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

The Shallows (2016)

Score: 4.5 / 5

Just when you think it's safe to go back in the water. Or to another shark movie.

Confession: I don't always care for nature-gone-wild horror, because most direct-to-video releases in the genre are usually trash. They have to meet fairly specific criteria for me to like them. I'd recommend a few, though, especially The Birds (1963) and Rogue (2007), though others are certainly prominently displayed on my shelves! This one exceeds my needs. Don't get me wrong: It's not a perfect shark movie, though it's arguably more perfect than any other I've seen. It's not the best summer blockbusting thriller ever, even probably this year. You'd have to look to Jaws for that kind of thong. ...Er, thing.

What is it about The Shallows? Is it Blake Lively spending most of her time looking sharp in a bikini? That's a hard point to disparage. Is it the fresh, new way of showing danger under the surface in a shark movie? Ain't nothing fresh or new about it, except in the magnificent visual effects and confident cinematography and editing. Is it the excessively violent, bloody thrill brought on by razor teeth and dozens of collateral deaths? Actually this one's pretty damn tame in terms of gore, with one notable exception when Lively stitches herself together with a hook and necklace.

The only problem I had with this movie (besides director Jaume Collet-Serra's lingering gaze on Lively's nether skin) is its rating. It should have gone hard R. No nudity, no language, none of that. I'm talking about just a little more biting, thrashing, visceral terror. This goes safe PG-13, and it subsequently suffers. I don't want gore porn here, but a tad more sizzle would have brought fire to this damp escapade.

And I'm not saying it's not scary. I shrieked a little bit, and I thought twice about getting in the lake afterward. But, frankly, given that it's 2016, I was hoping to see more shark attack and less Lively's fearful face as we hear the shark chomping off camera. Perhaps if we were looking at a better actress convey the horrors of the lagoon, the artsy approach would have paid off. But we're talking about Blake Lively. She surprised me with the role in that, while her emotion is inconsistent, her athleticism is astonishing.

Speaking of artsy, the director's approach to everything except Lively's body is just wonderful. At first, he lures us in with the pretense that the film is another mindless summer escapist thriller aimed at teens, as the second scene looks more like a cell phone advertisement than a movie. Then he wows us with impossibly gorgeous slow-motion shots of surfing in pristine waters. Even late in the film, his awe for the ocean's beauty is so opaque it leads to distraction. And as the final credits begin, the color-warped images of waves and froth remind us more of psychedelic stylizations than a horror film about shark attacks. Similarly, Marco Beltrami definitely overscored the film, but I wouldn't say it's ever abrasive or unwelcome.

For solid summer entertainment, you could do little better. It's fabulously intelligent (not in dialogue, but in pacing, editing, and action). It's got a badass woman hero (though I confess to have rooted for the shark now and again). It doesn't take much thought, it absorbs you with its beauty, and its endlessly entertaining premise proves itself worthy in delivery.

Go on, take a dip.

IMDb: The Shallows

The Conjuring 2 (2016)

Score: 4.5 / 5

There's nothing like doing something so familiar so well.

The real magic here is that James Wan knows his audience so intimately. Few other directors can so precisely hook their audience in the opening shot and keep them dangling until about a minute into the final credit crawl. Especially in horror. Especially in a sequel. Especially when the film is almost two-and-a-half hours long.

When I told people how excited I was that The Conjuring 2 was happening, most of them rolled their eyes. While that didn't deter me in the slightest, I was intrigued when the usual explanation hinted that there was nothing new or fresh about haunted house / possession films, and that lack of novelty informed the disdain.

It's true that the tropes of these subgenres of horror are so familiar as to induce more humor than fear. There are only so many times you can see a cross invert itself, a girl's head spin around, or a demon lunge from the shadows before you know what to expect and lose your frisson. And yet, though I've seen countless such movies (as have many fellow audience members), I still jumped and shrieked at appropriate places, as did the few other couples with me in a matinee showing, and I still had trouble relaxing that evening.

A big part of that is delivery, and whether or not the audience would admit it, the technical aspect of horror filmmaking does impact their appreciation. I saw the first Conjuring with several friends, many of whom don't ordinarily get "scared" in movies, all of whom really enjoyed it and described it as one of the best scary movies in recent memory. Now, I don't know about you, but in retrospect, there's really nothing very novel about that movie at all. It's a totally rote exercise in basic supernatural horror, a hodgepodge of Amityville and Exorcist given over to a director who takes his time building the suspense and dread. The beauty and lasting resonance of that film comes in with that same director, who both reintroduces us to the Horror 101 of solid filmmaking and storytelling in horror pictures, and turns classic tropes on their side to show us that even in familiar narratives, style can be heightened and exaggerated to provoke the appropriate response. Does that make sense? Think of the simplistic genius of the hide-and-clap game; the multiple scenes of this game require no special effects, no gore, no tricks of lighting, and only an old-fashioned master of dread to properly use cameras, mix sounds, and elicit raw fear from his actors.

While this sequel features nothing on par with hide-and-clap, it does do several other things right, which we'll get to presently. I won't deny, though, that it is, first and foremost, a sequel, and reminds us repeatedly of that fact. It's big and noisy, exaggerated and excessive, fast and furious, and not quite "better" than the first. Examples: Here we don't just have one supernatural entity (the witch in #1), we have two (one of which, like Annabelle, will be getting its own spin-off film). Here we don't have one family fighting evil, we have two. Here we don't have one crucifix on a wall turning upside-down, we have about a hundred inexplicably tacked to a bedroom wall that exhibit synchronized spinning. Overkill? Hell yeah.

In fact, I'd compare this film to Insidious: Chapter 2. You know how that one lost a lot of the bleak, monochromatic look of the first film and replaced it with loud, mostly heavily saturated colors and fast-moving images that raced across the screen? In many ways, Conjuring 2 is its soul-sister, revving up the action and the jump-scares with even more striking visuals and shrieking musical crescendos (provided once again by the brilliant Joseph Bishara). Wan's cinematographer, Don Burgess (Enchanted, Spider-Man, and almost all of Robert Zemeckis's films), proves himself wonderfully fitted to the genre and the heavy stylizations of his director, panning slowly across space and time in wonderfully detailed sets to paint a perfect picture of terror.

One of my favorite things about Wan's movies (especially this one, because it's the one I'm thinking of) is his ability to focus our dread and fear into places that are both painfully obvious and chillingly not. His oxymoronic approach to the uncanny, Freud's unheimlich, is masterful, both in his incarnations of evil (his monsters, so to speak) and in his vision of daily life. Consider the demon in Insidious, the mother in Insidious: Chapter 2, even the Jigsaw mask/doll in Saw: almost campy in gaudy colors and thick makeup, but terrifying in obviousness. Consider, too, the vehicular images of fear: an average exorcism where the possessed is covered in a sheet, for example, where what otherwise is ordinary carries the weight of something new, mysterious, and therefore fearsome. Think of the commonplace wardrobe, the closet, or in this movie the tent at the end of the hall. These are in every home, yet here we see them in their chilling glory.

What does all this have to do with Conjuring 2? Everything. This film features similar Wan trademarks, upping the ante on spectacle along with content. The emotional arc of this film is much stronger (Vera Farmiga's Lorraine Warren envisions her husband's untimely death and battles with her faith and doubt), to match the frenzied antics of supernatural entities. The central ghost of this movie, an old man previously inhabiting the house, is repeatedly seen in the chair where he died. During one particularly brilliant scene, as Ed Warren (Patrick Wilson) questions the family's possessed daughter, he has her sit in that chair to more effectively invite and channel the spirit. As the spirit demands, Ed and Lorraine must not look at the girl while she speaks in his voice. Ed turns from her, and the camera focuses sharply on his face in the foreground; in the background, however, we see her blurred figure, and as she begins to speak as the old man, we slowly see her transform into him. It's a painfully slow shot, milking us every second to question what we're seeing and straining our eyes to perceive the hidden horror, and one that perfectly demonstrates Wan's luxurious mastery of his craft.

I'm not saying it's a perfect movie. Some of it was too extravagant for me, some felt forced and artificial. But when a scary movie consistently keeps me on edge for over two hours, along with keeping me engaged and interested, it joins my list of favorites.

IMDb: The Conjuring 2

X-Men: Apocalypse (2016)

Score: 4 / 5

The first X-Men film that actually feels like it's one of the comics. It's excellent.

Jam-packed in its lengthy running time are dynamic action shots, extravagant destruction, vibrant colors, wit and charm, high stakes and higher concepts, and almost nostalgic melodrama. All the makings of blockbuster summer entertainment. Sure, it's not as intelligently written as Days of Future Past, and it doesn't have the heart that film bared, but a game-changing movie like that can only come once in a series. This is a big, blustery, loud and proud follow-up, as it should be, and it owns its own preposterousness. The villain is cliched, the apocalyptic images are all too familiar these days, the plights of our heroes are typical.

And yet, as you can even see from the poster below, it may be the most visually arresting film in its franchise. At every moment, the bland and empty shots of catastrophe and destruction are parried with bright and stylized shots of the outlandish characters in colorful costumes straight out of the comics striking poses and leaping frame to frame as if it were drawn on page. Are you getting my message here? I liked the damn movie.

There's not much more to say. I need to watch it again to get everything -- I confess, at two and a half hours of explosive energy and dizzying effects, my mind began to wander. This film knocks its Quicksilver scene out of the park (again), effectively balances itself between all the players in its vast cast, and beautifully reintroduces several beloveds (notably Storm and Jean).

It's not the most original superhero movie. But it does its thing, and it does it well. Bryan Singer's still got it.

IMDb: X-Men: Apocalypse

Captain America: Civil War (2016)

Score: 5 / 5

Just when I thought Marvel Studios had little left up its sleeve.

It didn't take much screen time for this movie to show me that it would be my favorite MCU film yet. The Russos had done such fabulous work on Winter Soldier that I hardly expected any better, especially from a film that promised so much and threatened so little. I mean, look at the other big-time mash-ups of whole teams of heroes. The third Spider-Man, the third X-Men, the disaster that was Joss Whedon's Age of Ultron. Too much, too fast, too spectacular, and no real script, style, or substance.

But Civil War blows it all away. There's little criticism I can aim at the film, so this isn't going to last long. The camerawork is consistently engaging and thrilling, and edited at an effective and appropriately frenzied pace. The effects are dazzling. The script couldn't be better. The film has a perfect balance of not only both sides of the conflict, but of each individual character in violent action and not. I'm not saying it's a fair fight (let's be honest, here: Rogers is being a whiny and stubborn fool, while Stark is actually doing the right thing for everyone). But I am saying that the film is so perfectly balanced that, apart from the film's title, there's no reason to think it's not a third Avengers movie.

It's got a lot of heart. I cried a li'l bit in Stark's climax. I cried over Peggy Carter. I cried for sweet, sexy Black Panther (who, by the way, I suddenly love. Not really a big fan of him in the comics). It's hilarious, too. Spider-man is finally handled perfectly, and Tom Holland delivers a pitch-perfect introduction as our webslinger and promises boons in his standalone film. Which is saying a lot, considering that half his scenes in this picture include Robert Downey, Jr.'s quick wit and sharp tongue, parried expertly by Holland at every turn.

I have nothing else. That's it. A brilliantly crafted film. Fun, fast, furious, entertaining, and intellectual. It's as close to high art as a superhero movie will ever get.

Captain America: Civil War

The Huntsman: Winter's War (2016)

Score: 4 / 5

A lazy mash-up of plot ideas from its predecessor, The Huntsman: Winter's War brings little new to the table. What it does bring is largely incoherent and shallow. The plot is thinly stitched together in such a way that it is both a prequel and a sequel to Snow White and the Huntsman, but by bringing in new characters, places, and themes, it has little relation to its earlier incarnation. I won't bore you with details of the story -- a bizarre retelling of Hans Christian Andersen's "The Snow Queen" that comes not long enough after Disney's Frozen, with more than a little homage to The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe --but I would like to use this otherwise "bad" movie as an example of what I might consider to be one of the greatest queer fantasy films yet.

Let's start with considering the basic plotlines. Whereas in the first film we saw a heteronormative couple (in the huntsman and Snow White) who never consummated their flirtatious romance (making the film remarkable in its own way), in this film we see a fiercely sexual journey between our hetero protagonists. Chris Hemsworth and Jessica Chastain charm with their sexy Scottish-ness and expert fighting. But they are only half the story. The main plot follows Freya the Ice Queen (Emily Blunt), whose magic powers are unleashed after her child is murdered. She subsequently builds her kingdom by murdering her enemies and amassing an army of abducted children she trains to have hearts as cold as her own.

In most fairytales, our heteroheroes would sex and find their happy ever after in procreation, or the promise of the same. Here, however, we have a first film that ends in (more or less) denied affections, and a second film that relishes in the corruption of youth and innocence, that works specifically because of the loss of one's offspring. Childhood rearing becomes the training of soldiers. While the end of the film -- almost as an afterthought -- puts a stake into a denouement of hetero-affirmation, there is still no chance of procreation due to Chastain's character's sterility, another machination of the Ice Queen's design. These examples throw the film under the shadow of a queer nihilism, where the future holds little to no hope of continuation of our heroes' blood. Their hope is in a carnal and temporal romance with each other.

Still not convinced? Let's look at the real reason we all came to the movie. Charlize Theron reprises her role of Ravenna, this time with less madness and more method. Her delivery is terrifying as she intones her satanic malice, stealing our attention and our hearts (which, we know, she likes to eat) with every glint in her eye. Ravenna's obsession with appearance over substance is no less intense here, where we see that she was the real villain behind her sister's bereavement due to the child being more beautiful than she. Appearance over integrity; style over substance. Ravenna is vanity incarnate, a physical manifestation of camp. It seems here that her death and mysterious resurrection through the golden mirror has somewhat cured her mania (which made her psychologically rounded in the first movie), as she is now purely wicked with no fear or insecurities to balance the scales. Instead, she performs as a two-dimensional snapshot of vice, hungry for our love and praise, demanding to be centerstage in the same throne room where her sister reigns. And through her entire charade, we don't even really care -- perhaps the most telling element that is camp -- because it's all artifice; in fact, we don't even always know that Ravenna is really present in corporal form, much like the mirror's prophetic voice.

Of course, I would be remiss not to mention Colleen Atwood's glorious costumes, the linchpin of my entire argument. Her beautiful, detailed clothes festoon our players with layer upon layer of sparkling excess. Each sequin and gold-tipped feather, each leather bracer glinting with polish, each mote of dusty eye shadow, not to mention the divine hairpieces, speak to the wonder and extravagance of the world displayed before us. If you don't love it, you're wrong. It's the only substantial thing in the movie. (Think about that. The only element of substance and consequence in the entire film is clothing. It's a fantasy action romance, and the only thing that brings frivolous life to the screen is clothing. It's genius.)

I won't spoil the ending. Actually, yes I will. Romantic love conquers, and the sisters are vanquished (the exact opposite of what happens in the far more feminist Frozen). But as the camera pans away from the kingdom, a golden bird flies overhead and lunges at the camera, suggesting that Ravenna's spirit lives on. Like the evil queen antihero of the series, these films may continue to return in various incarnations, each more gorgeous and more hollow than the last. And, frankly, if you're a fan of these films, you're not hoping for anything more than perfect costumes, awesome visual effects, a great score, and deliciously camped performances. Style over substance, my pretties. This is how it works.

IMDb: The Huntsman: Winter's War

The Jungle Book (2016)

Score: 4.5 / 5

If you had told me that yet another adaptation of The Jungle Book would be relevant -- dare I say it, even topical -- I would have laughed at you. But that joke would be on me.

In what I would consider to be this year's Life of Pi, Jon Favreau dishes up a visual feast. A sumptuous, engrossing parade of special effects and CGI from a new age, this film is a breathtaking venture that challenged my understanding of how animation can look, especially concerning anthropomorphic animals. Though they chitchat their way through each scene, often with humor, there were precious few moments in which they feel less than real. I often found myself forgetting to view them as artwork rather than real-life beasts.

Beyond the masterful artistry of the animals themselves, Favreau's team puts no small effort into getting the set pieces, backgrounds, and action sequences perfect. The holistic impression left is one of dazzling realism, one in which the supposedly lifelike mannerisms of animals in The Lion King are forgotten as obsolete. We see giant orangutans tearing apart temples, a pack of wolves attacking a tiger, and a bear contentedly licking honey off a comb, and it never once looks out of place. Some special effects in Batman v Superman (among too many other examples) don't work because there's no weight to the effects, so they feel fantastic and inconsequential. That, or the special effects are clouded by billowing dust and smoke, so half the action is hidden anyway. Not so in this Jungle Book, where the bright Indian sun, dappled on leaves, grass, and water illuminates everything.

Favreau and his team demonstrate a clear control of pacing, thematic content, and balancing the special effects with emotional weight. The cast's performances are stellar, and their delivery is matched by the animation hand-in-paw. I would argue that Favreau has a bit less understanding, however, of his target audience, if he even has one. Almost the entire movie is an intense action/adventure with no small amount of violence and terror, though perhaps tempered with the fantasy elements of talking animals. But whereas some scenes are, I imagine, quite frightening for children, other scenes feature the animals bursting into their classic songs. Noteworthy is Christopher Walken's King Louie singing "I Wanna Be Like You" in his iconic Queens accent; then again, the accents in this movie were all over the damn globe, so don't let's ruffle our feathers yet. Some critics complain that the musical numbers take them out of the film entirely; they didn't upset me, but they certainly show that Favreau is desperate for a good box office result by pleasing the children in turn.

I suppose, thematically, we could talk about environmental awareness, climate change, the threat of pollution, poaching, and the endangered species list. But there is one thematic element I found most intriguing.

I haven't read Kipling's original stories, but I remember not particularly caring for the 1967 animated film. One small reason I didn't care for that adaptation was that, at the end, Mowgli leaves his family and friends to become a man, following a young girl into the man-village. It's sort of the opposite of Peter Pan. There's a lot to be said for a film that suggests that fantasy isn't reality, and that ultimately we must grow up and away from our anthropomorphic youth. But I like that this time around [SPOILER ALERT], Mowgli stays in the jungle rather than going to the village. The final scene is of Mowgli resting in a tree alongside Bagheera and Baloo, enjoying their company in peace with no indication that anything will change. At first, I thought it was a cheap Disney-fied way of making a happy ending where a child can remain in his fantasy world without coming back to reality. But since the movie presents itself as so explicitly realistic the whole time, I suspect there's more at work here. I suspect the ending is a celebration that, in spite of being told time and again by the jungle animals that he is a man and must return to the world of humans, Mowgli declares himself autonomous. Not Shere Khan, not the humans down below, not even Bagheera, but Mowgli alone decides his own identity, independent of labels. He chooses to believe the wolves are his family, the panther and bear his friends, and his life will be lived in their company, in the environment he has always known.

P.S. Don't rush out of the auditorium. The first part of the credits are framed by an animated pop-up book reminiscent of classic Disney films as Walken reprises his song. After that number, another song -- this one not sung during the film itself -- begins to play, featuring Scarlett Johansson's silky voice as Kaa the python. In this film, Kaa is a hungrier, more villainous incarnation than in some adaptations, and her song ("Trust in Me") is sung as a haunting lullaby (not unlike Lana Del Ray's "Once Upon a Dream" in Maleficent). It's a strange way to end a Disney film, but well worth a listen.

IMDb: The Jungle Book

Zootopia (2016)

Score: 5 / 5

Zootopia is one of those fabulous examples of Disney at its best. Its walking, talking animals aren't wallowing in sentiment. Its themes are arrestingly topical. Its entrancing animation is a feast to the eye and mind, creative and distracting in all the best ways.

Most important for me is the film's emphasis on female characters and especially the hero. Judy Hopps (voiced by Once Upon a Time star Ginnifer Goodwin) is a fierce, career-driven little rabbit whose ambitions and passion are larger than an elephant. She fights her way up a male-dominated (and large-animal dominated) police academy, and not unlike Clarice Starling, is then forced to combat daily doses of prejudice and endure species- and gender-based conflict. But her will to serve manifests itself in an infectious optimism, providing her with opportunities to grow and to shine, all while rendering the trope of finding a romantic attachment unnecessary: She's too busy helping others to worry about that.

Meanwhile, also like Clarice, she makes allies with a most unlikely figure: a con artist fox named Nick Wilde (voiced by Jason Bateman), whose carnivorous (read: cannibalistic) nature is occasionally called into suspicion. Their working relationship begins after he tricks Hopps into helping him make an extra buck, and she subsequently blackmails Nick into helping her find a missing otter. Their investigation leads to a murky side of Zootopia and a sinister plot to make carnivorous animals revert to their violent, bloodthirsty nature. This plot, furthered by mysterious members of the mayor's office, is as timely as it is clever, pulling together various film references and real-life humor to showcase governmental corruption -- fueled by bigotry and injustice -- at the center of our "civilized" culture.

The other main thing that endeared this movie to my heart is that it demonstrates a complex reality too often ignored in Disney films. The film's turning point comes when Hopps, in a press conference, suggests the biological inevitability of predators reverting to savagery. This is the bunny who has overcome obstacles of prejudice and bigotry her whole life, who has come into a diverse world with the sole intention of shattering systems of injustice. And now, in a few seconds, she suggests that the oldest, most primal stereotypes of her world are in fact true, and that the harmonious civilization built on mutuality and autonomy is as fragile and unnatural as a rabbit befriending a fox.

Of course, all ends well, as these films do. As it should, I might add, in order to reclaim the film's central themes of kindness, love, and cooperation in times of hatred, fear, and bigotry, and ultimately of the beauty of diversity. And there are so many contemporary references that the film feels a little overbearing at times (not unlike the allegorical and symbolic layers to the musical Into the Woods). The cleverness of its delivery, though, is that it will bring to mind various elements of our own cultural conflicts at a given time. It highlights gender-based inequalities and issues of classism and ableism. It dares us to consider sexual and political and even religious differences. Perhaps most overtly, it has us question our prejudices based on race. "Go back to the forest, predator!" shouts a fearful sheep [correction: pig] when the Zootopians turn on the carnivores; in reply the annoyed cheetah intones, "I'm from the savannah."

The allegory is far from absolute; it seems to invite layers of consideration as vast and diverse as the city depicted. And that is its crowning glory. By Shakira's final song celebrating tolerance and bravery, you'll be weeping and dancing in your seat as I was. Thankfully, the children seated around me were too. So it wasn't weird.

IMDb: Zootopia

Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice (2016)

Score: 2.5 / 5

Maybe it's because I'm not much of a DC fan. Maybe it's because I don't particularly like Zack Snyder or Jesse Eisenberg. I hesitated even putting my thoughts into words because so many of my friends liked or hated this movie. And I can't get down on them for it, because I have my weak spots too.

I'll make this short and sweet: Batman v Superman didn't do overmuch for me. It's an operatic, grandiose vision of iconic heroes declaring themselves and decrying the other. In that way, it's appropriate to our current political field. But whereas our candidates are flinging mud and hoping to sound crazier than the others to raise social media buzz, these two hunks are slinging punches and buildings at each other. More collateral damage? You tell me.

What comes from the two-and-a-half hours of almost incoherent plot points and exposition is a ludicrous amount of animated effects that ultimately feel cheap and unnecessary. The smoke and mirrors are just that. The final half hour is particularly stupid, because after the titular drama finally reaches a climax, a bizarre monster pops in to make our heroes join forces to save the wasted city. And finally Gal Gadot appears as a glorious Wonder Woman. But by that time, I almost didn't care because my ass was falling asleep.

I'm not criticizing Henry Cavill or Ben Affleck. I thought they were both fine. I especially liked the suave sort of sophistication Affleck brought to Batman; it was something I haven't seen before, which I'm all about. Jeremy Irons and Laurence Fishburne should have been featured more, and Holly Hunter was wonderful. Really with a cast like this, you can't complain much, and they all seem to be properly moody. Jesse Eisenberg's antics were enough to thoroughly annoy, though, but what else is new?

What else can I say? Will I watch it again? Sure. But I'd rather spend my time digging into the Marvel universe. At least those films have a sense of clarity (well, besides the Ultron issues). And, more important, they're fun. They don't weigh themselves down will silly thematic bull about gods and men until they actually show us those things, and then they poke fun or kick some ass. I guess if I'm going to watch a superhero action movie, I'd rather watch one like that. That said, there's a time and place for brooding superheroes doing dark and morally ambiguous things, and this is it.

**ADDENDUM**

Having now seen the Extended Edition on Blu-Ray, I can definitively say I thoroughly enjoyed this movie. It's still very dark, non-action-heavy (until the climax), and filled with complex characters and plotlines. But whereas the theatrical cut was borderline incoherent, now the drastic shifts and obvious plot holes have been smoothed over. I almost never felt ripped from a scene by forced editing or clumsy dialogue. This edition would cause me to re-score this movie as a 4.5 / 5.

IMDb: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice

Goodnight Mommy (2014)

Score: 4.5 / 5

I suppose everyone has his or her limits when it comes to horror movies. Two of my most intimate friends draw the lines at burning bodies and vampires. I have been trying to pinpoint my own lately, and I think that last night I found it.

Goodnight Mommy is a fine film. It's brilliant technically, and it harnesses a special kind of dread I found intoxicating. Soon after their mother returns from cosmetic surgery with a bandaged face, twin brothers Elias and Lukas (played by real brothers with the same names) begin to suspect that her strange behavior belies a darker secret. As their suspicion evolves to outright fear, they take drastic measures to protect themselves and determine her true identity.

It's a cold, calculated film that takes nothing for granted and quickly gives in to its darker interests. The film is clean and bright, with distinct images and an almost sanitary feel. The house is bare and smooth, obviously owned by someone with wealth and style, and full of the niceties of urban life, though the house itself is isolated in the countryside. There is almost no score, which adds to the realism and the stark atmosphere of silence and dread. You might say it's a sophisticated thriller, one whose horror finds a niche in sharp modern decor (not unlike Ex Machina, remember?), and you wouldn't be wrong.

But it's also a particularly violent film, and for that reason I left it feeling deeply disturbed. Not unlike, I suppose, the horrors of Sinister or even Hard Candy, this movie does not shy away from its bloody violence and indeed toys with justifying itself. We have child endangerment, home invasion, mental illness, and body horror all wrapped up into one. I think that what specifically sends me over the edge is realistic torture, and -- Lo, and Behold -- that's in here too. I don't want to spoil anything, but the second half of the film was really hard for me to watch. Granted, I haven't seen the Saw sequels or the Hostel pictures, but this kind of violence is different for me than the splatter-tastic squeal-and-giggle gore of Tim Burton's Sweeney Todd or the Evil Dead franchise. I can handle those. This is real, unflinching and vicious, and pure torturous torture. It hurts to watch; and then to have the relationship involved be mother-and-young-sons is almost too much for me to stomach.

Goodnight Mommy is anything but unpredictable, but even knowing the final reveal will do little to relieve the horrors we see leading up to it.

IMDb: Goodnight Mommy