Avatar: Fire and Ash (2025)

Score: 3 / 5

Another venture to Pandora leaves us elated at Cameron's mastery over visual splendor. While those hankering for more narrative meat to chew in this franchise will be left wanting, Fire and Ash, the third entry in this laughably expensive series mostly recycles the elements established in its watery predecessor. Between an ironically chilling new villain and a story slightly less plagiarized than the two first ones, this film hits similar beats while allowing Cameron's imagined world to breathe and maintain its pace. Some new elements are inspired, so it's not a totally dull retread, but one wishes for imagination to match spectacle here.

Shortly after the events of The Way of Water, Ishmael -- ope, pardon -- Jake Sully and his family are settling in to their new home among the Metkayina, Na'vi who live on oceanic reefs and have adapted to a mostly aquatic life. Jake (Sam Worthington) and Neytiri (Zoe Saldana) are at odds, as the latter has developed an intense, murderous hatred of humans. As the threat of violent encroachment will likely never end, the family must decide what to do with Spider, a rather feral (and obnoxious) human boy who has been semi-adopted by the Na'vi family. Sending him away to live with other humans at the scientist encampment only works until their convoy is attacked by other Na'vi: a rival clan of violent heretics called the Mangkwan. 

Apparently having renounced the nature-god of Pandora, Eywa, the Mangkwan live a somewhat tortured life in no-man's land near an active volcano. Ash and charcoal are their color palettes, and they raid other Na'vi tribes aggressively. They are led by Varang (a hauntingly effective Oona Chaplin), a sort of loose cannon whose mystique is laced with sociopathy. Scattered by the attack, the Sully family struggles to handle a compounded threat when Varang begins to work with the humans in an effort to wipe out Pandora's resistance to colonization and industrialization. Conveniently, this leads almost immediately to Spider being "accepted" by Eywa, and infected with mycelium, so that he can now breathe freely on Pandora. 

Ugh, I know.

From this point, the film loops back into annoyingly familiar terrain -- narratively -- and squanders some promising opportunities hinted at then fully ignored. I like Fern Gully and Pocahontas as much as the next guy, and Moby-Dick as much as the next gay, but we don't need yet another grossly lengthy film dramatizing the same basic story with the same basic moves. Matt Reeves's Planet of the Apes series should have been cited as an inspiration for Cameron in this regard. Especially seeing that the screenplay was basically written by committee (five credited writers, no less), and produced and distributed by the entertainment-industrial complex that is Disney, it's shocking that there is so little attention paid to decent dialogue, pacing, and thematic conceit. The scenes with Spider and the other kids are the worst, still repeating bizarre colloquialisms ad nauseam in every single scene they tumble through. Yeah, bro, you know it, bro!

It doesn't help, I should note, that this film doesn't entirely feel like its own film. Rumor has it that this was intended to be a continuous story from the previous film, so I'd recommend a rewatch of that before this. Most of the characters aren't (re)introduced, so if you don't remember what Edie Falco and her team of weird humans (including Giovanni Ribisi and Jermaine Clement) are up to, you're shit out of luck this time. Additionally, there's the added complications of who is actually an avatar these days; Jake Sully is fully embodied, of course, and Kiri contains the spirit of Dr. Grace Augustine (Sigourney Weaver, who I love, but we can all agree that her voicing a child is weird, especially when she develops affections for her adoptive brother), and Quaritch (Stephen Lang) is still alive but also locked in an avatar body. I don't know, but I do think we've lost the plot a bit when it comes to the damn title.

Scenes with the whales (and their unbearable subtitles) are much worse in this film than the last, perhaps because the awe is gone. There's a montage late in this film of the whales in meetings that is so outrageously silly and dramatically inert that I almost completely checked out of the film. For something so profoundly cool to see on screen, the atrocious dialogue and frankly cartoonish sign language these CGI critters are forced to enact ruin the magic. I also think the editing is significantly poorer in this film than even in the last, though that's also partly due to the screenplay; we often go for extended stretches of time, even in battle sequences, only following a character or two. Granted, there are a lot of characters to keep track of here, but the editing (also apparently accomplished by committee: six credited editors!) seems hellbent on deliberately obfuscating. 

The elements with Varang and her tribe, however, are what I've wanted from this series since the first film. The Na'vi have such an interesting relationship with their god, their environment, and each other, and even back in 2009 we were given a glimpse of the shamanistic theocracy of their culture. The Mangkwan take this to its inverse extreme: they're presented as a Mansonesque cult of unhinged, gleeful violence. While I remain annoyed that Quaritch takes the spotlight in this film, making Varang a sort of minion not long after she's introduced, even her presence helps the film feel more interesting than it should. And it's a shame, because Cameron has introduced us to very strong female characters -- heroes and villains -- before in his career, and nobody can say Saldana's performance in the previous two films isn't one of the best parts of this franchise. 

Just like nobody can fault these films for sheer awesome spectacle. Frankly, I'd love to watch these films just as they are but without dialogue. Sure, we'd still see the repeated climactic battle and the follies of the invading humans, who never fail to underestimate the whales' destructive capabilities. We'd still see repeated raids and captures of children and those pinkish tentacles in their hair having sex with other creatures. We'd still get the rousing music and immersive sound effects, but at least we could come up with our own damn dialogue. 

I don't like just shitting on a movie -- and truth be told, this was a very fun time at the cinema -- so I'll add my own spin here. This movie could have been so much better had we focused wholly on Varang. Perhaps including a story about Jake or even Neytiri trying to find their way forward and getting seduced into this cult, even as the supposedly salvific Spider continues on his way to the humans (which could then lead into the inevitable fourth film). We could have even started with the humans, including the terrifying scene where she decides her people need guns for maximal killing prowess. 

The Gorge (2025)

Score: 3 / 5

You may find familiar, dear reader, my praise of films that know and demonstrate exactly what they are, regardless of budget, marketing, and online chatter. A B-movie that is, enthusiastically, the kind of simpler, cheaper, wackier thing you expect to see in an encore feature at a drive-in or underground film festival will earn extra points for me purely as a result of this self-awareness (not metafiction, mind you, but pure comfort in its clearly defined subgenre or intended audience) and resulting conviction. Think genre films. Think zany action. Think excuses for flair. These are films you don't have to take notes during -- heck, you probably don't even need subtitles, because the dialogue isn't that important -- and can sit back and fully enjoy. Or not, and you can snack and chitchat with your friends while it plays before you. 

This is what Scott Derrickson, notably religious creator of thoughtful and haunting horrors The Exorcism of Emily Rose and Sinister, has released to us this year. I'm a big fan of Derrickson's work and the way he has articulated his faith in relation to his preferred genre, and I've been glad for his continued rise in prominence and studio structures. Though nothing he's directed has felt as poignant or personally affecting as those two titles already mentioned -- the former remaining the single best meditation on the intersection of faith and horror I've ever seen and the latter being the single scariest viewing experience I've ever had in a cinema -- the director of Deliver Us from Evil, Doctor Strange, and The Black Phone seems to enjoy playing with big budgets and effects-laden visuals in recent years. The admittedly diminishing returns show no sign of running out with The Gorge.

Sadly, though, this film was not released in cinemas, and I simply cannot understand why. Unless you're at home with a sizable tv screen and at least decent surround sound, The Gorge cannot glean from you the awe it was clearly intended to harvest. 

In brief, the plot concerns two mercenary snipers stationed in isolation at two towers opposite a gorge, which they must maintain lest the dangerous creatures below emerge. That's it, and I tell you that because as such, this is a fabulously high-concept film. Compare it to '70s disaster films or major summer blockbusters: you can get a lot of mileage out of Kevin Bacon fighting carnivorous giant worms in the desert. And regardless of the quality of its special effects, there is something charming about simply watching the compelling conceit unfurl; it helps the film's legacy when major stars populate the screen and special effects are convincing and/or funny. 

And while Derrickson and his screenwriter Zach Dean clearly have fun plumbing the depths of their titular gorge and its secrets, one does grow a little suspicious of their own investment in the film. Because for all its wacky energy and bizarre plot turns -- and trust and believe, these are aplenty -- the film takes itself just -- just -- too seriously. Needless details are one thing, but when their sole purpose is to elicit sympathy from the viewer and intensify emotional attachment, we trespass into sentimentality. We don't need to know that Miles Teller has PTSD from the military or that Anya Taylor-Joy's terminally ill father is soon to commit suicide; these are masterful performers with enough charisma to lead larger projects than this, so let them just do it. Edit out the sentimental crap and turn this movie into what it should be: a mostly silent, curious and introspective, white-knuckled ride through hell and back.

That's not to say the romance aspect of this thriller/adventure/sci-fi/horror film is unwelcome. Despite its truncated length, the budding relationship between the two characters feels both blissful and earned, thanks to a montage sequence for the ages. By the time he hatches a plan to visit her, we're fully on board with this, though frankly she was so rude to him at first I was yelling at the screen for him to go back. The problem is rather that the film leans too heavily into this at times, and too heavily into the action and mystery and horror at others, with no clear tonal through line or even recognizable pattern. Worse, and this is perhaps a little mean, but Dean's dialogue needed some serious workshopping to sound believable and to save my poor eyes from rolling.

After you see the film, I dare to just think about the exact same story but shot entirely from Miles's perspective. Or Anya's. Think about us, stuck there silently with one character as they have to learn their job, settle into place, discover each other, try to communicate and build a relationship, and decide to make the dangerous and disobedient visit. That approach would ratchet up the tension and mystery even more by obscuring certainty about the beguiling other person, shed the artificial sentimentality of being force-fed their backstories, add opportunities for creative cinematography, editing, and sound mixing around one person's isolated existence, and provide space for unexpected and earned comedy as we would understand the awkwardness of being alone and needing to connect with another character even from afar, if only to learn what the heck the movie was about! We'd discover things along with the characters in a much more compelling and authentic way, without too many details from the screenplay being lost along the way.

And I think that's where we'll leave this review. Several things yet I wanted to mention -- including the amazing score from Reznor and Ross that electrifies this film's energy, Sigourney Weaver's delicious appearance from head to toe, effective and scary monster design (a mix of Annihilation and The Mist), Sope Dirisu's considerable skill in enlivening a miserable exposition-dumper minor part before being totally wasted by the film, the absolute nonsense that these lovers need binoculars to even see each other yet often smile and wave without so much as a squint, the insane color grading of the fog scenes (gray to yellow to blue to red, for no apparent reason) that had me in a panic attack because I hadn't taken anything so why was I tripping -- but describing too many details of a movie like this can really take the joy away from your raw viewing of it. So if any of this sounds remotely interesting to you, or you want to just have a fun time with a fine flick, check out The Gorge. It's a solid date night choice.

Call Jane (2022)

Score: 3.5 / 5

One of the most unexpectedly timely movies of 2022, Call Jane is a fascinating and frustrating dramatization of the Jane Collective or "Janes" movement in the time before Roe v. Wade. I told you it was timely.

This film is fascinating for multiple reasons. Formally, because it's shot on sumptuous film with a warm '60s palette and a calm demeanor despite its tense material. Personally, because Phyllis Nagy (who wrote the screenplay for Carol and only directed one television film prior) as an already assured, confident director, didn't write this but handles it beautifully and has assembled a killer team and cast. Starring Elizabeth Banks, Sigourney Weaver, Chris Messina, and Kate Mara -- and featuring Wunmi Mosaku and a chilling Cory Michael Smith -- they all seem perfectly matched with the setting and style; I never doubted for a minute their authenticity as they step into illegal territory in order to receive the healthcare they need. The opening scene alone, in which our protagonist Joy (Banks) escorts her lawyer husband (Messina) to a dinner in Chicago while a raucous protest erupts outside. Fans of The Trial of the Chicago 7 will recognize the chant, "The whole world is watching," as Joy looks on not with fear or apprehension but rather with curiosity and some sympathy.

But Call Jane also frustrated me a bit in its storytelling (I'm unfamiliar with writers Hayley Schore and Roshan Sethi) because it can't quite decide whose story to tell or what the tone should be. It's very much Joy's story, and her dynamic journey makes the film eminently watchable. After her introduction at that swanky party, where we're immediately keyed into her innate curiosity about the status quo for women as well as her immense privilege in being shielded from these cultural contexts so far, she soon learns she's pregnant again (they have one teenage daughter, Charlotte, played by Grace Edwards), but something's wrong. Her doctor tells her that her pregnancy endangers her life, forcing her and her husband to meet with the hospital board -- entirely comprised of men -- who disrespect her presence and dignity before unanimously denying her "therapeutic termination" of pregnancy. They are helpless until Joy comes across a "Pregnant? Need help? Call Jane!" poster in town.

She indeed pays for the underground procedure and is whisked away to their secret location by a network of "Janes." Weaver plays Virginia, their fierce warrior of a leader, whose political and legal savvy almost singlehandedly keeps the organization running, including deals with the Mob who provide cheap, under-the-table rental spaces and presumably some protection. Refreshingly, this film is not all about Joy's laborious quest to get an abortion, as so many stories focus on that and not its aftermath. The bulk of this movie is about how Joy's successful operation leads her deeper into the organization as an increasingly active participant, first driving other women in need to their appointments and then helping with the operations themselves. Naturally, these developments make for some distracting subplots, because of course her family doesn't know what she's up to, and her friend and neighbor Lana (a wickedly boozy Kate Mara) offers a foil to her awakening as a liberated woman. 

Tonally, the film fluctuates between sober period drama and feminist comedy -- almost a buddy type film between some of the women -- and more than once I was reminded of other titles like Mad Men, Pieces of a Woman, and I'm Your Woman, but in a good way, and Call Jane is much peppier than those. Which is a little jarring, but also a welcome change. Maybe I should compare this more to Mildred Pierce and those Barbara Stanwyck-type vehicles of the early talkies, as the parts focused on Joy are basically about a lone woman fighting the odds and, if not always succeeding, at least surviving for the better. The crucial update here is that she bands together with other similar women to create a formidable and world-changing force. And then, there's always Sigourney Weaver, who really should make more movies to bless us with her incredible talents.

Avatar: The Way of Water (2022)

Score: 3.5 / 5

James Cameron may be a lot of things, but his films do push the limits of state-of-the-art technology, and as such we might consider him visionary. He always gives us something new, something radical, and something eye-popping. His latest, the long-awaited sequel to Avatar in 2009, is a bit unusual in that here he's revisiting a lot of familiar territory. Not only in terms of the previous film in this soon-to-be series, but knowing viewers will also see material from Aliens, The Abyss, The Terminator, and yes, Titanic. One wonders if he is revisiting these themes and even some visual moments because of updates in technology that allows him to do things differently, or if his plans to expand the world of Pandora over several upcoming films means he doesn't plan to leave this fantasy world, and so he means to stake his claim there just as he has in our world. Regardless, The Way of Water isn't quite original, fresh, or interesting; it is, however, beautiful to behold and a mostly exciting advancement of his burgeoning franchise.

Our re-introduction to Pandora is more than a little messy, and we're reminded instantly that Cameron is a visual master, not a master storyteller. Not only is his dialogue woefully underwritten -- the first Avatar had better dialogue than this by far -- but his narratives are annoyingly derivative of other epics. But we jump in nevertheless! Jake Sully (Sam Worthington) is now fully Na'vi, leading the Omaticaya alongside his partner Neytiri (Zoe Saldana), with whom he has started a large family. They have adopted a daughter named Kiri, who is the unexplained Na'vi offspring of Sigourney Weaver's character from the first film (and also voiced, quite comically, by Weaver doing her best adolescent impression); they also have two sons Neteyam and Lo'ak who are training to be warriors and a young daughter named Tuk. They also harbor and care for a human boy named Spider, who was the child of Miles Quaritch, the villain of the first film, who is growing up as a sort of Tarzan-like young man among the natives.

Twelve years have passed since the first film, and finally the "sky people" (humans attempting to colonize Pandora as Earth dies) return in force, under command of a new leader (Edie Falco in a terribly underwritten part). This time, they mean to establish a permanent new home rather than simply harvest resources, and Jake leads the Omaticaya in full-on war against them. So the humans unleash a new weapon: "recombinants," essentially cloned human minds in Na'vi avatar bodies. Their chief is, naturally, Quaritch himself, whose dismay at being reincarnated as a blue-skinned alien quickly changes to elation as he can freely navigate Pandora's climate and enjoy his new, unparalleled organic strength. While the motives of these villains, as in the first film, are pretty black-and-white, thankfully this time Quaritch's character has a bit of intrigue when he discovers the existence of his son Spider and captures him. Can he convince Spider to sympathize, even work with him to undermine Jake Sully? It's a bit Ahab-like in terms of megalomaniac obsession with his prey, but it makes for compelling blockbuster fare.

Jake and his family, to save the Omaticaya from annihilation (again) flee to another clan located in a massive archipelago in Pandora's oceans. This is where Cameron is most happy to work, and so the bulk of this film consists of extensive worldbuilding among the seafaring Metkayina people. Jake's ethics primarily concern "fight or flight" for his family's sake, and his family certainly has trouble fitting in with the paler, slightly greener new clan. They have webbed digits and finlike appendages and can hold their breath for a long damn time. Their leader Tonowari (Cliff Curtis) and his pregnant wife Ronal (Kate Winslet) are worried about the Sully family presence but choose to harbor them even as Quaritch and the humans approach. Cameron spends a lot of time exploring and glorifying the marine world, going so far as to include lengthy whale-chasing sequences as humans hunt the Tulkun (sentient and pacifist cetaceans who are like extended family to the Metkayina) that feel ripped from the pages of Moby-Dick. 

These sequences, among many others, are so visually stunning and realistic that it's hard to remember it's not real. How the hell do images like these come out of a computer, even if hundreds of hands worked on every pixel? It's like what Peter Jackson did in The Hobbit trilogy in terms of sheer majestic CGI. It helps that, unlike the narrative simplicity of the first film, here Cameron weaves together multiple plotlines with the various family members so we get faster, more expansive insights into Pandora and its Na'vi cultures. The downside of this is a certain frenetic energy that doesn't allow us to simply dwell with a singular, powerful story. We're constantly swept to and fro between bits of stories that don't always inform each other or coalesce into a coherent narrative structure, especially when the adolescent characters start making annoyingly stupid choices (and their constant refrains of "bro" and "cuz" do nothing but remind me of the screenplay's woeful shortcomings). I imagine a lot of these threads are intended to be fleshed out or redeemed in future franchise entries, but so far they make the whole affair of this film a bit, well, watered down.

I personally love that these movies are so popular, even if I wouldn't claim them as personal favorites. I love that mass international audiences are getting state-of-the-art science fiction almost solely about the importance of environmentalism and the horrors of colonization. I don't love that he seems to be appropriating elements of various real-life Indigenous cultures, but I suspect that future films in the series -- if they continue the trend -- will mellow that out as we learn about still more clans on Pandora, hopefully ones less directly inspired by real-world cultures deeply scarred by our own historical colonization patterns.

A Monster Calls (2016)

Score: 4.5 / 5

Adapted almost perfectly from its eponymous book, A Monster Calls is one of the most beautiful dark fantasies we've ever seen. Writer Patrick Ness, in writing both the book and screenplay, captures a heightened language rife with metaphor yet brutally appropriate for the characters using it. Melancholy and sad, hopeful and empowering, the story follows young Conor (played by Lewis MacDougall), whose efforts to come of age are bewilderingly hindered by his difficult situation. Surrounding him and clouding his judgment are his single mother dying of cancer (Felicity Jones), his estranged but earnest father (Toby Kebbell), his severe grandmother (Sigourney Weaver), and the cruel school bully.

As Conor navigates his confusing and painful life, he is visited at 12:07 (am or pm) by a monster that looks not unlike an Ent. Voiced by Liam Neeson, this monster acts much like Jacob Marley, informing Conor that he will be visiting again several times to tell the boy three stories. Then, the monster will demand a story from Conor, whose recurring nightmare of losing his mother seems a likely subject. As the monster returns and tells his tales -- bizarre parables with no clear moral center or conventional narrative form -- the boy becomes confused and frustrated, and yet in small, slow increments begins to learn and recognize the true nature of the real world. He learns that people are not stock characters, that goodness can be wicked and that cruelty can be necessary and many lessons besides. He learns courage and bravery, hope and love, and ultimately the necessity of sacrifice.

Conor's only refuge from his circumstances -- or, perhaps, only outlet -- lies in his art, most specifically in his watercolor painting. Filmmaker J.A. Bayona uses this as a strong aesthetic motif in the film, most obviously in the tales the monster tells. Gorgeously animated (not unlike the Tale of the Three Brothers in the seventh Harry Potter film), these sequences bring the story to vivid life and, by contrast, remind us of the grit of the real world. And in the final moments of the film, some of the more memorable images are revealed to have been shared by his mother, seemingly as she faced similar fears and needed the monster to call on her as well.

Fair warning: This is not a picture for children, and it's not a light-hearted venture for a warm spring morning. Dark and heavy, this movie delves deep into family structure, life and death, moral relativism and inevitable tragedy. While it is ultimately empowering and sweet in its unusual delivery of a coming-of-age drama, and teaches far more valuable lessons than in many a Disney film, it will leave you a blubbering mess. The monster isn't necessarily as nice as, say, Aslan or Treebeard, the school bully has a disturbing psychosexual presence, and the eventual death of young Conor's mother is left as heartbreaking as you might imagine. But these things are also why this film is so good. Its novelty in its genre, its grim purpose and dim aesthetic, these things are important; partly because they show that problematic directors like Tim Burton don't have a monopoly on dark fantasies, and partly because this film presents a more mature alternative to similar stories.

IMDb: A Monster Calls

Finding Dory (2016)

Score: 4 / 5

Not as fresh as Nemo, but still better than most sequels and certainly better than any other animated movie in theaters, Finding Dory accomplishes exactly what it sets out to do. It's a wondrous, mesmerizing adventure into animation and the big blue, where each new scene provides little visual miracles. While we've seen it all before, this film focuses less on the awe of novelty and more on the emotional resonance its images provoke, especially when combined with the heartfelt story.

Speaking of which, I cried. A lot. Mostly because baby Dory (who we see several times, through flashbacks and memories) is the cutest thing I've ever seen on the big screen. Also, it's a heartfelt, gutsy tale of a hero with a distinct disability who learns to navigate the seas on her own terms. If that weren't enough to win your heart, our hero interacts with others who have a no less amazing capacity for humor, patience, and generosity in the face of frustrating setbacks and a friend that forces them to communicate in different ways. I was reminded of the supporting characters of The Theory of Everything, who are written to provide an astounding measure of kindness and love in helping their disabled protagonist. There are plenty of lessons for us all to learn, whether we relate more to Dory or her varied acquaintances.

Her friends, too, are many-splendored. Hosting as wide a selection of ocean crew as the first, though only a handful of new characters, this film balances its attentions between a cranky octopus with only seven tentacles, a nearsighted whale shark, a self-doubting beluga with a possible concussion, and a pair of territorial sea lions (Do you see the pattern? Everybody else has a "problem" too, and the way they work together is just charming). We also see the endless patience of Dory's family, her two parents voiced by Eugene Levy and Diane Keaton, who work with their troubled youngling through games and routines to always keep her occupied, joyful, and able to return home.

The plot is not a great secret nor a great surprise, but I won't say more on that front. Its message of affirmation is achieved through experiencing the film. I will say that its climax is a colossal miscalculation, and a vague insult to the logic and joy of fans; it's an unnecessarily complicated set piece that lasts too long, features too many unlikely effects, and is so comparatively absurd that I almost forgot this was a Disney movie. But it ended just as I tired of it, and returned to the real movie with grace, so I can't complain too much.

The main joy of this film is in its ability to capture an essence of homesickness, of caring and love for family and familiarity that one has lost, and then to not dwell on that loss but to enthusiastically seek after it. It's about hope for renewal and remembrance. Amazing that an animated flick about fish can be so profoundly human at heart.

IMDb: Finding Dory

Exodus: Gods and Kings (2014)

Score: 2.5 / 5

People seem determined to compare this film with others, so I guess I'll start by sharing my own thoughts on that front. DeMille's The Ten Commandments (1956) is the obvious comparison point, but I'm not sure there is any comparison. Each fails in its own way, and each succeeds in others. One was made with enormous scope and became a classic largely because of elements that are not pure artwork, and the other wants desperately to repeat this and fails largely due to bad writing, heavy effects, and bad direction. In short, one is a dramatic masterpiece, and the other a dramatic black hole. Ridley Scott's own success story, Gladiator (2000), also comes to mind because it felt not unlike Ten Commandments when it came out. Russell Crowe channeled Charlton Heston as the heroic man who, unsurprisingly, becomes a hero. But where Gladiator rocked with its focus on an actor's strong performance, Exodus falters by largely ignoring anyone's acting. Finally, Exodus just isn't as much fun as this year's other biblical attempt-at-an-epic, Noah; at least Darren Aronofsky knew to put his tongue in his cheek when he had giant rock monsters help Russell Crowe do Big Important Things.

Now let's focus on this picture, and explore my claims. Moses, played by a stoic Christian Bale, is so underwritten and underperformed that I never felt a twinge of sympathy for him. He's a hardheaded man who likes to flex his muscles and look grumpy. God in the film is portrayed by a little boy (actually I think the boy was an angel, not God himself), which I kind of liked at first. But then he starts popping up at odd times, which is obnoxious, and nobody else can see him, which makes Moses look crazy at times: It is an inspired choice for the character I really liked, but both Scott and Bale ignore its implications. As a boy, God (or whoever he is) is a match for Christian Bale in grumpiness and angst. I suppose that works well enough with the God of the Old Testament (he's a jerk, let's face it; he only cares about one people group at the expense of countless others, and he pushes people to do impossible things and then punishes them for failing), but it feels funky and contrived in this film. Joel Edgerton plays Ramesses with possibly the only good performance in the movie; his character is complex, and he performs with both nuance and strength as the primary villain, and won my sympathies which is probably not Scott's intent. The rest of the cast is largely irrelevant. John Turturro shows some notable acting strength as the Pharaoh, but he dies before long. Sigourney Weaver, Aaron Paul, and Ben Kingsley pop in for a few scenes, but are largely ignored for some tragic reason.

Large sets (both digital and practical) and beautiful, extravagant costumes steal the film. Unfortunately, the characters that inhabit this world have no development and almost no drama, and so the stunning visuals lose almost all of their significance. The dialogue is poor, and the script's pacing is severely uneven. And though there are moments of great special visual effects, they are empty because we don't care about anyone in the shots. I had more sympathy for the masses being tortured by the plagues than for Moses himself. Scott seems to have forgotten that an epic is not made simply by huge visual scope, even with heavily graded picture.

No, this movie does not stick strictly to the biblical narrative, so let's just nip that in the bud. It's an adaptation, people -- we've had this discussion before. But as its own narrative, Exodus doesn't work well. Poor dialogue and severely uneven pacing reveal a weak script that wanted to be an epic; it's one thing to criticize a film for its problems, but when you gauge its failure of reaching its own aspirations, the whole thing quickly becomes pitiful. The beginning starts with an attempted bang, but since the details of the battle are left ambiguous at best, all we can take away from it is an idea that the Egyptians are fierce in battle. And the buildup to Moses's mountaintop revelation is woefully unclear; one scene has him denying his Hebrew blood, and literally the next scene has him hugging his mother and sister before walking away in exile. Even having read the story for most of my life, I wasn't sure what was happening before my eyes. It's just sloppy filmmaking. And then the ending sort of fizzles out into a downright silly post-climax couple of minutes. Instead of attending to the now-free nation of Israelites, we see Moses carving the Ten Commandments above a vague shot of a golden calf, none of which is explained. Then we see him return to his wife, talking about how much he loves her. What a waste of cinema.

That said, there are exceptional high points in the movie. Honestly, the lengthy sequence in the middle of the film when plagues assault Egypt is one of the most engaging bits of film I've seen this year. Exciting and enormous, the plagues are shown with a kinetic energy not unlike that in those huge domino art experiments. Scott shows them not necessarily with scientific accuracy (if there is any), but he does seem to play with the idea that if these horrific events were to take place, this might be what they'd look like. The plagues are no less miraculous, as some have claimed, as a result of this, but they do make more sense in the realm of reality. The crocodile attack (which results in the Nile running red with blood) is just wonderful, too, but maybe I love those beasties too much. Similarly, the parting of the Red Sea is a really beautiful scene, and it feels more grounded and realistic than any other version of the story I've seen (remember the walls of water in The Prince of Egypt, with the silhouettes of fish looming over the Israelites? That happened.).

A final thought. People like to talk about whitewashing because it makes them feel smart and edgy. But I do think that here it has some merit, not just because the characters are whiter than chalk under their heavy makeup, but because their accents are all over the place. We have generic British, attempted generic British, Bale's American with occasional generic Britishisms, and vague attempts at a vague ethnic accent that could be just about anything. Not acceptable, Scott. When we have had a mainstream film of Christ's death done entirely in authentic languages, there is no excuse for this kind of uninformed blundering.

IMDb: Exodus: Gods and Kings