The Fall Guy (2024)

Score: 4.5 / 5

Could the 2020s see the return of simple, original, fabulous standalone blockbusters from major studios? So far, the signs are good, and after starring in both Barbie and now The Fall Guy, Ryan Gosling is making quite the splash as Hollywood's "it" leading man. It's refreshing to have these big budget, creatively inspired, wholly joyful movie experiences in an age when everything is part of larger IPs and guaranteed message boards meant to tease out obscure references in other media that is required for full comprehension. The studio effort to entertain above all else is admirable for the first time in a while, and especially with these titles that aren't weighty or even apparently eager for awards.

And just as how Barbie worked to remind us of the magic of production design in practical ways, The Fall Guy explicitly wants to lionize stunt workers in our age of fully saturated CGI action. It helps that it's being directed by David Leitch, who started his career as a stunt double and whose previously directed films (including John Wick, Atomic Blonde, and Deadpool 2) have significantly altered the landscape of contemporary action as a genre. Here, Leitch is clearly in his element, and the labor of love is palpable in every single scene of this film, which carries a uniquely electrifying energy that never lags. Every time I thought the film might zig it zagged, and not necessarily in terms of plot (though the writing by Drew Pearce is fine) but in terms of style and tone. Here we have a rambunctious mix of humor, romance, mystery, crime, and of course action but never in the expected manner. Each set piece gets bigger and more elaborate, whether it's an insane ride in a dump truck through urban streets and a dog that bites crotches or an emotionally fraught slow chase between speedboats in a marina, and all are executed with obvious care and good awareness for its audience's patience.

The plot is easy enough to follow with a few arguably unnecessary complications, so we won't recount it here. Gosling himself carries the movie with the kind of '80s panache of Harrison Ford, Mel Gibson, or Sylvester Stallone, and he's magnetic on screen. Emily Blunt isn't given a whole lot to do, but she performs reliably and shines in the first act, and again in the finale, well after her shoehorned karaoke scene (which isn't her fault, it's just an annoying trope of rom-coms that can be put to bed now, thank you very much). With their leading power, The Fall Guy reminds us that sometimes, and only really in movies like this, star power can be both the saving grace of a picture and completely earned by the performer. Effortlessly funny and sexy at the same time, Gosling's swagger isn't just his brand; he also acts his face off here, bringing his sizable filmography in indie dramas to bear on a film that he certainly could have just shown up to glide through.

The supporting cast are all excellent but shockingly understated. In a film where style arguably supersedes substance, it's telling that nobody is really hamming it up like they could. Everyone is grounded in a refreshing way. Key to this is Aaron Taylor-Johnson, playing the big movie star for whom Gosling is meant to double in stunts. While he consciously references other big stars like Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt in his mannerisms and delivery (even his voice feels stolen from Matthew McConaughey), he's not making fun of any of them or even really trying to pull focus; he's just reminding us of the reality of leading men we know and demonstrating the separation of expectation versus production process. It's carefully calibrated and really smart. Similarly, the film-within-the-film that acts as the plot's mobilizing entity always has its trusty producer Gail at hand, and Hannah Waddingham (in a shocking dark wig) comes the closest to a full camp performance without really stepping over that line. Always with a bag on her arm, a drink in her hand, and a plastered grin on her face -- always somewhat masked by hair or glasses -- she moves through the world of the film in a more diminished capacity that we're used to seeing from her, which has the added effect of making her less predictable and more interesting.

The rest of the cast is fine, though I'd like to have seen more for Winston Duke and Stephanie Hsu to do. A great soundtrack of period-appropriate music keeps things moving when the plot threatens to slack. The behind-the-scenes of the movie industry on display could have been featured more, and frankly the organized crime plot was overbaked to a point of distraction. But it allows for some truly eye-popping stunt work which is what the film is really all about anyway. A love letter to the guys on set with their thumbs up as they risk their bodies and lives, The Fall Guy feels as much a gift to modern audiences annoyed with CGI-laden three-hour features that take themselves too seriously as it does to its own industry as anxieties about AI and deepfakes reach a boiling point. It's a great way to start the summer blockbuster season.

Hacksaw Ridge (2016)

Score: 4 / 5

It's everything you thought it would be. A typically simple yet visceral exhibition from Mel Gibson, Hacksaw Ridge is the feel-good war movie of the year. If you didn't know, the film concerns Desmond Doss, the conscientious objector to WWII who served in the hellish Battle of Okinawa as a medic. Doss was later awarded the Medal of Honor for saving the lives of over 75 men on the titular battleground. Gibson has a way about him that works in his favor here. Whereas, say, Clint Eastwood has a specific target audience that he understands and caters to, Gibson (despite his personal faults) manages to create sweeping epics that can touch everybody.

Can. The film doesn't portray the Japanese in a very humane light, which is problematic but also not surprising in a war movie. Unexpectedly irritating to me in this film is Gibson's lack of subtlety or complexity. While there is a lovely focus on a unique and fascinating character in Doss, the film is little more than formulaic, even droll. Brightly lit and generally clean, the first half of the film feels like a Hallmark special. The septic hue alters somewhat as Doss finally approaches the battlefield in the second half, but the grit and detailed atmosphere of, say, Apocalypto, is gone. What we have instead is a sickly sweet sentimentality, one that marries religion and love to a sweet, handsome boy who just wants to piece together a broken world.

But that's less a problem for me than a mild irritant. Honestly, I love that a war film can so beautifully talk about what's really on its mind. I love that the hero is a pacifist. I love that he's pure and kind and humble. I love that he lives what he practices in seemingly impossible situations. I find comfort in the film's obnoxious ability to play my heartstrings so easily. Andrew Garfield is pitch-perfect as our hero, no question there. The surprise for me is in Vince Vaughn, whose Sergeant Howell is fierce and surprisingly hilarious. His introductory scene of meeting his new recruits steals the film away, and had me guffawing outright in the packed theater. Everybody else plays their part fittingly. Hugo Weaving has a few really nice moments as Doss's tormented father.

Perhaps I find comfort in the picture's sentimentality because of the centerpiece of the film. The Battle of Okinawa atop Hacksaw Ridge is one of the most brutal scenes I've ever seen on the big screen. Sure, I haven't seen Hostel yet, but a war picture hasn't been this violent since Fury, maybe even Saving Private Ryan. It's almost like these scenes were the only ones in the clean, sparkling picture directed by the vision behind Braveheart and The Passion of the Christ. The body horror and graphic gore of those pictures is in full display here, and the lengthy sequences of fast-paced action and bloodshed is challenging to watch, to say the least.

IMDb: Hacksaw Ridge

Lights Out (2016)

Score: 3 / 5

Do you remember Mama, the 2013 supernatural horror based on the short film? I feel much the same way about Lights Out as I did about that one, so I'm going to talk about them the same way, and kill two flicks with one post.

Each film does something wonderful: featuring actors acting. In the former, it was Jessica Chastain and Nikolaj Coster-Waldau, and here it is Maria Bello, Teresa Palmer, Gabriel Bateman, and Alexander DiPersia. All are a joy to watch, because they all dig into the bizarre stories and exaggerated drama and perform honestly and mindfully.

Each film also manages to crack a certain glass ceiling often ignored in horror cinema. Both are films about women, in which both the protagonist and antagonist are women, and during which much of the horror is shown to be explicitly female. Perhaps that last is more apparent in Mama, where the villain's lair is a vaginal hole in the wall. Compare, if you will, to images from the original Poltergeist (1982), and see what I mean. There's a lot to be said, too, about the role of motherhood, a relative lack of female sexualization (Palmer, in Lights Out, explicitly controls her own space), and a discussion for victims-turned-victors without a revenge plot (as opposed to The Last House on the Left or every other slasher since). That's a discussion for another time.

Each film features a (yes, female) monster/villain that looks very similar: a hag, deathly and deadly, sporting damp, tangled hair atop her gruesome visage; bugging eyes above toothy snarls; fingers like claws; limbs that are less "flexible" and more "disjointed" with akimbo movements that range from graceful floating on the ceiling to jittery chase sequences on the ground. I don't know that I can describe why exactly, but this character is horrifying to me.

Each film suffers in its basic plot. Each is little more than a haunted house tale, replete with typical (and often expected) jump-scares that, while chilling and atmospheric, do little to frighten us later. The (ill)logic nature of each often undercuts what drama we can connect with, by which I mean that the mythology is thin and shaky at best, and generally distracts me from a more visceral reaction. In Lights Out specifically, the clever concept was more effective in the trailer, which streamlined the melodrama and instead showed most (if not all) of the jump-scares in the film. This made the film seem almost like a second viewing, because the genre scenes were ones we've literally already seen. Good scenes, sure, but familiar.

Finally, each film is PG-13. While I might entertain personal thoughts that start with "What if..." and end with hard R horror ideas, I think that for these films, PG-13 works fine. These are films about motherhood and child endangerment, about domestic life and femininity gone wrong, and while they could always be more explicit and violent and gory, there is plenty to be said for horror that can thrill and chill and engage and intrigue and still stay safely in a clean(ish), classy(ish), mainstream audience's grasp.

IMDb: Lights Out