They Cloned Tyrone (2023)

Score: 4 / 5

Having debuted on Netflix with almost no notice, They Cloned Tyrone might be the most original and technically accomplished movie released last summer on any streaming service. A fascinating blend of genres, the film uses mystery, comedy, and science fiction to approach a pseudo-Blaxploitation crime caper. As we follow the three immensely likable leads on a convoluted plot that keeps us guessing, we become complicit in their antics until we become as eager as they to stop the madness and escape. It's the sort of aggressively topical material that could easily have felt angry or scary (like Get Out, to which this surely compares) but is entertained by itself enough that we don't feel the brunt of its message without also feeling the pleasure of its originality. In fact, tonally and generically, I'd compare this film to Sorry to Bother You, which I now need to rewatch in tandem.

Set in a gritty but average suburban neighborhood named The Glen, the story concerns Fontaine (John Boyega), a drug dealer with shiny gold grills, who is shot and killed while collecting from local pimp Slick Charles (Jamie Foxx). When he awakens, totally fine, the next day, sex worker Yo-Yo (Teyonah Parris) hops on the case like Nancy Drew -- whose stories shaped her childhood -- and the three embark on an investigation into the demimonde of their hometown. There is indeed a conspiracy afoot, one partly spoiled by the film's odd title, but I won't share more details here because it's just too fun and interesting to experience firsthand. Suffice it to say that, in addition to the films I've already referenced, this one metafictionalizes Blaxploitation and "urban crime dramas" in a similar way to what Scream and Cabin in the Woods, among others, did for slashers and supernatural horror.

More importantly -- and, honestly, the primary reason I caught onto this approach -- given the recent release of American Fiction, it feels like another significant point in the tapestry of mainstream art by Black artists for Black audiences. There are so many inside jokes, culturally-specific jargon, and storied references that I probably only caught a small fraction of them. But, given the star power of the three leads (who are all utterly magnificent here), I recognized almost immediately their dedicated work in crafting knowingly stereotypical characters, perhaps because I was so bewildered in the film's first act. It's all very grainy, shot beautifully but often (I think intentionally) unclearly by cinematographer Ken Seng, riddled with tactile grime and grit that made me think of Uncut Gems among other films; as I detest that film, I was put off early in this screening. But once the trio discovers an elevator to unknown lower levels of a drug house, things get radically more interesting for a viewer like me.

Which is probably the point, right? Much like in American Fiction, it seems likely that writer and director Juel Taylor wants us to think of his characters as criminals and thugs at first. They're so broadly written and performed with thick accents and sometimes indiscernible dialogue that a white person might think they're foreign or "less than." Our perspective is mostly limited to that of Fontaine, who is immediately painted in pathological terms, with the memory of his deceased brother haunting him and his distant/absent mother only heard through a closed door before he goes to collect drug money from his customers. Boyega's more stoic character is balanced by a high-energy Parris and a funny but never obnoxious Foxx; the three mesh perfectly and carry the film as a dream team, helped by a screenplay that honors the trio's chemistry.

Its rushed conclusion, while more than a bit shocking and funny, felt forced to me, especially once the big bad guy reveals himself and the story rushes to conclude itself. I would have liked more time spent on the respective places of our trio in their community, the same community they spend the film working so hard to protect and save (liberate?). Given the subject matter -- cloning is the only hint you'll get from me -- I'd have also liked more discussion or imagery regarding the roles they've all chosen to play (or been forced to play) in their community, as manipulative powers at hand are conspiring to indeed predetermine the lives of Black people in The Glen. At least for a time. At least until a deeply insidious form of assimilation becomes the standard for their 'hood.

The Woman King (2022)

Score: 4.5 / 5

We've never seen a movie like this. Gina Prince-Bythewood may not be the best director out there, but she works hard to center women of color in interesting stories. Her most recent, the Netflix original The Old Guard, is really weird but quite satisfying, and is soon to receive the honor of a sequel. But her latest and greatest by far, The Woman King is thankfully not resigned to streaming exclusivity. It deserves to be seen on the biggest screen accessible, and then again with all your friends. A love story about community, about Black women, and about Africa, this movie is one of the most joyous and inspiring that I've ever seen.

I worried, heading in, that this film would largely feel void of meaning; that its existence is to some extent a product of representation-allied identity politics in Hollywood. Even when things are genuinely part of the social justice branch of the industry, it can feel like the emphasis is on visibility and novelty rather than storytelling and authenticity. But films will occasionally surprise us, as when several Native Americans led the cast of Prey recently, and Hulu even released a fully Comanche-language version of it. While I don't think that will happen here, it's really lovely to see mainstream studios embracing stories not centered in Western cultures and English-related languages. Here, much of the pleasure of viewing comes with learning about the culture of Dahomey, the West African kingdom that comprises the setting, and specifically the Agojie warriors, an elite sorority of women warriors. And Prince-Bythewood allows us to engage our curiosity without exploiting the peoples she dramatizes.

Viola Davis, God bless her, plays General Nanisca, leader of the Agojie. World-weary but still brutally efficient, she's about to start training a new batch of recruits. One of the incoming class, Nawi (an astonishing Thuso Mbedu), struggles to control her own adolescent passions; she's offered to the King (John Boyega) due to her stubbornness in refusing to marry suitors her father chooses for her. One of the warriors, Izoige (an equally astonishing Lashana Lynch) sees her strength of will as a virtue, though her independent streak will need to be curbed to fit in with the sisterhood.

Interestingly, and I think most insightfully, the film does not shy away from the darkest element of the story. The Agojie are generally victorious, but the people they conquer are often slaughtered (rather, the men are) or captured (women and children), the latter of whom are often sold to the Oyo Empire, slave dealers to the Europeans in exchange for weapons of war and other supplies. Nanisca wants to break this cycle, and she petitions the King to such an end. She is not successful, despite the apparent personal toll the slave trade has had on herself. We'll learn the depths of her bereavement before the film's climax.

There are many other pleasures in this film, including the glorious cinematography that attempts to convey sensual meaning as well as narrative. The actors are uniformly excellent. The screenplay is brilliant and sensitive and daring, despite a few minor arcs that I suspect were forced on the film by the studio (namely Nawi's bizarre erotic relationship with a Portuguese hunk). The action -- choreographed to within an inch of its life and mostly performed with eye-popping precision -- is nothing short of exhilarating. It's the kind of movie that rouses your spirit, like Gladiator or The Patriot or Braveheart, and it's all the more powerful because it's not an underwhelming white man leading it. Go see it, and go see it again. Its beauty won't be contained.

Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker (2019)

Score: 2.5 / 5

The Rise of Skywalker, the end of a beloved multi-generation saga of folks who love the Skywalkers in a galaxy far, far away, is a muddied mess of fan service and forced nostalgia that sacrifices the joy and ingenuity that makes Star Wars great. It is often blatantly reactionary, repeatedly attempting to comment on and even undo the magnificent strides of its game-changing predecessor, The Last Jedi. Instead of allowing artistic integrity or even quality storytelling to rule the day, Episode IX retreats to a sense of cringeworthy sentimentality and often downright sloppy craft to produce a film that means well but ultimately reveals dangerous ideological impulses.

The plot is pretty bewildering, and all amounts to just about nothing. We begin with the opening scrawl, telling us that a broadcast message has announced the return of Emperor Palpatine. To determine the truth, Kylo Ren mows down soldiers on Mustafar and retrieves a Sith artifact called a Wayfinder. Guess what it does? He finds his way, then, to a mysterious planet called Exegol, where he encounters the decrepit old man. Palpatine (Ian McDiarmid doing wonderful things again) reveals that he is the architect of everything that has happened, including creating Snoke and initiating the First Order. Fittingly, he unleashes the Final Order, a legion of new Star Destroyers each with the power to destroy planets (Death Star tech again, because we clearly haven't had enough of all that).

Then we get tossed into a chase as we follow our heroes Poe and Finn on their mission to deliver new intel to the Resistance: the same damn info we've already got twice by this point. Rey, honing her Jedi skills under Leia's guidance, joins them and they embark to yet another new desert planet to find Lando, who supposedly can help them. After a mini-adventure, they discover a Sith dagger that tells the location of -- guess what? -- another Wayfinder to help them find their way. But then they go to a snowy planet to get a mechanical device from apparently the only person in the galaxy with one, then they use that device to crack the Sith dagger code and travel to another moon of Endor where the wreckage from the second Death Star fell. In the ruins, Rey finds her way. Excuse me, I meant she finds another Wayfinder to help her find her way.

The whole affair is laughably bizarre and confusing at this point, and they still planet-hop at least three more times before the movie ends. Though some may have criticized The Last Jedi for having such a straightforward "chase in space" and an odd but thematically crucial side-plot to Canto Bight, I would take that any day over this nonsense. The Wayfinders are MacGuffins by definition, and would be interesting as such if we had other things going on like character development, world-building, or even fun action. Consider for comparison Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest, which plotwise is very similar to this: we didn't mind the weirdness of needing a drawing of a key to get the key to open a chest we had to find in order to stab the thump-thump and save the oceans because there was so much quality character development, humor, drama, mythmaking, and generally awesome storytelling.

Instead of those things, we often get the opposite. Much like in Lucas's original trilogy, we get very little -- if any -- understanding of secondary characters or locations. Keri Russell appears (sort of, we only hear her voice and see her eyes) for a hot second, as does Naomi Ackie. Dominic Monaghan shows up in a couple scenes for some reason. Richard E. Grant plays a new First Order (Final Order? Who knows) commander, which is thankfully about all we need to know. All these folks and more are suddenly introduced and just as suddenly ignored. As if the cast wasn't big enough.

Rose Tico, the most exciting new character since Poe, is basically unwritten in this movie. Two new female characters are put in for the sole purpose -- I defy you to give me one shred of evidence to the contrary -- of proving there is absolutely "no homo" between Finn and Poe. Finn doesn't even get a fitting arc, after all his amazing development in the previous two episodes, and he is here relegated to being a stock action hero. There's a truly baffling twist from General Hux. And while seeing Billy Dee Williams again as Lando is fun, he does so unbelievably little in this movie I'd have preferred him to not even show up. Maz Kanata shows up for like three scenes, and yet we still have absolutely no idea who or what she is, what she does, why she's important, or really anything interesting at all.

Most cruelly, Rey is here revealed to be as flat and boring a character as ever I suspected. Just when things were getting really cool in The Last Jedi, when we learn she is completely self-made, even in the Force, and that she came from unremarkable parents, The Rise of Skywalker has to screw it all up. Lo and behold, the granddaughter of Palpatine. Don't get me wrong, I think that's freakin' awesome. But when the main character has been set up as a pretty great feminist icon (remember the way she took control of every situation in The Force Awakens?), it should be artistically criminal to suddenly pull back the curtain and reveal that she is only what men make her to be. In this movie especially, she is stripped of any agency. Her story, her actions, even her identity are forced on her time and again by men. Even in her rare moments of strength, she is seeking answers, advice, and labels for herself from men.

And then there's Leia, whose presence in this film is just unfortunate from top to bottom. Granted, the filmmakers had an impossibly hard job on their hands after Carrie Fisher's untimely death, especially since it seems clear that Leia was supposed to be the last O.G. hero standing. But I can't help but wonder if they should have just killed her off in the opening crawl of this new movie, because her scenes are so deeply uncomfortable. Her presence makes me think of the uncanny valley, and her image is often drenched in so many aggressively drawn visual effects that she doesn't always look real. The scenes in which she's featured -- sometimes made up of deleted scenes from the other films, sometimes simply shot behind her and using a body double -- are disjointed at best, often with dialogue so vague it makes no sense.

Apart from the plot and characters, I can't help but shake what I read as the film's core ideological problem. The film essentially suggests that, if we put this into context, Hitler survived and resurfaced 30+ years later to join forces with the Soviets and turn the Cold War into an apocalypse. That's fine, I guess, except that this film attempts to cultivate nostalgia from the original generation of fans, which is annoying even if it makes sense from a business perspective. The problem is that it's a generation that has twice allowed a Palpatine-like war criminal and egomaniac to take control (George W. Bush and Donald Trump, respectively) and, each time, failed to rise up and challenge him. How about instead of stroking those egos and making that generation feel so safe, we try confronting them with the realities of their sociopolitical choices and its fallout for subsequent generations?

I don't want to belabor the point any longer, but I was just so utterly disappointed in The Rise of Skywalker. It spends too much time retconning the previous movie, which might be the only work of consummate art in the entire franchise. This tendency dissolves any cohesion in the sequel trilogy, making the episodes incoherent at best and conflicting at worst. These anti-developments in this final chapter result in denying the sequel trilogy its own artistic reasons for existence, unless you count the considerable interest in visual effects, which feels rather masturbatory for Disney at this point.

Star Wars: The Last Jedi (2017)

Score: 4.5 / 5

I will spoil the movie for you. You've been warned.

The first thing you need to know about The Last Jedi is that it is infinitely superior to The Force Awakens. That film was a rehashed "Best Of Star Wars" scrapbook of fan fodder, expertly executed but lacking in any substance. Well, beyond its cast of fabulously diverse newbies. It was also a mess of plot holes and unfinished storylines, and by the end of the film we still didn't know much about any of the new characters or the new mythos of a galaxy far, far away.

Rian Johnson, however, has crafted one of the better Star Wars movies with Episode VIII. It's a deeply emotional movie with real stakes, troubling moral ambiguity, and complex relationships. For a two-and-a-half hour movie, it's also incredibly tense, even when the pacing tends to lag. People get hurt. People die. A lot of people die. Hope is ever-fading. It's a strangely apocalyptic vision of science fiction not unlike Revenge of the Sith; whereas that film ended with a comparatively safe sense of nostalgia and hope, The Last Jedi is far more bleak. That's partly due to our utter ignorance as to where this franchise is going. Disney holds all the cards now. Let's just hope the Force is with them.

Speaking of the Force, let's dig right in. We pick up the saga not long after the end of The Force Awakens. The Resistance fleet is on the run, pursued through space by the First Order, which was apparently not seriously set back by the destruction of Starkiller Base. General Hux (Domhnall Gleeson) and Kylo Ren (Adam Driver) have developed the ability to track their prey through hyperspace, and most of this film concerns what is essentially a car chase with spaceships. The Resistance fleet (...of three ships?) is low on fuel and doomed unless Finn (John Boyega), BB-8, and newcomer Rose (an excellent Kelly Marie Tran) can hire a computer pirate (Benicio del Toro) to save them. It's a bizarre little side adventure through a casino populated by war profiteers, slavers, weapons manufacturers, and people who brutally race alien horses. All is for naught, however, when the pirate sells out to the highest bidder, and the Resistance is forced to hide at an old outpost. Almost all of them die, including (probably) their second-in-command Vice Admiral Holdo (Laura Dern, who really deserved more screen time), but General Leia Organa survives. Unfortunately, and ironically, that is one of the most heartbreaking things about this movie.

Thankfully, this movie provides her with much more screen time than the previous episode. I'm a bit concerned about what will happen to Leia now. She could have died at least three times in this movie alone, and I find it troubling that the filmmakers didn't account for Carrie Fisher's death. We'll have to wait and see how they fashion the next installment. Han is gone, and as of the end of this movie, so is Luke. Mark Hamill gives a riveting performance as a haunted rogue Jedi, and we get a fair amount of backstory on him and his failed Jedi revitalization project. He trains Rey (Daisy Ridley), sort of kind of, and is forced to face his own shortcomings. There's a great scene when the ghost of Yoda appears to him, still instructing him, saying that failure is the greatest teacher. But in his final moments, after expending his life force to save what's left of the Resistance, Luke disappears and his empty cloak floats off into the wind.

Which brings us to another point. I'm not sure about this sequel series playing fast and loose with the mythology. Kylo can stop a blaster's laser in midair? Leia gets blasted out into space and can survive by pulling herself back into an air lock? Yoda's ghost can cause a lightning strike? Luke can astral project?! I had some misgivings about the directions this franchise would take when Disney took over, but things are getting a bit wild. Similarly, while this film answers plenty of questions from the first and fills in some extra plot holes -- the most fabulous being that Rey's parents are nobodies; she is a strong independent woman and she don't need no fancy bloodline -- it keeps us in the dark about just as much. Who is Supreme Leader Snoke? He has a glamorous golden bathrobe, but we still don't know who or what or why he is, and now we may not. Kylo kills him in an otherwise really cool scene (he and Rey fight together against the guards and a burning backdrop). Who was Max von Sydow's character in The Force Awakens? Still don't know, probably doesn't matter. What's Phasma's story? No idea, and she (also probably) dies too. There is a new canon book about her, so hopefully that helps.

Despite my meandering thoughts, I cannot deny the sheer beauty and power of this film. It's a visionary masterpiece, pushing the Star Wars limits in ways I never expected to see. It's a tapestry of color and light, gorgeous special effects and dazzling storytelling. Its menagerie of alien species gets a little weird at times, but it all works together to create a nearly perfect escapist experience. Even moments that could be a dangerously close throwback to The Empire Strikes Back are quickly altered to be novel: The climactic battle on salt-crusted Crait isn't just snow and AT-ATs like it was on Hoth; arresting red dust billows from the ground and none of the enemy's weapons are destroyed. The infiltrating team of Finn, Rose, and DJ the pirate don't shut down the tracking device like Old Ben did on the Death Star; they get caught and almost killed.

In this way, the movie is a (successful) meditation on failure, its price and its cost as well as the lessons it teaches. It's a thematic work of genius, and I can't wait to watch it again. Sure, there are some awkward comedic moments, some earned and some not, but nothing caught me off guard so much as little moments of insight and affection between characters in intimate proximity. I wept openly through lengthy sequences, and choked up so much I could barely breathe. After saving Finn at the potential cost of her life, Rose tells him that's how we win: "Not by fighting what we hate, but by saving what we love." Take my tears and my life, why dontcha? Other than Rogue One, it is the most dense Star Wars yet, and if that's any indication of the franchise's future, I am HERE FOR IT.

PS: For those of you who are as in love with Oscar Isaac and Poe Dameron as I am -- just kidding, no one rivals my affection -- you will be pleased to know that he has some great moments in this film. He connects with all the major players in heartfelt ways, he leads a mutiny, his hair is on point. And he gets a new leather jacket.

IMDb: Star Wars: The Last Jedi

Detroit (2017)

Score: 5 / 5

The Detroit riot of 1967 was one of the deadliest and most destructive in US history. It lasted almost a week after police raided an unlicensed bar and resulted in 43 deaths, thousands of injuries, and thousands of buildings destroyed. A lengthy history of injustice, police brutality and corruption, racial and social violence, and economic collapse led to the riots, which have only been surpassed in size and scope by the 1992 Los Angeles riots and the NYC draft riots during the civil war (100 years before the events of this movie). In Detroit, director Kathryn Bigelow and writer Mark Boal (the team behind The Hurt Locker and Zero Dark Thirty) do what they do best by dramatizing a war zone. We might wash over the events in history as a "disturbance" or a crime spree, but Detroit knows its subject better than that.

Bigelow begins with onscreen-text narration of Detroit's racial and economic history using the paintings of the Great Migration by Jacob Lawrence. Once the stage is set, she dives right into the initial raid on the speakeasy as its black patrons celebrate one of their own (the always awesome Anthony Mackie) returning from Vietnam. Once rounded up by the white police and lined up on the street, observers start crowding around, and shouting and panic between the parties involved quickly leads to minor violence. Fueled by anger, the heat, lack of information, knowledge of Detroit police culture, and probably alcohol-heightened mob mentality, the crowd goes from throwing cans and bottles at the cop cars to store fronts. It doesn't take long before the city is aflame.

That's the beginning of the movie. A riveting twenty or so minutes of almost no discernible dialogue as cops and black civilians shout and cuss at each other, each party afraid but only one group with the authority to control the situation in a calm and responsible way. They do not. Bigelow and Boal have already shown us their incredible ability to subvert expectations and delve deep into the psychology of their characters: The leads of Zero Dark Thirty and The Hurt Locker are addicted to violence, hellbent on fulfilling their jobs while lives hang in the balance. The former film courts the morality of torture (something which, I suspect, led to the Oscar being stolen from both it and Bigelow that year, no thanks to Senator John McCain's review; beware of politicians using media for their own purposes! Remember Califano and Selma!) while the latter examines the nature of violence in white men's hearts. Here in Detroit, however, the character lens is much wider, as we understand the multiple points of view and the utter lack of a moral center by many parties. The black mayor pleads early in the film for peace, asking the rioters to please "not mess up your own neighborhoods." It's a reasonable cry, and one we hear repeated often from Ferguson to Baltimore.

But this movie's focus lies ever-so-slightly more on the alternative to that. What is it that provokes vandalism and arson in these riots? Of course, single shots of the film may answer that as simply as a lone rioter doing what he knows is wrong simply because he'll get away with it amidst the chaos. But the film, I think, suggests something more at work. By the end of the picture, we wonder what we would have done differently, had the police and lawyers and politicians treated us the same way as the black citizens of the time. That's the magic of this movie. It forces us into the headspace of everyone involved, how it's all a moral gray area and the relativity of consequences are as complex as the urgency of the situation.

Who are we to say that the way the rioters handled themselves badly? Their lives were at stake. Early in the film, as the trucks of national guardsmen roll into the city, the soldiers are looking for potential snipers on the roof. A little girl peers out her window to see what's happening and is immediately shot dead. Later, as dozens of arrested black men crowd a police station, the cops are as overwhelmed and confused as the prisoners. Trying to overpower the noise of outraged suspects and arrestees, officers hold men's cuffed hands up while shouting, "Whose prisoner is this?", highlighting the chaos and irresponsibility of the department in a scene that is horrifyingly reminiscent of a slave auction. Think that's taking the idea too far? Try again: One especially violent cop, while chasing a looter, shoots him twice with a shotgun. When the looter climbs a fence and escapes, the cop turns to his partner and says, "What a fucking specimen, huh?" He views the man as an animal, one who apparently deserved to be shot and killed even though he was only looting, was running away, and had no weapon.

But just as I was getting bewildered by the many perspective points and characters, Bigelow finds her real focal point. After introducing so many disparate characters and locations, she settles us in for a ride as her camera almost literally zooms in on the Algiers Motel. This sequence is the body of the movie, a masterpiece of horror cinema that details the still mysterious events that happened the night of July 25. I'm inclined to believe, generally, what the movie portrays due to public records of the event and the presence of one of its direct witnesses on the set every day, though there is obviously lots of room for dramatization. I won't spoil it for you, though if you know your history, you'll be as fascinated as I was.

Even if you don't, you'll be blown away by the horror shown onscreen. I'll leave the plot for other sources to describe, but in an ensemble movie of excellent performances, the standout for me was Will Poulter. Here he plays the murderous psychopath in a police uniform I previously mentioned. It's not a nuanced performance, but it's a dazzling, balls-out portrayal of absolute evil that stands out because the rest of the movie is so firmly entrenched in moral contradictions and relativity. Poulter either didn't get the memo or didn't care, and it pays off, as his baby face belies sinister designs and his Mephistophelean eyebrows indicate his devilish tendencies. He's the stuff of nightmares here, terrorizing the black men and two white women in the motel to find out which one might have a gun. Though he had previously been chastised by his superior for murdering the looter, he had been ordered to "get back to work" while he awaited formal murder charges (a not-so-sly early bit of criticism of white police departments that allow suspected criminal cops to continue working, when ordinary citizens would be hauled in for questioning or worse).

Despite that setback, Poulter's cop manages to get into the thick of the rioting. As his team charges into the Algiers Motel (it's a cartoonish portrayal lambasting Bad Cop culture: shooting the facade of the building like in a bad Western, the officers don't even announce their presence or offer a chance for innocent parties to evacuate), he quickly takes the reins. Even Guardsmen defer to him, and when the state police arrive they too let local cops take charge. Once, when a disturbed soldier leaves the motel to escape the crazed killer inside, he tells an incoming superior officer that Poulter is terrorizing black people, the state trooper declares, "That can't be right. They have their civil rights," and turns and leaves, not wanting to get mixed up in civil rights violations. What's that old saying about good men who do nothing? Maybe they're not such good men after all. What is missing from this movie, I'd argue, is a logical explanation if not examination of how and why this culture was (and is) so pervasive: Where is the police review board? Why were the police armed so heavily? What factors led to a nearly all-white police outfit, and why were bigoted acts of violence not disciplined? Of course the answer is racism, but it would be so much more interesting to see the realities of racist legislation and administration than to see a man who is basically the Iago to Detroit's Othello.

As a movie that directly concerns black experiences and racial injustice, it is disheartening and a little disturbing to see so much white perspective and agency in Detroit. That's historically accurate, sure, but I would have liked to see some more of the black heroes of the riots. When, after Mr Evil Cop lets one of the young black men leave the motel, he runs into another white cop; it's telling that the cop's immediate sympathy and care for the beaten youth is one of the most heartwrenching scenes of the movie. And then there's John Boyega, who performs easily the most thankless (and severely underwritten) role in the movie. He's a private security guard whose proximity to the Algiers sends him into the fray. Boal and Boyega portray him as a good man stuck in an impossible situation, who tries to do a little bit of good here and there but who ultimately ends up enabling the bloodthirsty police and becoming their scapegoat. Historically, that seems one of the less-likely possibility of his mysterious presence. It's almost as if Bigelow and Boal don't want us to know that some of the witnesses actually testified that he had participated in the beatings and humiliation that night, and that afterward he was found as guilty as the cops by an all-black city tribunal that included Rosa Parks.

Just as we saw in Dunkirk, Detroit is designed to be an immersive experience. It's a cinematic test of endurance, daring us to look away or to get sick like Boyega's character does at the end. While it stops short of making brazen judgments on most of the action and characters, the movie offers a harrowing experience and requires lots of thinking and discussion afterward. Perhaps most interestingly, and a conclusion I took some time to come to, Bigelow and Boal make this movie not a universal statement to encompass the whole history of Detroit during the 1967 riots. I expected that, and was initially disappointed when it was not the case. Why didn't they name the movie Algiers or something, since that's what it directly concerns? But upon reflection, the filmmakers do something much more savvy. They turn the Algiers into a centerpiece of the city and the conflict. The movie takes the riots and the horrors and the chaos and turns its narrative into a microcosm. It's an in-depth examination on a small scale of what was happening on a big scale.

What is still happening on a big scale.

IMDb: Detroit

Star Wars: The Force Awakens (2015)

Score: 3 / 5

**Fair warning: I don't care about spoilers for myself, so I won't worry about censoring my thoughts here. If you haven't seen the film, and get violent when someone else reveals plot points, stop reading now. You should also probably just avoid the Internet until you've seen the movie.**

The most obnoxiously advertised movie event of the year, the new Star Wars regime opened with great fanfare and packed auditoriums. If you had the pleasure (?) of seeing it opening weekend, you no doubt shared with the enthusiasm of the multitudes as I did, and cheered aloud at appropriate points. It's undoubtedly a fierce spectacle, dazzling in its precision and flair, encouraged by the sentiment and nostalgia brought to it by both filmmakers and audiences.

There isn't much I can say specifically in praise of the movie, because technically it's pretty darn fabulous. The effects are killer, the score is lovely, the production design is interesting, and the camerawork is fine. There are some sizable holes in plot and characterizations, but as a part of a planned trilogy, I can't really fault the film for that; we can certainly expect to know more with the next installment. That said, I always prefer films (as sequels, prequels, and trilogies too!) to be able to stand on their own. I'm not so sure this one does. There's almost no exposition and new ideas pop up without preparation or, sometimes, merit. For example, early in the film, villain Kylo Ren uses the Force to stop a blaster's fire in midair. When has that ever been a thing? And apparently a renewed Empire (the obtusely named "First Order") has taken charge, led yet again by a mysterious Sith, though we don't know anything about what happened after the fall of the Empire in Return of the Jedi. I guess time will tell. But in most of these respects, The Force Awakens is very reminiscent of A New Hope.

Of course, it's also reminiscent of A New Hope in ways that aren't so admirable. In fact, a few times I wondered if I wasn't just watching a remake of that iconic first film. I'm not saying that's a bad thing, but I felt thoroughly disappointed at least half a dozen times in this movie. I mean, where's the creativity? If I wanted to see a poor orphan on a desert planet looking for adventure, a masked magic man with a sinister artificial voice, a superweapon the size of a planet, or a mysterious alien whose short stature belies supernatural knowledge, I could have watched the originals.

And before you start saying, "Well, it's better than the prequels," think again. I've never had a serious problem with the prequels, and I've not heard many sound arguments against them, other than personal preference. Sure, Jar Jar Binks is the worst, but so were the Ewoks. Sure, Darth Maul dies in the first movie, but so did Alec Guinness. No, I think the real reason people like the prequels less is because the script and its themes are far more complex and aloof; in having to rapidly expand the galaxy and its denizens, the prequels have precious little of the raw humor and "realistic" sense that defined the originals. Which is fine in my books, but not so with everybody. But that humor and grounded awareness is what J. J. Abrams's new film has in abundance, thereby winning over so many original fans. For example, when one tough pilot is dropped before the intimidating figure of Kylo Ren (Adam Driver), he glances up and asks who speaks first. It's the little moments like this that present us with a believable sense of humor, one that sparkles with wit amidst operatic galactic warfare.

In any case, it's not this film's (lack of) creativity that's winning anybody over. For all their editing faults and effects-heavy spectacle, the prequels matched the originals in sheer imagination and creative output. The Force Awakens just looks like Abrams's scrapbook of images and sensations from the original movies, recycled in order to win over doubters. I might add that, as a fan of the original expanded universe, there were extensive plotlines established before, after, and during the films' plotlines, written in both novels and graphic novels. I love reading the books, so it's a little hard for me to swallow that virtually all of them are suddenly irrelevant. That's a barrier I'll have to overcome on my own, but it certainly made me bitter while watching this new movie. Of all the brilliant stories and characters in the expanded universe, to have the filmmakers here just pirate plot points and images from an old movie is pretty irritating. But I suppose that's just a matter of personal preference, not unlike the disdain some feel toward the prequels.

Maybe I'm harping on something that doesn't matter much. Maybe the new Empire (Disney?) is planning on making the second and third films (plus more, apparently? God, I hope it's not overkill) wildly novel and imaginative, so they had to make this one familiar. I guess we'll have to wait for episode eight. For now, it's a nice excursion, and one that promises even more boons in the coming years. And speaking of boons, let's praise the amazing cast ( and casting director) here for a moment. Yay, the movie isn't only full of white people! Yay, we have a badass female protagonist! Yay, Oscar Isaac is my favorite! But seriously, the cast is great and their work is great, especially the newbies. I'll happily follow any mainstream sci-fi adventure with a cast that can impress me this much this quickly. Focal point: My favorite scene in the film is when Rey (Daisy Ridley) and Finn (John Boyega) are attempting to fix the Falcon, and BB-8 is withholding the location of the Rebel base. It's a fast and charming verbal dance between the three, and one that had me giggling for minutes afterward. It's scenes like that that won me over. Let's hope Abrams has more of those up his sleeve.

Here's a list of other objections some have had with this new film. Some are far more problematic than others, but generally I felt most of these ideas while watching the picture. Check it out: http://www.deathandtaxesmag.com/274463/episode-vii-sucks/.

IMDb: The Force Awakens