Score: 4 / 5
It's the only real way to start summer movie season.
Just a glimpse of the trailer or a poster for Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 was enough to indicate the colorful excesses of Marvel Studios' newest release. Loaded with eye-popping visual candy, relentless high-speed action, and jokes that could have been written for Deadpool, this smash-bang sci-fi circus has just about everything fans of the series could want. Others, though, may find themselves lost and annoyed pretty quickly.
Where the first Guardians broke the Marvel Cinematic Universe conventions -- its unbridled joy, vibrant style, and raucous humor sharply contrasted the dark, heavy Thor and Captain America sequels -- this one doesn't quite live up to the expectations. While it certainly follows its predecessor's aesthetic, it just fails to feel as fresh. Easy to see why: The last two MCU movies (besides Civil War) were Doctor Strange and Ant-Man, films that similarly broke conventions and staked out new visual frontiers. The bewildering cosmic candy-colored visuals of this film are awesome, but familiar in recent superhero-movie memory.
The bloated, occasionally gimmicky film, however, is by no means a wasted effort. Its dynamics may leave a bit to be desired, but when you have a rambunctious action-adventure this fun, who cares?
A sort of thematic extension of the first film, where we saw Peter Quill seeking belonging and purpose in the world around him, now we follow Peter Quill's search for himself. Who and what is he? The Nova Corps told him his father wasn't human, and while he and his team have been busy living up to their title, his curiosity only grows. One day, in the midst of an apparently unrelated battle, he is saved by a figure who identifies itself as his father. Following him to a nearby planet, the Guardians discover that all is not as it appears, that identity may not be entirely biological, and that power is even more dangerous than they expected.
Sound thematically similar to the first movie? It is, though here the focus is decidedly on Peter Quill more than the whole team (which is fine; I didn't think Chris Pratt could look any better than he did in Jurassic World, but I was so very wrong). Along the way, Rocket faces some tough choices and consequences for his actions which results in surprisingly interesting character development. Yondu, who I just couldn't stand in the first movie, becomes a gripping character here; then again, he is drawn sharply into focus as a central plot point. Nebula sort-of, kind-of joins the team, and her presence is welcome for us if not always her teammates. And while Gamora and Drax stay pretty true to what we already know, the movie is stolen time and again by Baby Groot, whose antics could surely fill their own movie.
You can feel director James Gunn's desperation here, and that's something quite different from the first. He seems to be urgently catering, making sure we laugh at regular intervals, gasp often, and even maybe tear up at the end. We can sense his manic machinations behind the scenes, pushing the pace, revving the energy, throwing every spectacle at us in an effort to beat awe out of us. Occasionally it works, too. Well, okay, maybe only once. The opening scene is the best in the film, and possibly the single best scene in the franchise. Baby Groot turns on a boombox with Quill's new mixtape and proceeds to dance during the opening credits, mostly oblivious to the violent battle happening all around him. It's a perfect example of the organized lunacy that makes Guardians fabulous. Riotously funny, infectiously sweet, it is the perfect introduction to another irreverent swashbuckler featuring our favorite band of freaks.
But dammit, where is Glenn Close??
PS: Stick around after the movie. No less than five tacked-on scenes featured during the credits explore all kinds of stuff. There's the silly and probably inconsequential moments of Kraglin experimenting with Yondu's arrow, Groot growing into a teenager (I can't wait for his antics the next time he's on screen!), and Stan Lee in an extended cameo that seems to wink at the fan theory that he's a Watcher in the MCU. There's the introduction of what were another incarnation of the Guardians of the Galaxy in the comics, led by Sylvester Stallone's character Stakar; I hope we're not going to have a standalone Ravagers movie, but the scene is a cool little nod to the fans (and any fan of Ving Rhames). And, finally, there's the cryptic introduction of what may be a new villain, Adam Warlock, who will probably show up big time in Infinity War or the next Guardians movie; his story often intersected with the Infinity Stones and Thanos.
IMDb: Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2
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Showing posts with label Michael Rooker. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Michael Rooker. Show all posts
Thursday, May 11, 2017
Monday, March 20, 2017
The Belko Experiment (2017)
Score: 1.5 / 5
The day begins as any other for the workers at the Belko Industries office building. It's a sizeable structure in a remote location in Bogota, Colombia, and its many inhabitants mill about like stylish worker ants, busily doing something but allowing themselves plenty of time for interpersonal drama. Suddenly a voice speaks over the intercom, informing the 80 workers present that a few among them must die or many will be killed. When metal walls seal up the windows and doors, the victims seek any means to escape, but as time ticks on, more lives are taken.
Nihilistic and bleak, The Belko Experiment is a sort of critique of extreme capitalism, showing us the commodification of human life and the brutal ways we use our peers in competition. As the stakes are raised for the employees, we see the classist structures of the company break down much like the many dead or dying bodies. Most moral mores are gone or proven immaterial; it's a vicious microcosm wherein anyone can die and anyone can kill. Initially we root for those who value human life, who hide instead of fight, who seek order over chaos. It doesn't take long for our sympathies to switch.
That might be a stretch. My sympathies never really switched in this movie, they just fluttered away. While a worthwhile premise and intriguing theme for a horror-thriller, the film repeatedly fails to be horrific or thrilling. Sure, it has its jump scares and a few particularly nasty gore-porn shots, but beyond those its effect is similar to that of the first Purge movie: After a promising setup, it focuses too much on a sentimental core to be truly chilling, and by the time it's over, you realize how much you were cheated. Thankfully, the Purge franchise has gotten infinitely better.
But I'm not sure we need another Belko. Greg McLean, the director of brilliant horror movies Rogue and Wolf Creek, and writer James Gunn seemed a bit overwhelmed with this project. It suffers from whiplash pacing, incoherent themes, bizarre editing, and from taking itself too damn seriously. Perhaps it was meant to be deeply serious -- moments do feel claustrophobic, and its fatalistic outlook is far from entertaining -- but then why are parts so outlandish and funny? Perhaps it should have taken its cue from similarly-themed films such as High-Rise or Snowpiercer, beautiful films which both tackle class warfare in enclosed spaces and both effectively balance horror, action, and aesthetic style. Or, on the other hand, perhaps it should have taken a self-aware leaf from Scream or even You're Next. It might have melded better with the film's more grotesque elements, such as the implanted tracking device in each employee's skull that doubles as a fatal explosive.
Overthought, overwrought violence is at once less visceral and more icky than it should be. Lurid shots of fun sparsely infiltrate a film populated by flat and boring characters. Stylized carnage suggests subversive intent until you realize there is none. What should be a conceptual masterpiece of apocalyptic horror -- corporate banality torn asunder by hyperviolent minions -- quickly becomes a rote exercise in invention-less sadism. And then there's that ending that tries to be profound but succeeds only in showing that the movie knows it failed and hopes a ridiculous sequel can save it.
IMDb: The Belko Experiment
The day begins as any other for the workers at the Belko Industries office building. It's a sizeable structure in a remote location in Bogota, Colombia, and its many inhabitants mill about like stylish worker ants, busily doing something but allowing themselves plenty of time for interpersonal drama. Suddenly a voice speaks over the intercom, informing the 80 workers present that a few among them must die or many will be killed. When metal walls seal up the windows and doors, the victims seek any means to escape, but as time ticks on, more lives are taken.
Nihilistic and bleak, The Belko Experiment is a sort of critique of extreme capitalism, showing us the commodification of human life and the brutal ways we use our peers in competition. As the stakes are raised for the employees, we see the classist structures of the company break down much like the many dead or dying bodies. Most moral mores are gone or proven immaterial; it's a vicious microcosm wherein anyone can die and anyone can kill. Initially we root for those who value human life, who hide instead of fight, who seek order over chaos. It doesn't take long for our sympathies to switch.
That might be a stretch. My sympathies never really switched in this movie, they just fluttered away. While a worthwhile premise and intriguing theme for a horror-thriller, the film repeatedly fails to be horrific or thrilling. Sure, it has its jump scares and a few particularly nasty gore-porn shots, but beyond those its effect is similar to that of the first Purge movie: After a promising setup, it focuses too much on a sentimental core to be truly chilling, and by the time it's over, you realize how much you were cheated. Thankfully, the Purge franchise has gotten infinitely better.
But I'm not sure we need another Belko. Greg McLean, the director of brilliant horror movies Rogue and Wolf Creek, and writer James Gunn seemed a bit overwhelmed with this project. It suffers from whiplash pacing, incoherent themes, bizarre editing, and from taking itself too damn seriously. Perhaps it was meant to be deeply serious -- moments do feel claustrophobic, and its fatalistic outlook is far from entertaining -- but then why are parts so outlandish and funny? Perhaps it should have taken its cue from similarly-themed films such as High-Rise or Snowpiercer, beautiful films which both tackle class warfare in enclosed spaces and both effectively balance horror, action, and aesthetic style. Or, on the other hand, perhaps it should have taken a self-aware leaf from Scream or even You're Next. It might have melded better with the film's more grotesque elements, such as the implanted tracking device in each employee's skull that doubles as a fatal explosive.
Overthought, overwrought violence is at once less visceral and more icky than it should be. Lurid shots of fun sparsely infiltrate a film populated by flat and boring characters. Stylized carnage suggests subversive intent until you realize there is none. What should be a conceptual masterpiece of apocalyptic horror -- corporate banality torn asunder by hyperviolent minions -- quickly becomes a rote exercise in invention-less sadism. And then there's that ending that tries to be profound but succeeds only in showing that the movie knows it failed and hopes a ridiculous sequel can save it.
IMDb: The Belko Experiment
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