Song Sung Blue (2025)

Score: 4 / 5

Another musical biopic? No thanks, said I, thinking bitterly of my resolution not long ago to ignore or at least not care about new entries in the genre. But of course I went, somewhat begrudgingly, to Song Sung Blue, perhaps the last big awards contender released this season, if only to see Hugh Jackman do what he does best. And thank goodness I did.

Based not on Neil Diamond but on a real-life tribute band known as Lightning and Thunder, the story is a rare biographical picture of legit musicians who never quite reached fame the same way as other "original" artists. They are, like so many of us, not writers of their own tunes but still profoundly skilled artists whose love of particular music leads them to their own kind of fame while spreading joy. The Milwaukee couple at the heart of the story -- Mike, a recovering alcoholic Vietnam vet, and Claire, a sassy single mother of two -- fall in love in the unlikeliest of places: a state fair impersonator gig: he as Buddy Holly and she as Patsy Cline. But Mike wants to perform as himself, with his self-styled moniker "Lightning." Claire is instantly intrigued by his charisma and passion, and their chemistry sparks immediately. In only their first date, they begin dreaming of careers beyond their daily grind; it's A Star is Born in the Midwest. 

In a whirlwind, their romance becomes a showmance, starring in their own singing duo and touring with rave bookings. Mike's flashy style and vision of stardom is mobilized by Claire; they share the work of arranging music, constructing costumes, and building set lists. They're destined for success both professionally and personally. Claire's two daughters, though at first somewhat hesitant about mom's new beau, soon enough come around to the infectious joy between them. This is true for us as well, and the film knowingly capitalizes on the winning charms of Jackman and co-star Kate Hudson, who by the film's midpoint takes the reins. 

One of the more nightmarish moments in any film this year occurs when Claire is almost killed in a freak accident at home. I was wholly unprepared for this. Apparently Song Sung Blue is based on a documentary by Greg Kohs of the same name, so if you're familiar with that you won't be shocked. I was not familiar, and shock doesn't begin to describe my sensation of the joyful, rapturous rug that is the first part of this film being ripped out beneath me. I should have been prepared for more depth in this fluffy film, as director Craig Brewer (of Dolemite is My Name) wasn't about to let this star vehicle careen into a puff piece. What was surely a lifelong struggle between the couple, their family, and their careers is boiled down into a montage-laden merry-go-round that highlights the somber, heartrending pain of average people with profound dreams fighting against the crushing tide of real life. Drugs and doctors, medical bills and disabilities, and the looming specter of being irrelevant, purposeless, and forgotten: these things are so relatable and rarely seen in such big-budget productions. 

It's not all dreary, of course, and Brewer wisely sidesteps many classic pitfalls of musical biopics in favor of his stars' unique charms. Jackman wields a bit too much power early in the film, but he evens out into a wonderfully rich character as he settles into a life he wants out of sheer love for his family. Hudson, warm and flat early on, transforms into a bitter wretch in the throes of self-pity and nihilism before rising from her own ashes in time for the film's final act. "Nostalgia pays," the characters repeat, and while there's much ado about Diamond's best songs -- and no, the film asserts rightly, "Sweet Caroline" ain't it -- the film works best as a human drama of average people the likes of which deserve this spotlight more than Hollywood usually grants them. 

I won't lie and say I didn't weep in this film, but it wasn't because of its sad moments. Rather, it was a sense of joy pervading the film that helps it make its mark above the miasma of usual fare. Moreover, its finale provides an inexplicable uplift that I absolutely did not see coming. This is a film more along the lines of Florence Foster Jenkins than Walk the Line, and it'll be a comfort watch in my future for sure. As the song says, "God of my day, lord of my night, seek for the way, taking me home."

And yes, the music numbers are all excellent.

Deadpool & Wolverine (2024)

Score: 4.5 / 5

I even went into this expecting to be annoyed.

Deadpool, fun and irreverent as it is, has never been my favorite superhero series; partly due to its cheapening of the X-Men (my favorite), and partly due to its loud and crass fanbase, I've appreciated it from a safe distance. It didn't help, either, that the previous two films were nowhere near as subversive or clever as they were touted as being. For being what he is, the films never broke the mold -- or even pushed the mold -- of what superhero films can be, relying on tired tropes in each film's final act to remind us of the feel-good victories of a bad guy with a heart of gold. It's fun for some, and that's fine. It's just not for me.

So for this character and his filmmaking team to now assimilate into Disney's MCU was promising to be, pardon, a hot fucking mess. At a time when the MCU still can't figure out where it's going, how to get there, or why -- look at their recent announcement that all but rewrites what was to be Kang as the next Big Bad -- to add such a beloved character and make it fit in the chaos of multiverses had to have been a nightmare in the writers' room. Further, to add -- like Cable before him -- an iconic X-Man was easily the most dangerous thing they could have done. Even further, for it to be the one that was surely -- surely -- finally retired from the genre, and whose character is finally, certainly, dead, was almost too much to bear.

Some of my fears indeed came true. Jumping between universes and timelines happens via the Time Variance Authority, introduced in the bizarre series Loki, and the conceptual rewriting continues to teeter on the brink of pure nonsense. Characters are "brought back" and "reintroduced" ad nauseam, reinforcing the problem of the entertainment hamster wheel: when anyone and everyone can be repeatedly resurrected, there are no stakes in the story or in the real-life productions. Nothing matters anymore. Style succeeds over substance, most easily recognizable in an overwrought soundtrack that plays, obviously and often blandly, more like a three-dimensional character than any of the actual people being dramatized. Deadpool indeed starts the film without a girlfriend (Morena Baccarin), which makes no sense after the events of the previous film, and despite continual queerbaiting "humor" Ryan Reynolds never manages to actually queer the character. The villain (Casssandra, sister of Xavier, played by Emma Corrin) is rote and dull, stretching credibility even as her aims feel nonsensical; that's a lot to say in a film filled with the nonsensical, as a rule. And the endless parade of flagged references could fill a dissertation; one hopes that the film's home release will include on-screen footnotes so we know why certain characters and phrases are apparently important to the franchise as a whole.

All that is true, and I found my spirit tiring as I tried to keep up with the material while keeping my beer down.

And yet -- 

Deadpool & Wolverine is the most delightfully entertaining movie of the summer. At least it was for me. Not since The Fall Guy have I laughed so much in a packed auditorium. Even the Void and its bland villain couldn't relax my grin as Deadpool is introduced to countless variations of himself, including a female version (Blake Lively) and a cowboy version (Matthew McConaughey). More importantly, much like the most recent Spider-Man film (or The Flash, etc.), this one effectively ties together previous branches of Marvel properties and honors them. While we can certainly hope it's the last we'll see of some of them, it is really cool to see Jennifer Garner again as Elektra, Wesley Snipes as Blade (though his apparent shade at being recast is a glaring sour note here), and even Chris Evans as Human Torch. The return of Tyler Mane as Sabretooth was a fabulous touch, too, and the inclusion of Channing Tatum as Gambit had me in actual tears (of joy, of humor, of what I've always wanted from the franchise).

All that takes backseat, naturally, to the return of Hugh Jackman as a title character. When too many Marvel properties are being tied in and referenced, he manages to keep things locked down and grounded, along with his horny partner. The entourage of Marvel cast-offs get their heyday, and it makes more sense because this Wolverine is, in fact, a variation of the one we've loved for the past two decades. This one is surlier, and of course he's wearing the famous yellow costume. The film even provides more variants for him in a singular sequence that had our audience in stitches until one Henry Cavill materialized on screen and the room exploded. His character works really well in the Mad Max-inspired world that sets the bulk of this movie, and I'd have liked more pared-down material so we could really see these characterizations shine through the otherwise messy story.

It's all very amusing, and while that's not the most ringing endorsement, I appreciate the heart and joy that goes into a movie like this. The gimmicky stakes didn't work for me, and I wish the MCU would go back to smaller-scale battles for its heroes, but that's not the point of this story or production. Indeed, I'd rather have seen a super simplified and deeply silly story here: If Deadpool got this ugly/cute dog and it got abducted or sucked into a wormhole or something and he had to find it, enlisting the help of a reluctant Wolverine variant who thinks it's a cosmos-saving scheme, and it turns out to just be saving Deadpool's ugly dog. Think John Wick style, but funny, and David Leitch has been in this series, so the connection would make sense. Silly characters doing silly things require one thing these days: lowering the stakes. Stop making it about saving the multiverse! But if we're going to go there, and clearly that's what Disney is all about these days, I can't really be mad at it. It's a hell of a good time, and all the more rewarding if you've been a longtime fan of anything Marvel-related. At this point -- and I will absolutely regret saying this -- it's almost as if caring about good storytelling and the art of filmmaking is obsolete when fan service is this heartfelt and this effective.

Reminiscence (2021)

 Score: 2.5 / 5

A man whose job is to sift through other people's memories gets embroiled in a mystery, searching an urban wasteland for a troublesome woman while descending the echelons of criminality. Put it any way, and there's nothing groundbreaking about the rote plot, which is largely ripped from any number of classic noir movies. And that's okay, generally, if it's specific and detailed enough to still hold one's interest and curiosity. Noir movies largely exist today because of their embrace of science fiction, and Reminiscence seems determined to fit within that niche. But this is no Blade Runner or Minority Report, and this one can't quite make its mark without relying heavily on its conscious references to those earlier works.

Hugh Jackman plays Nick, a haunted man whose gravelly, world-weary voice narrates the movie like a Bogart impersonator. He lives in a sunken world, a stretch of Miami coast mostly underwater after climate change flooded the land and made daytime impossibly hot. His demimonde consists of a Venice-like shadowy world in which his routine involves boating to work in a cavernous warehouse to help sad clients relive their pasts. Using a memory recalling device that looks like a giant spider web of clear cables, he plops his clients into a tube of fluid and verbally guides them into their past. Sometimes it's simply to help someone find lost keys or remember a date; more often, it seems, it's to let someone indulge their masochistic melancholia by torturously reliving a happy memory, perhaps of a loved one since passed away. The latter cases he tends to warn, saying that "the past can haunt a man" and encouraging them not to live through these memories and forget to move on.

Nick and Watts, his ex-military business partner (played by a typically reliable Thandiwe Newton), are close friends, despite her addiction to alcohol and his addiction to, I guess, moodiness. It's a little creepy that they can see the memories of their clients, but the clients don't seem to care. Until one day, when the femme fatale, Mae, appears in a revealing crimson dress to push his buttons; she asks Nick to stay after hours to help her find her keys. He's clearly taken instantly -- who wouldn't, especially by the stunning Rebecca Ferguson all gussied up and doing her best Lauren Bacall or Barbara Stanwyck style of sultry seduction. The distinctly tragic jazz singer even sings his favorite sad song in a jazzy alto voice, and he's off to the races in a steamy romance that never manages to feel believable beyond its eroticism. And then, suddenly, she disappears with nothing but a few clues and depressing memories.

Where did she go? And why does she feature in the memories of a comatose suspect being prosecuted as a mule for drug kingpin Saint Joe? After seeing this, Nick learns that Mae was a narcotic addict, and he's off again, this time to hunt down the criminals. Unfortunately, as is so often the case in the genre, the crime extends far beyond a single man, and Nick struggles -- as do we -- in a turbulent quagmire of corrupt cops and lawyers, drug fiends, and politicians and businessmen desperate to stay dry in a wet world. As unrest grows in the lower classes, Nick inadvertently reveals damning truths about the "barons" in power, and by the end I cared more about the peripheral uprising than about Nick chasing a scar-faced killer.

Apart from its derivative science fiction elements -- which are pretty bare-bones anyway, relegated to the limited "money shots" of CGI -- even the noir aspects of Reminiscence aren't novel. I found myself spacing out of the movie, more interested in ticking off its repeated visual references to Vertigo and other Hitchcock films, to say nothing of Chinatown, The Maltese Falcon, and of course the obvious inspiration Total Recall. The ludicrously complex plot here -- not helped by constant references to characters we haven't met yet and won't be properly introduced to us -- is far more distracting than any of the visual successes the movie displays. I'll never remember the plot of this flick (except a creepy man hunting for his boss's bastard child, which I'm not even certain was really happening) and that's probably a good thing.

I might remember some of its platitudes about time and the dangers of nostalgia, but its sentimental platitudes delivered in voiceover have thankfully vacated my own memory. I will remember, however, the splendor of a drowned city, a memory recall device in fiber optic cables, and a gag-inducing few remarks that tried to thematically link this story to the Orpheus and Eurydice myth. Oh, and a very sad Hugh Jackman who just needed a hug.

The Front Runner (2018)

Score: 3.5 / 5

Hugh Jackman continues to surprise us with fresh, invigorating new characters. This time, he plays the suave, brilliant presidential hopeful Gary Hart, the Colorado senator who infamously failed in his quest to the White House. It's a fascinating story, and one The Front Runner gets mostly right, at least to those of us who had to learn about it over a decade later rather than live through it. Jason Reitman's latest film has a darker, more urgent tone than we might have expected, and the screenplay from Matt Bai and Jay Carson feels a bit like a mockumentary or teleplay, pumping out exposition through lots of rapid-fire dialogue.

The story, if you didn't know, follows Hart's campaign in 1988 through his decision to drop out of the race. At one point, hounded by reporters, Hart cavalierly dares media to follow him away from the campaign trail and into his private life. Unfortunately a few reporters from the Miami Herald take this to a dangerous extreme, staking out his residence and spying on his movements. They even snap photographs of Hart accompanied by Donna Rice -- not his wife (Vera Farmiga) and not affiliated with his campaign -- and without any evidence publish a story insinuating an adulterous affair. It's a chilling look at how public opinion can work, and how influential news outlets can be.

The problem with this film comes into focus not long after, when the alleged scandal hits the press and fallout forces Hart to restrategize. At this point, when the film revs its engines and rapidly grows intense, it also narrows its scope to destabilizing effect. Too many focal points, each too isolated, you might say. We are jerked from Hart's desperate attempts to keep his campaign afloat to fallout with his wife and daughter; from campaign manager Dixon (J.K. Simmons) fighting organizational derailment to one of his employees comforting Donna Rice; from the reporters fighting disgrace to their editors (including Alfred Molina) holding tightly to their headlines. It could have been a fascinating study of political scandal and the press, but ends up a little too unwieldy to make any clear pronouncements on the issue.

That may not be a problem for some viewers -- after all, the film never pretends to be about anything more than Gary Hart himself -- and it really wasn't for me. But in our age of "fake news" and endless political scandal, this kind of story should soar. Look at The Post last year. You would think that when the president declares certain media outlets to be enemies of the people, more films about this very topic would provide insight or inspiration. And, ultimately, I feel the film would have been stronger if it didn't constantly toe the line as to Hart's alleged affair. Painting Hart as an adulterer would have had one effect, one that could have made the film an uncomfortable moralistic tragedy or radically reshaped the way we think about celebrity culture, the political machine, and our problematic obsession with powerful people's sex lives. Painting Hart as an innocent victim of bad journalism and intrusive public interest would have had a very different effect, one that I think would be most resonant in our society.

But, much as we've seen in our political history since, well, since Gary Hart lost the election, we don't always look after our communal best interests. And so The Front Runner exists not as an indictment, nor even really a commentary, so much as a snapshot of the cost of our prurient popular sovereignty.

IMDb: The Front Runner

The Greatest Showman (2017)

Score: 5 / 5

An exuberant love letter to show business, The Greatest Showman is also one of the best pictures this year. Directed by Michael Gracey in his feature debut, this film is at once safely familiar and improbably fresh in execution. Though the historicity of its source material -- the real-life P.T. Barnum as he creates his renowned circus -- is never more than dubious, this movie is not meant to be a biopic. It's a musical, for heaven's sake! Rather, this film plays out like a fantasy (in the style of Chicago, Nine, Burlesque, or Glee) of life on the edges of society lived to the fullest. Its songs each mention stars, dreams, and love, and the film is full of each of these elements. The film is a nearly perfect marriage of style and substance, though the style is infinitely more engaging from this viewer's perspective.

The best thing about this movie -- and there are almost no bad things to consider, so the list is lengthy -- is its soundtrack. It's easily the best soundtrack this year and the most cohesive in thematic scope, surpassing even the Fifty Shades sequel soundtrack, which is again amazing. Scored by Pasek and Paul (Dear Evan Hansen, La La Land), the pop-Broadway beats and flair carry the film with seemingly little effort. Rousing ensemble numbers like "The Greatest Show", "Come Alive", and "From Now On" each grow from quiet intros to explosive dance beats and choral glory. Even soft solo numbers soar to heartrending heights, as in "Tightrope", "A Million Dreams", and my personal favorite, "Never Enough". And, of course, the romantic duet "Rewrite the Stars" deserves a place on every radio station. Taking the cake, though, is the Golden Globe-nominated song "This Is Me", which was featured on the trailer for the film as well, a powerhouse ensemble number declaring personal and communal empowerment for everyone who has felt out of place or different.

While the basic premise of the story is problematic when summarized -- Barnum grows through toil and strife to become the dreamer of fabulous dreams whose primary motivator is money, which he gains by exploiting "freaks" and undesirables -- the film does not solely focus on Barnum's character, played to perfection by Hugh Jackman. Its heart, rather, lies with the entertainers in his circus and the other lives around him, including those of his business partner (a typically excellent Zac Efron) and family (his wife is played magnificently by Michelle Williams). And while the film spends most of its time on these rich white people, I would argue that the most emotionally resonant scenes come from its freaks. The turn of the film is also the first act finale (were this to become a stage musical, which I hope happens) "This Is Me", in which Barnum is totally absent. The performers, excluded from a high society party by their boss, regroup and march through town, saying, "I'm not scared to be seen / I make no apologies" and showing that they are capable not only of running the show themselves but also of owning themselves in a world that hates them.

The film is thus an inspiration for the outcasts, the losers, the freaks. People with different skin colors, sexuality, abilities, and backgrounds are the heroes here. They band together not to fight the things they hate but to celebrate the things they love. They embrace themselves as they are and put it all on show. And in the process they change the hearts and minds of young hegemonic people who see them perform. It's a film so dripping with social justice commentary that it plays out like a manifesto of those who are and have been terrorized by the Trump administration. While not all its commentary is ideal -- there are always the problems of capitalism and exploitation looming -- it also doesn't necessarily promote those things at odds with its plebeian gospel.

Of course, it's also the most fun I've had at the movies in ages. Not a moment passes that isn't as richly detailed, sequined, glittering, or joyful as anything in Burlesque or even a Baz Luhrmann movie (Gatsby, I'm looking at you). I was crying through the whole thing because it's just that full of infectious happiness. To be sure, this is a movie for all the artists and performers out in the world. But it's also a movie for the dreamers, the stargazers, the outsiders and insiders, and the whole family. Start your kids watching movies like this while they're young, and our future will be just fine.

IMDb: The Greatest Showman 

Logan (2017)

Score: 5 / 5

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

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

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

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

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

IMDb: Logan

Pan (2015)

Score: 1.5 / 5

Between Joe Wright, Hugh Jackman, and pretty cool aesthetic premise, I was looking forward to this film almost as much as Crimson Peak. So what happened?! Pan has to be the worst cinematic disappointment for me in years.

Okay, it's not all bad. Hugh Jackman takes gleeful pleasure in being a pirate, though he's not even on screen very long. And Garrett Hedlund is pretty. And some of the visuals are stunning.

That's it.

I knew we were off to a bad start when the film opened on a Dickensian orphanage run by fat, grumpy old nuns. From there the children are whisked away by pirates in a flying ship to Neverland, but not before causing chaos in the London skies and sailing through a bizarre limbo that would fit into Oz the Great and Powerful (2013) or Alice in Wonderland (2010). But Neverland itself is hardly better, as we see crowds of children laboring under the pirates singing Nirvana and Blackbeard (Jackman) snorting cocaine. I mean fairy dust. Apparently it keeps him looking "young" as long as he grinds it and inhales it regularly, though this important detail is only seen in one brief scene.

The plot is as straightforward as they come. Peter is on a quest to find his mother, who he learns was the great hero of the island natives and lover of the Fairy Prince. Eventually he leads the fairies and natives into victorious battle against Blackbeard and this pirates. Along the way, he befriends Garrett Hedlund as Hook (an odd name, as he as full use of both hands) and Tiger Lily, played by Rooney Mara. I don't really have a problem with the controversial casting of Rooney Mara -- who is to say what the native skin color of a fantasy island population may be? -- though the almost completely whitewashed cast is unfortunate.

What I do have a problem with is the stupidity of the film. The dialogue is inane and made me groan more than once: "The boys are lost, sir." "Then they are lost boys." Or "I lie sometimes. It's called being an adult." Beyond the dialogue, even the plot doesn't flow. Good thing the same body of water that hides enormous crocodiles also provides trippy visions for exposition; it's convenient, though apparently there's no concern about the monsters they escaped only moments before. In one scene, huge vicious birds attack our protagonist, and in another he seeks them out to help fight the pirates. Worst for me, in the climactic battle where Peter is destined to fight and kill Blackbeard, he simply leads the fairies in flying around the ship. He does absolutely no fighting. In fact, the only heroic thing he does in the whole film is fly to save Hook from falling into an abyss.

I could handle the strange production design if it were consistent, but it's not. I could handle steampunk pirates or neon-colored white natives if they fit into a larger aesthetic vision, but they don't. I could handle wild and spectacular CGI sequences if they supported a reasonably intelligent plot, but they don't. I could handle terrible dialogue if the characters were interesting, but they're not. And I could handle awkward camera angles and jerky, illogical editing if anything else in the film worked, but it doesn't! Actually, the really weird thing about the swooping camera shots is that they often happen when there is little or no action going on. Why waste the dynamic shot on scenery? Especially scenery that's mostly computer-generated??

The whole thing is a hodgepodge, big-budget waste of resources that brings nothing new to the imaginative world of Barrie's Peter Pan. Sure, it's not the worst thing to watch with your kids or maybe if you're under the influence. Yes, I might watch it again sometime to try and find something useful in it, or maybe just to enjoy Jackman's maniacal grin and feathered costume. I mean, pirates are my weak spot. Especially when they have a deep voice like Garrett Hedlund.

But do yourself a favor and save your money for a Halloween costume.

IMDb: Pan