The Martian (2015)

Score: 4.5 / 5

Coming on the heels of two Big, Serious space dramas, The Martian had a lot of room for error. But its great victory is that it has nothing in common whatsoever with those other films; indeed, the few moments it creeps toward resembling either Gravity or Interstellar, the filmmakers jerk it off in another direction, playing off our expectations and keeping us in constant awe. (For example, the climax involves two individuals floating around in space; it comes straight from Gravity, but ends up in a very different place.)

Where Gravity had a lot of thematic, well, gravity and allegorical import, The Martian avoids morbidity in its brave wit and dry humor while keeping its characters grounded and rational. And where Interstellar lost itself in abstractions and morbid sentimentality, The Martian keeps things fiercely realistic and logically based. I'm using words like "rational" and "realistic" to hone in on something else, too. I know almost nothing about space science, and the filmmakers are clearly targeting people like me, but I followed the reasoning behind every step of this film. I couldn't speak to the factual details, but keeping a clueless person like me so entranced for two and a half hours of science-speak is a feat. Especially considering that most of the dialogue concerns various technologies and potential plans to rescue Matt Damon.

I don't know what I was expecting, but none of the actors in this film suffered like I anticipated. Here we have a man who has had no human contact in over a year (though Mars days and Earth days are different, so I don't actually know), and he stays completely sane, rational, and even humored the entire time. Maybe we're too used to melodrama and wildly unstable characters, but I was taken completely aback by his characterization. I still can't decide if I liked it or not, but it was very different, and for now I'm fine with that. And that's to say nothing of Damon's abilities; though Jessica Chastain, Jeff Daniels, and Chiwetel Ejiofor have some nice moments, it is Damon who carries the weight of the film. When he starts crying during the climax, I totally lost it. And it was nice to see him have some fun and do fresh work.

And speaking of fresh work, I'm glad Ridley Scott came back to form after Exodus: Gods and Kings. That was a hot mess. But this is a tight-wound thriller that feels less complicated than it is. That's something Scott has always been able to do well, and in such a way that it looks easy. Here, he relieves what could easily have become plodding plot points by speeding along from place to place with nice (though a bit too many) subtitles for time and location, and connecting scenes with a delightful soundtrack of disco music. He also, and bravely, I think, introduces important concepts and then only minimally references them as we go along. We only see our hero figure out how to talk to the scientists on Earth once; after that, we just figure it got easier and happened more often. Or we only see him learn how to make water once; after that, we just assume it becomes routine. These crucial plot points move us along, and then we forget about their continued importance as Scott pushes us into new waters every ten minutes or so. It's a gamble, and one that succeeds brilliantly.

One last thought. This is a fine film. It's definitely not on my space-adventure favorites list because I do prefer my sci-fi to be pretty dark and artsy. And yet it still won me over because of the obvious intelligence and energy that went into making it. It's one of those rare pictures that I just believed. I only occasionally thought of Matt Damon or the others as performing. It's all raw, shallow, and tight, which makes it work remarkably well in a genre of melodrama and abstractions. And, of course, when ABBA's "Waterloo" started playing right before the climax, I was in heaven.

IMDb: The Martian

Sicario (2015)

Score: 5 / 5

I get really excited every time some of my favorite artists team up to do a film, and Sicario is no exception! Visionary director Denis Villeneuve (Prisoners, Enemy), legendary cinematographer Roger Deakins (Prisoners, Doubt, Fargo, The Shawshank Redemption), and recent composer Johann Johannsson (Prisoners, The Theory of Everything, Foxcatcher) rock this daring and haunting crime thriller in ways I only dreamed they might. It was a total moviegasm experience for me, and my hands are still shaking from it.

Imagine what would happen if Zero Dark Thirty (2012) and Traffic (2000) had a baby, and you can grasp the direction this film takes. It's a brutal peek into the drug trade and cartel culture, and it relentlessly forces us to face the horrors we so easily permit. It's about the little compromises we make every day that push us farther and farther away from civilized life and into the deserts of chaos and cruelty. It's a web of policy and procedure, a critique of corrupt or misguided law enforcement, and a tragedy of one soldier's fall from innocence.

That soldier, played with great vulnerability and compassion by Emily Blunt (The Young Victoria, Into the Woods), is an FBI agent determined to win the war on drugs by the book. But, as she soon learns, her idealism is far from practical and far from successful. After a traumatic incident in one raid, which starts the film, she joins with Department of Defense agents to hunt down the head of a cartel and bring him to justice. She sees her team lie, torture, and murder their way to the top of the cartel, and becomes privy to secrets that destroy her faith.

Of course, director Villeneuve is keenly aware of his female protagonist as the heart and soul of the film, and so he keeps us trained on her. For every horror she faces, we see it only as it relates to her. In fact, most of the violence and dead bodies we see only briefly, before turning to see her reactions to them. It's a gamble, and one that pays off brilliantly. And that's not to say we don't see plenty of the other actors as well. Josh Brolin (No Country for Old Men, W.) is his typical gruff self, though here I found him more compelling and inscrutable than usual. And Benecio Del Toro (Traffic, Che) blew me away yet again as the dangerous loose cannon of the team, guarded behind his facade but vicious and terrifying when necessary.

Cinematographer Roger Deakins -- I can't even say how much I love his work -- fashions the drama with an eye for gravity and weight, shown most obviously in his repeated longshots of the desert landscape and views down from aircraft. He takes his time with every scene, painting a portrait with varied lights and colors that build to a climax that parallels the plot. By the time we actually reach the climactic raid -- underground and at night -- he throws convention to the wolves and douses us in thermal vision and night vision lenses. The interplay is provocative to say the least, aand by the time it was done I felt as though I had tried some of the drugs the characters were hunting.

The whole movie is a trip and a half, a spiritual descent into hell, and one that left me bewildered but satisfied. And the score by Johann Johannsson isn't intrusive at all; the only memorable part is an increasingly hypnotic drone that thrums on through the film, a mysterious and unsettling sound that feels tied to an idea of impending doom. If this all sounds a bit heady, it's because it is. And designed to be so. Handled by others, this film might have become mired in complex dialogue absorbed with the details of the crimes and organizations involved, in muddled editing and ambiguous plotlines juxtaposed with vague or unnecessary characters, or in sentiment and politics. Instead, we get a clear, if artistic, picture of a very specific world in which very real people grapple with huge abstract concepts. And it's all done beautifully, which is obviously the most important part.

IMDb: Sicario

Pawn Sacrifice (2015)

Score: 3.5 / 5

I've never been much of a Tobey Maguire fan, but this is one movie where all his little (or not so little) "isms" pay off in an effective manner. In Pawn Sacrifice, he plays Bobby Fischer, World Chess Champion and controversial public figure during the Cold War, with boiling energy and furious resolve. In fact, I was able to watch him so attentively precisely because he plays a character so distinctly unlikeable. In turns pathetic and maddening, Maguire spins a web of paranoia so convincing, it's almost hard to see that it's him and not the filmmakers at all.

And I admire Edward Zwick, but this is not one of his better films. Balanced between drama and thriller, it's too intimate to be Big Picture and too funny to be thrilling. Its rather ostentatious title suggested that this might be this year's The Imitation Game, subtle and harsh with an eye to poignancy. Rather, it feels like a knockoff of that film, but this time with more American silliness and an obnoxious protagonist. Not a good trade. On the other hand, Maguire is playing by a different set of rules, apparently taking his hint from Black Swan or last year's Whiplash in his single-minded stab at weighty character acting. Not that he hasn't tried that before.

Mad props must be given to his co-stars, however, who marvelously parry his every word with generosity and humility. Michael Stuhlbarg and Peter Sarsgaard wonderfully support the action and the pathos of each scene, while Liev Schreiber looms in opposition to Maguire's mania. It's not a showcase for anyone but Maguire, though, who does what we can with his unstable character in volcanic eruptions of high-pitched yells and popped-out veins.

Zwick does manage to succeed in one way The Imitation Game failed: the action of his lead characters and the tone of the film are reflected wonderfully in the "footage" of the period. We see the mobs, hear the music, and get a good look at both American paranoia and European anxiety as they interact with our characters. I think this device works better here because it's presented as media, which it is, and the media already play a large part in this story. Zwick makes it work, and as someone who had no idea about the chess world or Fischer's apparently famed existence, I certainly benefitted from it.

One more thought. I mentioned Whiplash earlier, and that hints at something else I find curious about Pawn Sacrifice. Whereas the former film effectively educates the audience on the world it presents -- that is, even if you knew precious little about music, the film is not difficult to understand in musical terms -- the latter does not. In fact, there is little dialogue describing the game, and even less screen time devoted to depicting the nuances of play. Rather, I think Zwick tries to use chess as a not-so-subtle metaphor for the psychological war between nations during the Cold War and the various subterfuges and feints involved. Taken further, I wonder if he is trying to make a statement about the war, perhaps trivializing the global drama into a single board game that is taken far out of context, disguised in rich trappings, and played by mentally ill divas.

But that might be giving him too much credit. I think this movie is more face-value than that.

IMDb: Pawn Sacrifice

Everest (2015)

Score: 4 / 5

I fell into my own trap. I have preached before about not putting much stock in trailers and letting the film speak for itself, regardless of its claimed genre. When I first saw the trailers for Everest, I was expecting this year's Gravity, a daring, dark venture of cinematic novelty, great camera work, and heightened allegory. But as I walked out of the theater, I confess myself disappointed because it was none of those things. It's a damn fine film, to be sure, but it wasn't what I had anticipated. So don't do what I did.

So what is this movie? It's a good old-fashioned (by which I mean the genre reached its peak in the mid-2000s) disaster movie. In terms of plot, it's straightforward and formulaic: competing groups of climbers attempt to mount Everest (beg pardon) and due to a bizarre series of mistakes and happenstance, almost everyone dies. Is that a spoiler? I don't think so. Why? Because the movie is also a good old-fashioned biography, detailing the infamous real-life 1996 expedition. And what if it's not as spectacular as I might have expected? There's a lot to be said for a thriller this well-crafted and independent of CGI.

The real heroes of this film are all behind the scenes. Yes, it might be worth seeing for the great and varied cast (including the amazing Jason Clarke, Emily Watson, Michael Kelly, Jake Gyllenhaal, and Josh Brolin). But I applaud first the writers for so effectively capturing the many characters, places, and events of those few days. I never once felt confused or disconnected, which is saying a lot because I have trouble with names and faces. Credit must also go to director Baltasar Kormakur, whose passion for this project is unmistakable. Any big-budget filmmaker could have gone with the wind here, and really amped up the special effects (as I expected he would), but Kormakur is far more interested in creating a distinct tension between human willpower and the might of the mountain. Early in the film, Jason Clarke's character, the leader of one climbing team, describes the horrors they will face on Everest, and he climaxes by saying that above a certain altitude their bodies will literally be dying. I think the director relished in that concept.

In fact, the first part of the film is more of an adventure drama, and a rather uplifting one at that. We hear about the characters' dreams and motivations for climbing, we see them working together and overcoming obstacles. It is not until they reach their mountaintop experience that all the mistakes they have made along the way return with a vengeance. That's when it becomes a full-fledged disaster movie. And yet, despite the horrors we see on screen, Kormakur keeps his eye trained on closeups of his actors, making the human drama as spectacular as the occasional wideshot of the mountain's grandeur. He also keeps his eye on excruciating detail, which I didn't even realize until the credits began to roll and we are presented with photos of the real characters during their doomed expedition. Hair, costumes, and even poses are perfectly replicated, and every single scene of the film is tagged with a time and location. At first I found this device obnoxious, but it further proves Kormakur's passionate endeavor to accurately portray the real story.

It's entertaining, it's informative, and it's ultimately haunting. I could go into a lengthy argument about the integrity of art and my ambivalence toward movies that try to accurately depict reality at the expense of poetic transcendence. But I won't, because Everest never really tries to be anything but an honest look at a group of people who wanted a mountaintop experience, and how their efforts culminated in absolute tragedy. Hold on to something.

Oscar season is coming in fast and hard, guys. This one's a sure contender for sound mixing and editing.

IMDb: Everest

Black Mass (2015)

Score: 3.5 / 5

I guess it's officially Oscar season. Johnny Depp ushers us in with an early grab for Best Actor that is easily his best performance in years. Depp plays Whitey Bulger, infamous gangster lord of South Boston, with a monstrous intensity that transforms the character into a devilish force of nature. He disappears into the role, aided by excellent makeup, and transcends the film around him. If nothing else, see this movie for Depp. His chilling, bulbous blue glare is entrancing on screen, and he injects venom into every word he speaks.

The rest of the film is a solid crime thriller, to be sure, but not one I found to be very palatable. We are given precious little insight into Bulger's character, and indeed we are given only shallow and fleeting peeks into the plethora of other characters. Rather than appreciating the scope of the story, I was having trouble keeping tabs on everyone (not helped by the fact that they are all white men in business suits with thick accents discussing a lot of proper nouns that hadn't yet been established visually). The script is immense, spanning several years, locations across the country, and tons of characters; handled well, this type of script can be effective (remember David Fincher's Zodiac?), but here it buries itself in details and names and motives. Whole subplots come and go with seemingly little logic (whether the fault of the writer or the director), and the editing occasionally feels forced and awkward.

That's not to say there aren't shining moments. The performances are solid all around, notably in Joel Edgerton, who has to share several intense scenes with Depp, and in Julianne Nicholson, who shares only one scene with Depp that will probably give me nightmares tonight. Benedict Cumberbatch, Kevin Bacon, Peter Sarsgaard, Corey Stoll, and Juno Temple all pop in for a few scenes, which is fun if nothing else. And the lengthy, expository dialogue sometimes gives way to brutal gems, usually delivered by Depp, that often tore me out of my reverie.

Speaking of reverie, I should mention that Masanobu Takayanagi's cinematography is really excellent (he also helped shoot Babel, Eat Pray Love, Silver Linings Playbook, and State of Play), alternating between closeups of our lead actors' faces and grand stillshots of larger, usually remote locations. Though most images are in stark grayscale and in bleak lighting, Takayanagi frames his shots so that even an abandoned alley or the muddy underside of a bridge look as important as a cathedral. I think someone decided to pay attention to the title. Elegant and almost Gothic, his camerawork gives an engaging and hypnotic energy to the film that I found endlessly intriguing.

It doesn't have the heart of The Town, the sweeping grandeur of an epic like The Godfather, or even commentary on politics or violence like we might see in The Drop or Public Enemies. And watching it, I didn't really care what happened to these people because director Scott Cooper didn't seem to either. But as the last ten minutes came to a strange sort of climax (underscored by a haunting symphonic melody), I realized that the movie works in levels beyond those conventions. It's just an examination of a man's life. Gritty and bleak, the film makes us intimate with a gangster and his methods, including his liaisons with the FBI, and then leaves us with the weight of his sins (and ours, by extension) to contemplate as we leave. If the filmmakers wanted to undermine the cathartic and spiritual (confession/redemption) convention of recent crime dramas, they did so, and this black mass consistently piles on the heavy stuff with no hope for absolution.

IMDb: Black Mass

Sinister 2 (2015)

Score: 2.5 / 5

Meh.

I really wanted to like this movie. I loved the first one, and though the premise was never going to be really dynamic in a sequel, I still had high hopes, especially when I learned that Scott Derrickson was still helping out. But he really should have directed this one, too.

Maybe that's not fair. Director Ciaran Foy (whom I had never heard of) does a decent job with keeping the dread looming above. But that hardly makes a film worthwhile these days, and it puts a horror sequel six feet under by default. With maybe three exceptions, the jump-scares are predictable and less than chilling. That said, I think we need to make a clearer distinction between "scary movies" and horror films. This picture is horror, through and through, simply in its thematic elements. If you saw the first, you know it's a contemporary re-imagining of Children of the Corn in a different setting, where the children become enamored of a demonic figure who entices them to sacrifice their families and join him in a ghostly dimension. While good artists can usually expound and elaborate on a rich concept like this, they didn't much here.

Don't get me wrong: it's not a "bad" film. There are some lovely choices that I should probably applaud. First, centering the story on Ex-Deputy So & So (James Ransone) is definitely a wining point, and a counterpart in Shannyn Sossamon was a brilliant choice. They have some lovely character moments, partly due to the nice dialogue in their more intimate scenes as well as on their own. It's pretty obvious that Derrickson and co-writer C. Robert Cargill (also from the first film) have their hearts with this duo, and it allows for a lot of warm feelings in an otherwise heavy picture.

The central gimmick of this franchise -- that of children murdering their families in imaginative and graphic ways and filming the crime as an homage to their deity -- is chilling, but has largely lost its efficacy in a sequel. While watching those sequences is no less horrifying (I heard at least two groans from other audience members), it is not particularly scary anymore. Here we go again, conflating the two. My point, though, is that some horror films (especially ones that have this kind of weighty emotional import) might do well to have a few well-designed jump-scares. Much like good comedies need some slapstick or body humor to complement intelligent plots or character development, good horror films with particularly memorable plots that disturb long after viewing might do well to offset the heavy stuff with some frisson to make it fun as well as horrifying. Does that make sense? Horror films beg audience reaction, and to only hear a few groans of discomfort is probably not the best sign that your picture is working. You need a few shrieks or even giggles.

And I'm not saying all horror needs that. Look at It Follows, which had very little humor in it; it doesn't need much humor because its premise isn't as deeply disturbing in our culture. Adolescent sexuality is punished, okay, yeah sure. Our culture expects that, because it's been our narrative in real life even more than in film. So that movie can maintain its sense of dread by feeding off plays in narrative devices. But in Sinister, we have children murdering their parents and siblings in religious observance, which is far more taboo for our culture; indeed, very few horror films have ever (to my knowledge) broached this matter. So when almost every other scene of this film forces us to watch these atrocities, it would be nice to have some jump-scare levity in the meantime.

Besides my ambiguous feelings toward the thematic elements of this movie, I should also mention my more pressing concern for it. It's just not as good as the first one. Maybe because it can't spend much time on exposition, it dives pretty quickly into the heavy horror, and it can't really go anywhere from there. Director Foy tries, but he can't escape his own dangerous trap: The gimmicks of his film (the videotapes of the murders) become the stars of his film. Grotesque and disturbing as they are, we yearn for the next one because the rest of the film so lacks what we want to see. Even his camerawork and set design look like rip-offs of other franchises. The first Sinister worked because of its pervasive Gothic energy and sensibility, mixed with a rural awareness of social and religious dynamics. This one feels like a bloodier regurgitation of that atop a mosaic of Children of the Corn. I mean, the climax is a child chasing our protagonists through a cornfield with a scythe, for crying out loud!

Don't get me wrong. I'd much rather watch this than a whole slew of other scary movies. It accomplishes all its sets out to do, with some style and even some heart to boot. It's not bad.

It's just disappointing.

IMDb: Sinister 2

The Gift (2015)

Score: 4.5 / 5

Easily the most stylish thriller this summer (actually, maybe the only thriller this summer), The Gift presents us with a masterful retelling of a familiar story. It's Fatal Attraction meets Gone Girl, but without much overt play on misogyny. Indeed, the woman in this film, played by Rebecca Hall, is the most sympathetic character, and we largely follow her journey between two opposing men who seem to have staked claims on her and her privileged life. But she doesn't really suffer from the two men in the same ways that they suffer from each other.

As I say, the tale is familiar: Rogue man (Joel Edgerton) with shady motives begins stalking our protagonist woman and her husband (Jason Bateman) in their idyllic suburban life. We get the idea that the stranger is after our heroine until we learn that the victim of his advances may actually be her husband, who had shamed the man many years prior. Rising above the soapy plot, though, the film perfectly captures appropriate dialogue, a stark visual approach, and entrancingly nuanced performances that, together, spin into a nightmarish descent that doesn't relent until the ending credits roll. Actually, the final fifteen minutes or so were possibly my favorite, as the plot ramps up and our sympathies are all over the place. Whereas we initially identified with the woman, we become more invested in the men's game of cat-and-mouse while (in the most brilliant turn I could have expected) we totally lose sight of the woman. In the film's climax, when we think she has become the men's victim, we get one shot of her, and in it she unequivocally (and non-verbally) declares her independence and autonomy with a single look of defiance. It took my breath away.

Joel Edgerton deserves all of the praise for this movie, as he starred, wrote, produced, and directed it, making it his directorial debut, I believe. His ear seems trained to the human voice at its most guarded, by which I mean the film's dialogue tends to take on double meanings, and works best when polite conversation is pulled back to reveal the raw cruelty underneath. Jason Bateman particularly shines in those moments, and he pulls a powerhouse turnaround about two-thirds of the way through the movie. Director Edgerton's eye, however, is trained on sensual patterns and proximity, allowing the rich colors and beautiful sets to frame casual conversations as if they were intimate, and intimate situations as if they were horrific. Indeed, the one overtly misogynist moment in the film (I kept waiting for it, when the plot hinges on two men battling, with a woman in between) happens near the end, and it's a fairly brutal (though not graphic) sequence. Its sexual nature is left ultimately ambiguous, which helps, but my point is that it is filmed not unlike a terrorist's home video, with shaky, theatrical handheld camera, and the victim is helpless as her masked assailant poses for the screen. In this way, even the more sensitive, sexual moments in the film are sensationalized as pure horror entirely as a result of Edgerton's directing.

Really, the only thing I disliked about the film was its title. It's a little too generic, a little too familiar for my taste. That said, it might bring a little insight into Edgerton's motivations for creating the film. His character seems driven by an inner sense of justice, a particularly vindictive higher purpose, and his means of enacting it is through gifts. Perhaps he feels that he himself is a gift to these people, showing them their sins and forcing them to confront their pasts and prejudices. Perhaps the titular gift is he himself, allowing the other characters a chance to change. Of course, given some of his actions, it would also be a haunting view into his mind, as we can trace how dangerous and vicious his behaviors can be.

IMDb: The Gift

Fantastic Four (2015)

Score: 2 / 5

Everybody's hating on this movie. I think I understand why, sort of, but I don't really want to bash it here. Because, if nothing else, it's not as dismal as people seem determined to shout. I think the biggest problem people have with this movie is that it's rehashed material done in a not-so-blockbustery way. So it doesn't really fit into a genre. Which a lot of people tend to lose their minds over.

Is it a superhero movie? In name only. Sorry, fans of the team, but this film has very little in the way of your typical Marvel fare. In fact, this film feels more like it took inspiration from last year's Interstellar (not really a great model, guys) than from X-Men or even last decade's attempt at Fantastic Four franchise. In fact, this movie tonally feels like it belonged to the last decade, but it visually looks like one we'd see today. It has a distinctly apocalyptic message, and its treatment of authority, purpose, and catastrophic horror comes straight out of the 2000s. But it features long, art-house dialogue sequences and expository whispering that feel more like a weird coming-of-age/political thriller of the 2010s. And its special effects are a hybrid of practical, Interstellar hardware and dust-storm explosions and neon cosmic liquid from Thor. It's just a strange mix.

Besides the whiplash between these elements, though, I don't think there's been a more compelling cast for a superhero movie in a few years. Miles Teller (Whiplash, Rabbit Hole) leads with Kate Mara (American Horror Story, House of Cards), Michael B. Jordan (The Wire, Fruitvale Station), and Jamie Bell (Billy Elliot, Snowpiercer), and all are wonderfully realized, though the script and camera don't spend quite enough time with them as intelligent, autonomous characters. We also enjoy the company of Toby Kebbell (Control, Dawn of the Planet of the Apes), Tim Blake Nelson (O Brother, Where Art Thou?, Child of God), and the wonderful Reg E. Cathey (The Wire, House of Cards), but again these players have limited time on screen.

I really don't think it's a bad film, and frankly I wish more superhero films would allow for lengthy dialogue and greater character development like this one. Unfortunately, we have this notion that superhero movies need to have loads of action in them, and hence the last hour or so of this film disintegrates into mindless (and, truly, poorly devised and executed) fantasy action sequences. But the beginning of the film is really very intriguing, if not quite original. We have our heroes -- established as such from the first scene, as children -- as young people engaged in the sciences and full of hope that they are acting upon. Frankly, I think we as a culture would do well to admire this kind of hero over people who punch each other and then spit out sarcastic witticisms.

But that's also not particularly engaging or entertaining for mainstream audiences. And after the kinetic joy of the more recent Guardians of the Galaxy and Ant-Man, it's hard to reframe our perspective on superheroes. And so the film goes from coming-of-age to sci-fi adventure as our heroes travel to another dimension and unleash radiation that turns them into David Cronenberg-esque bodies with superpowers. Then the Authorities That Be inter our heroes, and the film becomes more like a war/political thriller as our heroes attempt to escape or succumb to demands placed upon them. And, finally, and less successfully, our heroes determine to embrace their new abilities and each other as a team.

It's a bit heavy-handed. It's a bit messy. And it's a bit fun. It has wit but few laughs, it has danger but little action, and it has vision but little skill. I felt rather melancholy in leaving, and more than rather confused. In short, it's a summer blockbuster, all in all. We shall look upon its like again.

IMDb: Fantastic Four

Ricki and the Flash (2015)

Score: 4.5 / 5

Easily the most entertaining movie I've seen all summer, Ricki and the Flash rocks away the post-summer blockbuster blues before we dip our toes into Oscar season. It's a familiar story, they're familiar actors, and we can hum and tap along to the familiar music, but there's a lot to be said for excellent artists coming together to make something so traditional so damn good. I mean, most of the time you can predict the exact words some of these characters say before they do, but I think that speaks less about the film's intelligence than about its emotional honesty and resonance.

Director Jonathan Demme and writer Diablo Cody pull their usual strings here, adding layer upon layer to the rote story of an absent parent who chases an artistic (or sometimes business-related) dream or goal away from his or her family, and subsequently attempts to bridge the chasms of the past. Demme and Cody make this round fresh, though, by centering on a woman, middle-aged and a mother, who left her husband and children to chase her dreams. As she returns to care for her damaged children, she is forced to confront their very different lifestyles and the demons they all harbor. And, of course, we the audience are forced to confront our ideas about all manner of complex ideas (thanks, Demme, but damn you) from alternative lifestyles and aging to dysfunctional families and class divisions.

Meryl Streep is impossibly perfect as Ricki, the rockstar woman who sings her way through life and plays our heartstrings along with her guitar. Her every moment on screen is electric, and sparks fly from under her eyeshadow and braids. We join her in maneuvering between her three children (one of whom is her real-life daughter Mamie Gummer, who proves her mettle opposite Streep), her ex-husband (Kevin Kline) and his wife (Audra McDonald), and her romantic lead guitarist. The filmmakers and Streep consistently (but not obnoxiously) push hard arguments on us against our cultural ideas of women and work, absent mothers, and poor musicians; specifically, there is a sharp focus on the double standard of women (and artists) who choose themselves and/or their work over their families. Actually, even the way I phrased that indicates an existing bias.

It's a very interesting film in this regard, and a lot is left unsaid and unresolved (which is a good thing, I think, because the characters themselves don't really resolve much) but these Big Picture ideas in no way disrupt the heart and joy of the movie. The family unit -- in all its complexity -- takes center stage here, and Demme makes a point to juxtapose images of Streep on her own and Streep with her family (either chosen or given). My favorite scene from the film comes early on, right after Ricki arrives at her ex-husband's home, and they all go to a restaurant together. We have glam-rocker Ricki, her suited husband, and three grown children: a disheveled newly-divorced daughter, a hostile and sarcastic gay son, and a similarly hostile engaged son with his fiancee. Ricki learns all kinds of new things about her estranged children, and as they try to stay civil amidst their brutal emotions, the people eating at nearby tables reflect our own awe at the spectacle. The scene is biting and vicious and all sorts of uncomfortable, and I was laughing so hard I was crying.

The rest of the film, for me, was downhill from there. Probably not a good thing, but it also never got boring. Meryl sings some more, Meryl cries some more, and there's a palpable affection that sweeps the auditorium. I'm thinking this movie is a weird mash-up of Rachel Getting Married (a Demme drama of dysfunctional family arguments) and Mamma Mia! (a Streep-vehicle of music, marriage, and mother-daughter relationships). Oh, and if you had any doubts about Streep as a rockstar, just take a look at the picture below. She looks amazing (I want that hair), she sounds like she could be an opening act for Journey or Bruce Springsteen, and her talent is laid bare in a summer of computer generated effects. I can't wait to download the music from this (especially her Lady Gaga cover, because love).

Rock on, Ricki.

IMDb: Ricki and the Flash

Mission: Impossible - Rogue Nation (2015)

Score: 3 / 5

This franchise has a lot to be said for it. I don't really want to try and give a concise opinion of all five films here, but I think this installment draws on each of the previous films so much that I'll probably reference them all at some point. And, in fact, that's probably my biggest problem with this picture as well: It feels totally derivative, a misshapen amalgam of images and ideas from its predecessors, wrapped up in a story that, though promising, never delivers its fifth-act knockout. And yes, I just mixed my metaphors. On purpose.

This film really was a great idea for the series. Our hero Ethan Hunt searches for proof of the Syndicate, a secret organization of criminals, while the IMF is disbanded and he himself is sought by the CIA for going rogue (and for his past recklessness). Along the way, Hunt learns that the Syndicate seems to largely be made up of agents thought to be dead from similar organizations around the world. I mean, how cool is that? Two mysterious "rogue nations" going at each other while both are hunted by the CIA. That sounds like a lot of room for elegant intrigue, travel and adventure, and good old-fashioned spying.

Unfortunately, that's not what happens. In strictest sense, yes, that's the plot, but writer/director Christopher McQuarrie and his team spend all their time and energy on endless chase sequences and fast, jittery violence that feels more an assault on us than on the characters. There is little (if any) sleuthing or sneaking, only momentary elegance (found, surprise surprise, in the opera sequence), and a plot so big-picture oriented that the details get lost in the action. Yes, it's a rogue organization, we get it, so can we make it a little less obvious? A little more subtlety would do well for both the characters and the filmmakers here.

We have a chase through the dark streets of London (like in the first movie), motorcycle chases (like in the second), gritty, color-graded violence (like in the third), and an aging hero (like in the fourth). And those are just the most obvious thefts. I'm not saying these are bad things. Indeed, the finale's chase through foggy London alleys is probably my favorite scene in the picture, precisely because it is so iconic (it clearly recalls moments from the opening sequence of film #1, by far my favorite sequence in the series). I would argue, though, that the only original moment in this film is (again) the opening sequence, though it feels more like a mini-film than an introduction. Actually, Cruise's obligatory descent into a high-security room to do something tech-savvy on a supercomputer is also riveting here, because said room happens to be full of fast-moving water. Other than these moments, though, the film is just a rehashing of old, well, hash.

That's not to say it's not well done. Even the oldest ideas are the most exciting, if presented skillfully. And here we have some lovely costumes, set pieces, and acting. In fact, newcomer Rebecca Ferguson is easily the most novel presence on screen. Smart and sexy, she brings proper enigma to the film, parrying Cruise's antics in every scene. She also, perhaps the greatest virtue of the script, proves herself a vicious, intelligent, and fully capable spy, both saving and beating Tom Cruise repeatedly. She is autonomous, makes dangerous decisions, and ultimately emerges victorious from her many struggles. She is the real hero of this movie. And of course Jeremy Renner, Simon Pegg, and Ving Rhames are a stellar combination of humor and heart. Besides introducing Ferguson's character, though, the script delivers no development for any of these men, making the heart of the film disappear beneath violence and extended chases.

Beyond these, there is little of novel interest. The mysterious Syndicate are caricatures, which might work if the film presented them as a constant, ever-present threat. But it doesn't. Rather, the dialogue repeatedly refers to them as such, but only visually presents them through their purported leader, Solomon Lane (Sean Harris). This minimizes most of the enigma about the Syndicate, and, in case you disagree, the film repeatedly shows a close-up of his face just to remind you that he's the bad guy. And even this wouldn't be such an issue if he was a decent bad guy. But we barely see him fight, he's got weak screen presence (sorry, Harris, but you just don't compare to Philip Seymour Hoffman in #3), and it seems that the only reasonably scary thing about him is his voice.

For summer entertainment, you could definitely do worse. And it's not the worst in the series, either. For me, it's just difficult to swallow this picture after Ghost Protocol, with its clean action, rousing comedy, fresh faces, and palpable heart. Rogue Nation instead has shaky, handheld action, less plot (and intelligence), little humor, and mindless chase scenes. Let's hope we go back to basics for the next mission, should Cruise choose to accept it.

IMDb: Mission: Impossible - Rogue Nation