A House of Dynamite (2025)

Score: 4.5 / 5

Every once in a while, a movie slides in without much pomp or circumstance and subtly shifts your entire opinion on the year of film. Kathryn Bigelow's previous three films have done that for me, and it holds true now, eight long years after Detroit blew me away. Along with Bigelow's other historically-minded action dramas Zero Dark Thirty and The Hurt Locker, both among my favorite of all films, these titles have collectively made Bigelow one of my favorite directors, despite her rare output (Tom Ford is another, obviously). A House of Dynamite, however, is more speculative in nature, suggestively showing us a cynical and realistic possibility of our current world in horrific, thrilling real time. 

Taking place over about nineteen minutes of time, the film is told in cyclical and nonlinear fashion. Essentially, the story is this: an unknown foreign entity has launched a ballistic missile at the continental United States. That's it. In twenty minutes, it will likely hit Chicago and, as it presumably carries nuclear weaponry, the result will be devastating. Worse, in our moment of vulnerability, it's possible that other foreign enemies could continue the assault on the US. But twenty minutes isn't enough time to do much: a lone military post attempts to shoot down the missile, but as the film says, it's an attempt to hit a bullet with a bullet. Twenty minutes won't save Chicagoans, or any of its surrounding area (not to mention the environmental disaster to the Great Lakes region). Twenty minutes isn't enough time for the Pentagon to learn who sent this missile from the north Pacific; the obvious guess is North Korea, but should the US retaliate before it knows for sure? Would that spark global holocaust?

I had a full-on panic attack while watching this film. It reminded me in no small way of reading Bob Woodward's Fear, in which he details precisely how close we came to nuclear war during Trump's first presidency. We knew bad things could happen, but their fingers were practically on the firing mechanisms multiple times. Even the tagline for Bigelow's film reads "Not if. When." This thrill ride she's created here -- with writer Noah Oppenheim -- may be fictional, but it's horrifyingly close to reality. And the key to it is not identifying the source of the missile, which is almost certainly how things would go down in real life, like if it happened today. 

The most surprising and enduringly interesting aspect of this film, for me, is its structure. Broken into three main parts, the film repeats the events of those twenty minutes, effectively rewinding twice to showcase various aspects of how US intelligence and defense agents handle the impending disaster. Yet even these three sections are about forty minutes in length because they split those twenty minutes between two characters and/or offices. So, really, we're getting six twenty-minute short films intercut with each other to make sense and build a world of meaning. It's not unlike holiday-centered romcoms (Love Actually, etc.) or even Crash (2004). 

Most of the characters -- the vehicles of drama here -- are experts in their fields and working on behalf of the US government. We get access to the White House situation room, a Defense Secretary's office, a military missile specialist in a remote base, and even the president with the final word on the national response. And they're all -- each character -- riddled with profound humanity. The president is making a public appearance for school kids while calling his wife on an international trip; other agents are having fights with their girlfriends, caring for sick children, trying to get in touch with spouses and estranged daughters, attempting to navigate rush hour traffic. The point is that this could be any day, when we're all busy with Other Things, and that those things will affect our performance when it's crunch time. The point is also, seemingly, to remind us (the audience) that the people in charge of such existential defense are also just like us, and that maybe we can't resort to easy judgment when it comes to reacting to such inconceivable horrors.

The ensemble cast is uniformly solid, effectively conveying a grounded approach to the situation while providing moments of emotional insight. Not relief, mind, but a few breakthroughs; this isn't a film meant to make full narrative sense or reach for dramatic catharsis. We're meant to sit with discomfort, just like these people would. There's a moment when, in the situation room, two supervisors help each other get their cell phones and try to warn their loved ones before simply succumbing to the impending tragedy: with tears in their eyes, they simply reach out and silently hold each other's hand while watching the missile on each of the dozen screens before them. What else can they do at that point? Part of the joy of the film is watching familiar A-list actors doing what they do best but in a starkly understated way; they get to the truth of their characters without showcasing their craft. Idris Elba, Rebecca Ferguson, Tracy Letts, Jared Harris -- they're just given the most material, but the full cast works in perfect harmony to create the muted vibes of this vicious experience.

Clearly impeccably researched and written, the material bravely resists easy answers by refusing to give us any. Bigelow has carved out quite a niche for herself that almost no other filmmakers are doing, at least with her budget or skills: she takes some hypotheticals, dunks them into a thickly realistic setting, and makes the case for horror in what could so easily be jingoistic action. People interested in such military and government insider jargon will surely appreciate the film's educational value in chain of command, agencies and their acronyms, and the real-time pressures involved in this narrative. Storytellers will find its structure and theming fascinating, as it functions more as a series of intercut chamber dramas; I'd be interested in seeing a live theatrical version of this screenplay as a sort of staged radio play or series of one-acts. And anyone eager for a timely thriller that will give you full-body chills and dread -- when you're not panicking -- should check out A House of Dynamite. It's one of the year's best.

Morbius (2022)

Score: 3 / 5

I'm so tired. Fandoms can be nice places to meet people and see creativity blossom in support of franchises that mean a lot culturally and personally, but increasingly they seem filled with toxic, hateful people who just want to tear other things apart in cruel and hypocritical ways. While the MCU is currently blessed with a fairly solid fanbase, almost all others suffer, even those adjacent to that behemoth. Take Sony's repeated attempts at breaking into Marvel properties, each of which I have thoroughly enjoyed. Its most recent attempts seem bent on exploring the villains as antiheroes, hence the Venom series and upcoming Kraven the Hunter film. The latest, based on one of my favorite characters from the comics, is very much in line with the odd aesthetic choices Sony has cultivated, and I am totally here for it. Apparently not everyone has been, but as usual, the clamor online largely sounds like angry children decrying the film as "bad" or "terrible" without actually stating reasons for their hatred and without acknowledging that their opinions aren't objective. So let's talk about Morbius.

The "living vampire" here takes the form of Jared Leto, who for the first time in several years actually looks and acts kind of normal on screen. He's recognizable, despite lots of effects to make him initially appear sickly and frail, and it's refreshing to remember he can actually perform when not covered in prosthetics and hiding behind caricatured mannerisms. Surprisingly physical here, his Dr. Michael Morbius is instantly believable in the film's early scenes, desperate to cure himself of a rare blood disease. His previous work has resulted in blue, artificial blood that works for many people, including children with similar illnesses, and has won him a Nobel Prize that he rejects early on. He just wants a better life and permanent salvation.

Anyone could guess that he'll end up getting the opposite. And soon enough, after collecting vampire bats from Central America and experimenting on them, he ends up splicing genes and fusing blood with them, transforming himself into a super strong, super fast vampire. Most of the middle of the film, as with many origin stories of super people, occupies its time with its protagonist learning the limits of his powers, which include echolocation and, somehow, a keen ability to fly. His bloodlust is sporadic, and it occasionally turns him into a monstrous gargoyle-like creature; at one point he says "You won't like me when I'm hungry" and it's unexpectedly hilarious in a delightful, metafictional way. The film's mythology leaves much to be desired, but then, don't most of these stories? As Morbius himself once notes in the film, there isn't as much "science stuff" to it as he first thought, and I think the screenwriters included that little gem just to piss off the hecklers.

With Leto's tortured performance in the middle of all the chaos -- and trust me, the plot is pretty chaotic, to say nothing of the action -- I found a lot of surprisingly thematic meat to chew on. Much like Tom Hardy's nuanced and vaudevillian turn as Venom, Leto digs into physical movement and earnest emotion as Morbius, questioning the extent of illness or addiction as it relates to his behaviors. Less effective is what the visual effects crew does to him; his appearance is great, but the CGI around him never quite manages to make sense. Smoky trails of residue follow him around when he moves quickly, in effects that feel ripped from these kinds of movies in the late '90s or early '00s, and when his ears prick up, they look rippled and pulsing like cords on a harp in an effect that had me actually retching in my seat. It's uniquely horrid.

If he's a hero, why do his attempts to help others result in murder (especially graphic murder)? Why, in the film's early scenes, does no one blink an eye that Morbius's ethically shameful and completely illegal experiments lead him to international waters for the deed? But then, does it matter? It allows for some fun nods to other vampiric fiction, such as the drifting ship littered with bloodless corpses (Dracula) named the Murnau (director of Nosferatu). It also allows the characters to return home changed, a crucial moment in any superhero film, which sets up the primary external conflict for the plot. Enter Matt Smith as Morbius's surrogate brother, jealous and wealthy man with the same blood disease who takes the same "cure" but embraces the more monstrous side of his new identity. He's the primary villain, apart from Morbius fighting with his own impulses and lusts, and Smith is really wonderful in the film. 

I love that we finally have a superhero film that is an honest-to-Stan-Lee horror film. I don't love that it's only PG-13, like Venom, and so can't quite give itself over to the necessary elements that could make it fabulous like Deadpool. It's never quite as dark as it wants to be, though I felt suitably icky with dread multiple times, such as when a nurse walks down a hallway with motion-sensor lights and gets stalked by a vampire. It's not nearly as gory or violent as it should be, and most of the action is sadly unwatchable due to uninspired cinematography, an excess of VFX, and bewildering edits. But it's still a fairly good time, despite a general lack of humor, and hopefully a suitably dark entry in the burgeoning Sinister Six franchise for Sony.

Allied (2016)

Score: 4.5 / 5

Yet another example of poor marketing, Allied is one of those brilliant pictures that people aren't going to like because they have very specific expectations. Whether you go in wanting another Mr. & Mrs. Smith or some epic wartime romance, you will leave disappointed. If, however, you take it for what it is, it proves an intoxicatingly paranoid vision of marriage under extraordinary pressure. And while the film features several big-budget Robert Zemeckis trademark effects shots, his understanding of the relationships at its heart is made hauntingly clear.

In two knockout performances, Brad Pitt and Marion Cotillard play two spies in French Morocco on a secret mission against the Nazi ambassador. While falling in love against their own better judgement, the Canadian Max and French Marianne successfully complete their mission and flee with their lives to London, where they marry and live happily ever after. The specter of war, as we know, did not leave London unscathed, however, and as the Blitz terrorizes the city, we learn from Max's commanders (Jared Harris and Simon McBurney) that Marianne is suspected of being a German spy. The mother of his child, he argues, is no such thing, but when the commander reveals suggestive information that their previous mission was not as it seemed, Max is ordered to lay a trap for his wife. The rest of the film follows the tortured Max as he alternately seeks the truth and denies the possibility that his wife is unfaithful to him and to country.

It's a slow-burner of the most excruciating kind. If you go in wanting smash-bang firefights, quick wit, and steamy sex, you may feel let down. If, however, you go in wanting damn impressive design work and period detail, a few thrilling moments of horror, and an unusually well-acted romance, this movie will stick with you for a long time. With the exception of a languid ending, predictable and almost ludicrously sentimental, the film keeps things taut and raw. Zemeckis perfects what he tried to do in What Lies Beneath. Grounded and only slightly stylized as only he can do, the director focuses our attention on the shaky balance between domesticity and what Freud called the unheimlich, that which is mysteriously familiar or uncanny.

Of course, we do have some fierce action scenes, notably during the Blitz. The last time I saw a terrifying Blitz sequence was in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, and this one ranks with that. the assassination scene also doesn't disappoint, and its surprisingly violent execution sets up the brutality that we should expect in the climax. Unfortunately, that climax is nothing of the sort, and despite the awful writing during the last twenty minutes or so, Zemeckis does his best to keep things romantic and exciting. He only partially succeeds.

Hitchcockian in the best way, Allied will leave you hungry for another period thriller. I'd recommend, well, Hitchcock's Notorious, and argue that Marion Cotillard (in case you didn't already know) is basically the ultimate old-school leading lady. Every time we see her on screen, she gracefully steals the shot in gorgeous costumes and with a beguiling eye, an arresting presence and furious command of timing. It's the goddess in her element, and it's fabulous. Pitt, on the other hand, feels like he's gone back in time: Virile and strong, youthful and engaging, it feels like he hasn't aged at all, if you ignore the last seven years of his movies. Most important, he's still got it where it counts, and if you want some nice steam heat this winter, go on and check out this picture. The two of them lounging on a Casablanca rooftop or getting busy in their car amid a sandstorm certainly keep things hot in an otherwise chilly movie.

IMDb: Allied

Poltergeist (2015)

Score: 3 / 5

It was only a matter of time before someone remade Tobe Hooper and Steven Spielberg's 1982 Poltergeist. And I was ready for it. Frankly, I never much liked the original, because the effects are weird, the editing clunky, and the dialogue poor. The only things I enjoyed were the great lighting and the feminist (or at least female-centered) angle. But I think most of my difficulty with that film is its label as a horror film; it's hardly ever frightening or even disturbing, besides the moment when one man hallucinates peeling his own face off. Much like M. Night Shyamalan's Lady in the Water (2006), the original Poltergeist is a dark fantasy, narrated much like a straightforward fairytale and filmed accordingly. It's less a haunted house movie (compare it to The Haunting, 1963) and more an edgier NeverEnding Story. Come on, I mean, a tree tries to eat a child and "The Beast" looks like Falkor mixed with Ridley Scott's Alien.

But now we have a scary Poltergeist. Or at least one that doesn't feel laughable. The foremost reason Gil Kenan's new vision is a real horror movie is that he doesn't film it as a fairytale with bright colors, still wideshots, or predictable effects. Rather, Kenan lingers on empty frames, daring the audience to follow him into the nightmare. That's not to say it's a novel technique (indeed, we'd be hard-pressed to find a non-found-footage horror film in the last decade that doesn't do the same). But it is no less effective here.

That said, this movie has plenty of its own faults. Though it's a distinctive horror film, as opposed to its inspiration, it labors under an intrusive score and little difference from the original film. If Kenan wanted to keep us totally on the edge of our seats, he would have played a bit more with the plot; that he didn't suggests to me that he had another agenda. Perhaps the credit also goes to the writer, David Lindsay-Abaire, who shifted the focus from the female "horror" of the first film to a less thematic and more iconic sense of contemporary paranormal activity. Let me explain. Hooper's original featured two female paranormal experts who came into the haunted home in an effort to bring back the (also female) victim, a child; ultimately, the child's mother is the sole means by which the child is returned home; the portal to the other world is arguably feminine, as a hole that opens periodically and (violently) sucks in its prey, and spits them out again in a sticky red fluid; an unveiled monstrous entity at the end (perhaps another portal to the spirit dimension? Who knows?) is distinctly vaginal, as a ribbed, red circle that similarly seeks to devour the child in a cruel inversion of a birthing process.

Still with me? Unlike many horror films that thematically or artistically position the audience with a (intrusive, gazing, violent) male horror-entity, Hooper's film was especially concerned with a female horror-entity (and hero). To hell with all that for this new film. For better or worse, Lindsay-Abaire and Kenan decided to have one female and one male paranormal expert, to have that male expert be a bizarre sacrificial lamb, to have the (still female) victim's brother (not mother) be the means of her salvation, and to do away with most of the feminine-horror imagery (no gaping vagina to devour the children here, and no Falkor either for that matter). In fact, we are actually allowed to see inside the portal this time, and the other dimension looks more like a scene from Dante's Inferno or "The Further" from Insidious (2010) than anything else: a murky, dark tunnel crowded with green-gray corpses that grab at the children like Harry Potter's Inferi.

So I don't know. Is it less likely to spark intelligent discussion of the gendered dynamics of horror films? Yes. Is it less likely to make you roll your eyes, chuckle, and then yawn? Yes. I fancied it because it was actually kind of creepy, unlike the original, and because Sam Rockwell is a sort of guilty pleasure of mine. I thought the dialogue was more engaging, the effects familiar but more grounded than in 1982, and the pacing a bit easier to manage than before. It's also just as overscored and just as melodramatic as before, and the lighting isn't nearly as inventive. Does it make me more anxious for Insidious: Chapter Three? You bet your ghost.

IMDb: Poltergeist