Category: Genre

MURDER ON THE ORIENT EXPRESS (1974)

By Marc S. Sanders

When considering Sidney Lumet’s admirable body of work, many would likely connect him with covering corruption within police precincts and the legal jargon of courtrooms.  Fortunately, on occasion, he experimented outside of those genres, and we are all the better cinematic viewers because we were treated to an all-star cast, devouring up the scenery in an adaptation of Agatha Christie’s celebrated mystery Murder On The Orient Express.

Lumet abandons his penchant for the metropolitan jungles of conflicted souls and high stakes drama to offer up a deliciously fun who done it, with Albert Finney gleefully playing the oddball, mustached Belgian (not French) detective, Hercule Poirot.  Despite a cast that features Sean Connery, Lauren Bacall, Jacqueline Bisset, Vanessa Redgrave, Martin Balsam, Richard Widmark, Michael York, John Gielgud, Anthony Perkins, and an Oscar winning performance from Ingrid Bergman, it is Albert Finney who makes the film wonderfully delightful.  His stature that seemingly hides his neck within his stout torso, along with a shoe polished, flattened hairstyle and a thick, echoing dialect tempo are an absolute combination of pleasure.  He makes the glossary of Tim Burton’s bizarre characters seem rather straightlaced.

He’s strange, but funny.  Before the expected murder gets underway, we observe an unrecognizable Finney performing Poirot’s nightly routines, including applying cream to his hands and unique mustache, as well as donning a kind of strap beneath his nose to keep his signature trait in its proper shape.  Batman maintains care of his cowl.  This crime fighter must preserve his facial hair.  It’s completely normal for Hercule.  While these mundane tasks of his are executed, the great inspector is also alert to several rumblings and bustles going on in the nearby cabins aboard the famous train in the title. Lumet ensures we see how smart and observant Mr. Finney chooses to portray Poirot; unique, and instinctively wise without limits.

An impolite and bossy man named Ratchett (Widmark) is discovered dead with multiple stab wounds to the chest.  It doesn’t make much sense considering the other passengers should all be complete strangers to one another.  Or are they?  Each one has an alibi, and their respective personalities couldn’t be more different.  Who would have the motive to kill a stranger aboard a moving train?

There appear to be twelve suspects for Poirot to consider.  That’s quite a list.  The standouts for me include Bergman, Bacall, and Perkins, but Lumet allows at least a scene or two for each celebrated actor to shine.

Ingrid Bergman dresses down to portray a shy, nervous, homely Swedish woman.  Sidney Lumet knows to back off on directing inventions when working with talent of such magnitude.  In one uncut take, Bergman controls an interrogation scene with Poirot and the camera stays fixed on her never diverting away and very subtly tracking behind Finney to stay with the actress’ nervous portrayal and expression.  The question is, should we trust this person? If Ingrid Bergman is putting on a façade, she’s awfully good at it.

Lauren Bacall carries such a strength on screen.  She walks with square shoulders and utter confidence that makes it seem like she’ll be impenetrable to Poirot’s inquiries.  Bacall’s booming signature voice would make me back down at any given moment.  She commands the supporting cast and appears to defy intimidation.

This film was made fourteen years after Psycho and yet Anthony Perkins portrays Mr. McQueen, a secretary of the murder victim, with youthful naïveté.  His stutter is perfectly timed and authentic, and he’s got body language that flails from one direction to the next when put to the test, not just by scenes he shares with Albert Finney, but anyone else in the cast as well.  His character is clearly unrelaxed.

I decided to watch this picture for reference.  In September of this year, I will be portraying Hercule Poirot in a stage adaptation of Agatha Christie’s story, written by Ken Ludwig.  My colleague Miguel Rodriguez is in the production as well, occupying Martin Balsam’s role.  They’re brilliant with magnificent energy by the way; Balsam and Rodriguez.  I had to watch Lumet’s film twice to appreciate the gleeful nuances he offers with this celebrated cast, including the actual train which serves as not only a claustrophobic setting but a character as well, stuck in a snowdrift, trapping the guilty party with no means to escape.  The dialogue flies fast and many of the various accents (Belgian, Russian, Scottish, Italian, Swedish, Hungarian) are challenging to decipher on a first watch, particularly Finney’s performance.

On a second watch, I was more wide-eyed to the detective’s behavior and how he breaks down a suspect during an interrogation.  No two interviews of suspects are even remotely similar.  Finney alters his way of approaching a scene partner each time.  I’ll credit the screenplay’s dialogue from Paul Dehn for that achievement as well. 

When a cabin door is opened to reveal the deceased victim, Finney’s odd mannerisms drastically change as he enters the room knowing what to say and look for immediately.  Sidney Lumet characteristically will position his camera pointing up at his actors, so the audience is the perspective of the subject being looked upon.  Albert Finney is gifted a wide scope within a narrow quarter to react as the famed detective.  This filming technique was an inspired choice by the director. Hercule Poirot is built up to be the foremost detective and now we see him demonstrating his specialty for examining a crime scene, and thus where to begin with his examination.  Albert Finney received an Oscar nomination for this role and it’s because of the skills he orchestrates under a guise of heavy makeup with a thick incomprehensible dialect.  All are meant to be taken as winning compliments from me.

The art design of the train is breathtaking.  The exteriors are magnificent too, particularly the train station located in Istanbul where the Turkish merchants crowd each cast member as they enter the film for the first time ready to board the Orient Express.  In one spot, a steward is inspecting the food cargo.  Another area has a merchant spilling over a carriage of oranges.  Locals crowd Bacall, Bissett and York with trinkets to buy.  Lumet captures the whole exotic tapestry.

Richard Rodney Bennett’s musical score is unforgettable.  A sweeping, romantically uplifting waltz accompanies the locomotive’s ongoing trajectory.  Then it gets more brooding when the journey comes to an unexpected halt in a chilling snowdrift, with the thought of a dangerous killer nearby.

Sidney Lumet is to be applauded for stepping back to allow his who’s who of legendary cast members play with Agatha Christie’s famous mystery.  He’s done this on other occasions including his outstanding cast in Network and Paul Newman’s career best performance in The Verdict. 

Those who are not familiar with the Agatha Christie’s tale are fortunate to experience the wonderfully twisted ending that serves the story’s continued appreciation.  Lumet deserves credit for the final touch though.  It’s not often that a film boasts such a collected caliber of talent together.  So, the best way to cap it off is with a charmingly giddy champagne toast.  It’s Sidney Lumet’s perfect little garnish to wrap one of greatest literary mysteries to ever be published and adapted for the stage and screen.

THE BIG CLOCK (1948)

by Miguel E. Rodriguez

DIRECTOR: John Farrow
CAST: Ray Milland, Charles Laughton, Maureen O’Sullivan, George Macready, Elsa Lanchester, Harry Morgan
MY RATING: 10/10
ROTTEN TOMATOMETER: 100%

PLOT: A harried magazine editor finds himself in the unique position of trying to track down the person who murdered his boss’s mistress…when all the clues lead back to him.


I have been a fan of 1987’s No Way Out since first seeing it on cable umpteen years ago.  The marvelous twists and turns in the script – yes, including that improbable ending – kept me guessing from the moment of the murder to the final pull-away shot.  Having seen it multiple times, I always noted the fact that it was based on a book with an odd title: The Big Clock.  Since No Way Out takes place mostly at the Pentagon, I always wondered what the story has to do with a clock, but I wasn’t motivated enough to track down the book, so I just let it go.

Imagine my surprise when years later, I discovered that No Way Out is not just based on a BOOK called The Big Clock, it’s also a reboot of an earlier film-noir from 1948, also called The Big Clock.  For years I had never been able to track down an affordable copy of the movie until recently.  I just finished watching it a couple of days ago, and wow.  It has all the snappy pacing of a Howard Hawks screwball comedy, the witty dialogue of a Thin Man film, and the coiling suspense of Hitchcock at the height of his powers.  The Big Clock is a forgotten film that deserves to be rediscovered by the public.

The story opens in typical noir fashion with our hero, George Stroud (the dour-but-likable Ray Milland) avoiding security guards before hiding inside a giant mechanical clock located in the lobby of the office building where he works.  His voice-over narration wonders how he got into this mess and tries to figure out where it all began…and we’re on our way.  So far, pretty stereotypical, not very promising.  But once the prologue ends, the surprises start rolling in.

George’s boss is Earl Janoth (Charles Laughton), a clock-watching, penny-pinching tyrant who doesn’t hesitate to fire an employee who leaves a light on in a broom closet, for example.  George is the editor of a magazine called Crimeways, one of many magazines in Janoth’s publishing empire.  Crimeways specializes in investigative reporting like tracking down murder suspects, allegedly to assist law enforcement, but mostly so they can publish attention-grabbing headlines about captured criminals to boost circulation.

Through a series of events too circuitous to list here, George winds up missing a very important train (he was supposed to finally give his wife a long-delayed honeymoon) and spends a drunken night carousing with Pauline York (Rita Johnson), a blonde bombshell who also happens to be Janoth’s mistress.  He winds up passing out on her couch at her apartment (having NOT slept with her, mind you), but is forced to skedaddle when Janoth unexpectedly shows up.  Janoth catches a glimpse of George in the hallway but cannot see his face.  When Janoth confronts Pauline, things get heated, and Pauline winds up dead.  Instead of going to the police, Janoth confides in his second-in-command, Steve Hagen (George Macready, whom you may or may not remember as the slimy general in Paths of Glory [1957] who charges three men with treason for not following a suicidal order).  Hagen returns to the scene of the crime, “amends” the crime scene, and comes up with a brilliant plan: use the magazine’s considerable resources to track down the mystery man Janoth saw outside Pauline’s apartment.

And who better to lead the investigation than George himself, whose investigative skills are second to none?

There is a delightful thrill of suspense when George receives his assignment and realizes that he cannot reveal the truth of his whereabouts without implicating himself, but he is compelled to lead the investigation as thoroughly as possible.  There is an amusing but highly-charged moment when an investigator reaches a witness on the phone and starts dictating the suspect’s vital features…and they match George almost to a T.

The beauty of the film is the head-fake.  We are shown the details of the drunken night George spend with the dead woman, but we are never tipped off that what we’re watching will eventually come back to haunt him.  Green mint martinis.  The hunt for a green clock.  A sundial.  An antique painting.  An eccentric painter.  A radio actor.  All disparate elements that are almost thrown away while they’re happening, but all of which come back to neatly bite George in the ass at just the wrong moments.

I cannot stress enough how ingeniously the screenplay is constructed.  One of the greatest joys of watching The Big Clock is admiring how airtight it is, how George is forced to fly by the seat of his pants from one moment to the next, putting on a show of doing his job while simultaneously trying to find a way to sabotage the investigation without showing his hand in any way.  I won’t give away how he manages this high-wire act, but it’s brilliant screenwriting.

Eventually, the building gets locked down with George still inside and two or more witnesses who can identify him prowling the hallways, including one who is drawing a sketch of his face.  At this point, even though I’ve seen No Way Out many times, I was 100% sucked into the story: “How can this guy possibly get out of this?”  The answers will be just as unexpected to you as they were to me.

(I should mention a small role played by an impossibly young Harry Morgan.  It’s one of the most sinister performances by a mute character that I’ve ever seen.  One shot in particular feels out of time, like it was shot in a movie from the ‘60s or ‘70s.  Creepy stuff.)

The Big Clock deserves a place among the great noirs like The Maltese Falcon, Out of the Past, and The Big Sleep.  It’s filled with great performances, the visuals are suitably moody and shadowy when necessary, and the plotting is impeccable.  What more can you ask from a great film noir?

HAUNTED MANSION (2023)

by Miguel E. Rodriguez

DIRECTOR: Justin Simien
CAST: LaKeith Stanfield, Rosario Dawson, Owen Wilson, Tiffany Haddish, Danny DeVito, Jamie Lee Curtis, Jared Leto
MY RATING: 6/10
ROTTEN TOMATOMETER: 40%

PLOT: A single mom in New Orleans hires a grieving tour guide, a dubious psychic, a shady priest, and an unhinged historian to help exorcise her newly bought mansion after discovering it is inhabited by ghosts.


Writing even a mildly negative review of Disney’s Haunted Mansion feels a little like hitting “dislike” on a picture of a 3-legged puppy.  The puppy is just being a puppy.  It doesn’t know or care that it’s missing a leg.  It just is what it is.

So it goes with this new attempt at a movie based on a popular Disney ride.  It’s chock-a-block full of inside jokes and references to the ride, some in plain sight, some tucked away in the corners of the screen.  As a fan of the ride at the Magic Kingdom in Orlando (I’ve never been to the Disney parks in Anaheim), I enjoyed these little Easter eggs.  Truthfully…I enjoyed them a lot.  I especially liked the chair shaped like a Doom Buggy, and the room that stretches, and the hitchhiking ghosts, and on and on.  This movie is basically Ready Player One revolving around just one IP instead of hundreds of them.  (That’s “Intellectual Property” for all you non-nerds out there.)

But aside from all the cool references, there’s not much else to recommend, especially not for those few poor souls who are not as thoroughly familiar with the Disney ride as I and many others are.  For those people, I would imagine Haunted Mansion plays a little bit like a de-fanged version of the original Jumanji [1995] or Jon Favreau’s criminally under-appreciated Zathura [2005].  There’s a heart-tugging sub-plot about the grieving tour guide, Ben, played by LaKeith Stanfield.  (Stanfield deserves recognition for playing the absurd material absolutely straight, even pulling out the emotional stops for a touching moment as he describes his late wife, in a scene that features an absolute scene-stealing button from Danny DeVito.)  Travis, son of single mom Gabbie (Rosario Dawson), has problems with bullies at school, even when he isn’t troubled by the ghosts who have latched onto him like lice.  Then there’s the issue of who all the resident ghosts are REALLY afraid of, a big-bad known only as the hatbox ghost (Jared Leto).

(I was reminded here of Peter Jackson’s The Frighteners [1996] in which a host of ghosts were terrified of a being that can actually kill a ghost.)

The movie has all the requisite creepy hallways and creaking doors and one or two jump-scares, but everything is done so tongue-and-cheek that it’s never truly horrifying…which was, I’m sure, the aim of the filmmakers.  Certainly you don’t want to make a film, based on a theme park ride, as scary as The Exorcist.  So, to that end, the filmmakers succeeded.  The movie is harmless, even a little fun at times, Owen Wilson gets to deliver some of his trademark dry observations, and DeVito gets to play some notes that I haven’t seen him play in a very long time.  If pressed, I would be forced to conclude that, for non-fans of the ride, this movie would most likely be a bit of a slog.

…but it is cute, despite missing that one leg.

OPPENHEIMER

By Marc S. Sanders

Christopher Nolan is one of the modern-day directors that you can rely on for brainy science fiction whether they are in embedded in dream subconsciousness, intergalactic space travel, transcendences of time, or even putting a fresh polish on a favorite superhero.  With Oppenheimer, he triumphs with exploring the actual prophets of science in the twentieth century, particularly its title character J Robert Oppenheimer, the brilliant physicist played convincingly well by Cillian Murphy.  Nolan doesn’t just stop at the assembly and discovery of science though.  He uncovers the consequences of Oppenheimer’s innovation and genius insight.  Dr. Oppenheimer might have been the man who knew too much and arguably that cost him quite a bit, personally.  Additionally, the so-called lab rat of his atomic bomb, namely the planet Earth, suffered the expense of a, at the time, troubling present day, and a still ongoing future. 

This movie seems to start right in the middle of its story and as a viewer you need to claw your way through the dense foliage to find its beginnings and what comes afterwards.  The first two scenes of the movie are titled “Fission” and “Fusion.”  There are no time periods specified by a font caption, however.  The differences in various points in history are distinguished by where J Robert Oppenheimer is located during select points in his life.  For seconds at a time, the film will change its photography from vibrant color to black and white, for example.  The characters will either look more aged with grey hair and some wrinkles or during more youthful time in their lives.  At one point Oppenheimer is being recruited by Lewis Strauss (Robert Downey, Jr) to head the department of a new kind of weapon development.  Work the science to make a difference.  There’s another time period where he’s being interrogated in a small room by a governmental suit and tie committee.  Oppenheimer is also in his classroom or debating and working with colleagues.  Another story observes his progress with building the atomic bomb among a collection of other engineers and scientists in a desert town, Los Alamos, specifically built at his own request, under the order of the nothing but militant Colonel Leslie Groves (Matt Damon), to conduct his work and research while hiding in plain sight. 

The film also covers Oppenheimer’s association with possible suspects of the Communist Party during the stressful pre-cold war era of McCarthyism.  Questions arise if his reliable brother Frank (Dylan Arnold) is a communist or even his mistress (Florence Pugh).  Does that in turn make Oppenheimer a communist as well?  If that is the case is J Robert Oppenheimer, the man tasked with ultimately ending World War II in favor of the Allies, sharing secrets with Russia and/or the Communist Party?

Nolan’s film gets easier to watch as it moves along, but you must get used to his pattern of filmmaking.  If you have never seen a Christopher Nolan film, I do not recommend you start with Oppenheimer.  His work is recognized for fast paced edits of different time periods and conversations.  There is much information to decipher. As well, there’s a very large collection of welcome characters to sort through, who worked with or against Oppenheimer.  Having only seen it once, I was captivated with the picture, but I know that I need to see it again.  The quick edits, working beautifully against the soundtrack orchestrations of Ludwig Göransson (nominate him for an Oscar, please), happen a mile a minute.  I appreciated this method because it enhanced the urgency of Dr. Oppenheimer in the eyes of the world, first as the savior of the united Allies against the last remaining superpower of the Axis countries, Japan. Then later focus is on whether it is in the United States’ best interests for the regarded physicist to have security access to the country’s most secret weapons and technological progress in a post war age.

People have been cajoling about how they know the ending to Oppenheimer.  They drop the bomb, of course!  (Twice actually.)  However, they do not know the entire story adaptation that Christopher Nolan as director and screenwriter presents. 

Cillian Murphy is perfectly cast. Give him an Oscar nomination.  He serves the confident, assured scientific leader who becomes envious of competing powers who achieve the impossible, like splitting the atom, while also admiring peers and mentors like Niels Bohr and Albert Einstein (Kenneth Branagh, Tom Conti).  All these men are interested only in what can be accomplished.  The superpowers that fight in war, though, are interested in how these accomplishments of modern science can be used to their advantage at a cost of collateral damage.  It is these conflicts of interests that Nolan admirably demonstrates over the course of the film. 

A telling scene for me, that I won’t forget, is when Robert Oppenheimer meets Harry Truman (Gary Oldman, doing an unforgettable cameo).  As the physicist exits the Oval Office, having shared his concerns and scruples with the Commander in Chief, Nolan includes a throwaway line delivered by the President, that I won’t soon forget.  It will not be spoiled, here.  Yet, the dialogue speaks volumes of what the United States held important regarding the servants who did the country’s bidding.  The scene closes like a stab in the heart, and suddenly science is no longer just facts within our planet.  Science is now questioned on whether it should ever be acted upon. Those questions certainly have remained as long as I’ve been alive to read about our never-ending world climate.  These inquiries will be here for many generations after I’m gone as well; that is if men and women’s recklessness with science doesn’t destroy the Earth before then.  At one point, Oppenheimer shares a small fraction of possibility for the end of the world when they activate and test their first atomic bomb. Matt Damon’s Colonel Groves’ asks for a reiteration of that observation.  Is this finding worth even the smallest, most minute risk?

Emily Blunt portrays Kitty Oppenheimer.  She’s marvelous as a lonely alcoholic wife to Robert, and a mother minding a home built in the desert while her husband serves an important purpose.  I didn’t take to her presence in the film until her grand moment arrives during an interrogation scene.  As the character gives her testimony regarding Oppenheimer’s communist ties, Blunt locks herself in for a wealth of awards in late 2023/early 2024.  Once you’ve watched the movie, you’ll likely know which scene I’m referring to and you can bet it’ll be that sample clip shown on all the awards programs.  This might not be Blunt’s best role, because it is rather limited within crux of the film, but I’d argue it is her greatest scene on film that I can remember.

Oppenheimer is a three-hour film, and it demands its running time.  There are so many angles to the man that few really know about.  Many know it was he who instrumentally built the atomic bomb that to date has only been used twice within a period of four days.  Thankfully never since.  Nolan emphasizes how unaware we are of how carefree the doctor’s government supervisors performed with the weapon he agreed to build.  Don’t just drop the bomb once.  Send a message to Japan by dropping it twice so they know to no longer engage in this ongoing war.  Choose the area where an army/government official didn’t honeymoon though.  It’s too beautiful a region.  Tens of thousands of men, women and child civilians perished immediately following the strikes.  Many others died weeks later following exposure to the nuclear effects that followed.  All issued as a horrifying cost to end a war that was already being won now that Hitler was dead.

Mechanically, Christopher Nolan does not disappoint either.  I watched Oppenheimer in a Dolby theater and I highly recommend it over a traditional one.  However, beware of the sound.  It is a LOUD!!!!!  Your seat will rattle early in the film when Cillian Murphy is shown in close up imagining the collision of atoms, protons, and neutrons.  How a star naturally dies in space runs through Oppenheimer’s consciousness as well, and then we see how a black hole forms.  Nolan offers a Cliff’s Notes edit of science doing its job.  Murphy performs so well when he’s not speaking and cut against the quick edits of Nolan’s visual and sound effects of science at play.  It shows how an educated scientist thinks beyond what is documented on a chalkboard or in a textbook.  J Robert Oppenheimer used to teach about the building blocks and natural destruction that occurs within the universe.  Regrettably, what he learned about natural function soon becomes manufactured capability when the professor accepts the task of building scientific destruction with his bare hands. Man stole fire from the Gods.

Oppenheimer is so dense in the scope of science and the scientist behind it.  That’s a huge compliment.  It’s an engaging film with much to tell, and a lot more to think about afterwards.  It accomplishes what the best movies do.  It leaves you thinking long after the film has ended.  More importantly, it’ll leave you frightened for the future based on the behavior of this planet’s past. 

Oppenheimer is one of the best films of the year.

BARBIE

By Marc S. Sanders

Having just returned from donning my pink t-shirt to watch Greta Gerwig’s box office smash Barbie, I am certainly relieved that I watched the film with my wife.  Just when I thought I understood everything I was watching in the movie, my better half explained to me that my perception was wrong.  Yet, I still believe Barbie was a magnificent experience that allowed me to reminisce about my pre-teen years occupied with my favorite toys (Kenner’s Star Wars figures and playsets).  I applaud this film for going even deeper than that though.  Barbie reflects on the patterns between men and women primarily in the fields of career, objectivity, and social stature.  As pink as the film is, and it is pinker than a truck load of Pepto Bismol, it is also observant and telling.

Someone commented on a Facebook post when I announced that I was seeing the film that Barbie is a “woke” movie.  I am so sick of that term, honestly, and it has nothing to do with which side of the political aisle I sit on, because I no longer sit on any side.  While watching Margot Robbie as the main “Barbie” of a whole community of “Barbies” in Barbie Land, I never recognized said “wokeness.”  Only afterwards did my wife have to explain where it likely exists within the film.  I still don’t think it’s a fair observation though.  Barbie and Ken dolls, Skipper and even the pregnant Midge doll and the lonely Allan doll and all their accessories are marketed by Mattel to a demographic for young girls.  Greta Gerwig’s script though questions what could threaten a Barbie Land.  Frankly, the only thing imaginable (besides opening the film on the same day as a biographical film about the man who invented the atomic bomb), is if the world of Barbie was no longer Barbie & Ken, but rather Ken & Barbie and a male dominated finish conquered Barbie Land following Ken (Ryan Gosling) reading up on some books about horses and machoism.  Very inventive, as well as comedically endearing to watch how Barbie and all the other Barbies undo what’s been done by Ken and all the other Ken variations.

A second storyline is really what rang true to me.  America Ferrara portrays Gloria, a mother in the Real World who has lost a bond with her daughter Sasha played by Arianna Greenblatt. Sasha has long outgrown spending time with Gloria and playing with Barbies together.  Sasha is a typical moody teenager.  This is crushing to Gloria and real-world thoughts enter the mother’s mind by the will of nature, including the uncertainty of death and even worse…cellulite.  Barbie (Margot Robbie) realizes the effect it has on her and with guidance from Weird Barbie (Kate McKinnon) embarks on a journey to the Real World to right what is wrong with the girl who plays with her.  Barbie is in for a surprise though. 

One day I will weave into one of my original plays about the time I showed my father my brand-new Star Wars TIE Fighter ship.  I demonstrated for him how the wings pop off.  His response was an artificial “Oh wow!” and then a return to his dinner with further discussion about his workday.  At six years old, I could even identify how uninterested he was.  This moment from so many years ago came back to me as I observed Ferrara’s emptiness.  The mother has lost her daughter, the same way my young self lost my father. 

Toys can draw out nurturing emotions of happiness, and perhaps disappointments, when we are young and imaginative.  As adults, a desire for a recapture of youth can blossom.  My generation yearns for the toys they played with and are even willing to pay enormous amounts of money for that tangible memory with what are now considered antiques.  Toys have always been a part of my life.  I was never an athlete.  I got much more pleasure out of playing with my action figures and my made-up car chases and shootouts in my bedroom. 

Gerwig’s script, co-written with Noah Baumbach, is quite intuitive.  Barbie and Ken (Robbie, along with wonderfully sweet and naïve Ryan Gosling) try to perfect what is imperfect about themselves and end up making things drastically worse for their respective existence within the Barbie World.  Barbie may fear bad breath and try to escape death, but how will that affect the pink, plastic world she stems from?  Ken tries to learn more from the Real World to enhance his noticeability with Barbie and deal with his insecurities against the other theatrical Kens he exists with. Does learning change Ken into a better version of himself, though?  Experience and exposure to foreign situations are necessary to enhance oneself but go a little too far and it might become a reminder to be careful what you wish for.

Mattel is even spoofed by means of Will Farrell and his posse of dark suit executives and the office’s grey cubicles representing white collar corporate America.  What Barbie and Ken have unleashed could have drastic consequences on the commodity of their bestselling dolls and playsets.  Honestly, I was waiting for an appearance by He-Man to enter the fold.  How would this carry over to the Masters Of The Universe??????

Barbie is more complex than the cheerful advertisements, the toy brand or even the bubbly appearances from Robbie, Gosling, McKinnon and the rest of the cast may appear to be. I’ve already heard it described as strange, and definitely not a movie for kids.  There’s a reason it is PG-13.  Mature themes are at play amid the sunniness of President Barbie, Astronaut Barbie, Supreme Court Justice Barbie, Mermaid Ken and Beach Ken.  Greta Gerwig didn’t want to settle for a just a happy go lucky fantasy.  The Barbie doll has existed for over fifty years and by now, nearly a quarter of the way into a new century, she better serve more purpose than a perfect smile, arched feet, and cheerful shades of pinks and yellows.  Gerwig sought to uncover the role Barbie has for girls and women at age 5, 8, 15, 30, 50 and on and on. 

I must recognize some of the attractions contained in the picture.  An inspired opening of the film had me rolling as Barbie answered the call of Stanley Kubrick’s classic 2001: A Space Odyssey.  (Makes me sad that I was the only one laughing in a full theater.)  Gerwig also took wise advantage of the multitalented Gosling with a collection of musical song and dance numbers.  I never really cared for the song “Push” by Matchbox Twenty, until Ryan Gosling and his Ken mates applied it as a substitute to Robbie’s Barbie and her Barbie gals’ adoration for “Closer To Fine” by the Indigo Girls.  Gosling puts such energy into his performance.  He’s certainly the go-to actor for musical films like Barbie and La La Land.  Those days on The Mickey Mouse Club truly paid off.

Barbie is a vibrant and very smart film.  I’m just not sure everyone will respond to it like I did.  It is no surprise that moviegoers resent that it is not catered for young children or that there’s an oddness to some of the stories.  You may not care for it.  Who knows?  Maybe you’ll find it to be “woke,” but I hope you’d look deeper than that.  I appreciate it on a personal level however, remembering back to my time as a kid with a toy or two that were more than just pieces of molded plastic.  Rather, my Boba Fett and Han Solo figures were often the best friends to spend time with and it’s only sad that dad may have missed out on what was truly special for his son. Still, even Barbie reminds me that none of us are perfect and that’s okay.

MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE FALLOUT

By Marc S. Sanders

Mission: Impossible Fallout is the best of the so far seven films in the series.  It is carried not only by the stunts that Tom Cruise insists on risking his middle-aged self to perform, for the sake of his fans. As well, the film’s casting and the puzzle twisting script from Christopher McQuarrie, writing with inspiration from his famed Oscar winning screenplay for The Usual Suspects is a treat for the eyes and mind.  If this were a novel, I’d quickly be turning each page to see what comes next.  Like McQuarrie’s well-known invention of Keyser Soze, this movie questions Who is John Lark?  Is Ethan Hunt (Cruise) John Lark? 

Hunt chooses to accept the mission of locating this unidentified Lark who is interested in purchasing enough plutonium to wipe one third of the world population, likely in and around Pakistan and China.  However, the CIA doesn’t trust Hunt’s cavalier instincts and insists he partners up with a hulking Henry Cavill playing an agent named Walker.  Benji and Luther (Simon Pegg, Ving Rhames) are back for hacking, field work and some clever mask trickery.  Ilsa Faust (Rebecca Ferguson), the dubious British MI6 agent from the prior film (Rogue Nation) is a welcome surprise and just as perplexing with her actions.  The big bad, Solomon Lane (a snake like Sean Harris), also returns.

Like all the M:I films, Fallout operates with the same kind of formula.  We have to accept the promise that there’s a world ending MacGuffin.  Ethan and the team are assigned to find who has it and who wants to buy it and can use it.  All of this is written outside of the lines of planning out the action scenes these pictures are recognized for.  It’s as if Cruise, with his producer hat on, sketches stunts with skydives, cars, motorcycles, trucks and helicopters and then assigns his writer/director to apply words for the donut filling within the movie.  Mustn’t forget a reason to include a running sequence for Ethan to perform on rooftops.  Fortunately, all of it works best here, more than in any of the other films.

What sells these pictures, and again Fallout is the best example, is the photography and editing applied to these scenes.  Two sequential car/motorcycle chases occur throughout the streets of Paris.  (Look!  I see our honeymoon hotel, The Hotel Regina located across from the Louvre, as Ethan races by in a BMW!!!!!)  A smashing three-person fist fight in an impeccably white men’s room is a brawl for the ages. 

The highlight of this installment is a helicopter chase above and within a mountain valley that first focuses on Tom Cruise himself climbing a rope up, up, up to a chopper and swinging his legs onto the railing to get a foothold.  There’s time dedicated to him falling and inching his way back into the vehicle.  Then it becomes a chopper chase followed by a collision that ends with the remains wedged within a narrow mountain crevice.  What a set piece this is!  Absolutely outstanding camera work.  The wide and close editing, sound and visuals work so perfectly in sync with one another.  I don’t want to watch the making of documentary for this picture.  The trickery of McQuarrie’s camera crew is such a treat.  I’d rather savor the finished product on repeat viewings.

Juxtaposing against this chopper fight are two other scenarios involving Ethan’s teammates.  This is where I’m especially grateful for Christopher McQuarrie’s writing.  Two bombs are rigged in line with each other, and a detonator also must be retrieved by Ethan.  The whole team has to work cohesively, otherwise it is sayonara to much of the Asian continent if both devices explode.  McQuarrie’s “impossible mission” is orchestrated beautifully with suspense cranked way up.  His imagination for adventure allows a magnificently edited third act.  To date, I consider the stakes here to be the highest in the entire series.

The presence of this collection of actors is marvelous with recognition deserving of Henry Cavill donning an untrusting mustache and looking like a brutal, blunt instrument against the superspy Ethan Hunt.  Cavill also plays CIA agent wisely.  He’s got a stoic expression for most of the film but that is because he trusts the audience will assume what a dangerous threat he can be.  Cavill occupies one of the best characters in the seven films.

Mission: Impossible Fallout is truly one of the most thrilling pictures you’ll find.  What’s most important is the action serves the story.  Action just for the sake of action is tiring like in the Fast/Furious films.  There has to be a cost and a tangible feeling to the speed, obstacles and pain that good action scenes serve their characters and the story as a whole.  When Ethan falls from a helicopter or has to jump out a window, I grip both arm rests and let out a collective bellow with the audience.  Films with the grandest of adventure must draw out responses like that.  Otherwise, it’s all just a ho hum journey to the end credits.  Fallout is anything but a stroll.  It’s an absolute balls to the wall, explosive crowd pleaser.

HAIL, CAESAR! (2016)

by Miguel E. Rodriguez

DIRECTORS: Ethan Coen & Joel Coen
CAST: Josh Brolin, George Clooney, Alden Ehrenreich, Ralph Fiennes, Scarlett Johansson, Tilda Swinton, Channing Tatum
MY RATING: 7/10
ROTTEN TOMATOMETER: 86% Certified Fresh

PLOT: A movie studio “fixer” in 1950s Hollywood faces his biggest challenge yet when the star of the studio’s most prestigious film in production is kidnapped by a shadowy organization calling itself, “The Future.”


The word “idiosyncratic” feels like it was invented for the Coen Brothers…or maybe vice versa.  Their 2016 film Hail, Caesar! is yet another case in point.  Packed with the kind of early Hollywood detail we wouldn’t see again until 2022’s Babylon, this film is a love letter to the 1950s studio system that produced such classics as All About Eve, Stalag 17, The Bridge on the River Kwai, and Ben-Hur.  However, the comic story surrounding this love letter is a bit rambling and disjointed.  About halfway through, I found myself wondering if maybe the movie wouldn’t have been better if the filmmakers had just ditched the comedy and made a straight-up drama.  But then we got to the climax, and I realized, no, comedy is better for serving up the kind of silliness we get at the end.  It’s no Raising Arizona, but it’ll serve.

In classic film noir fashion, a narrator (Michael Gambon) informs us that Eddie Mannix (Josh Brolin) is head of production at the fictional Capitol Pictures, which is in the middle of shooting its most ambitious picture ever, an epic Biblical tale called Hail, Caesar!  (Think Ben-Hur with a lower budget and an outright plagiarized screenplay.)  However, their leading man, the improbably handsome and incredibly dumb Baird Whitlock (George Clooney), abruptly goes missing when he is kidnapped by a couple of lurking extras.  Mannix must deal with finding Whitlock while also figuring out what to do about:

  1. DeeAnna Moran’s (Scarlett Johansson) unexpected pregnancy.
  2. Hobie Doyle’s (Alden Ehrenreich) inability to deliver lines without a cowboy accent, which infuriates his director, Laurence Laurentz (Ralph Fiennes).
  3. Two persistent gossip columnists (both played by Tilda Swinton) who are running stories on Whitlock’s disappearance and/or salacious rumors about Whitlock’s past.
  4. A lucrative job offer from Lockheed.
  5. His promise to his wife (Allison Pill in a tiny role) to quit smoking.

Whew!  And I haven’t even mentioned the singer/dancer Burt Gurney (Channing Tatum) or the mysterious group of academics who have apparently kidnapped Whitlock, a group calling itself, “The Future.”  …spooky…

As in many other of the Coen Brothers’ films – not ALL of them, but many of them – the story itself is not really the point.  It just serves as an excuse for Ethan and Joel to present the viewer with scene after scene demonstrating their immense affection for a bygone era of filmmaking.  When Scarlett Johansson’s character, DeeAnna, is introduced, for example, we don’t just get a line or two about what she does (she’s an aquatic star modeled after Esther Williams).  We’re treated to an elaborately choreographed scene with dozens of bathing beauties, ScarJo diving from a great height wearing a mermaid tail, and a mechanical whale complete with a spouting blowhole.

At one point, Mannix visits the chief film editor for the studio, C.C. Calhoun (Frances McDormand), to see how Mr. Laurentz’s film is shaping up.  This scene in particular is lovingly presented, as we get a quick-cut sequence of Calhoun unspooling the film in the dim editing room, re-threading it, punching a button, flipping a switch, click-clack, click-clack, and Mannix watches the opening sequence of “Merrily We Dance” on the tiny Moviola as the projector whirs in the background.  I would bet real money that Martin Scorsese really, REALLY loved this scene.  (Plus there’s a nice little comic button at the end of the scene that is an excellent demonstration of Edna Mode’s immortal dictum in The Incredibles: “No capes!”)

The whole movie is like that.  It’s one of the most nostalgic homages to old Hollywood that I’ve ever seen.  But the movie can’t seem to make up its mind about what it’s about.  George Clooney puts on a clinic of how to play dumb as the clueless Baird Whitlock.  (In fact, this movie serves as the conclusion to the unofficial “Idiots” cycle of films from the Coen Brothers films, which also includes O Brother, Where Art Thou?, Intolerable Cruelty, and Burn After Reading, all of which star Clooney in a lead role…playing an idiot.)  Alden Ehrenreich is pretty convincing as a young star with a pretty boy face and limited acting ability, which I’m sure is far from the truth, but he pulls it off.  His scene where he tries to wrap his Texas accent around the simple line, “Would that it were so simple”, with his director patiently trying to coach him, is hilarious on its own.  But it runs on a little too long, as does the aforementioned scene in the editing room.  The subplot with the gossip columnists feels tacked on, almost as of the Coens were trying to pad the running time.  There’s a magnificently choreographed scene where we watch Channing Tatum’s character do some tap dancing dressed as a sailor for another movie being filmed, but even THAT runs a little too long.

Ultimately, Hail, Caesar! feels more like an intellectual exercise instead of an emotional one.  I hate to keep bringing this movie up by comparison, but Babylon, for example, managed to capture a nostalgia for Old Hollywood AND kept me emotionally involved for its entirety.  There was an energy that kept things moving.  Hail, Caesar! lacks that energy, but I can’t quite bring myself to call it a “bad” movie because I connected with its affection for the monolithic, flawed system that managed to create so many diamonds amid SO many lumps of coal.  (Just like today!)

PRINCE OF THE CITY

By Marc S. Sanders

Sidney Lumet made an outstanding career of bringing attention to corruption within the halls of police precincts, amid the offices of politics and the inside the hallows of cherrywood courtrooms with manipulating lawyers and unsympathetic judges. His films are spellbinding with difficult conundrums for his protagonists to overcome and survive.  Prince Of The City is a perfect example.

A handsomely young Treat Williams stars as Danny Ciello.  He’s a famed cop working for the New York City Special Investigative Unit.  He’s part of a squad of partners who are also his best friends.  Jerry Orbach is the standout among the gang.  They make a huge difference in the big busts they accomplish.  In fact, some of them were part of the famed French Connection cocaine takedown.  Their celebrated careers lend to their monikers.  Danny is an especially accomplished “prince of the city.”  Proudly, they march into a crowded courtroom with a packed audience to announce another huge indictment with the criminals handcuffed together in a line.  However, these officers are also immoral in their daily practice. 

A bust of illegal immigrant drug dealers is made early in the film where over ninety-two thousand dollars is uncovered, and the team agree to share half among themselves.  A little later, Danny gets a desperate call in the middle of the night from one of his informants and to appease him he rips some heroin off another street user to give to the other one.  It’s a necessary evil to ensure progress as an accomplished detective.  The snatching of the monies? Well, as his brother frustratingly points out, that’s so he and his partners can live comfortably in furnished homes with nice clothes and jewelry. Yet perhaps all of this is no longer sitting right with Danny.

None of this is unusual for Danny but considering that an internal investigator (Norman Parker) has approached him about going undercover to reveal corruption that’s rampant throughout the police force, his conscience is weighing on him.  Danny agrees to go to work on this assignment.  However, he lays out one important condition. He’ll never give up his partners, including wearing a wire in their presence.  He lives with his wife, but he loves his partners.

Prince Of The City is a long film, but its running time is necessary because there are so many facets to Williams’ character.  Also, the residual effects of Danny’s work branch off in so many directions.  More than once, Danny is warned not to perjure himself.  Legal authorities find it hard to believe that Danny only broke his ethical code just three times in eleven years.  However, Danny insists that’s all there is.  He’s warned over and over it better be.  Otherwise, those that are working with him will later work against him.

Lumet is very good at showing realistic settings.  An abandoned post office is designated as a secret locale to store evidence and wiretap records that Danny collects.  In the beginning, the joint is empty, but over a progression of five years’ time, the shelves fill up quickly and a large staff is assembled, equipped with computers, typewriters and stuffed file cabinets.

Danny catches cops on the take.  He gets a crooked lawyer on tape.  He’s also taking big risks that amplify his stress.  Lumet showed the increasing agony of a cop against a police department in Serpico with Al Pacino.  I thought the actor was a little overdone in that film.  Here, Treat Williams could not be more authentic, and the transition from cocky detective to paranoid informant, working against his colleagues, comes through much more subtly as the film carries on.  Danny gets caught in a diner sting wearing his wire.  His quick instincts save him, but only after his shirt is torn open showing the wire, and a gun comes out of nowhere.  The sloppy struggle that ensues with a broken glass door and overturned tables loaded with food and dishes is frighteningly realistic.  Lumet shoots the moment with a documentary kind of feel.  Deliberately, there’s no special effect to the camera work here.  It’s all in Williams’ performance and the actors he shares the scene with.

Treat Williams performance is so wired that I am very surprised it did not lead to more recognizable and stand out roles later in his career.  Williams was unknown at the time of this film’s release in 1981, but his lead in this picture is as welcome as Ray Liotta in Goodfellas.

Danny Ciello is a fictional character based on the real-life narcotics detective known as Robert Leuci.  Leuci had a checkered background dating back to when he became an undercover cop informant.  Neither Danny or Robert wears the white hats of pure honor and loyalty.  That is what makes these men so challenging.  Because they are somewhat impure, there is a tipping scale to how they should be regarded. 

A marvelous part occurs in the last act of the film.  Danny’s transgressions as well as what he’s accomplished have all been laid out.  The costs of his partners’ careers have been considered.  The risks and dangers that Danny and his family with two young children have encountered are given their due attention.  Now, as the film is concluding, Lumet along with his co-writer Jay Presson Allen, assemble close to twenty prosecutors and district attorneys in a dark, slightly sunlit office to debate whether Danny Ciello should be charged for violations of perjury.  One prosecutor threatens to resign if Danny is prosecuted.  Another one cannot see how a police officer can be granted pardons for violating the very laws he’s been sworn to uphold. No one is right or wrong in this argument. The collection of actors in this scene is amazing. 

The Oscar nominated script from Lumet and Allen do not provide a straight answer as to whether Danny is a hero or a criminal.  Prince Of The City is never spoon fed to its audience.  Different perspectives and receptions have likely been generated from the picture.  I’d love to hear other people’s viewpoints.

Once again, I commend the running time of Lumet’s film.  Danny Ciello is a complicated man who sacrifices so much that the cost of everything needs to be acknowledged.  The rampant corruption that is uncovered among his colleagues is so extensive that the turnaround response must be depicted.  Some men committed suicide for their crimes.  Some swear they’ll never give themselves up or even Danny.  Danny is expected to do the same in return.  Danny lost friendships and trust over the assignments he accepted. His children and his wife (an excellent Lindsay Crouse) were undeservedly forced to live in fear for their lives, and upend their household, ironically feeling obligated to accommodate those assigned to protect them.  At one time, Danny is relying on men who are heading the investigation, promising to abide by his conditions and guarantee his safety.  Later, these men accept promotions that pull them away to other departments, leaving Danny to deal with people he cannot count on going forward, and who may work against him or refuse to honor original promises.

It’s quite unfair for Danny as he continues to make headway.  An uncaring portrayal by Bob Balaban (really good in everything he does) as a federal prosecutor forces Danny into uncompromising positions where he’s squeezed into offering up everything with little to no options.  Because Danny is no longer the conceited prince that he once considered himself to be, these authorities keep him beholden to his commitments, no matter the cost of his career, his partnerships or how it affects the lifestyle of himself and his family.

Prince Of The City is a very heavy film with much to address.  If this were to be remade, without the guidance of Lumet’s expertise, it could only work as a miniseries.  Though I doubt it would ever compare to Treat Williams’ performance or Sidney Lumet’s specialty in covering the complexities that organically stem from police corruption.  This is a fascinating film that I’m looking forward to watching again.  Because the weight of the material is so thick, I’m certain I’ll discover something new in a repeat viewing.  This is one of Sidney Lumet’s best films.

AMERICAN SNIPER (2014)

by Miguel E. Rodriguez

DIRECTOR: Clint Eastwood
CAST: Bradley Cooper, Sienna Miller, Luke Grimes, Jake McDorman
MY RATING: 9/10
ROTTEN TOMATOMETER: 72% Certified Fresh

PLOT: Real-life Navy S.E.A.L. sniper Chris Kyle becomes the most lethal sniper in American history during four tours of duty in Iraq, but he finds it difficult to leave the war behind when he finally returns home.


I once called Katherine Bigelow’s award-winning The Hurt Locker the Deer Hunter for the Iraq War generation.  Having just seen Clint Eastwood’s masterful American Sniper for the first time, I must now amend my statement.  American Sniper presents its story concisely, almost tersely, states the facts of the matter, and leaves the audience to draw its own conclusions when the credits roll.  For myself, I was once again struck by the sacrifices of those men and women who have ever made, and will ever make, the choice to serve their country, for whatever reasons.

Chris Kyle’s reasons are made clear at the outset.  30-year-old Kyle (Bradley Cooper) is a skilled cowboy and rodeo rider when he decides to enlist in the military after seeing footage of the embassy bombings in 1998.  In a marvelously edited prologue (resembling a Scorsese film), we see Kyle’s father impress upon a school-age Kyle how people are either sheep, wolves, or sheepdogs.  Wolves attack the sheep, and the sheepdogs protect the sheep.  Kyle has lived his entire life with a sheepdog mentality and badly wants to do his part to protect his country against what he feels are the forces of evil.

Kyle enlists in the Navy S.E.A.L.s and, after a brutal training process, becomes a skilled sniper.  Shortly after graduation, he meets and falls in love with Taya (Sienna Miller).  The abbreviated exposition of their courtship and marriage contains little details that give a ring of authenticity that even The Deer Hunter lacks at times.  (After their first meeting in a bar, for example, Taya has to run outside and throw up after doing one too many shots.  Kyle follows and discreetly holds her hair back, as every gentleman should.  It’s the kind of scene you would normally see in a mid-level rom-com, but it feels as real as an autobiography.)

Kyle’s and Taya’s relationship at home is an important factor in the film, but the bulk of the story shows us Kyle putting his unique skills to use in Iraq, where he is sent shortly after the 9/11 attacks.  These scenes belong in some kind of war movie Hall of Fame.  Kyle’s first kills occur when he has to make a command decision whether or not to shoot a young Iraqi boy holding a grenade and running towards a US convoy.  The scene takes on an even more horrific dimension when the mother tries to pick up where her young son failed.  This horror is echoed in triplicate in a later scene when an even younger boy approaches an abandoned rocket launcher and appears ready to fire it at American troops.

Kyle goes on to much more “conventional” warfare later on (including a virtual duel between himself and another similarly skilled enemy sniper), but it’s scenes like the ones I mention above that elevate American Sniper into a masterpiece.  Watching them, I could not help but remember that this movie is based on a real person who went to real war zones during his lifetime.  I have no idea whether Kyle really did make those choices in real life, but the idea remains: whether Kyle did or not, it’s a foregone conclusion that someone had to make similar decisions at one time or another, not just in the Iraq War, but in other wars, many wars, ALL wars.  (I was perversely reminded of another superior war film, also based on fact, Jarhead, where the main character is also a sniper, except he never gets to fire his weapon in combat.  My respect for that character is no less profound.)

Speaking for myself, I don’t know if I have it in me to make that kind of call.  I have nothing but admiration and respect for those people who are making those calls every day in wartime, who are asked to put their lives and mental health on the line and do their duty no matter what.

Kyle’s compulsion to be a protector leads to his decision to become part of the teams “clearing” houses on the ground, as opposed to being the “overwatch” who protects them from the rooftops.  He sees too many squads being cut down by enemy soldiers inside the houses where he can’t see them from above.  “If I can’t see them, I can’t shoot them.”  One of his comrades disagrees with this decision.

“All these guys?  They know your name, and they feel invincible with you up there.”
“They’re not.”
“They are if they think they are.”

His decision puts him in even greater danger than before, but he can’t help himself.  Every death that he feels he could have prevented haunts him.  In another echo of another shattering war film, I was reminded of Oskar Schindler’s last scene in Schindler’s List when he breaks down thinking of how many more Jews he could have saved, instead of focusing on the ones he did save.  It’s impossible to say exactly how many lives Chris Kyle may have saved with his actions in Iraq, but in his mind, he was just doing the right thing, not the heroic thing, so he never felt comfortable accepting the title bestowed upon him by his grateful comrades: “The Legend.”

American Sniper is also very careful to depict the cost Kyle faced as the result of his job.  For one, the Iraqi insurgents put a $180,000 bounty on his head, making his job even more dangerous than it already was.  For another, he witnesses some things firsthand that would give Quentin Tarantino nightmares.  At one point, he tracks down an Iraqi enforcer nicknamed “The Butcher” who uses a drill to punish anyone who collaborates with American soldiers.  When Kyle raids his compound, he finds a freezer full of the Butcher’s “souvenirs.”  This is all on top of the various times he sees his teammates cut down by enemy fire, sometimes right in front of him.

The other cost comes during the brief periods at home between tours.  He loves his wife and children, but he finds it impossible to share the details of what happened to him in Iraq.  This reticence threatens his marriage to the point where Taya tells him flat out: “If you leave again [for another tour of duty], I don’t think we’ll be here when you get back.”  This kind of plot point is hardly new, but again, there is a ring of truth to it in this movie that makes it much more poignant than it normally is.  Kyle’s internal code can’t allow him to let someone else go to a war zone and do a job that he is eminently more qualified than anyone else to do.  “I have to serve my country.”  And that’s that.

(The film does have one drawback that compels me to score it as a “9” instead of a “10.”  There are scenes later in the film depicting more of Kyle’s troubles at home and as he speaks to a psychiatrist who recommends he go down to the VA and meet with disabled veterans as a way of “saving” soldiers without being in combat.  While these scenes are invaluable in terms of shedding even more light on Kyle’s character, even this late in the film, I did feel like there could have been a little more time spent with Kyle and those veterans so we could flesh that issue out just a little more.  There’s much more to it than could possibly be explored in just the last fifteen minutes of a movie.  I’m not saying it should have become Coming Home, but…that’s my opinion.)

In the event you don’t know Chris Kyle’s ultimate fate, I won’t spoil it here.  I had forgotten about it, and when the movie sprung it on me, it was as surprising as any other plot twist I can think of.  American Sniper proved to me, as if it needed proving again, that the people in our armed forces, especially those in combat zones, face unthinkable decisions, sometimes on a daily basis.  The morality of those decisions can, and will, be debated from now until such time (God willing) that armed forces are no longer necessary in this world.  This movie doesn’t pass that kind of judgement.  It merely says, “Here is what happened.  What do you think about it?”  How you answer that question is what the movie was really about.

MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE DEAD RECKONING PART 1

By Marc S. Sanders

The object of the Mission: Impossible films is not to wow its audience with thought provoking questions of politics or Cold War intrigue or even daring and uncompromisingly evil villains (apart from Phillip Seymour Hoffman).  The elements of espionage coursing through the TV series are non-existent in the film adaptations.  I’m not watching a film based on a John LeCarre spy novel.  By the time the seventh installment has arrived, titled Dead Reckoning Part 1, the goal of the film series is to sketch out the set ups for one action piece after another.  Only they must be bigger, bolder, and seemingly that much more impossible to overcome for their hero, Tom Cruise (playing a guy named Ethan Hunt).  The action is once again top notch.  The glues that bind these displays of bravado together, you know where the characters have to talk and give us a semblance of a plot, is as nil as the scotch tape that assembles a stretch of film reel into a running time length of nearly two hours and forty-five minutes.

The locales are as grand as any travel getaway. We go through a labyrinthine airport.  A techno night club works as a meeting place for a bunch of characters. There are journeys to the Arabian Desert, Rome, Venice, and a beautiful ride along the famed Orient Express.  Shot on digital, this movie is a gorgeous travelogue.

Let’s get the problems out of the way, though.  The MacGuffin that Ethan Hunt and his trusty pals Benjy and Luther (Simon Pegg, Ving Rhames) have been assigned to recover is two parts of a specially designed key.  One part is supposedly with the disavowed MI6 agent Ilsa Faust (Rebecca Ferguson).  The other half is questionable as to who possesses it, but a thief known only as Grace (Hayley Atwell) may be significant in finding it.  Put the two halves of the key together and it will unlock something that no one seems to know of, or where it is located.  Here’s my first issue.  The audience does know what the key unlocks because it is shown in the first three minutes of the film.  So, while the cast of characters act dumbfounded, we know all along.  So, there goes any curious interest I may have for wanting to follow through with this. 

The other problem is that the same conversation happens over and over and over again.  Lines like (and I’m paraphrasing here, or maybe I’m not) “If this key gets into the wrong hands…” and “Whatever this does unlock, Ethan, could spell the end of the world…” or “It’s important that both halves of the key are not put together…”  or “Whatever this does unlock…”  (See?  Even I just repeated myself in this write up.) Except, we know what it unlocks!!!!!  The same exchange of dialogue occurs over and over.  The redundancy exhausts itself.  It occurs so much in fact that it’s writer/director, Christopher McQuarrie, relied upon the repetitive dialogue to stretch this next M:I chapter into two films instead of one (Part 2 is scheduled to be released in 2024).  I don’t recall the context of any of Ving Rhames’ lines going further than what I have presented here, for example.

The film is also a little too character heavy.  I never understood why two agents (Shea Wigham, Greg Tarzan Davis) are constantly pursuing Ethan.  Just was not clear for me. Heightened suspense?  That’s the best excuse I can think of.  The White Widow from the prior film (Vanessa Kirby) also appears.  Not much purpose to her.  Cary Elwes is the deputy director, there at the beginning and later towards the end, but again I was not entirely certain of his contribution to the story.  Even Ilsa Faust does not seem to have much value, except to work as a step in Ethan’s ongoing trajectory for the key.  I think Rebecca Ferguson had no more than five lines in the whole picture.

Finally, Ethan Hunt seems to be up against an omnipotent enemy, an AI program known as The Entity.  The humans doing the bidding of this phantom program consist of a goatee wearing Esai Morales and his henchwoman, played by Pom Klementieff.  She looks straight out of a James Bond picture and makes for a good car chase through the stone cobbled streets of Rome in a tank like Hummer.  Morales is as boring as most of the other the M:I villains.

What works for the film is what Tom Cruise really wants to impress you with though.  Riding a speeding motorcycle off a mountain and parachuting his way down.  That’s actually a near sixty-year-old Tom Cruise performing that feat.  Very impressive.  The car chase with a handcuffed Cruise and Atwell in a puny yellow Fiat versus an unbeatable Hummer and an army of Italian police vehicles is fun on the level of Roger Moore’s Bond films.  Most impressive for me is the final act where the famed Orient Express train tumbles off a bridge with a gap in the middle, car by car with all the furnishings, piano included, pouring out while Ethan and Grace hold on for dear life. 

It’s the high stakes stunts that work.  Whatever smidge of a story there is fails though.  The script by McQuarrie and Erik Jendresen lacks so much that the cliffhanger the film ends on doesn’t leave me yearning for more because it only hearkens back to the beginning.  The characters catch up to what the audience has known for the last three hours.  So, I’m not losing sleep wondering with what happens next.

Of course, I’ll go see the Part 2 installment.  Tom Cruise won’t let me down in whatever daredevil achievements he’s dreaming of doing next.  However, am I going to these movies to watch Mission: Impossible, or to watch an aggressively updated version of Circus Of The Stars?