The Running Man (2025)

Score: 3.5 / 5

Richard Bachman is having a hell of a year. Stephen King's pseudonym, mostly used in his earlier years as a publishing strategy to avoid saturating the market -- hilarious, in retrospect of the prolific author's career -- published a handful of edgy horror-thrillers in the '80s. Bachman's first four titles have been collected into a single work, The Bachman Books, including Rage, The Long Walk, Roadwork, and The Running Man. The linked title was adapted as a wonderful film earlier in 2025, and now we get the second cinematic adaptation of The Running Man, after the 1987 film. I've admittedly not read the source material nor seen the previous film of this title, so my thoughts here are only of Edgar Wright's new film.

Edgar Wright (Shaun of the Dead, Baby Driver, Last Night in Soho), known for fast pacing, action, and metafictional and/or satirical genre films -- in addition to his easily recognizable musical and editing styles -- is a pretty solid fit for this material, in terms of big-budget filmmaking. And, oddly enough, this title fits well with The Long Walk in thematic conceit: in each, a dystopian governmental regime rules the United States, offering the possibility of success and wealth to individuals who compete in a dangerous, violent activity meant to be broadcast to an oppressed nation. The Running Man is the name of a televised show, not unlike The Hunger Games, in which the authoritarian Network attempts to placate suffering viewers with how much worse life could be. Offering its entrants $1 billion if they survive one month, the Network sends its private assassins out to kill the competitors; by televising the chase, the Network also encourages casual citizens to attempt murder.

Its bizarre mashup of competition and reality television notwithstanding, it would seem the show is a certain lose-lose situation. But Ben Richards (Glen Powell), a blue collar worker living in abject poverty with his wife (Jayme Lawson, of The Batman and Sinners) and infant daughter, needs money. Their daughter is sick, and even with Sheila working, they can't afford her necessary medicine. Ben auditions for the Network, hoping to earn money on one of its other shows, only to find himself forced into competition for the most brutal of all. He's promised his family will be moved to a safe house and given an advance on winnings to help his daughter. What else can he do?

There might be a time and place to pick apart the internal logic of this story, but this isn't it. Mostly because Wright won't let us think too critically about anything. Relentlessly paced, the film feels like a race even as we're watching it, jolting us from chase to fight sequences with only action in-between. What differentiates this from, say, a John Wick film is Wright's signature style: brightly lit scenes, charming wit from our lead actor, and a certain musical flair that keeps things bouncy and moving. That's not to say this isn't bleak, so don't get your hopes up. It's about as nasty and gritty as you could imagine in visual presentation, to say nothing of its disturbingly timely messaging about the cruelty of modern American life under oligarchic systems. And it doesn't help that, in the world of the story, no one has ever won "The Running Man."

Powell himself delivers an admirable performance, injecting a viciousness to his character that I can't recall seeing in him before. Ben isn't just angry, he's determined to live out a life that says little more than "fuck you" to the regime he toils under. And we're meant to fully agree with him. It's not for nothing that we don't know exactly what line of work his wife does, though it's strongly hinted that she's a sex worker and neither of them really want her to be. I can easily imagine this as a highly successful early 2000s film, with its grimy punk style, but I'm glad this film pushes things into a recognizable future. It's telling, I might add, that the public face of the Network (the role played deliciously by Stanley Tucci in the Hunger Games series) is Colman Domingo acting his chops off as a diabolically insane game show host in glorious costume. 

There is a lot to unpack in this film. Josh Brolin plays an executive producer of the Network, who eyeballs Ben and railroads him into the game; the Network's use of manipulative deepfakes to control televised output is as upsetting (and, curiously, unremarkable in the film itself) as the means by which producers get their desired outcome. On his run from potential killers, Ben meets William H. Macy, Daniel Ezra, and Michael Cera, who help him in various ways and pay the price for their aid. We don't get to know these characters, and while it might be disheartening to see such prominent character actors chewing on so little, the film isn't about building community in the face of authoritarian regimes; it's more or less a direct critique of the ways neoliberal methods are employed by empire to entertain and provide false hope to the populace. So it's really just about the main guy trying to overcome the odds stacked against him.

And what odds. I mean, Lee Pace plays his primary hunter, wearing a mask and a lot of leather, and his abilities with physical performance are excellently featured here.

As Powell's vehicle, I can't speak highly enough of this film's efforts to showcase him. His physique is highlighted as much as his caustic wit; he's not totally likable, but he fully owns our attention and sympathies. Despite occasionally making foolish decisions, he's understandable and we desperately want him to succeed. Perhaps this is because we, too, in 2025 (okay, 2026 now; I'm trying to catch up, so sue me) are constantly concerned about making a living wage that allows us healthcare and housing, accountability in government, transparency and ethics in business. My lasting impression of the film is one of annoyance -- how can all these characters, who are universally aware of the falseness of what they're being fed on the tube, keep going along with the bullshit? -- but it's an annoyance I'm increasingly feeling towards our reality.

Annoyance, though, isn't always a bad thing when it's intentional. And this film succeeds in its intent. Like an adrenaline shot of moral outrage, this is a profoundly angry film that is thoroughly entertaining while stoking the same ire we should all be feeling.

Bodies Bodies Bodies (2022)

Score: 4 / 5

It may not be the most dangerous game, literarily speaking, but it certainly is one! Bodies Bodies Bodies is the latest A24 film to grace us with its existence, and thank heaven it's here to usher us from summer blockbuster season to spooky season. What do we even call this genre mashup? It was billed as a slasher, and in some ways it is very much that. But it's also, formally, a murder mystery and -- most surprising to me -- a sort of bildungsroman of Gen Z mentality. It opens, as comparatively no wide releases do, with a sensual kiss between two young women of different skin tones; we're fully absorbed into a world of naturalized queerness from the outset, and it's not even particularly sexual or creepy. There's a lovely warm glow to their passionate lip-locking, and though it's definitely not the vibe of the film to follow, it effectively sets up that this is a progressive film that doesn't even need to verbally address the typical baloney that often accompanies queer characters. Brava, and now on to the film!

It doesn't take long for us to realize, despite the racially diverse and mostly queer cast, none of the characters are particularly likable. The two girls are Sophie (Amandla Stenberg of The Hate U Give, Dear Evan Hansen) and Bee (Maria Bakalova, a newcomer after that Borat movie), a somewhat recently established young couple on their way to a "hurricane party." That's right, the kind of fabulous and stupid idea rich people come up with to ignore problems; it went well for Prince Prospero in Poe's short story about the Red Death. Sophie comes from a wealthy family, and the party will be hosted by an old friend of hers who is also sickeningly rich, the goofy delinquent David (Pete Davidson, of course). Shortly after they arrive -- unannounced and somewhat unwanted after no RSVP and some teenage drama -- the rain begins to fall and lightning cracks across the sky. Time to get indoors, right?

Maybe, but it's not so comfortable in the stately mansion with so many large personalities. David's girlfriend Emma is there (Chase Sui Wonders), as are a clueless podcaster named Alice (a magnificent Rachel Sennott of Shiva Baby) and her shockingly older ex-vet boy toy Greg (a perversely jubilant Lee Pace), and the mysterious but aggressive Jordan (Myha'la Herrold). They may all be used to wealth, but they're also extremely petty, bitter, and jaded; passive-aggressive arguments begin immediately about group chats and etiquette for attending parties. Jordan seems to have romantic feelings for Sophie -- their past is confirmed soon enough -- and the kids are all a little too attached to their precious phones. They are very much meant to stand in for voices of their generation, and the first third of the film is mostly played as comedic, showcasing the ridiculous preoccupations of supposedly woke young adults when they are left to their own amusement.

Booze and pills and cocaine flow freely until night falls, when it's time to play an infamous murder-mystery party game "Bodies Bodies Bodies." It sounds a bit like a secret killer game mixed with something like hide-and-seek, but there is no stopping the suspicions and revelations with so many substances in their systems. This is the kind of self-conscious horror movie that made Scream work, but writers Sarah DeLappe and Kristen Roupenian don't want to fit the mold entirely. Borrowing heavily from the 2005 cult hit Cry Wolf, they play off our expectations of the genre, melding self-aware comedy and cultural critiques with slasher aesthetic and a whodunnit plot. Because, in case you wondered where all this was going, bodies do indeed start to fall.

I won't summarize any more of the plot because a primary joy here is in trying to figure things out along with the characters. Are they being pranked by one of their own, as in Knives Out -- perhaps by that older creep Greg, or the playboy addict David -- or could a killer be among them, like the mysterious stranger (and arguable protagonist) Bee, about whom we know as little as anyone else? Are they being stalked from without, a la You're Next, or is this some weird dynastic thing among the young and rich, as in Ready or Not? As the hurricane rages on, more bodies drop; more fascinating, if less engaging, are the screenplay and acting, which highlight the vapid love-hate relationship we all share with social media and, by extension, with each other.

Director Halina Reijn (in her English-language directorial debut) could be accused here of hating Gen Z, but I think her work is much more nuanced and sensitive than that. In fact, I might be inclined to argue that, while she is lampooning certain aspects of culture, she is in fact doing crucial work of bridging a generational gap: encouraging artistic dialogue between high-brow art (A24 may produce many things, but nobody can dispute its prolific titles' place in cinematic excellence) and younger generations. It's almost gleefully nihilistic in its dialogue, yes, and also in its attitude toward the characters, an intentional choice to ironically embrace accusations hurled at horror films for the past few decades. There are plenty of effective scares and lots of moody broody angst -- major thanks to cinematographer Jasper Wolf and music by Disasterpeace -- but the ultimate pleasure of this film is in its twist climax and denouement. I can hardly wait to rewatch with subtitles to capture and appreciate the nasty dialogue, its fabulous turns and dares, and of course to better appreciate the masterful performances even more by knowing what we finally know. This is, indeed, not a safe space.

Captain Marvel (2019)

Score: 3.5 / 5

The year is 1995 and we find ourselves in Kree space. Brie Larson (who goes by at least three names in this movie, so let's just call her Larson) is a member of the Starforce, tasked with rescuing an undercover agent among their enemies, the Skrull. Overwhelmed with the nomenclature yet? Add in a Flerken, other characters with multiple names and alliances, and the mysterious powers of the Tesseract, and you've got Captain Marvel, the latest MCU flick that is at once a great reminder of the genius of this franchise and a mild disappointment to fans of the recent franchise turns.

Let's start with the positive: It's a lot of fun. Some of the laughs are forced and the spectacle can be cheap, but it's awfully pretty to look at. And, for a hero with rather unspecific powers (kind of like Vision, who shares Larson's Infinity-Stone-given powers), it's probably okay to simply show her swathed in an aura of bright light. Do we really need to understand her powers? We might want to, but the reality is that she'll serve as a sort of quasi-savior in Avengers: Endgame, so her salvific powers can be a bit too awesome for our comprehension.

While the names and titles can all get a bit muddled, the essence of the film is not unlike that of Winter Soldier, with shifting alliances and secret infiltrations and a massive shift in our expectations of who really are the "good guys." Of course, we see it coming miles off, and that's because of the narrative simplicity here. In fact, the straightforward earnestness of this movie -- its determination to craft a standalone heroic entry, introduce a character, and feature no small amount of girl power -- is almost rousing. It feels like a spiritual sister to the first Iron Man and Captain America as a solid, old-fashioned origin story. And that's fine.

Much more better are its bankable stars doing admirable work. Though Larson's badassery isn't served well by a script that all but flatlines her dramatic arc, her physicality challenges that of the men in this franchise, and her hair beats out Thor's by a landslide. Samuel L. Jackson gets to sort-of co-star this time around, and his Nick Fury has been digitally de-aged in a pretty cool way. Clark Gregg, Djimon Hounsou, and Lee Pace return in minor parts as characters they've played before, which is a lot of fun and provides fodder for fans who like to tie together elements from across the franchise. We also get Jude Law and Ben Mendelsohn as the leaders of their respective Kree and Skrull soldiers, which is fun except that Mendelsohn's makeup looks like a Halloween mask and he sounds like he's speaking through prosthetic lips (which he is).

My favorite addition is Annette Bening as Mar-Vell, a fantastic use of gender-swapping much like Tilda Swinton's in Doctor Strange. She gets much better screen time and dynamic drama than Glenn Close did as Nova Prime (still bitter about that), and she's electrifying to behold.

You might have noticed my ambivalence about some of these positives, and they only strengthen my overall disappointment with this installment. It's a solid origin story, reasonably entertaining, and easy to follow. The dialogue can get clunky, her powers aren't really understandable, the effects are often wasteful, but its shallow sense of nostalgia kind of helps us link this movie mentally with the very first installments of the franchise. I mean, when the climax sneaks up on you without your awareness, it's a hint the pacing is just all wrong; when the climax involves the hero flying through a warship and it starts exploding/melting around her, it might be time to rethink the logic of what a climax needs to be.

But, as this is the MCU's first time letting a woman headline a film, it's just shameful that they played it so safely. Gone are the visual inventions of Doctor Strange and Ant-Man, the narrative ingenuity of Thor: Ragnarok and Infinity War, the cultural relevance of Black Panther. If it's a game-changer to have a woman headline a superhero film, why isn't Captain Marvel a game-changer as a film? I can't help but think this is just too little too late. Again, that's not to say it's not welcome! It just doesn't fit in with the films of its ilk released in the last couple of years.

Plus, it doesn't help that its placement completely undercuts all claims to feminism MCU might stake. Captain Marvel is a placeholder, a dull lengthy introduction to the climax of the entire franchise. Not only is she the last cog in the great big machine, but she's literally being used by the studio to generate inclusive interest before what will surely be the biggest opening ever for a movie. She may be a savior, but she's being used as such by Marvel/Disney execs, and that's just annoying.

Then again, if that mid-credits heartbreaker of a scene is any indication of the drama she'll elicit in Endgame, I may have to revisit this critique.

The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies (2014)

Score: 5 / 5

Well, there it is. It's all over. Now, if I can get some of these feels out of my system, we've got a film to analyze. If you haven't seen it yet, I don't recommend that you read any further, because I don't filter myself. Unless you're like me and don't mind spoilers. In that case, let's push on!

My primary problem with The Desolation of Smaug, you may recall, dealt with its dizzying cinematography, its reliance upon computer-generated effects, and its occasionally sloppy editing. I have many of the same issues with this film, but I think because this one is shorter and concerns an outlandish battle as its premise, these elements were more palatable. Indeed, the more I watch Desolation (the Extended Edition, naturally) the more I like it because its added scenes round out the kinetic and sometimes disjointed editing. I expect the same from the Battle of the Five Armies Extended Edition: The theatrical release features distinct moments that feel chopped and poorly strung together, most of which take place in the first hour or so. The incredible effects here are not quite so overwhelming as they were in either of the previous films for me, and I think that's largely due to two factors. First, the drama in this film is much darker than before, and Jackson wisely keeps the drama in all the action shots; rather than silly animation or spectacle for the sake of spectacle, he finally nails a balanced combination of drama and spectacle for the first time in this trilogy. And second, the colors of this film match its tone: Darker and austere, this picture (though still dazzling) rivals some of the more monochromatic visuals of The Two Towers or The Return of the King, and thus the effects feel more comfortable in their environment.

I don't want to spend much time repeating my earlier claims, because most apply to this film as well as the previous two (so go read those posts!). The only new notable member of the cast is Billy Connolly as Dain Ironfoot, and his performance is what it is (more comic relief than heroic entrance). Richard Armitage does some nice work on Thorin, Lee Pace rocks as Thranduil, and Orlando Bloom steals the whole movie as a swashbuckling Legolas. Martin Freeman takes a graceful step back to let the Big Events of this wide world take command of his trilogy, and in doing so he subtly nuances his performance with some of his best moments in the series. A few of the dwarves shine in this, notably Ken Stott (Balin) and Aidan Turner (Kili), and of course Luke Evans (Bard) nails it yet again.

Okay, on to the meaty parts. The film starts with a bit of a messy bang, with no introduction other than a long shot of Lake Town under Erebor's silhouette. Suddenly an inferno breaks out and Peter Jackson starts flexing his muscles for the upcoming climax: Jackson shows twice in this movie his tried-and-true skill for directing utter chaos. Just as I was getting worried that we weren't going to hear Benedict Cumberbatch's bone-chillingly erotic Smaug voice, Bard and the dragon face off in a brief and effective climax that might have belonged in the previous film. A year ago I liked the cliffhanger ending. Having seen the surprisingly short beginning of this film, I wonder if Jackson made the right choice.

That said, the buildup to the Big Battle is comparatively slow and talky, so maybe a fiery start was in fact the right decision. Of course, "slow and talky" for The Hobbit isn't really what it means for your average movie. Jackson moves quite efficiently between elf, dwarf, human, and orc camps to explain the various dynamics of the forthcoming conflict. Legolas and Tauriel go on a little excursion to scout the enemy's army while Thranduil and Bard attempt to negotiate with the increasingly crazed Thorin. Bilbo's brave decision to surrender the Arkenstone to the elves and humans, along with Gandalf's timely arrival, amp up the stakes just in time for the wild climax, which lasts for almost half the movie.

Jackson pulls some really fresh tricks in this installment (which says a lot after the recycled bits of Desolation), besides his typically astounding and excessive special effects. The dramatic lull of the post-inferno pre-battle narrative is juxtaposed with some funky scenes featuring the White Council in Dol Guldur. Happily, we get to see Hugo Weaving and Christopher Lee kicking some major butt, and Cate Blanchett looking possessed and kicking even bigger butt. But the sequence is a little rushed, a problem I suspect will be addressed in the Extended Edition; the editing is just too strange for me to accept as is. The sequence has some really trippy visuals, and I'm not sure I know what's happening half the time, but I guess it looks cool? That said, the scene did get me to back off my soapbox about the whole dead-Ringwraith thing, so I suppose Good call there, Jackson.

But his tricks don't stop there. We see some other creepy, almost psychedelic moments scattered in the picture that I bought simply because they weren't as bizarre as the Dol Guldur stuff. Thorin's "dragon sickness" causes him to have a freaky hallucination of being swallowed in his own gold, and as he rants and raves Bilbo hears the voice of Smaug coming from Thorin's mouth. And of course there's some amazing moments in the battle itself, besides the sheer scope of its visuals. Jackson takes liberties in buttressing the orc armies with trolls, bats, and were-worms (a creature Tolkien vaguely mentioned in canon), but they all make for a battle in which we feel truly anything could happen; and it does, as we even see a man turning into a bear as he falls from the sky. The turning point of the battle occurs as Thorin, Fili, Kili, and Bilbo engage Azog, Bolg, and their captains atop a high overlook. Legolas and Tauriel soon join the fray, and the battle amidst the snow is a spectacle beyond my wildest imaginings. After Thorin has defeated Azog (come on, that's not a spoiler, did you think this was going to end any other way?), we see the pale orc floating beneath the ice and his blood spilling out under a frozen waterfall. It's really breathtaking stuff.

A few elements of the film don't work so well. Alfrid lingers on after the Master's abrupt demise, and his supposed-to-be-funny bits just get annoying after a while. A few minor plot holes kept me from giving my whole heart to the film, and though Howard Shore's score is still lovely, the constantly repeated themes of music became contrived and predictable. But all these weird pieces of the puzzle melted away, for me, when I began to sense Jackson's heart in this movie. A lot of tender moments felt like throwbacks to The Lord of the Rings, complete with greater emotional resonance than anything in Journey or Desolation. In fact, I suspect that if this series were watched in order -- from An Unexpected Journey up through The Return of the King -- then this movie would bridge the gap perfectly in terms of aesthetic and tone, as it darkens the fantasy of Hobbit and leads right in to the emotional powerhouse of Rings.

Well played, Peter Jackson. And thank you.

The Road goes ever on and on

Down from the door where it began.

Now far ahead the Road has gone,

And I must follow, if I can,

Pursuing it with eager feet,

Until it joins some larger way

Where many paths and errands meet.

And whither then? I cannot say.

IMDb: The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies

The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug (2013)

Score: 4 / 5

We're going to dive right in, so if you haven't read my review of An Unexpected Journey (2012), I recommend that you do. This review is for the theatrical release of The Desolation of Smaug; if the extended edition improves my opinion, as I truly think it may, I will add to this post accordingly. Also, I'll say here that I love the movie, and am so thankful that Peter Jackson has continued his venture into Middle-earth. That said, let's dig a little deeper.

Starting with the positives: The acting in this film is just about as solid as the previous one. But what really works here is that we don't have to slog through introductions and basic character development, because we already know these guys (sorry, but there's only one woman here). Martin Freeman and Richard Armitage take off on a dramatic marathon from the opening scene, and don't let up until about five seconds after the final blackout (if you're not holding your breath when Bilbo delivers his last line, you're doing it wrong). Each proves to be heavyweight champions of the film because they allow for greater gravitas and desperation, far more than their lighter-hearted performances in Journey. The other dwarves don't matter as much; their sparkling individuality from the first film is glossed over into a largely ambiguous chorus. I don't think it's a bad change, either; their performances are all decent (even those who don't speak in this one), and with the introduction of new characters, time simply could not be spared. Ian McKellan is of course in splendid form as Gandalf, but his role is unfortunately clipped and laden with superfluity and spectacle; more on that later.

Now for the newcomers, all of whom are exciting and welcome additions to the franchise. Luke Evans steals the show as Bard (the Bargeman, not Bowman? Okay, P Jackson, I see you), the rugged and dangerous man who reminds us perhaps a bit too much of Aragorn. Evans skillfully navigates the waters of rebellious indignation while maintaining his role as sympathetic father, and promises great things for his forthcoming redemption. Similarly outstanding is the ethereal Lee Pace as Thranduil, the Elf-King, whose movement and voice work is chillingly elegant, and whose anger boils under an icy surface with palpable heat. Orlando Bloom happily returns as a more dangerous Legolas, though his fraught love life seems both contrived and disjointed (obviously not Bloom's fault). Evangline Lilly plays his love interest, the Elf Tauriel, in a very welcome if unfortunately tacky female presence. And, finally, Benedict Cumberbatch beautifully voices the titular diabolic dragon with such beauty and power that the voice could be vibrating up from the earth itself.

Besides the acting, two elements of the film work exceptionally well. First is the typically beautiful score by Howard Shore. Second is the breathtaking Lake Town. The inspired design and architecture, overlaid with a fresh color scheme and stunning set decoration, steals the entire film. Watery and cold, sturdy and rustic, the set provides atmosphere out the wazoo and gives a sharp and gritty edge to the middle episode of this Hobbit trilogy. Also in its favor, a greasy Stephen Fry hops into the film for a delightfully wicked turn as the slippery Master of Lake Town.

But little else in the film pays off like it should. The whole product feels disjointed and unfocused. Spinningly fluid camerawork speeds over moments that could be lovely and forces empty spectacle on otherwise dramatically taut visuals (as we see in the eaves of Mirkwood, near the Ringwraith tombs, and all over Dol Guldur). The atmosphere and background artwork of these scenes is brilliant, but the camerawork sacrifices drama for spectacle. Used selectively, this type of photography could work. But almost every shot in the movie is kinetic, and at such speed or angles that the action becomes confused and the drama insubstantial. And some visuals are so overwrought with special effects that they lose focus and tangibility. Special effects should be special, buttressing the visuals rather than commanding them for two and a half hours.

Don't get me wrong, the film is visually stunning. But I'm using this film as a sort of example to express my fear that this is the direction of all fantasy or adventure franchises (I was concerned with Maleficent in the same way). I worry that we will soon be in over our heads with films featuring top-heavy action without drama, special effects for disconnected spectacle, and extravagant visuals that are ultimately nothing much to look at. Elaborate design only works if it supports the art's substance.

An equally problematic element is Desolation's surprisingly lazy script. At least three lines are directly stolen from LotR. Tauriel's use of athelas mirrors Arwen's in Fellowship (2001), and the Master's henchman Alfrid (though potentially a memorable creation) has a woefully similar design to Wormtongue in Two Towers (2002). We know Jackson's team has incredible creative talents, so why is he resigning himself to familiar patterns? Some have argued that these elements tie Hobbit and LotR together; I contend that with only six films, the filmmakers should focus on expanding their universe and covering as much ground as possible artistically as dramatically, rather than reinforcing vague patterns that ultimately mean nothing to the plot of the films or the themes of Tolkien's works. The source material, cast, and crew are consistent between the trilogies, and that is more than enough to bridge the gap.

The script also features severe pacing problems, which surprised me because Jackson has proven time and again his brilliant control over pacing lengthy films. After an atmospheric, talky prologue (a risky and arguably successful move), the film flies at breakneck speed -- sadly skimming the surface of the rich Beorn episode and reducing the adventures in Mirkwood to a mere fraction -- to the halls of the Mirkwood elves, where it screeches to a halt. There it assumes acceptable dramatic pace, maintained until the dwarves enter the Lonely Mountain. Meanwhile, Gandalf's independent ventures are forcibly spliced in in brief and irregular increments. His scenes are so fast, heavy with special effects, and whirling visuals ad nauseam that they feel part of another movie entirely. Finally, let me say that while the romantic weirdness between Tauriel, Legolas, and Kili the dwarf is interesting, it also feels hopelessly contrived and poorly executed. But I'll stop there, or we'd be here until the new movie comes out.

Scene study time! To further illustrate the central problem with this movie, let's discuss how the above elements work (poorly) in the climax, when the dwarves finally face Smaug in Erebor. Though Bilbo's initial encounter with Smaug is lovely, Thorin enters to interrupt his escape. We've spent two whole movies fretting about the state of the mountain and the dangerous potency of Smaug, and now the heir to the kingdom just saunters down to check out what the burglar's been doing? This could work, if we attribute his behavior to his obsession with the gold, but it doesn't make any sense that he would enter after the dwarves heard that Smaug was awake. Then, when Smaug spots Thorin and Bilbo, the remaining dwarves just charge in and brandish their weapons. As if they think that will do anything. The whole situation is laughably stupid.

The harried scheme concocted by the dwarves is similarly silly, and the whole final act is poorly executed by the filmmakers. The plot is needlessly complicated, and the editing jerks us from one set of dwarves to another as the different "teams" race around to start fires, move billows, yank levers, swing on chains, and shout obscure things. The dwarves' ludicrous efforts notwithstanding, the writers wanted to make an already complicated sequence more exciting by forcing several Tense Moments when main characters could die: Bilbo leaping off a collapsing platform high in the air, Thorin swinging up and down on a chain above an abyss. And, finally, though Smaug logically seems to focus on Thorin, he easily (and uncharacteristically, in my estimation) gets sidetracked by the other dwarves in their cat-and-mouse game.

I am biased, but for the sake of argument, Tolkien wrote a fitting encounter that works much better logistically and dramatically: Encamped on the slopes of Erebor, the dwarves are attacked by Smaug, who secretly issued from his lair after chatting with Bilbo. Jackson could have expanded that -- as he does so well -- and made it just as dramatic. He could thus have avoided the dizzying spiral shots inside the mountain, the needless designs of complex dwarvish machinery, and the obnoxious special effects of piles of gold coins being tossed about. This also would have simplified the unwelcome plot devices while maintaining (even increasing) the dramatic intensity. Just saying.

That said, the film's ending is fine. Jackson pulls a nice "Smaug the Golden" thing by taking Tolkien's title and making it literal. This translation is infinitely better than Jackson's irritating misinterpretation of Sauron's "Red Eye", but that's a conversation for another time. Splitting up the dwarves was a good idea, methinks, as it promises emotional urgency for the opening of The Battle of the Five Armies (2014); Bard's imprisonment and the orc attack on Lake Town similarly seem brilliant additions to the tale. Leaving everything hanging is a gamble on Jackson's part, and somewhat forced, but I think it works. We'll just have to wait to see if it pays off this December.

IMDb: The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug

Post-script: Though my reactions to the camerawork and weird editing remain steadfast, the Extended Edition of this film definitely improved my opinion of the picture. And each time I watch it, I like it more. We desperately needed more of Beorn on screen -- partly because he just wasn't shown enough in the theatrical release as a character, partly because we know he'll return in the final film -- and we got it. Hopefully he'll earn his place as a truly awesome character before the Battle of the Five Armies is over, but we'll have to wait and see. The scene of Gandalf introducing the dwarves to him (a fan favorite) not only adds Beorn moments, but allows Ian McKellen some room for acting.

The enchanted stream and white stag in Mirkwood made me happy because the scene made Mirkwood a greater character and threat. The theatrical release skipped right through Mirkwood up to the spiders, making the psychedelic weirdness of the forest only a funky anecdote; here, we see the more specific and shocking realities of Mirkwood's malice. Where The Lord of the Rings relished in its profundity and enigma, The Hobbit seems to want to explain -- or, as I like to say, show and tell -- the subtleties of Middle-earth. The white stag adds a level of mystery to the film that has been missing in the series, but then it also ties Thranduil's elk-motif in with the fauna of Mirkwood.

The (several) added scenes with Thrain are just fabulous. His presence makes Thorin a more interesting character by association for a couple of reasons: His declared title of King Under the Mountain makes more sense to us the more we see his paternal connections (Thror in the previous film, Thrain in this one), and the madness that supposedly runs in his family (brought on by their dwarf-ring) feels less contrived when we see the extent to which it affects his father. The scenes in Dol Guldur add to Gandalf's adventure because Thrain's attack is so unexpected and vicious, and because the implications of Thrain's presence make Dol Guldur more horrifying. Jackson's early days as a horror filmmaker make these sequences shine, much like in Shelob's Lair in Return of the King. I am surprised, I must say, that the theatrical relsease used some of the same footage of Gandalf with Thrain, but simply cut Thrain out. It kind of blows my mind that that would work logistically, but it does.

The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey (2012)

Score: 5 / 5

In preparation for the upcoming final installment of the franchise, I thought we'd take a step back and review the previous two Hobbit films. I am an avid fan of Tolkien, and of Peter Jackson's films, but I won't be comparing the two because comparing film to literature is silly. This review will focus on the first film, and consider it in context of Jackson's other Tolkien adaptations.

Peter Jackson's return to Middle-earth in 2012, almost a decade after The Lord of the Rings, is a surprisingly graceful and beautiful transition. I say transition because this new series is an adaptation of a children's fantasy adventure, and so carries a much different tone than the previous trilogy. Jackson manages the somewhat simple story with elegance and intelligence, encouraging a new audience to look closely at his 48 fps (frames per second; this is twice as fast as the usual film speed) to see the fantastic computer-generated effects in stunning high definition. The action is crisp and clear, almost as if it was really happening inside the screen at that moment. Howard Shore's score is perhaps the one element that most connects Hobbit to LotR, and it is especially noteworthy here.

The screenplay, however, is not dumbed-down into simple or childish fantasy. Jackson, Fran Walsh, and Philippa Boyens have again expertly organized the story into brilliant beats of emotion and excitement, and the dialogue is comical and charming. And yet, for its lighthearted joy, it provides a great framework for emotional weight that will surely be added in the later installments. We sense again profoundly human pathos -- in a world where humans only make up a fraction of the population -- in hauntingly intimate moments like Bilbo's final encounter with Gollum.

The acting is, of course, stellar. The cast creates a flawless ensemble that plays off each other surprisingly well. The thirteen dwarves, perhaps the trickiest roles to play due to their inconsequential ambiguity, are all so specifically detailed and provide such intensely unique performances that by the end of the film, I could identify each by name. Perhaps a little bit more of an introduction to each would have helped the process, but it honestly matters very little in this film. The main one to remember, though, makes sure that you do: Richard Armitage performs the dwarf leader Thorin with power and genius, turning a completely unlikeable character into, arguably, the most important in the story. Martin Freeman (a choice I was originally not thrilled with) proves a solid Bilbo and an unlikely focal point of the film; his choices are inspired. Ian McKellen returns to his Oscar-nominated role as Gandalf and injects it with such strength and energy that he steals the film right away from the ensemble.

The rest of the ensemble are no less impressive than its triumvirate of leads. Sylvester McCoy is McKellen's only rival for thievery, however, in his turn as Radagast, the eccentric wizard of wilderness. His crazed demeanor and frenzied presence on screen is delightful, and proves (beyond the character work of the dwarves) that the filmmakers' creativity has only grown in the years since LotR. Lee Pace pops in at the beginning as the ethereal Elf-King Thranduil, and Barry Humphries' outrageously musical Great Goblin has now become my favorite character in the film.

The scene with the White Council is one of the film's two best. Featuring McKellen, Cate Blanchett, Hugo Weaving, and Christopher Lee (all of whom reprise their roles from LotR) sharing salty banter and Important Thoughts, the scene's actors play perfectly off each other's timing and strengths. This is a brief but memorable actors' workshop, and it provides the film's most dense, heightened dialogue, so pay attention. The best scene of the film, however, goes to the Riddle Game between Bilbo and Gollum (Andy Serkis). Their timing, energy, and ingenuity in performing hilarious and beautiful dialogue is impeccable, and increased by the fact that they are forced to react to each other in a rather small physical area. The scene is a masterclass in filmmaking. Bravo.

Now for the criticisms. The sequence with the stone giants is just annoying. We know you have cool special effects, Jackson, and we know you like to exaggerate brief comments in the source material (remember the staircase in Moria in Fellowship of the Ring? Yeah, Tolkien just said the Fellowship ran down some stairs, and Jackson turned it into a crazy theme park ride), but this is overkill. The effects aren't even as good as others in the film, and the sudden, brief danger only muddies the plot and pacing. Another element that bothers me a bit in the film is that Nori, one of the dwarves, is characterized as a pickpocket. So why do they need a burglar so desperately? It's problematic, and a bit superfluous.

Also, the Ringwraiths. I won't delve too deeply into the problems with this element in Tolkien's text, but the Ringwraiths aren't dead, so how can they be buried and return as spirits? Answer: they can't. Jackson himself portrayed them as very much Un-dead in LotR. "No living man can kill me," the Witch-king says; besides, Jackson showed us what truly dead people look like in Return of the King. They're green, ugly, and #bitter. Jackson either misinterpreted or purposefully wants to go a different direction (presumably to give credence to the Necromancer's title), but he's still inconsistent with his earlier characterization. But if those are my only complaints, I can't deny that this is one damn good movie.

Jackson's ending is the franchise's best yet, followed closely by the ending of The Two Towers. Devastating, inspiring, touching, and spectacular. Moving from a photogenic sunset into a fiery cliffside dusk, and a dawn of breathtaking splendor, the sequence is perfectly paced and promises great things for the next two films. Beautiful.

IMDb: The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey

Post-script: The Extended Edition adds a few lovely touches here and there, but by no means alters the film as much as the LotR extended versions. The dwarves sing a fun, familiar (to Tolkien readers) song in Rivendell, and the Great Goblin sings some more, but mostly the additions are little extended shots here and there in Hobbiton and Rivendell. The White Council's scene is extended a fair amount, though, and the dialogue waxes informative on Thorin's mad family and the state of the Rings of Power. Again, not too "important" for this film, but important for what will come.

Guardians of the Galaxy (2014)

Score: 4 / 5

I usually react badly when people try to argue that films are "simply" escapist ventures. Firstly, there's nothing really wrong with escapism, though I think a tendency for it leads to bad art. Secondly, there's nothing simple about filmmaking. Or film viewing, for that matter. And a desire to escape from reality into a world that becomes real to many viewers is a very complicated process. But as I watched smiling audience members walk out after Marvel's newest blockbuster Guardians of the Galaxy, the first word that crossed my mind was "escapism". And I was smiling too.

Due, no doubt, to any number of circumstances, superhero movies seem to have been getting darker and heavier over the last few years. Blame Christopher Nolan, postmodern nihilism, or the degradation of American youth, but it's no coincidence that superhero films seem to be growing more tragic in nature. Besides the subject matter that always includes the extinction of humans or the dissolution of Earth, just look at the color palette for Thor and compare it to its sequel. Or Captain America. And consider the titles of these sequels: The Dark World, The Winter Soldier. They grow bleak, because for some reason each installment must be a bigger, "better" challenge to overcome, and one that invariably makes a lot of rubble.

So Guardians proved quite the surprise for me. I usually prefer the darker-toned films of the last few years to comedies, but frankly I've been getting tired of them. The sheer optimism and glee in this film had me smiling through the whole damn thing. And lots of that comes from the director, James Gunn, who handles the (no less threatening than in other Marvel films) presence of multiple scheming, destructive villains with grace and style. While he eventually gives in to weak battle sequences typical of superhero finales, he also has an eye for lovely visuals. And I'm not talking about colossal buildings falling down, nauseating battles in aircraft, or legions of alien armies hammering it out; these elements are in the film but are hardly the photographic focus. The camera views the proceedings with a particularly human eye (with a few spectacle-oriented moments of exception, of course), carefully focusing attention on the cast of characters. Granted, there are so many characters that it is a bit tricky to keep them all straight, but eventually I got the hang of it.

For an ensemble superhero film with almost too many special effects, the real joy here is the acting. While I have never read these comics and so didn't know any of these characters previously, the screenwriters and actors obviously worked together to create strong, sympathetic characters that are both touching and funny. Chris Pratt proves quite capable of heavyweight protagonist flair, and with a sizzling heroic body to boot (which he has sported before, people, in Zero Dark Thirty. Stop acting like this is a new thing). Zoe Saldana peers through her greenface with her usual zest, and even Bradley Cooper and Vin Diesel shine in their moments, though their faces never show at all. My favorite moments, however, belong to Benicio Del Toro, who briefly shows his fabulous side in a turn as the Collector. While I worship Glenn Close, who plays Nova Prime, I don't entirely know why she was in the film; her role is so brief and unnecessary to the plot that she feels a little wasted, and for that matter, so does John C. Reilly. But I'll stop complaining because Close needs to be on screen more, period.

Amidst the sparkling energy and great comedic timing, we have a lot of empty visuals and tons of action without much accompanying drama. That seems to be the direction a lot of recent action films are headed, and that's why I usually prefer the darker stuff: the action has accompanying emotional weight and purpose, if sometimes a bit too much. But Guardians provides a truly giddy release from that, and it is Welcome, not least because its characters are assembled in a refreshingly queer narrative of appreciating and valuing individual difference. There isn't really the level of proud indulgence or selfish sacrifice that we find in too many other action-film heroes. Hopefully future Marvel installments can retain this sincere optimism while also providing just a little more emotional connection.


IMDb: Guardians of the Galaxy