Woman, When Harry Met Sally, and My Best Friend's Wedding. Tonally, I'd compare it to the first half of Disney's Enchanted, especially in its lighthearted attempt to draw attention to itself as a fantasy, and of course its spontaneous musical number. With the flattering lights and soft glow of romance, the brazen humor and good nature of its leads, Isn't It Romantic is, for me, the surprise feel-good movie of the year. And with its message of empowerment and self-help to acceptance and love, it also has just enough smarts to make you want to go back for more.

American Woman (2019)

Score: 3 / 5

Who knew Sienna Miller could carry a movie? She was awesome in The Girl, but to my knowledge she hasn't starred in a solo leading role yet in her cinematic career. And while American Woman gives her plenty to work with, it also doesn't do her many favors, which is why its powerful emotional resonance belongs entirely to Miller's powerful performance.

Though its terrible title suggests a sprawling, generic story, American Woman is a remarkably small film. It's a deep character study that sacrifices plot cohesion and thematic heft in its intimate portrait of a woman on the brink. That woman, 30- or 40-something Debra, lives in rust-belt Pennsylvania in the early millennium with her daughter Bridget and (it's incredible, but) infant grandson Jesse. Debra lives across the street from her sister (Christina Hendricks) and her family, with whom she shares a loving but not quite mutually supportive relationship. Her single mother status doesn't stop Debra from trying to be happy between working and dating men who aren't very good to or for her. But she shows herself to be a capable and reliable mother and grandmother.

Until, that is, disaster strikes. After watching Jesse one night while Bridget goes on a date with her baby daddy, Debra is awoken by Jesse's cries. Bridget hasn't come home. She interrogates the boy, who claims his innocence, and Bridget's friend, who were apparently the last people to see Bridget before she walked home. With little information to go on, she calls the police, but the case goes cold quickly. Debra's life spirals out of control as she descends to near-madness; suddenly raising an infant, and dealing with her grief and confusion, she is forced to reckon with her own mother and sister while trying to support herself. Her personal desires are put at risk, and her relationships with men deteriorate, including one unfaithful man she confronts in front of his wife. She unsuccessfully attempts suicide.

But, just as I was wondering if this would be a crime thriller like Prisoners, the movie jumps ahead in time to show Debra raising Jesse not as an infant but as a young boy. She's still having trouble with men and with her family, but she is cultivating a tentative friendship with Jesse's father, who seems to be getting his own life together. We jump ahead yet again, as she finally begins dating a good guy named Chris (Aaron Paul) and they try building a life together. But, we suspect rightfully, even this won't end well.

So the Debra saga becomes more of an odyssey of a single mother's life when put into an unthinkable situation. Its lack of temporal unity, if you want to get Aristotelian, threatens the drama of the film because we only get snippets of Debra's life. This is not Rabbit Hole, which though not necessarily taking place in one day manages to feel emotionally cohesive. We begin to feel stretched -- much like Debra -- between her interactions with toxic people and her attempts to reclaim her own life. To this point, the production design is quietly astonishing, as we immediately understand Debra's changing reality due to her subtler makeup and hairstyles, her ever-so-slightly more mature home decor, and even a believably beautiful home improvement I most noticed in her kitchen. It's those little "lived-in" details that no doubt helped Miller's performance.

But the movie is all hers, and her lack of pretense shows me that she probably didn't know it, or care. She's just endlessly delivering on all fronts, and it's an awesome feat. When we finally resolve the mystery of Bridget's disappearance -- and rest assured that we do -- Miller's cathartic delivery is so stunning it moved me to tears even as I was wondering why. That shows her power in a film that has precious little strength on its own.

Knives Out (2019)

Score: 5 / 5

In what may well be my most anticipated movie of the year, Rian Johnson has crafted a thoroughly entertaining murder mystery. Wealthy crime novelist and patriarch Harlan Thrombey invited his entire family to his 85th birthday party; the movie begins the next morning when his housekeeper finds him dead. In our age of cynical, satirical, metafictional commentary on genre, Johnson here refuses to let his highly original film exhaust itself in this vein. Rather, he imbues it with so much heart and timely social commentary -- while still keeping up the humor and thrills -- that it never feels predictable or derivative.

I'll do my best not to spoil much of the mystery, but even with some basic knowledge of the plot, it's hard to really predict what will happen. Not because it's a huge secret; quite the opposite, because we know full well whodunnit by the halfway point, and we are also highly suspicious of the villain. What?, I hear you ask, but yes indeed -- the killer and the prime suspect and the villain are all in fact very different people. That is just the first of Johnson's brilliant moves to make his murder mystery unique. Johnson gives Agatha Christie a run for her money here; while I personally prefer Christie's ability to let all her characters shine independently, Johnson here is so invested in his leading character that the others are more an ensemble than distinct personalities.

That said, I think we can safely discuss the characters. They're all delightfully suspicious, and divided into three groups, each headed by one of Thrombey's children. The eldest, Linda (Jamie Lee Curtis), is a real estate mogul with a racist husband (Don Johnson) who complains about immigrants before quoting Hamilton and a spoiled playboy-with-a-nihilistic-streak son Ransom (a rather unhinged Chris Evans). The youngest, Walt (Michael Shannon), runs dear old dad's publishing company but can't quite make it on his own, even with the dubious support of his wife Donna (Riki Lindhome) and Nazi-sympathizing Internet troll of a son Jacob (Jaeden Martell). Widow Joni (Toni Collette), daughter-in-law to the patriarch, is a self-help lifestyle guru who self-helps herself through the Thrombey finances with a social activist daughter named Meg (Katherine Langford).

The family almost certainly did the deed, but there's also the housekeeper Fran who sees more than she should. There's old man Thrombey's mother, who is mostly still and silent, and whose age is utterly unknown even to her descendants. And, most importantly, there's the old man's nurse Marta (Ana de Armas), to whom the film primarily belongs. Marta was Harlan's confidant and caregiver, and now she harbors a dark secret but cannot tell lies -- her body is an inevitable lie detector under pain of regurgitation -- and so ends up bound to the investigation into her charge's death. It is her apparent purity and empathy that steals the movie; indeed, it arguably fuels much of the convoluted plot. When private detective Benoit Blanc (a delicious Daniel Craig) with his drawling southern accent enters the scene, he beelines for her and loops her in immediately.

While the whodunnit aspect is initially set up as the driving interest for us, by the halfway point that is no longer the primary mystery; it quickly becomes more of a howdunnit or even a whydunnit, which is what makes Knives Out so endlessly fresh. Sure, its roots are deep in the delicious ensemble murder mystery genre, but it quickly evolves into something else entirely, something that honors its tradition while consistently carving out its own niche. I personally expected more style than the film delivered, but I was pleasantly surprised that the substance far outpaced my expectations. The hows and whys become the dynamic interest, and the denouement is less "Aha!" than "Ohh, wow..." and that is a pretty amazing thing.

But, as a final note, it's the film's social commentary that makes this movie important in 2019. It's got a similar flavor to Get Out or Beatriz at Dinner in that it takes as center focus a young, brown-skinned immigrant woman who has to navigate a greedy, duplicitous white family whose love and acceptance of her turn immediately when their family fortune is at stake. They can't remember what South American country she came from, and don't really care that she's working to help keep her own family safe. By the film's final scene, Johnson lays down his cards with two or three of the best shots in the movie and one of the best closing images we've seen on screen all year. It's hilarious and twisted and utterly delicious, and perfectly captures the attitude of the whole movie.

Frozen II (2019)

Score: 4 / 5

Disney leaps right into the unknown with their latest animated adventure and delivers a worthy successor to Frozen. Dazzling visuals, fresh wardrobes, delightful new songs, and a slightly darker story make Frozen II a heck of a good time at the movies this holiday season. Its sense of place is perhaps its greatest asset (after its vocal talent), and the russet hues of an autumnal forest bring the landscape gorgeously to life in unexpected ways for such an iconic wintry franchise. But despite its overstuffed, convoluted narrative, the film's themes are even more complex and mature this time around.

We begin with a flashback to Elsa and Anna's childhood as their father narrates a story: their grandfather the king brokered a treaty with the nearby forest tribe Northuldra by building a dam. Back in the present, three years after the first film, the sisters celebrate autumn in Arendelle before Elsa, following a mysterious voice "into the unknown" unintentionally awakens elemental spirits. Apparently their presence reveals a secret past that needs resolution in order for the kingdom to find peace, so of course Elsa and Anna embark to the Enchanted Forest with Kristoff, Olaf, and Sven.

Elsa is tested several times as the elemental spirits threaten to hinder her quest; though she triumphs each time, we continually learn more about the troubled history of her family and her kingdom. She is eventually drawn to a mystical river that reveals the knowledge of the world, and Elsa finally discovers the terrible secret and gives the ultimate sacrifice. Anna must muster her strength and, in a clever role reversal for a sequel, rush to her sister's aid and the aid of the kingdom. It's a move that puts both sisters on slightly more equal hero-status and will surely help Disney's merchandising the franchise for a few more years until the next installment.

As relentlessly feminist as the first one, Frozen II manages to get a few other things wonderfully right as well. While Elsa still doesn't have a girlfriend, there are still arguably queer themes here, especially in the discussions of nature and secret truth, not to mention the reindeer-friendly Ryder who gets close to Kristoff and Sven and the indigenous Honeymaren who shares one pretty flirty scene with Elsa. More explicitly, however, Disney here continues its environmentalist messaging and strongly advocates in favor of reconciliation with nature and with indigenous peoples, denouncing capitalist interference with a powerful river and imbuing the forest and its inhabitants with pure magic. On an emotional level, it deals headfirst with loss, change, and of course the sins of the past. To think that a Disney movie could so directly address the process of rediscovering history to fix problems in the present and pave the way to healing and a better future. It might be buried under a needlessly complex plot structure, but it's there, baby. And, as the song tells us, even if we don't know all the answers, we can just try to do the next right thing. We'll get there eventually.

P.S. I hope the twist of Elsa and Anna being the grandchildren who right the wrongs of their grandfather returns in Disney's next major release, Episode IX of Star Wars. Yes, I'm praying Palpatine is Rey's ancestor, or at least her creator. Fight me.

**Edit in January 2020**
Having seen this movie several times since this initial post, I must make an addendum. Each subsequent viewing has endeared this movie to me more. The new mythology and convoluted plot make so much more sense now, and in fact feel profoundly deep. I wasn't ready for it going in the first time. Elsa's "Show Yourself" is the queer anthem the world needs and a miracle of animated cinema. Kristoff's "Lost in the Woods" is a perfect pleasure of movie music.
This movie is a solid 5 / 5 for me now. I might even like it more than the first.

A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood (2019)

Score: 4.5 / 5

As soon as it began -- much like the famed show we loved as children -- I knew this movie was going to be special. It starts with an intro overlooking miniatures and that silly, lilting piano tune that makes you feel instantly young. Helpful, too, is the repeated cinematographic techniques; according to one source, the filmmakers here used some of the same cameras and monitors used on the original show to re-create the magic. And while all these technical aspects are amazing, they by no means cheat the film of its real substance.

A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood is the story of Mister Rogers' Neighborhood, it's true, but not in a way you might expect. Taking its inspiration from the Esquire cover story of the supposed hero protagonist, this film actually centers on Lloyd Vogel, the writer of that article, whose life is forever changed by the unlikely celebrity. Vogel (a thankless role played skillfully by Matthew Rhys) is introduced to us almost immediately as a sort of case study by Rogers: he will be the theme of this episode, you might say, and he will be tested in matters of love, family, and forgiveness. But when we see his picture on Rogers's pictureboard, bloodied and gaunt, we know his tests will be hard to watch.

When we are, eventually, thrust into Vogel's story, we learn that he has alienated himself from his father (Chris Cooper) and seems to cope with his disillusioned worldview by crafting a career in scathing, cynical journalism. When he is suddenly assigned a puff piece in national heroes -- you guessed it, to interview Fred Rogers -- he is incredulous. Even his wife Andrea (Susan Kelechi Watson) quietly begs him not to "ruin her childhood," knowing full well what kind of dirt he might try to dig up. But he doesn't know Fred Rogers. Not yet.

Upon their meeting, Rogers (an immaculate Tom Hanks, who brilliantly tries to embody the man rather than imitate him) is every bit the hero we know him to be. Pensive and reflective, he often ends up questioning his interviewer more than answering his questions. He exhibits kindness and curiosity, empathy and gentleness to the point of making Vogel angry and irritable as he sees his own brokenness. When he finally suggests to his subject that Rogers likes him because he is broken, there's an uncanny moment of shock and sadness on Rogers' face. Later, when Rogers asks a dying man to pray for him and rationalizes it to Vogel -- any man going through that trial has to be close to God -- we get a startlingly clear portrait of what Rogers is really all about.

And that's the greatest triumph of Marielle Heller's latest film. Not in its ability to recreate the man or the show -- though it does so flawlessly, especially in one haunting and hilarious dream sequence -- but in its insight in dramatizing the ways the Neighborhood show can and did affect us all. We see how simply being around Rogers helped Vogel change his life; technically the film supports this, as their scenes together often feature unnatural light sources shining on Vogel in stark contrast to his solo scenes when he is doused in shadow. We see how Rogers himself is affected by his own love for others and how he quietly refuses to view himself as a hero. When Vogel speaks with Rogers's wife, she stops Vogel from calling her husband a saint, saying that he isn't perfect and that sainthood is often viewed as something impossible for normal people to achieve. But the way Rogers lived is in fact totally attainable by all of us, and the final call to action in this film is for us to realize that potential.

Parasite (2019)

Score: 5 / 5

Bong Joon-ho is always conscious of social inequities and class structure in his films, but Parasite may be as close to a manifesto as anything he's made yet, and it is magnificent. It's Bong at his greatest strengths and in full command of his unique craft. That is, his incredible ability to meld genre and instantly shift tone is on full display but in a controlled, contained manner that never feels excessive, unnecessary, or exploitative. And while he deftly handles heady themes and Big Ideas, Bong also crafts an astonishingly tight thriller.

Parasite begins as a satirical comedy of manners: Kim Ki-taek and his wife, son, and daughter live in poverty and in a tiny half-basement, working low-paying jobs and trying to make ends meet. Trying but failing, I should say, as we see them opening windows while they eat so the street clouds of insecticide waft in to help with pests. This kind of scene is at once hilarious and horrific, and it is often repeated in the film, as we become uncomfortably aware that the inequities of our world are at once bizarre and dangerous, ludicrous and deadly.

A friend of the family is preparing to leave for school and suggests the Kim son, Ki-woo, pose as a university student so he can tutor the daughter of a wealthy family. The Parks quickly hire Ki-woo and their daughter falls in love with him, but the Kims are quick to integrate themselves into the family. Posing as unrelated skilled workers (a therapist, a driver, and a housekeeper), they push their way into the Park household through manipulation, lies, and even framing the Parks' current employees. Everything snowballs into a very funny series of interactions and hoodwinks that culminate with the Parks leaving for a camping trip and the Kims lounging in the fancy house as if they owned the place. Could they be the titular parasites? One might think so, until the sudden turn.

I don't want to describe the plot itself here, because one of the main joys of Parasite is in the way writer/director Bong so carefully calculates his timing and execution. Every beat is used for maximum emotional and intellectual effect. Every textured surface, every light and shadow, every subtle shift of the camera forces us to live in the stylized but thickly realized world of raw class warfare. And when the movie suddenly -- and I mean so suddenly that the theater burst into gasps when it happened -- turns, it earns every bit of shock and awe it inspires. Just be aware that the parasites may not be who you expect. This is a true black comedy in that it is as funny as it is depressing, and often at the same time; pure entertainment that has a lot to say but never feels preachy, though life and death hang in the balance.

Ford v Ferrari (2019)

Score: 3 / 5

If you think racing cars is a sport, then this movie is definitely for you. I don't, and I still enjoyed it; the only other movie about racing I like is Ron Howard's Rush. James Mangold brings an absorbing, warm aesthetic to the (more or less) historical story that makes it accessible in the few times its eminently likable leads aren't stealing the screen. And yet, for all its high-octane tension and occasional sense of fun, I found myself constantly checking the time. At two-and-a-half hours, it's an exhausting exercise in trying to find something interesting.

In the 1960s, the Ford executives attempt to merge with Ferrari. Negotiations fail, and CEO Henry Ford II (Tracy Letts) declares war on the Italian car company to be determined in races, specifically the Le Mans 24-hour race. Ford hires engineer and former racer Carroll Shelby (Matt Damon) to design the car and find drivers. He selects Ken Miles (Christian Bale), a struggling mechanic and professional race car driver with strong personality and a fiery temper. Miles doesn't adhere to the image Ford presents, and so the executives attempt to deter his involvement. But eventually he succeeds in his race and Ford wins at Le Mans four years in a row as the only American company to win at the European race.

As far as sports dramas go, this is strictly standard stuff. The infighting and conflict between the tough-headed macho grunt-men and the equally stubborn, greedy money-men hits every predictable dramatic shift. Miles, a WWII veteran with a need for speed and thrills, has trouble with his wife (Caitriona Balfe) when he promises to stop racing after a near-death experience and then dives back in again. She, meanwhile, is the only woman of any substance in the film, and she calmly plays the dutiful housewife who exists only to support her husband (though she does occasionally yell at him before caving to his decisions).

But the more I think about Ford v Ferrari, the less I like it. It seems determined to hearken to an age of car-obsessed macho-man nostalgia -- read "very white and very straight" -- and even the humor of the film is profoundly sexist. At one point they joke about putting Doris Day behind the wheel, a throwaway line that hangs uncomfortably in the air as it reveals some strong unspoken assumptions the movie constantly makes. My favorite scene in the film works because of its inherent misogyny, when Shelby takes Ford himself in a racing car for a spin; Letts's performance steals the scene as he begins weeping from the thrill and emotional significance, but he stands in stark contrast to the mechanics, who comment on the un-manliness of anyone who doesn't race and estimate how long it takes for weaker men to lose control of their bowels.

And, while the film does end with Miles being killed in a car accident two months after Le Mans, it does not even come close to trying to understand the mystery of why Miles needed to race. He was almost killed multiple times doing it, knowing full well his wife and son did not want him to continue. We can guess his needs, especially in light of his prior service, but the film conveniently ignores the psychological reality of Miles's life and motivations. Similarly, the film conveniently ignores the seriously problematic parts of Shelby's life: while it paints Shelby as a hero, and he is in some ways inspiring, even a cursory Google search reveals the man's history of poaching, womanizing, suing, and even raping. So, taken for what it is, the film is aesthetically pleasing even as its substance lacks in every conceivable way.

The Good Liar (2019)

Score: 4 / 5

I'm not quite sure how to talk about this movie without spoiling things, but then again, given the title and marketing, surely everyone knows what to expect. Ian McKellan and Helen Mirren play Roy and Betty, respectively, two single people of a certain age who meet online and arrange a dinner date together. Despite a little awkwardness -- they each used false names online -- they appear to hit it off well. Betty isn't quite ready for intimacy, having lost her husband the previous year, but the two become quasi-romantic companions. So much so, in fact, that when Roy's knee gives out on him one night, Betty instantly insists that he stay the night in her guest room.

Of course, we're well aware at this point that they are both liars. The excellent opening sequence shows them doing the opposite of what their online profiles describe, and more importantly, we've seen Roy in action. Roy, you see, is a con man, and with his partner they enact various means to swindle others out of money. It would seem his specialty is vulnerable women like Betty, who he plans to woo until she lets him into a joint bank account with her savings. All seems to go according to plan with Roy and his partner (played by Jim Carter) until Betty's grandson Steven (Russell Tovey, who should really be in more movies) gets suspicious.

I can't say too much more about the plot, because even these twists are deliciously executed by The Good Liar. The greatest pleasure of the film is watching its two leads -- who have never starred on screen together -- play a seductive cat-and-mouse game together. But the film has its other charms. It seems to take its aesthetic from Hitchcock at his best, which results in a fabulously stylish if largely bloodless thriller. We're drawn into a magnificently textured and detailed world, where every little prop and piece of clothing is carefully selected for maximum effect; we, like the characters, are drawn into a web of deceit so calculated we don't really know it until too late.

That may not be wholly fair. Jeffrey Hatcher's screenplay has its strong points, of course, but we do see some of the larger twists coming a mile off. This kind of story requires an airtight plot, but we don't get that here. Instead, by the second act, the film tries to smooth everything over with sentiment, which is itself unexpected. We can't expect the motives or rationale, and frankly, in an expository sequence that feels like it came from a completely different movie, I'm not sure The Good Liar earns its own attempt at Big Ideas and Significance. It takes traumatic history and exploits it for crude and unnecessary dramatic purposes.

And yet, by the explosive climax, I could have forgiven this film anything. Surprisingly violent, emotionally and physically, it's one of the most shocking things I've seen on screen all year. Director Bill Condon has lured us into a false sense of security and comfort -- with the exception of another brilliantly staged scene of violence earlier in Charing Cross station -- and finally pulls out the rug at the last. While the film as a whole is clearly inspired by Hitchcock, it manages the uncanny feat of performing itself like something Hitchcock might have created, and shows us yet another skill set of the dynamic and versatile Bill Condon.

Doctor Sleep (2019)

Score: 4.5 / 5

Mike Flanagan is one of my favorite horror writer/directors right now, and this movie showcases why. Not because it shows off his unique talents or even because it stays true to his own aesthetic, though to some extent it does both. But in Doctor Sleep, Flanagan succeeds in the nearly inconceivable project of staying true to a book written as a sequel to another book that was disloyally adapted to film, and in so doing, tying all three works together while crafting something new. By definition, then, this film cannot be discussed wholly on its own, but must be considered in tandem with Kubrick's 1980 The Shining and Stephen King's two books of the same names.

Doctor Sleep begins shortly after Danny and his mother escaped the Overlook Hotel. Danny, still haunted by the ghosts, learns from Dick Hallorann (dead in this version, following Kubrick's story) how to lock up ghosts in psychic boxes in his mind. We suddenly jump forward thirty years, when an alcoholic Danny (Ewan McGregor) -- who has tried to suppress his "shine" -- makes a new friend and attempts to clean himself up. He gets sober and works at a hospice, using his abilities to comfort dying patients, earning him his titular nickname. We jump forward again to the present, and if you're wondering why the plot is so strange already, you can blame King.

But this is where things get interesting, because we are introduced to a migrating cult of psychic vampires known as the True Knot, who survive by inhaling "steam" which people with "shine" exude as they die. It's weird and heady and not really the stuff of great horror until we see the vagabonds in full form: Jacob Tremblay's bit part ends when he is tortured and killed by the vampires. Their leader, Rose the Hat (a stunning Rebecca Ferguson), is also their primary hunter, and she grows telepathically aware of the distress of a little girl named Abra. Abra's shine ability (forgive me) outshines everyone's, and she reaches out to Danny for help. Rose begins hunting the girl, hinting that her wellspring of shine will help the vampires continue their semi-immortal lives for a long time indeed.

The film's oddly episodic structure is deftly handled by Flanagan, who never lets the exposition get in the way of his story or aesthetic. Whereas Kubrick's film works best, arguably, as psychological horror -- although we know from the beginning that Jack Nicholson is crazy, and also I dislike his acting in general, but that's just me -- Flanagan's provokes something more like emotional horror. With the help of some handy nostalgia and effective use of McGregor, Flanagan allows us plentiful inlets to care about these characters deeply. Even Rose, the villain, is so memorably played by Ferguson that I found I cared for her, even as she evilly uses her beauty and charm to violent ends. So when Danny returns to the snowbound Overlook Hotel, we know we're in for a seriously fucked-up finale.

Personally, I'm pretty ambivalent about Kubrick's film. It's beautifully shot and designed, of course, but I find it colossally boring. And while Doctor Sleep lurches wildly from episode to episode, trying to balance psychic vampires with alcoholism and ghosts with astral projection, it does so with a keen sense of forward motion. We know this sequel is actually going somewhere, and even though most of the picture does not feel even remotely connected to The Shining, the climax is a thrilling, riveting marriage of the many versions/visions of this story. It seems to attempt a reconciliation between Flanagan's movie, Kubrick's movie, and King's books, and in my mind, it succeeds magnificently. I haven't been so moved and pleased at the end of a horror movie sequel in a long time, and a big part of that is Flanagan's ballsy move to change the ending to suit his needs. Specifically, it's all about empowerment and overcoming trauma and the cost of sacrifice, and with these themes tacked on to a technically brilliant film, it's infinitely more satisfying than Kubrick's.

Jojo Rabbit (2019)

Score: 3.5 / 5

And who said summer Nazi camp wouldn't be fun?

Certainly not Taika Waititi, whose new film feels anything but typical or expected after Thor: Ragnarok. Then again, that big-budget win might have been exactly what allowed Waititi the ability to execute this little bitch of a movie. Alternately hilarious and heartrending, Waititi works hard to masterfully handle complex themes and seemingly irreconcilable tonal extremes in this film. The extent to which he succeeds is in the eye of the beholder, but he cannot possibly be accused of being anything but original.

We begin in a Wes Anderson-esque tribute to coming of age. It's fun and interesting, especially since the camp is led by Sam Rockwell and Rebel Wilson. The cheeky presentation, shot straightforward and simply edited, with bright sunshine and cheery rousing music, lulls you into a pleasant sense of gentle -- wait. Did I mention this is a Nazi camp?

As the opening trumpets fanfare, we hear a chorus of children singing something akin to a German drinking song, and we are quickly introduced to Jojo, excited to be on his way to a Hitler Youth training camp with his friend Yorki. Jojo's fanatical obsession with Nazism manifests in his imaginary friend, Adolf Hitler himself, played by Waititi himself. This Hitler is about as bonkers as a little boy might imagine, and he repeatedly offers Jojo cigarettes and terrible advice while remaining cutesy and energetic. Despite Jojo's jingoism, however, his mettle is tested when older campers dare him to kill a rabbit. He does not, and shortly thereafter nearly blows himself up with a grenade. He is thence known as the deformed and meek "Jojo Rabbit".

I had rather hoped this sequence -- which is primarily my impression from the trailer -- would last at least half the film. Instead, it's a surprisingly brief camp experience, and Jojo is suddenly back home with his lovely mother Rosie (Scarlett Johansson). Rosie's a free-ish spirit and secret Jewish sympathizer, remaining in the graces of Nazi Germany while secretly hiding a Jewish orphan named Elsa. When Jojo discovers Elsa's presence, he is confused and terrified but keeps it a secret from everyone including his mother. The two children embark on a strange relationship -- "getting to know you", as the song goes -- and become friends by the end. Spoiler alert? I think not; there's nary a moment in this coming-of-age comedy we don't see coming.

Except, that is, for the sudden dramatic turn that, while somewhat predictable, managed to stop my breath short. It hurts a lot, and the rest of the film tries desperately to balance the tragedy with some kind of release. And while I think it succeeds dramatically, I had some trouble swallowing a few elements that felt a bit problematic. The film's narrative follows Jojo from naivete (falling prey to the dangers of blind loyalty) to some kind of higher maturity, but even at the end he exhibits foolish and selfish tendencies toward the girl he professes to love. Does his affection for her truly change his mind and heart, or is it just boyish infatuation? Does he really step away from the horrors of the Nazi psychosis, or is it all just adolescent eccentricity on a huge social scale?

And the film's ambiguous use of Scarlett Johansson only sharpens my suspicion that Waititi isn't quite sure what the purpose of this movie is. Its sharp comedy pricks fanaticism and bigotry, sure, but often at the expense of those whom it should be championing. While I was personally moved by the climax and ending, I could feel the film deliberately pulling specific heartstrings, and that kind of emotional manipulation belongs to Disney more than to this sort of arthouse satire. This should be The Producers, not Bambi, and by the end I really had no idea what message to take from this movie.

Are we at a point where we can laugh at and about Nazis without considering the implications of their depiction, in any medium? If you think so, be aware that you might come off as tone-deaf (or at least ambiguous) as Waititi does here.

Midway (2019)

Score: 4 / 5

I'm a sucker for war movies, and even more a sucker for Roland Emmerich. And Midway is not a disappointment.

A two-and-a-half hour war thriller that basically spans the Pacific naval activities during WWII, the film considers its central battle -- The Battle of Midway, obviously -- in terms of its context. It does so at great risk; we've been programmed into iconic, intense, and isolated microcosms of these wars in cinema, and so working hard (and in such a long film) to contextualize the climactic conflict is dramatically dangerous. With the helpful use of onscreen text with dates and locations, we get carried along from the 1941 attack on Pearl Harbor to the Tokyo Raid the next year and finally to the titular three-day conflict of air and sea.

Because it's Emmerich, there's a lot you can accurately predict about this movie. Let's dive into a few. One: It primarily concerns men, and all but wastes Mandy Moore. Two: Nobody is really given enough drama to shine in their roles. The men seem like they're doing their best to carry on the tradition of stoic, heroic war movies: strong chins, strange hair on their heads and face, they seem intent only on serving their country and giving their best tough man impressions to the camera. Three: The plot flies along so quickly that I'm sure I heard groans from history buffs in the audience. But it's never less than entertaining, and certainly could never be accused of being boring.

Four, and perhaps most objectionable to some: It's drowning in special effects. As one of the most expensive independent movies ever made, Midway already demanded a sizable budget. Add to it the aerial dogfights, a submarine with torpedoes, and fleets of ships on open water in open war and what else could he have done? Emmerich doesn't necessarily go for broke with the calculated immersion of Nolan's Dunkirk, but he clearly learned a few great ideas from the master filmmaker. This movie is cast mostly in stark, bluish daylight and features an incredible soundscape that makes you feel the urgency of what's onscreen. While the screenplay and performances largely feel like they're more in-tune with WWII movies than WWII itself, the visuals and editing are full-on Emmerich at his dizzying, spectacular best. Then the planes dive hundreds of yards in a flurry of exploding fireworks, you can hardly help but hold your breath and grip your armrests.

Finally, and most importantly, it's just a lot of fun; at least, if you consider eye-popping battle sequences at sea entertaining. Emmerich may get criticized for his blockbuster, CGI aesthetic, but damned if he doesn't know exactly what he's doing. It's all a bunch of gorgeous billowing smoke, fire blazing, and water splashing. We might have hoped for a bit more real-life drama (not like the artificial romance of Pearl Harbor) since, after all, the characters here are apparently based on real-life soldiers, unlike in the 1976 film of the same name. The few moments of real intrigue are largely skated over, including James Doolittle (Aaron Eckhart) landing in China after bombing Tokyo. But this is no historical treatise, and Emmerich knows we're here for the action. For a rousing war movie that depicts both sides of the conflict but accurately champions the heroes -- Emmerich is many things, but always a sentimentalist -- you couldn't do much better than Midway.

Last Christmas (2019)

Score: 1.5 / 5

Does this mean it's holiday movie season? What a crock.

I had high hopes for Last Christmas. At least, as high as they could be for any holiday rom com. Penned by Emma Thompson and starring two attractive, skilled young stars, what wasn't to like? More importantly, it would feature George Michael music. I was ready. And as it began with the sort of Hallmark-y girl-tired-of-the holidays Elf-inspired weirdness, I was less irritated than anxious for the good stuff to start. And it never really did.

Emilia Clarke plays an utterly unlikable Kate, former singer and current Christmas kitsch storekeeper in London. She sabotages herself at every turn, and her carelessness alienates her from everyone in her vicinity to the point of homelessness. Michelle Yeoh plays her longsuffering boss and Emma Thompson pops in now and again as Kate's traumatized Yugoslavian mother. Then enter Henry Golding's character Tom, knight on a bike, whose dashing charm and intense emotional intelligence slowly but surely win Kate over. That's not to say it's all roses; no, for all his wit and grace, Tom is very absent, apparently working all the time.

Of course, these days an absent love interest is enough to make any girl pine. Maybe he's got his life together, or maybe he's another Christian Grey. Thankfully, though, the film gets several things right. First, we have an effortlessly diverse cast led by strong women and non-white men. Second, Kate is pitiful and unlikable, but by the halfway point has risen to the occasion of fixing her life and putting things back together even while pining for her gentleman caller. Third, the story slowly reveals the hidden traumas in each character's past, turning the heartache of a figurative "Last Christmas" into very real problems. Kate's heart was transplanted, we learn late in the picture, and ever since then she's felt a disconnect from life.

And for all its positive messages and gorgeous chemistry between the leads, the film is nearly impossible to get into. Perhaps this is characteristic of Paul Feig's films; I certainly haven't seen any of his comedies, though A Simple Favor was one of my favorites last year. But in this, the quick editing and bumpy screenplay force uncomfortable laughs in awkwardly while attempting to cover lots of dramatic ground. It doesn't give us emotional footholds in the characters until far too late to care, and a final bizarre twist in the narrative ruins any chance this story could have had at inspiring change or hope or even -- dare I say it -- love. It takes the self-help and community-building beauty of A Christmas Carol or It's a Wonderful Life and shoves it into a bank of dirty slushy snow.

P.S. There is so little audible George Michael music in this flick, it's not even worth watching for the soundtrack.

Motherless Brooklyn (2019)

Score: 3.5 / 5

Less hard-boiled than tender-hearted, Motherless Brooklyn is a fascinating, sweeping film that showcases what is best and worst in the genre. Edward Norton's latest feels much like a passion project -- his name is all over the credits -- and fits most squarely in film noir, something I don't think anyone really expected from him. His clear determination to get it right often makes the film feel sentimental, which is not quite a proper noir attribute, but his emotional intelligence keeps things grounded and intensely relevant.

That is, if you can follow the convoluted story. This is where I get lost in most noir: I get taken in and carried along by the setting, lighting, atmosphere, costumes, and acting, and I completely lose track of the plot. So much of it is relegated to anti-dramatic exposition -- that is, a femme fatale describing the crime, a mob boss describing his innocence, a detective piecing together disparate stories -- in voiceover or dimly lit P.I. offices. They toss around names and places and connections like we can catch it all, and frankly I have trouble remembering my own age. And if you, like Norton, stretch your mystery across two-and-a-half hours, you can kiss my memory of details farewell.

From what I do remember, Norton plays a detective in 1950s New York, working with his foster brothers under their boss and surrogate father Bruce Willis (forgive me, but I'll never remember all these characters' names). Norton's character, the titular "Motherless Brooklyn", has Tourette's Syndrome, which often causes some friction with others and his ability to blend in while investigating -- he's often also called "Freak Show" -- but he has an invaluable photographic memory. When Willis is killed by criminals, Norton embarks on a dizzying descent into the criminal underbelly of his hometown.

It sounds simple enough, but the criminals are in fact those lording over the city, and the film quickly changes tactics. Before the halfway point, we're already enmeshed in conspiracies over urban planning and gentrification, and if you think this isn't the stuff neo-noir stories should be concerned with, think again. It's a thrilling and confusing web of thieving businessmen and genocidal politicians all angling for power and money in an atmosphere of secrecy and impunity for those with titles and cash. Enter Alec Baldwin, whose city planning developer is more interested in roads and parks and displacing nonwhite folks than in actually building a community, and Cherry Jones, a grassroots activist fighting the forced removal of immigrant and minority workers. Norton becomes a sort of Dante, guided by Gugu Mbatha-raw's Virgil, climbing from the depths of dark alleyways to the well-lit offices of public officials where he finally confronts the capitalist devil himself.

Civic corruption and racism go hand-in-hand here, but for all the film's damning indictment of U.S. gentrification (in the 50s, sure, but also today; it's hard not to think of Baldwin's impression of Trump on SNL while watching him here, though here he's far more sinister and believable) it remains eminently watchable. This is because it flirts with noir tropes while subverting many others, making it a unique project working toward, I suspect, a re-evaluation of the genre. Norton is sweet and caring, not chauvinistic or entitled. Mbatha-raw is not forced into a role of dutiful sidekick, sex icon, or victim/villain, but is given ample space to craft a strong, standalone character who chooses a mutually beneficial romance with Norton. Norton's perceived disability gives him a fresh and useful perspective he uses to the advantage of others; he's no chainsmoking Bogart in a fedora and trenchcoat looking for the next broad to bang.

It's fascinating to me that, by displacing the film to the 50s and layering it behind steam rising from street vents and jazz music wafting on salty breezes, Norton's messages ring clear and true in 2019. Motherless Brooklyn is a rewarding viewing experience, if you're into mystery and confusion and that feeling of melancholy that follows most of the best noir pictures. But be warned, it's the kind of movie that you have to watch and listen to the whole time if you don't want to get lost. Look away for a moment and you could miss valuable information. That's a lot to ask for with a runtime this taxing.

Harriet (2019)

Score: 4 / 5

It's amazing that the dynamic life of Harriet Tubman has never been adapted to film by a major studio for a mainstream audience. The slave who became an abolitionist -- indeed, perhaps the most visibly active abolitionist -- is brought vividly to life and takes central focus in Kasi Lemmons's newest film. Cynthia Erivo embodies the icon in a stunning and overdue leading star turn, and her performance demands all the acclaim and respect it is getting. But what's fascinating to me about this film isn't Erivo's recreation of the character, but the way the character is presented.

Harriet is basically a superhero story. Fitting, because the historical Tubman is certainly nothing less than a superhero. The film dresses her in velvet, once she frees herself, and her finery stands out sharply against the burlap and sackcloth of her enslaved escapees. She never looks unkempt, never looks unduly victimized or exploited. The film allows her a dignity and beauty surprising in a movie about such ugly violence. She is, in many ways, the Captain America or Captain Marvel of the antebellum mid-south. We follow her from slavery to freedom, and back and forth as she becomes "Moses", singing secret songs to summon her people out of bondage and into the wilderness.

But for a historical drama -- a biopic -- to so lionize its own protagonist could be suspect to the wrong audience. And it is: I myself found parts of the formulaic plot structure somewhat dull. And more than once I bristled at the truncated bits of fact being sidelined in favor of seemingly fictitious drama. In the second half of the film, Tubman's former owner hires a black bounty hunter to catch his runaway, and their encounters -- including his unspeakably brutal murder of Janelle Monae's character -- feel cheap and contrived. No wonder some are arguing that these additional scenes are problematic. They are, especially if you choose to view the film as historical record.

But, for it being only the first major picture about Tubman, I think it's a damn fine attempt. Sure, it sacrifices some aesthetic integrity for mainstream purposes, but this is the kind of movie that will become a perennial classroom viewing event. Perhaps nowhere is it more clear that this story is not meant as historical treatise than in the strange depiction of Tubman's famed affliction. She calls it God talking to her. It looks like a sort of epilepsy. The film allows us to see her visions: sometimes as flashbacks, flash-forwards, or altered versions of events we're not quite sure where to place, the visions are presented in an unfocused blue-scale hue. What to make of it? Think carefully, because your answer may change your interpretation of the character.

You can argue Lemmons's choice to minimize bloody brutality in favor of thrilling escapes and grounded drama. You can criticize the fictionalized parts and dissect the facts. You can say this should be a sweeping epic about the hero who should be on our $20 bill. Or you can take the film as the appropriate-for-younger-audiences picture it is. You can accept the film's simplistic approach to its subject because it paves the way for future, more nuanced, approaches. You can dig into its inspiring, intersectional feminist message. But really, any movie that ends with a black woman leading a raid on Southern forces is more than worth a watch.

The Current War: Director's Cut (2019)

Score: 4 / 5

After two years of waiting (and apparent editing, following the Weinstein debacle), we finally have it. The film about the war of the currents, the late 1800s competition between Thomas Edison and George Westinghouse over control of U.S. electricity development. And, really, I only knew that from watching this movie.

If you like history and already know the story, you might not enjoy The Current War because I'm sure the facts get twisted and glossed over. Fast dialogue and aggressively sharp editing made me feel like I was constantly catching up to the characters, trying to remember their names and significance. That's not to say the film doesn't work hard to help us understand, just that it moves so quickly and covers so much ground that I'm sure I missed some key bits of the story. That's more a failing on my part, but in a story that tries to include so much, surely they could have stayed with a few more facts and been less obtuse with inside jokes about Nikola Tesla and J.P. Morgan.

Then again, the intense stylization of this film is awesome. Fabulously theatrical -- the director is Alfonso Gomez-Rejon of Glee and American Horror Story -- the movie draws more attention to itself than to its subjects. Swirling, zooming cinematography flies us from lights to darkness and seems especially interested in sharply angled close-up shots. Props are often oversized and spectacular: none more so than Edison's lightbulb map of the States where he keeps track of which electricity system owns which markets. Beautiful costumes and richly decorated sets often suggested the theatricality of this piece, not unlike Joe Wright's Anna Karenina but less obviously artificial.

I'm also interested in the strange timeliness of this movie. It seems to draw parallels to our own rapidly evolving techno-culture, and offers ample warnings of the consumptive commodification in capitalism, especially among rich white men who always want more. A fascinating edge to this story is that Edison repeatedly warms that Westinghouse's alternating current is deadly, and goes so far as to kill animals to prove it. Edison works secretly to create the electric chair with this AC, but is outed as the hypocrite he is. My favorite sequence in the film is of the Chicago World's Fair, and as the beautiful lights flare to life, the film intercuts the death of the first person legally executed by electric chair, William Kemmler. With great power, the film screams to us, comes great responsibility.

The Lighthouse (2019)

Score: 5 / 5

Robert Eggers completes the triumvirate of modern horror auteurs, which includes Jordan Peele and Ari Aster, with his second major feature film after The Witch. Whereas his first consisted of a family isolated in 17th-century woods haunted by the occult, his second consists of two loners on a 19th-century island tormented by nature (external or internal, but we'll get to that). Where his first thematically moved to transcendence, his second leads to doom. The former relies on womanhood, the latter on masculinity. In many ways, I'd argue these are companion films. But let's try to consider The Lighthouse on its own treacherous ground.

Ephraim Winslow (Robert Pattinson), a young ex-lumberjack looking for better pay, is dumped on a storm-swept, rocky island somewhere off New England. The more remote the lighthouse, the better the pay, and Winslow is ready to earn his keep as the new "wickie," or lighthouse keeper. Until, that is, he meets the crusty old sea-dog senior keeper Thomas Wake (Willem Dafoe), who barks his orders with a thick dialect and jealousy keeps the ethereal light to himself. So begins a battle of wits, a test of sanity, and a duel to the death at the utter brink of the world.

Shot in a boxy, tight aspect ratio (don't ask me what numbers) and on black-and-white 35mm film, Eggers clearly had a lot of unusual intentionality for this film. And while the delivery of his vision could be as inaccessible and even off-putting as Wake's archaic language, that is probably part of the point. More accurately a film in grayscale than B&W, the whole thing looks pallid and cold. It thrums along with a grandiose, deliberate visual pace not unlike a German Expressionist film, underscored brilliantly with Mark Korven's (The Witch, In the Tall Grass, The Terror: Infamy) doomsday dirge and a haunting foghorn bellow. The tight screen shape makes for a claustrophobic viewing experience, even as it distances us from the reality of the proceedings.

Paradoxically, even while the film holds us at a cold arm's length, it invites us into the minds of its two leading men. Each deliver stunning performances, and each suggests enough madness to keep us alert for cinematic tomfoolery. Though the film begins with a promise of Winslow's four-week trial period, we quickly lose all sense of time and begin to suspect the island does not exist in temporal reality. As their dark secrets are revealed -- the men, we learn, share a first name and wicked past sins -- the men appear to act as foils and doubles for each other. Their alcoholism doesn't help their potential madness, and the film's editing teeters toward incomprehensibility: are the impossible things we see "real", or products of the deranged minds unraveling before us?

The madness of their experience, it should be noted, is also very possibly real. It's not impossible that their madness is provoked by the island's apparently supernatural activity. A half-blind seagull (think of The Raven and The Rime of the Ancient Mariner) torments them and could represent anything from Poe's Black Cat to Norse mythology's Odin. A siren and/or mermaid appears at least twice to tempt and terrify. Mysterious tentacles appear at key points and could indicate liaisons with a giant squid, Poseidon's (or Ursula's) devilish presence, or even a Lovecraftian Elder Thing. Further, it's up for debate whether these, as Macbeth would say, supernatural solicitings are only visible to Winslow or to both men. If Wake (whose name suggests a disturbance) can see these things, is he also going mad; if not, could he be an extension of the horrors, or even the cause?

Then again, Wake has a tendency to spin his own tales between bouts of farting. The air incessantly leaving his body seems to make his rather gaseous existence something out of myth. And this brings me to my final thoughts: that the enigmatic light in the lighthouse reveals the film to be essentially about nothing. Sure, we can tie everything to this story from Melville to Jewett, Milton to Woolf, Shakespeare to Dr. Caligari. But the men, vying for proximity to the light -- the light! A beacon for wayward souls that saves no one, serving instead as a tool for obsession and madness and a lure for monsters of the sea -- ultimately meet doom and death after getting too close. This movie is a tall tale, an urban legend, and perhaps anyone looking for anything more concrete will only crash on the rocks.