The Creator (2023)

Score: 4.5 / 5

All I knew of The Creator heading in was that it was a new science fiction thriller about artificial intelligence from director and co-writer Gareth Edwards. I've been a fan of Edwards since Monsters; his few films since then have all been major titles on my favorites list each year, including his revival of Godzilla and of course Rogue One, which is my favorite Star Wars film by far. Upon reflection -- and perusal of the film's credits -- it makes sense that this new film feels and looks a lot like Rogue One: Edwards previously worked with Chris Weitz to write both movies, as well as with cinematographer Greig Fraser (Dune, The Batman). As such, it's a complicated, rich experience of world-building in the vein of Blade Runner, Alien, or District 9, one that combines gritty, realistic science fiction with heightened concepts of humanity's purpose and doom.

We're told right away, during a brief but effective montage, that artificial intelligence has (in the fictional world here) been a crucial and helpful part of global culture for many years, from rudimentary robots to complex computer-controlled vehicles and surgeons. We are then suddenly introduced to 2065, when AI had dropped a nuclear bomb on Los Angeles and been banned from the Western world. In fact, the US seems to be leading the charge, and a new conglomerate of nations making up "New Asia" is the sole remaining holdout, all but worshipping AI and protecting its use. The US is seeking "Nirmata," which translates to "The Creator," the mysterious architect of New Asia's groundbreaking AI technology. The US uses NOMAD, a mobile space station that can launch devastating attacks on entire cities in its hunt to destroy AI in the Eastern world.

It's all a very heady setup, but in Edwards's capable hands and mind, it's not too overwhelming with sci-fi jargon. In fact, once you accept the premise of this film, the narrative and themes are surprisingly simple. After you get used to the sight of NOMAD, one of the most fully realized fantasy weapons of mass destruction in a film in ages, you realize it's just a Star Destroyer of a different shape. The story proper concerns Joshua, played by the always wonderful John David Washington, whose family has killed when LA was destroyed. Since then, he has worked undercover for the Army to locate Nirmata in New Asia; he fell in love and lived with Maya (Gemma Chan), believed to be Nirmata's daughter, until their home is attacked and Maya is apparently killed. Five years later, Joshua is recruited to find and destroy "Alpha O," a new weapon created by Nirmata intended to destroy NOMAD and save AI; he is needed because there is evidence Maya may still be alive and involved, and his success could grant her immunity and their reunion.

The film is riddled with mythic tropes and themes, which are best in this kind of speculative genre. Salvific hope (for either side of the conflict) rears its head in the form of an adorable, childlike character who could also be damningly dangerous for humanity. The longsuffering, world-weary protagonist becomes a sort of obligatory, reluctant father figure to the child. The protagonist is also drawn into a journey into a Heart of Darkness, if you will, which indicates its own literary history, though some of the strikes and general chaos on the ground in civilian villages seems meant to visually reference Apocalypse Now and the Vietnam War in general. As for other references, I was reminded of Aliens or Avatar in the characterizations of the tough and merciless US military officials (who include Allison Janney and Ralph Ineson). 

The film's odd use of AI, in light of the recent writers' strike and ongoing performers' strike, will garner some criticism, and rightfully so. Much like Ex Machina, the film refuses to really make a point so much as open up the dialogue and try to foster better understanding while underscoring everything with a palpable sense of dread and consequence. Regardless where you come down on the "debate" of AI, there will be long-lasting and potentially deadly fallout, so to speak. But Edwards is too savvy to remain fully aloof, choosing instead to embrace aesthetics over philosophy. He uses music to chilling effect, perhaps the best moment being Radiohead's "Everything in Its Right Place" during a haunting twilight raid on the compound believed to house Alpha O. And by the end, when Joshua risks his life on an absolute gamble of a massive climax, my heart was lodged in my throat, even though I wasn't completely sold on all the inferences and ideas whirling around. Edwards and his team sold me on the story, the characters, the visuals, and the ideas enough by that point that I was ready to embrace this utterly fresh and beautifully rendered vision for all its worth.

Godzilla: King of the Monsters (2019)

Score: 4.5 / 5

The third installment in Legendary's MonsterVerse ushers in a smash-bang summer blockbuster season, and I'm here for it!

Following Godzilla's disappearance after the events of his first outing in 2014, the cryptozoological organization Monarch has redoubled its efforts to identify, locate, and study the race of dormant Titans around the world. One of its scientists, Vera Farmiga (the characters all have names but nobody cares), is present for the hatching of one named Mothra. She has also developed a device called ORCA which uses sound waves to influence or attract the Titans.

As is so often the case, the ORCA device is stolen by eco-terrorists led by Charles Dance, who kidnaps Farmiga and her daughter Millie Bobby Brown. Enter Kyle Chandler, the estranged father, to save the day. Or as much of the day as he can save, considering the massive size of destructive forces he faces. The film has more than a little heart, and at its center is this family drama framed with some surprisingly effective philosophy on the relationship between humans, our world, and the monsters we create vs. the monsters here before us. The story may be basic -- if drawn out effectively -- but its ideas are not, and it strikes a brilliant balance between action and meditation.

Balance is the key word for a film like this, in which so many things are juggled at once. First, there's the sizable cast, not even including the CGI characters. Then there's the monsters themselves, all but two of whom are brand-spanking new to this franchise. We've got the weighty ideas about terrorism and the environment, historical fantasy and geopolitics, dangerous new technology and the responsibilities we have to each other and our world. It's a lot for any movie to handle; the more Avengers movies we see, the easier it is to forget that most films can't perform at the same breadth and scope.

Godzilla: King of the Monsters works well on its own terms, though, and remains fabulously entertaining throughout. Drenched in a wet, gritty imagery and suffused with thick lighting, the film veers away from the realism of its predecessor -- and avoids they hyper-stylizations of Kong: Skull Island -- to craft its own brooding atmosphere. In fact, it seems that director Michael Dougherty is more in awe of these creatures than other filmmakers in this series; the grandeur inherent in calling them Titans and the dramatic flourish of lighting and effects frame them as almost godlike. Case in point: as the final showdown commences, Ghidorah poses regally atop a volcano while other Titans bow to him, and silhouetted in the foreground is a giant cross.

Dougherty seems to want us to feel a religious attraction to these creatures, a sort of sublime draw toward that which is great and terrible and utterly unconcerned with us. It's a delicious change in tone from the other films, and one that isn't necessarily more or less effective so much as a showcase for another artist's attitude toward the same subject matter. Gareth Edwards wanted his film shot primarily from the human perspective, and its realism meant there would be less direct access to the monster itself. Jordan Vogt-Roberts layered his film under lurid imagery, psychedelic colors, and period rock music, making it feel like a jungle fever dream. Here, we get a cold, wet vision of a world at war with forces of nature more than monsters running amok.

It's just a lot of fun, which is really all a Godzilla movie should be.

Detective Pikachu (2019)

Score: 3 / 5

Who knew we'd get a live-action Pokemon movie? Who knew we'd actually enjoy it?

When Tim, a coming-of-age insurance salesman searching for his purpose, learns that his detective father died in a car crash, he travels to Ryme City to collect his father's belongings. En route, he meets fluff columnist Lucy, looking for her own big break, and the two begin investigating the detective's death after meeting his father's Pokemon partner, a Pikachu only Tim can understand in English. The amnesiac Pikachu hints that Tim's father was on to some dark dealings in the heart of Ryme City.

It's all fairly standard noir stuff, and the detective story itself tends to fall dramatically flat. What makes up for the forced narrative, though, is the gorgeous detail that went into Ryme City itself. The city breathes with seedy life, glistening with fluorescent reflections and always doused with a grimy dew. Its atmospheric presence provides a striking backdrop to the drama and comedy of the oddball duo launching their investigation. Ryan Reynolds voices the animated Pikachu, and here he tends to offer a PG-version of his Deadpool riffs. Sometimes clever, often silly, it all makes for a solidly diverting 100-ish minutes.

What I found most fascinating ,though, was the beautifully realized Pokemon in live action cinema. The animated beasts look more or less natural in the world of flesh and sunlight. And while it's been many, many years since I've seen those cartoon animals on cards (I lost interest quickly after the first collection of 100), I could recognize some of them instantly due to the artistry and fan service that went into their design. I may never need to see this movie again, but I left the theater satisfied and smiling, and sometimes that's more than enough.

Isle of Dogs (2018)

Score: 2 / 5

Isle of Dogs is a perfect example of Anderson's artistry. The incredible design of the film and its stop-motion animation are more than enough to earn its praise. Abundant details keep everything magnificent on a big screen. The film isn't as colorful or vibrant as, for example, Moonrise Kingdom, but it's got some really arresting moments, especially the Western-meets-noir moments on Trash Island. It's got some slick, dry humor, too, which I was digging for the first half of the film, along with some incredible music. But style only works for me when it reinforces content.

The story is just weird. Thousands of dogs suffering dog flu and the prejudices of a dictatorial mayor are banished to a nearby landfill island. A lone boy, nephew to the despot -- destined for greatness by proximity to greatness, no doubt -- crashes his plane on Trash Island to find his own dog Spots. A group of alpha dogs (who are really anything but alpha in demeanor, as they gossip and bumble throughout the film) befriend him and help him search.

Unfortunately, Anderson keeps everything at a sort of ironic distance, valuing his own aesthetic over developing context or enhancing meaning in the story he's telling. That's not unlike his approach to every film under his name, but here I didn't see how it matched the story.

The film's logic is also woefully skewed. The dogs, though living in Japan, speak English and cannot understand the Japanese boy's speech, which becomes a point of sourly humorous absurdity. It seems that formal Japanese speeches must include a haiku poem, another point of absurdist humor that sat badly with me. And then there's the motif of a mushroom cloud (!) every time something explodes, something that felt severely shortsighted on Anderson's part. If Anderson wanted to pander to his American audience, presumably because we're so shallow we need to identify with the characters and can only do so when they speak English or are white, why set his movie in Japan?

A few more quick problems I noted. Most of the Japanese dialogue, rather than directly translated for the audience or even subtitled, is rendered though the medium of Frances McDormand's dialogue as a reporter. She translates (maybe) the essential bits of exposition. In a movie of male characters and male voice actors, it's not insignificant that there is one female dog (voiced by Scarlett Johansson) who is called a bitch at least once. Accurate? Sure. In poor taste? You betcha. The film also has an interesting anti-cat theme, one that I can sympathize with, that feels overt and more than a little sinister.

I was most disturbed, though, by the character of Tracy (voiced by Greta Gerwig, who really should have known better), an exchange student investigating the politics in Japan and the corruption of the mayor. Tracy is the White Savior, rousing the otherwise voiceless people of Japan and rallying them to confront the mayor. Her afro-style hair notwithstanding, when she finally leads a protest to interrupting the mayor's public address, she raises her fist in what looks suspiciously like a Black Power salute (never mind the lack of people of color in the ensemble film). Then, of course, there's the scene where she violently assaults the scientist Yoko Ono (voiced by Yoko Ono) to get her to stand up for herself and fight back against the mayor.

WHAT? Yeah. That happened.

I don't know, maybe I'm being too harsh. But I just didn't enjoy this movie, beautiful as it may be. Its problems are far more troubling than I expected; so much so, in fact, that I want to revisit his other movies and see if they're as disturbing. Humor doesn't have to come at the cost of racist or sexist jokes, and there's really no excuse for it these days. Especially not when your story sucks as it is.

IMDb: Isle of Dogs

Godzilla (2014)

Score: 4.5 / 5

Infinitely superior to Roland Emmerich's 1998 attempt, this Godzilla is a welcome reboot of the franchise. Hardcore Godzilla fans are particularly pleased with the titular monster's design, as he looks like a contemporary version of the original monster rather than a glorified dinosaur. And this one has fiery blue breath, so of course he's better. Gareth Edwards brilliantly directs this two-hour, big-budget sci-fi thriller like a drama or art film, drawing attention to atmosphere and character rather than spectacle.

The main story is familiar enough: humanity's aggressive scientific efforts have brought forth monsters, the otherwise unnamed MUTOs (Massive Unidentified Terrestrial Organisms), which feed off radioactive material. Godzilla rises from the ocean to eliminate this new threat and bring balance. The heart of the film, though, resides in its characters. The Brody family seems intertwined with these monsters, and suffers both tragedy and redemption through the horrors of their rampage.

Joe and Sandra Brody (Bryan Cranston, Juliette Binoche) work in a Japanese nuclear power plant until its destruction in 1999, following unusual seismic activity that causes a radiation leak and Sandra's death. In the present day, Joe enlists the help of his son Ford (the very hunky Aaron Taylor-Johnson) in returning to their old home -- now in quarantine -- to retrieve his old research on the true case of the seismic activity. When they are detained by soldiers working to cover up the secret workings inside the ruined plant, the first MUTO awakens and Joe is killed. Ford works with special task forces in tracking and observing the monsters, in an unspoken effort to fulfill or honor his father's work. The emotional core of this movie isn't Ford becoming a hero; it's his coming of age and learning to love his family again.

The film feels a lot like War of the Worlds (2005). Tonally and chromatically, it's gritty and dark and bleak, because when a disaster movie is centered on the human experience, the horrors of the proceedings come into focus. We aren't battered into submission by endless images of buildings crumbling and clouds of dust everywhere; instead, we follow the characters into the dust and see just about what they see. The big Cinematic Moments are reserved for the profoundly human images. In fact, my favorite scene was a shattering surprise to me: I'm talking about The Scene. The scene that seems to be highlighted in every promotional image of the movie, wherein soldiers skydive into the hellish San Francisco skyline, trailed by red smoke, in search of a warhead. It's a gamble of a mission, and the jump is in many ways the central metaphor for the movie. I had wondered why this scene was getting so much promo attention, and now I get it. In context, it is the emotional turning point of the film, and the camerawork/editing is particularly beautiful. You'll just have to watch it to understand.

And watch it you should! Haunting and thrilling, dramatic and beautiful, I hope this one does well for Oscar nominations (though it's far too early to predict with any certainty, we can hope it'll get nods for visual effects, sound mixing and editing, and maybe even cinematography and score). Oh, I almost forgot: the lovely score, composed by the incredible Alexandre Desplat, can be added to his already lengthy list of masterpieces. He's one of the best. I've said it before and I'll say it again, but this year we've seen a lot of special effects-driven movies. Godzilla may be one of them, but it's got real craft too.

IMDb: Godzilla