Victor Frankenstein (2015)

Score: 3.5 / 5

I don't know that I've ever seen a Gothic comedy before, but this might be one. Based on corruptions of the titular horror character, this film is a sort of Frankenstein's monster itself, a hodgepodge mishmash of themes and tropes that, stitched together with simple and silly thread, skip off to a dark ruined castle to live happily never after. It's horror and comedy, science fiction and period drama, whipped up together with a frenzied cinematic approach not unlike film adaptations of graphic novels (I would compare its style to, for example,2003's The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, or even the 2009 Sherlock Holmes). It's got a strange sort of Grand Guignol flavor amidst its kinetic action and dramatic charm. And if that doesn't sound interesting to you, stop reading and go watch the holiday Hallmark specials.

I'm not saying the script is very good. It strikes a rather uncertain tonal chord, and wallows in the third act, when the Big Picture themes come to a rain-drenched, violent head. But the first half of the film is delightful, bouncing between the great talents of a surprising array of actors, including Charles Dance, Jessica Brown Findlay, and a deliciously wicked Andrew Scott as the religious police inspector hell-bent on stopping Frankenstein's sacrilegious experiments. But the real stars here are, well, the stars: James McAvoy and Daniel Radcliffe are miracle-workers here, reviving a flaccid script and generously supplying it with wit, charm, and no small amount of homoerotic undertones. If you had told me that Professor Xavier and Harry Potter would have mad chemistry, I would have laughed at you, but now I've seen the error of my ways.

The opening sequence is by far my favorite in the film. An aspiring romantic, nameless hunchback (Radcliffe) is slaving away in a London circus until the girl he loves (Findlay) falls during her aerial routine. He saves her with a doctor in the audience (McAvoy), who recognizes the hunchback's medical prowess and rescues him from the cruel circus. The sequence sets up the fevered pace of the film, its colorful and campy style, and the gritty nature of the violent material. Immediately after, the kindly doctor takes the hunchback to his home, names him Igor, and treats his physical plights by draining a cyst and fashioning a harness to right his posture. I found it hard to stop giggling between Radcliffe's frightened vulnerability, McAvoy's ferocity and speed (à la Rob Downey Jr.), the one-liners and action-genre camerawork, and the stylized animation that is meant to represent the medical diagrams through which these characters view their world.

Perhaps the reason I so liked the film is that, even when the script descends into sentiment and stupidity, the sheer spectacle of the performances and visual style remain intensely silly. That is to say, I could scarcely judge the stupid because I was so charmed by the silly. The film feels like it could be a mockery of the whole genre, a disturbed satire of the Frankenstein myth, or a sensational fever dream of artists who understand that spectacle, when handled intelligently, can supersede poor content.

IMDb: Victor Frankenstein

Secret in Their Eyes (2015)

Score: 4 / 5

I'm not really sure why this is the second film adaptation of Eduardo Sacheri's 2005 novel in five years, so I understand a lot of its criticism. And frankly, I think the Oscar-winning Argentine film is better in terms of cinematography and editing. I'll cite that film's "chase" scene in the soccer stadium as evidence, and there's little more that can be said about that.

However redundant it may feel, though, I really rather liked this American adaptation. The camerawork and pacing isn't as tight as it could be, though the film has a gritty realism that evokes late-90s/early-00s crime dramas, which I find interesting. Of course, unlike the Argentine film, this close-up heavy approach also gives the impression that the film is a subdued and meditative version of any number of serial police procedurals on television. I'm sure that people who regularly watch shows like Law & Order or SVU or any of the other masses of similar shows will find this movie to be dull, a bland and pale shadow of what it could be.

But for those of us who do not watch those programs, the film presents a grim portrait of four individuals who are inexorably bound to a single rape-murder case, and how their obsession with it changes, unites, and ultimately haunts their lives. The back-and-forth dual plotline dictated by the source material is fairly well handled, and the plot translates surprisingly well to the criminal justice system in urban America. We see a team of FBI investigators (Julia Roberts, Chiwetel Ejiofor, Dean Norris) and their DA overseer (Nicole Kidman) brought together during their heightened watch for terrorism when one of the investigator's daughters is found murdered in a dumpster. Fears of terrorism (the film takes place not long after 9/11) dictate the legal process, and soon after the wrong men are convicted for the crime. Thirteen years later, though their lives have drifted apart, the team is brought back together to continue their quest. One by one, the team compromises their duties to illegally find the man responsible and bring him to justice.

It doesn't have the Gothic sensibilities of, for example, Prisoners (2013) but the film plays its cards close to the chest and favors the performances of its stars. Ejiofor and Roberts are typically incredible, delivering pitch-perfect characters in moments of daring vulnerability and surprising autonomy. I mean, it's nice to see a cast of relatively diverse characters in the legal system determining for themselves the right path to justice in accordance with their own values. My favorite scene is when Kidman's character -- an otherwise straight-laced and stern business woman -- attempts to stop Ejiofor from illegally questioning the suspect. She notices the suspect's lingering sexual stare, and nonverbally decides to turn the tables on him, using her suddenly exploited sexuality to degrade him until he confesses. It's a daring move, and one that Kidman delivers with great boons. If you know what I mean.

As I say, it's not a great film. Sure, it's a little tame, a little predictable, and a little redundant. In fact, some of the moments on screen are exact replicas of their corresponding Argentine scenes, something that is obviously intentional but, in my opinion, misguided. But it's rarely a bad thing to throw some A-listers into a smart crime thriller together and let them play it out with their respective strengths. And you could hardly ask for a more wide-eyed, introspective cast for a film about secrets in people's eyes.

IMDb: Secret in Their Eyes

Spectre (2015)

Score: 4 / 5

Confession: I'd never seen a Bond film until last weekend. And all three of the ones I watched starred Daniel Craig. So if that makes you judge me, I'll understand.

My opinions? Casino Royale is brilliant, Quantum of Solace is not, and Skyfall is almost perfect. Am I sad Judi Dench's character is dead? Hell yes. Am I happy that Sam Mendes came back to direct Spectre? Hell yes.

But he couldn't improve on what he did in Skyfall. Don't get me wrong -- Spectre is damn good. In fact, I'd argue that the opening scene in Mexico City is one of the best single scenes I've seen yet this year. The longshot, the costumes, the stuntwork are all stunning. It's a dazzling and arresting way to start any film, and it feels perfect for our leading man's persona. Just when I thought it couldn't get any better, Craig jumps aboard a helicopter for a surprisingly well-edited fight in the sky above the crowded square. Following the spectacle is a delicious theme song delivered by Sam Smith to a beautifully stylized opening credit roll.

But not long after the opening scene, the film retreats into a formulaic pattern. It's still one of the better spy/action movies I've ever seen, but it's not as daring or resounding as its predecessor. Perhaps the reason for my lack of enthusiasm lies in the film's inflated sense of self-importance. Christoph Waltz plays Franz Oberhauser, the villain who is apparently the mastermind behind the events of the three previous films. It's almost as if the filmmakers thought this kind of contrived plot device would make the film more Important or Critical, which is silly at best. Lines like "the architect of all your pain" made me snort out loud, which I'm guessing was not intended by the filmmakers. And then, to make matters worse, they include a scene that goes beyond accepting Oberhauser as a shadowy crazy mastermind criminal by giving him a personal vendetta against Bond: After Bond was orphaned, Oberhauser's father became his guardian while Franz grew jealous and overreacted by killing his father, staging his own death, and changing his name before founding the huge terrorist organization Spectre.

That seems more like the basis of an opera, or maybe a comic book. Not an otherwise intelligent and sophisticated spy thriller. I'm sure it works for some audiences, but it just doesn't for me. It makes the whole film trite and banal, a simple cat-and-mouse on global scale, featuring Waltz in a role that ignores his talents and hinders his dramatic potential from being realized. I think I was just disappointed because the opening sequence was so sharp, and the opening credits so provocative with its images of an octopus over everything, and it all turned out to be a gimmick. I felt that I'd been had, and that the filmmakers -- desperate to one-up themselves -- had layered it on way too thick.

However, the film does feature more screen time for Ralph Fiennes as M and Ben Whishaw as Q, which is never a bad thing. It also finds a much more compelling villain in Andrew Scott as C, the head of the Joint Intelligence Service, who is struggling for power with M and pushing for global surveillance system "Nine Eyes". By the time Oberhauser admits to be behind the push for Nine Eyes, we are hardly surprised, and by the time C is revealed to be in league with him we are just waiting for the confrontation. But Scott himself is delicious in the role, and I would only have liked more screen time for him.

The camerawork is just as good as in Skyfall, as is cinematographer Hoyte van Hoytema's use of colors and striking visuals. We don't get a surprise appearance from Albert Finney or his ilk in this one, but we'll survive that. And I think some of the action sequences of this film might be the best in the series, because Hoytema and editor Lee Smith never let the action get lost in handheld frenzy or quickly edited snapshots. Everything is long and steady, and it makes viewing much easier and the action more effectively elegant. All in all, it's a fine film, a little given over to its own self-aggrandized importance but only rarely indulgent. I'd watch it any day over Quantum of Solace.

IMDb: Spectre

Mockingjay: Part Two (2015)

Score: 4.5 / 5

I find these films -- probably the only series about which I'll say such things -- to be far more enjoyable than the simple prose of the novels on which they are based. And while the two parts of Mockingjay may not be have the fastest pace or the most daring action sequences of most modern young adult dystopian fiction, I find them to be fiercely intelligent and resourceful in mining the source material and in delivering satisfying results to their audience. The split also allows more time for us to focus on the great character developments that happen during the otherwise high speed, plot-driven events of the story. So I'm not really sure why people keep complaining about that.

As for Part Two specifically, it's brilliant. Not as breakneck as Catching Fire, not as meditative as Mockingjay Part One, it allows the various elements of the series to simmer together in a harsh treatment of escalating warfare. Its topical relevance shines through perhaps best in the moment when the rebels bomb a mountain, effectively burying the enemy soldiers and civilians inside together. The following scene between the escaping survivors and the rebel army led by Katniss. It's hard and it's complicated and it's wonderful. There's also a few beautiful moments as Coin leads her people to victory, and Katniss watches and suspects that her aim is less noble than she had first imagined.

Nothing in this movie quite matches the fierce brilliance of the scene in Part One of Gale and the rebels sneaking into the Capitol to save Peeta while Donald Sutherland drones in voiceover. However, Part Two skillfully avoids overdoing the special effects and getting caught up in its own exciting energy. In fact, there is really only one particularly violent sequence in this film that I can recall. It's also probably the most violent scene in the series, and one that I had some trouble watching. It happens in the sewers, where our team of heroes is attacked by monstrous white lizard-men in a terrifying melee that had me covering my eyes. Mad props to director Francis Lawrence, because it's got to be one of the most stunning fight sequences I've seen in a film since The Return of the King. Not because it's particularly intelligent, but rather because it's so fast, surprising, and long; it's an extended sequence that has absolutely no moments of relief. Even when they climb up the ladder and escape the lizards, seemingly in peace to mourn the deaths of their friends, sharp metal drills start popping up from the exploding floor beneath them.

Perhaps part of the reason I so loved the sequence is because the film until then is pretty tame. It's not slow, exactly, but more meditative and emotional like in Part One. Even when Katniss and her team get into the Capitol and maneuver its booby-traps, it's not a particularly action-y movie. Which, by the way, is great. It makes the climax that much more effective.

And speaking of the climax, I'm not exactly sure where it was in this movie. Which is also great. Because, as the finale to the series, the whole damn thing is a bit of a climax. Rather like the eighth Harry Potter film, this picture more or less begins with the climax and ends up with an extended resolution. Actually, in a sense, it feels like The Return of the King, with several denouement scenes that let the story end with a nice little flourish. Maybe the epilogue scene was a bit much, but it's a sweet little nod to the book. I noticed several people in the theater squirming to leave after the "climax" (I say that's the execution scene, because Donald Sutherland's face and laughter is devastating), because it's hard for some people to stay seated when there's nothing "exciting" left. It's sad, but the film manages those squirmers gracefully.

What else can I say? J-Law is fantastic. I'm glad we saw more of Josh Hutcherson in this one. I'd have liked to see Elizabeth Banks and Woody Harrelson more, but the story isn't really about them any more. Julianne Moore is great and we can always use more of her, and the moments with Philip Seymour Hoffman gave me all of the feelings. The camerawork is strong, the editing stronger, and I have no big complaints. It's a fine film, and a fine ending to the series.

**
I should probably qualify my earlier claim that I prefer these movies to their source material. I like the books fine, and I'm not saying they're bad. The prose is simple, straightforward, and first person. These fit the concept Collins was going for, and I can't fault them, except to say that I don't like that style in prose. I'm also conflicted with the fact that the intense and violent story is clearly marketed for young people; sure, the protagonist is also that age, but ultimately The Hunger Games is an extended Lord of the Flies, and Mockingjay is nothing short of a war novel (I'm thinking of a Tim O'Brien novel or two). I'm just not sure parents and teachers should be letting middle schoolers loose on this kind of material without accompanying conversations and context.

That said, I also have a little bit of misgivings about the films being PG-13. Much like the books being marketed for kids (I assume this might be why they are not particularly descriptive), the films are being marketed for kids. The MPAA rating stops the films from going into really dynamic territory (the moment in Mockingjay when Katniss randomly shoots a Capitol woman before she can speak; the bloody murder of a random girl in the streets by a shower of bullets). Ultimately these films take on a hue of polished Hollywood young adult sci-fi fiction rather than a raw, brutal war film.

I don't really have a coherent opinion on this franchise, obviously. But these are my main considerations.

IMDb: Mockingjay: Part Two

Bridge of Spies (2015)

Score: 4.5 / 5

The most wonderful things about this movie are all of the things I was not expecting. Frankly, I was sort of dreading it because Spielberg is really hit-or-miss with me, and I also worried this would be another Tom Hanks vehicle like Captain Phillips (which, for reference, I intensely dislike). But from the outset, Bridge of Spies sets itself up as a solid and simple old-fashioned spy drama with heavy style. It's brilliant.

If you're looking for action and melodrama, you might want to pass this one up. Spielberg really subdued his usual bravado here, even more so than in his 2012 Lincoln talker, and manages to twist many expectations we might have about American war movies in the wake of American Sniper and its problematic ilk. Bridge of Spies is about paranoia, and Spielberg lets his film simmer in the dark for a long time until it boils over in the third act. It's totally by the book, but it supports the material and feels about as satisfying as a John le Carré thriller.

Tom Hanks is his usual charming self, complete with wit and vulnerability -- though perhaps too much vulnerability -- and carries the picture well. But the real gem here is Mark Rylance, portraying an alleged Soviet spy in America. He gives his role only a hint of emotion, and lets his soft-spoken, witty, ironic performance steal the whole movie right away. He delivers his lines with a wispy, singsong voice and makes manifest an incredibly complicated character: one who refuses to lie in a world, by definition, structured by deception. It's a brave move, and one that succeeds fabulously. I usually don't like it when I feel filmmakers tugging at my heartstrings, but by the ending of this film, Rylance deserved my little sob. I should also mention Mikhail Gorevoy, playing a Soviet ambassador, who thrilled and chilled me with his piercing eyes and conniving hiss. I quite hope to see him in more movies.

Clocking in at nearly two and a half hours, the film plays for the long haul. But it's never particularly slow. Hardly a scene passes without some new concept or insight into the trials, bureaucracy, politics, and legality we witness. In fact, I would argue it's an unusually streamlined film, in terms of plot, for a spy movie. In the last decade or two, the genre has had trouble staying afloat if there aren't huge plot twists or spectacular fight scenes. But this movie proves that major studios still can make a damn good film that's not ridiculously complicated, sexy, or violent. Sometimes it just takes a bit of meditation on theme and relevance. Some of my favorite moments are simply a result of super-subtle period camerawork. Others (and ones that I will pick up more during more viewings) are the result of editing that juxtaposes conflicting ideas. There's a moment when the Soviet spy goes into court, and as the bailiff commands that "All rise," we jump to a classroom of children rising and reciting the American pledge of allegiance before watching videos about nuclear bombs. There's another lengthy scene that repeatedly mirrors the treatment of the Soviet spy in America with an American spy in Russia. It's scenes like these that help save the film from being mindlessly Americanized (still bitterly thinking of American Sniper) while gently provoking thoughtful conversation over cocktails afterward. Don't get me wrong, it's a movie about an average (if highly intelligent) white American for average white American audiences, but at least it doesn't totally ignore the moral and legal ambiguities and compromises war forces us all into.

IMDb: Bridge of Spies

Steve Jobs (2015)

Score: 5 / 5

I have done exactly no research into the making of this movie or its namesake, so I can't say how realistic the film is. But I can say that the film is perhaps the most consistently engrossing movie I've seen this year. Credit for that goes mostly to writer Aaron Sorkin, whose dialogue is so rich, dense, and kinetic that I occasionally found it hard to breathe in the auditorium. Rarely have I sat through a film with such profound dialogue; I think the last I recall was 2013's August: Osage County.

The film has been advertised as a biography, but in fact it is a fiercely theatrical character study into a superstar's complex backstage life and the demands that ravage his soul. We see our hero (or, arguably, antihero) in three acts, each time only minutes before unveiling a new product, and caught in operatic rhetorical and logistical battles with various members of his personal and professional lives. It's a daring concept for a film, but Sorkin's feverish dialogue burns so quickly and with such brilliance I completely lost myself to it.

The astounding range of the dialogue is matched impressively by director Danny Boyle, who restrains his often peripatetic photography and editing here. He keeps things close and intimate, clean and colorful, and manages to house Sorkin's language in a chamber piece worthy of operatic energy. By the third act, the realism and restraint of the film has been largely cast aside, and Boyle casts us with the characters into a centrifuge of memories, abstracts, and passions. Its final heartstring tugs notwithstanding, the film lets us out of the experience with a more or less pure understanding of the paradoxical heart inside the machine. It's a daring concept for a film, and one the artists deliver in each scene.

Michael Fassbender as the titular character fashions his own distinctive conversational rhythms and marries them to fierce facial expressions and body language almost as inspired as the dialogue itself. He carries the film with apparent ease, though his performance is so raw I can scarcely imagine the lengths he went to in research and practice. Kate Winslet almost manages to match him in energy and skill, but her limited screen time hinders her. With her fabulous Polish accent and lightning delivery, she parries Fassbender's cruelties and queries in biting style.

I don't really know what else to say about this movie. It's dense, intimate, calculated, intense, and grandiose. It's an opera about power and money and fame and love and family and passion. Most important, it's surprisingly beautiful.

IMDb: Steve Jobs

Crimson Peak (2015)

Score: 4.5 / 5

The first thing you should know about Crimson Peak is that it's not a scary movie. It's a horror picture. More than that, it's a period piece Gothic romance. So if you're going to the movies this Halloween looking for shrieks and giggles, you are going to be severely disappointed. If, however, you are going to be reminded of the potential beauty in haunted house films, to revel in the glory of expert filmmaking, or to lose yourself in a macabre fantasy of passion and evil, you can do no better than Guillermo del Toro's latest vision.

From its shockingly white opening image, this film sets itself apart as an atmospheric venture not unlike this summer's Mad Max: Fury Road. We are presented then, in increasingly vibrant strokes, with an immaculately designed period piece shimmering with intricate details and daring lighting. Not a moment passes by onscreen in which the nightmarish hues don't burn themselves into your eyes, forcing you to watch the horror unfold. Of course, the real spectacle here is the house itself, a masterwork of architecture and special effects, riddled with carvings and tapestries, and oozing sanguineous clay. The house is alive, shifting and swaying, "breathing" and groaning, and in almost every scene the red mud that gave the property its name ekes out from under floorboards and behind brick walls. It's a surprisingly eerie special effect, something I would have expected (less tastefully) from a Burton film.

I could continue to praise the production design, but I think you get the idea. The other aspects of the film are all solid, though nothing particularly noteworthy. It's a very familiar story, with simple and conventional plot devices that ultimately lead to an unsurprising and totally satisfying ending. I might have wished that del Toro could have spiced up the drama or the supernatural elements, but there's a lot to be said for balancing a tried-and-true plot with a daring aesthetic. The dialogue is great, and the plot moves along at a brisk pace with enough evenly-paced thrills to keep things effectively spooky.

Jessica Chastain is far and away the crowning jewel of the film. Her cruel gaze and calculating restraint is disturbing from the outset, and frankly her dresses steal every damn scene. As ravishing as she is haunting, Chastain injects her character with seething malice so delicious I was ready to cheer for her in the film's climax. Tom Hiddleston parries her every move with equally calculating energy, though his burns the sweeter. His dynamic turn (and beauty) makes the film's climax far more satisfying, as he and Chastain wholly give themselves over to their perfect Gothic sensibilities. Mia Wasikowska is less satisfying than the other two, though she does work hard for her starring role. It's hard to watch the mesermizing subtleties of Hiddleston and Chastain, and then want to pay attention to Wasikowska's constantly pained expression as she wanders the evil house. I suppose, given her character's profound misfortune, I shouldn't fault her for that, but it just doesn't make for an interesting character. And her designer didn't help, placing her in a shapeless pale nightgown for most of the film and leaving her long stringy blond hair to fly around her puffy shoulders. Does it work to make our hero appear a floating white cloud? Yes. But the ghosts cut a more imposing figure on screen, which is probably not a good thing.

Speaking of the ghosts, I was a little put off by some of the CGI. I mean, thank heaven the ghosts were as stylized as the rest of the film, but perhaps a bit more variation would have sufficed. Neon-red skeletons floating out of pools of clay are creepy, sure, but only when you see them once or twice. After the sixth time, it's a bit less effective. Rather, let's go back to the first scene, where we see an ebony ghost, desiccated and smoking, palpably haunting the little girl's sleep. Much more enticing for me than a parade of bright phantoms floating in the air and pointing to various parts of the house.

Then again, the jump-scares of the ghosts only last a brief time, and it is not long before the real terror of the film introduces itself. Sure, the horror comes from spousal lies, devious plans, and murderous motives, but the terror is far different than I expected. The ghostly pop-outs are creepy, but cannot hold a candle to the surprising brutality that commands the film from the halfway point on. The physical violence, all captured on the screen, is often so surprising and vicious I had to close my eyes more than once. And the blood that ends up spilled is obviously the darker side of the "Crimson Peak" imagery.

It's "The Fall of the House of Usher" meets The Haunting, with a Tim Burton-level flair and a rock-solid aesthetic vision. Can you beat it? Hell no. Chastain's performance during the climax is easily the most terrifying thing I've seen in months. Del Toro's attention to detail and mastery of the genre is unparalleled. I lost myself to this nightmare, and I would gladly do it again.

IMDb: Crimson Peak

Pan (2015)

Score: 1.5 / 5

Between Joe Wright, Hugh Jackman, and pretty cool aesthetic premise, I was looking forward to this film almost as much as Crimson Peak. So what happened?! Pan has to be the worst cinematic disappointment for me in years.

Okay, it's not all bad. Hugh Jackman takes gleeful pleasure in being a pirate, though he's not even on screen very long. And Garrett Hedlund is pretty. And some of the visuals are stunning.

That's it.

I knew we were off to a bad start when the film opened on a Dickensian orphanage run by fat, grumpy old nuns. From there the children are whisked away by pirates in a flying ship to Neverland, but not before causing chaos in the London skies and sailing through a bizarre limbo that would fit into Oz the Great and Powerful (2013) or Alice in Wonderland (2010). But Neverland itself is hardly better, as we see crowds of children laboring under the pirates singing Nirvana and Blackbeard (Jackman) snorting cocaine. I mean fairy dust. Apparently it keeps him looking "young" as long as he grinds it and inhales it regularly, though this important detail is only seen in one brief scene.

The plot is as straightforward as they come. Peter is on a quest to find his mother, who he learns was the great hero of the island natives and lover of the Fairy Prince. Eventually he leads the fairies and natives into victorious battle against Blackbeard and this pirates. Along the way, he befriends Garrett Hedlund as Hook (an odd name, as he as full use of both hands) and Tiger Lily, played by Rooney Mara. I don't really have a problem with the controversial casting of Rooney Mara -- who is to say what the native skin color of a fantasy island population may be? -- though the almost completely whitewashed cast is unfortunate.

What I do have a problem with is the stupidity of the film. The dialogue is inane and made me groan more than once: "The boys are lost, sir." "Then they are lost boys." Or "I lie sometimes. It's called being an adult." Beyond the dialogue, even the plot doesn't flow. Good thing the same body of water that hides enormous crocodiles also provides trippy visions for exposition; it's convenient, though apparently there's no concern about the monsters they escaped only moments before. In one scene, huge vicious birds attack our protagonist, and in another he seeks them out to help fight the pirates. Worst for me, in the climactic battle where Peter is destined to fight and kill Blackbeard, he simply leads the fairies in flying around the ship. He does absolutely no fighting. In fact, the only heroic thing he does in the whole film is fly to save Hook from falling into an abyss.

I could handle the strange production design if it were consistent, but it's not. I could handle steampunk pirates or neon-colored white natives if they fit into a larger aesthetic vision, but they don't. I could handle wild and spectacular CGI sequences if they supported a reasonably intelligent plot, but they don't. I could handle terrible dialogue if the characters were interesting, but they're not. And I could handle awkward camera angles and jerky, illogical editing if anything else in the film worked, but it doesn't! Actually, the really weird thing about the swooping camera shots is that they often happen when there is little or no action going on. Why waste the dynamic shot on scenery? Especially scenery that's mostly computer-generated??

The whole thing is a hodgepodge, big-budget waste of resources that brings nothing new to the imaginative world of Barrie's Peter Pan. Sure, it's not the worst thing to watch with your kids or maybe if you're under the influence. Yes, I might watch it again sometime to try and find something useful in it, or maybe just to enjoy Jackman's maniacal grin and feathered costume. I mean, pirates are my weak spot. Especially when they have a deep voice like Garrett Hedlund.

But do yourself a favor and save your money for a Halloween costume.

IMDb: Pan

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