Road House (2024)

Score: 3.5 / 5

There is a certain charm to movies that know exactly what they are and don't reach for more. Road House, a remake of the Patrick Swayze cult classic, has that going for it along with more than a bit of style. Gone are the '80s trappings and, in their place, a delightfully breezy action film with sweeping vistas of the Florida Keys. Thankfully, director Doug Liman and his team don't do away with the '80s cheese, and so this violent romp never feels weighed down by melodrama or even any thrills. It's simple and direct machismo, presented with direct-to-streaming B-movie panache to rival many others of its ilk out there (remember that Netflix disaster, Heart of Stone?). It's a goofy, arguably stupid film, to be sure, but that's part of its slick, "spring break vibes" charm.

Consciously -- and repeatedly -- referring to itself as a Western, the basic plot concerns Elwood Dalton, a former UFC middleweight fighter, whose suicidal depression leads him to take an odd job as a bouncer at "Road House," a roadhouse in the sunshine state's Glass Key. The owner, Frankie (Jessica Williams) needs him to stop the constant, violent fights and vandalism caused by a gang, and Dalton is perfect for the job: Eventually we learn that he gained notoriety after killing an opponent once, earning him fearful respect that leads the likes of tough guys (like one played by Post Malone) to forfeit outright. After Dalton literally takes the gang members to the hospital for what he does to them, he becomes a popular figure in the town, even mentoring others to defend and care for themselves. Unfortunately, there is more violence on the horizon.

Dalton, as played by Jake Gyllenhaal in yet another eye-poppingly brutal performance (remember Southpaw, for one?), is so physically intimidating that his mild-mannered demeanor might be overlooked if not for his endearing curiosity and zinging quips. His charm switches to calculated menace with sudden alacrity, and that makes him an infinitely interesting and watchable character, aided significantly by Gyllenhaal's always dedicated and arresting presence. His scenes with local bookstore owner Charlie (Hannah Lanier) and her father are cute as heck, though thickly written to force-feed us the Western genre, while his scenes with local doctor Ellie (Daniela Melchior) are gimmicky to a distracting fault in their attempts at injecting romance. The screenplay does him no favors, but Gyllenhaal shines.

When the network of villains are revealed -- the gang was on the payroll of real estate kingpin Ben Brandt, inherited from his incarcerated father -- things heat up quickly, because this film knows its audience just wants to see more fighting. Brandt himself, as played by a delightfully unhinged Billy Magnussen, doesn't do a heck of a lot hands-on, and so he brings in a bloodthirsty enforcer named Knox to take care of Dalton and burn Road House to the ground so he can monopolize the shoreline and build a luxury resort. He's got the local sheriff in his pocket, too, and the reveal that the sheriff is Ellie's father is another twist in the profoundly silly plot that tries so hard to stay interesting. If Melchior and Gyllenhaal had any real chemistry -- or if the screenplay allowed them earned heat at all -- this might have been a worthwhile bit of melodrama. As it is, not so much. But who would want that anyway?

Knox, notably, becomes the big bad of the film, because he's the one who actually wants to lay hands on Dalton, seemingly for pay at first, but later perhaps for the increased street cred he'd get for killing a killer. Played by Irish boxing and fighting champion Conor McGregor, he's a deranged psychopath who actively seeks pain and chaos, showing up about halfway through the film and re-energizing it with a whole new flavor of weirdness. Sometimes played for laughs -- like the movie as a whole, really -- Knox feels like a character from an entirely different movie, dropped in this one to wreak havoc; McGregor feels like a cartoon villain, aggressively smiling the whole time and delivering lines, quite simply, badly. It's a disorienting experience to watch and hear him because you're never quite sure if it's just him or the character who doesn't behave like a real human. 

And that's really true of all of Road House, even apart from the realistic and nuanced Gyllenhaal performance as opposed to those of McGregor and Magnussen. The sweeping vistas, usually obviously shot via drone, and the frenetic editing suggest an escapist fantasy, beautifully highlighting the titular roadhouse that looks much nicer than it should be. But instead of feeling immersed in the material, we're swept along with the spectacle that relies too much on CGI fighting and overdone sound effects that sap the violence of its impact on us. Most action films want us to experience, more or less, the weight of body slams, the jolt of a punch, jarring headbutts; this movie's delivery skims the surface, pushing us through the occasionally brilliant but mostly silly fight choreography to get to the next set piece.

For action movies, this was a fun ride. I definitely prefer gritty, hyperrealistic violence like in John Wick or Atomic Blonde, and I'd have been curious to see Road House done that way. Read: taken seriously. But that's simply a matter of taste. For what it is, and what it clearly wanted to do, it mostly works according to its own logic, and you can't really fault a film for that. Plus, we get a lot of Jake G. with his shirt off, which is never a bad thing.

Missing (2023)

Score: 3 / 5

Who knew that 2018's Searching would spawn a franchise? That might be a bit ambitious to say, as Missing isn't really a sequel so much as a sister film or continuation of similar ideas. It's another "screenlife" film, as the relatively new terminology allows us, an evolution of found footage films that really kicked off in the early-to-mid 2010s. For reference, Paranormal Activity 4 and The Den were probably (arguably) the first forays into depicting most of their action on computer screens, and they were released in 2012 and 2013, respectively. Timur Bekmambetov coined "screenlife" and has directed or produced the most work in the burgeoning subgenre. Other than Searching, notable titles include Profile, Unfriended, and Host. The format isn't for everyone -- though it thankfully doesn't induce as much motion sickness as found footage films usually do -- and I personally find the constant clicking and multiple windows and tabs and speedy (read: reckless) web searches to be more anxiety-inducing than others might.

Yet, as Bekmambetov and Aneesh Chaganty have demonstrated time and again, it is a fabulous medium for mystery-thrillers with an edge for real-life horrors. I imagine it's also an editing nightmare, but it's telling that the directors of Missing previously edited Searching. The film begins with a barrage of images that includes references to the previous film, revealing that they are in the same shared universe of mystery, false identities, digital crimes, and deadly real-world consequences. This time, our protagonist is a young woman named June (played by the always surprising Storm Reid) who, after a wild week of partying while her mother (Nia Long) is on vacation in Colombia, is forced to start looking for her mother, who she declares missing. She does so almost entirely on her laptop, using social media, search engines, her linked cell phone and email, and even surveillance footage. She communicates this way with her mother's best friend, her own friends, a hired hand in Colombia, and an FBI agent assigned to her case. It may stretch credulity, but it also functions to stretch our conception of how to use these technologies; at least, it does for me, though I expect Gen Z viewers might relate a bit better.

Too many details will spoil this film, as it works best to be taken at face value. The mystery itself is breathless, presented in frenetic style by the worried teenager on her computer as she navigates Snapchat and Venmo and FaceTime and TikTok and Ring and Taskrabbit and online dating profiles and hacking into her mother's boyfriend's (Ken Leung) e-mails. She's resourceful in intimidating ways -- a call to her mother's hotel with its Spanish-speaking clerk works because of June's quick-witted use of Google Translate -- and finds local help on the ground in the form of Javi (played by a heartwarming Joaquim de Almeida, who has a surprisingly emotional role to play). But the screenplay is also hopelessly convoluted, as far too many red herrings make the central mystery sometimes forgettable. That's always the problem with mysteries, right? They're either too simple or far too complex. Here, at least, it seems appropriate, because the internet makes everything far too complex.

But that also makes Missing a hell of a lot of fun. And, in some ways, an interesting look at the ways technology both helps and hurts us these days.