Category: 2015

MAD MAX: FURY ROAD

By Marc S. Sanders

After watching Mad Max: Fury Road, you will feel like you need a shower.  Strike that, you will need a shower in aloe first, then a traditional shower and then a weeklong bath in aloe.  It’s a baked in environment that gives you the feel of grainy sands and burning sunbeams.

George Miller’s return to the gonzo, apocalyptic diesel future franchise is exciting from the moment the Warner Bros logo appears with the vroom vroom blaring through your sound system’s speakers.  Miller hardly surrenders the breakneck speed of his two-hour picture to let an audience catch a breath, and because the director is so unforgiving it makes this a tour de force of action entertainment that other adventure films can only strive to at least match.  Still, the movie has next to no story, and that’s fine.

Up until this 2015 reinvention, Mel Gibson was the Aussie Road Warrior donned in leather fighting to survive against lawless bandits coming from any direction in the sand swept plains of an earth afterlife.  Now Tom Hardy takes over the role.  Frankly, it could have been anyone who got recast in the part.  Hardy has few lines and for half the film his face is caged in a grotesque, steel bar mask while he is strapped to the front of a hot rod, gear grinding, amalgamation of a vehicle, simply to be a kind of three-dimensional hood ornament.  This Max is suffering through high-speed chases with his head trapped in animalistic headgear and his arms and legs bound behind his back while he’s tethered to this four-wheeler.  It’s brutal and we can feel how tortuous it is for Hardy’s character.  Yet, we love it!!!!  Keep it going, George!

The real star of Fury Road is Charlize Theron as a one arm rebel caked in black grease with a shaven head.  Her name? Imperatour Furiosa.  What a name!!!!!  Furiosa attaches a steering wheel to the driving hilt of an 18 – no 20, maybe 24-wheeler (it could even be 36) big rig with a big ball of fuel hitched to the back. She detours away from a band of outlaw drivers ruled over by Immortan Joe (Hugh Keays-Burn).  Yes!  His name is Immortan Joe. 

In tow with Furiosa are Joe’s pregnant concubines whose fetuses are declared his property.  These lovely lasses dressed only in bed sheets have names like Capable, Cheedo The Fragile, The Dag, Toast The Knowing and The Splendid Angharad (Riley Keogh, Courtney Eaton, Abby Lee, Zoë Kravitz and Rosie Huntington-Whitley).  What is the point of listing off these ladies’ identities? Well, the script for the film doesn’t do so. Yet, the end credits do in a heavy metal kind of font, and it is clear that George Miller is proud of every name, every piece of junk that flies through the air in one crash and bash after another, and every flame that exhausts out of a pipe or even a death metal rock guitar orchestrated by a guy simply known as The Doof Warrior (played by a musician named Iota).  Incidentally, The Doof Warrior is garbed in red long johns and tethered by chains to a big rig with the biggest, blastiest speakers known to man.  The Doof Warrior serves no purpose except to scratch on the guitar while flames shoot out of the stem.  I’m laughing as I type this all out.  This whole display is thankfully ridiculous while all of these figures have the most outlandish and greatest names of all time!!!!

When Furiosa diverts away in the mighty big rig with the pregnant women, Joe follows suit with his endless band of albino crazies in one tricked out vehicle after another.  One car has the chassis of a Mercedes wedged on to the fattest wheels ever conceived.  Another is a Chrysler (I think) resting atop a pair armored tank tracks.  Joe’s automobile looks like it got disqualified from a monster truck rally because it was caught taking diesel steroids. 

Anyway, Mad Max eventually catches up with Furiosa and the ladies.  His last name is not something simple like Jones, Smith, Sanders or Rodriguez.  It’s ROCKATANSKY!!!!!  BOOM! That is awesome!!! A one-time underling of Joe’s, named Nux (Nicholas Hoult), eventually sways over to the heroes’ side as well, and the pursuit carries on.  Furiosa’s destination is a location of green, beyond the desert wasteland.

It’s a wonder that Mad Max: Fury Road was applauded so much in 2015.  However, take a moment to consider the construction of this two-hour operatic noise fest and you cannot help but salute all the merits that went into the final product.  First the nominated visual effects are primarily practical with little to no CGI.  If George Miller is going to make another Mad Max film, he’s going all the way.  The cinematography is gorgeous in a tan, orange, and yellow sun burning desert, while the night scenes are unhidden due to a pure, bright blue.  The interior of the truck seems cramped and uncomfortable, and yet Miller leaves enough room for the viewer to sit inside and uncover every hidden firearm plus get up close with the driver and the lady passengers.  There’s even a cool weapon found in the stick shift.  Wait until you see that!  The editing is relentless with perfectly captured close ups of so many character drivers and passengers all in a matter of seconds.  Plus, wide overhead shots and extended ground captions make it easy to understand just how many vehicles are included in this endless demolition derby.  I’m talking hundreds of monster machines ready for weaponized destructions. The choreographed action scenes of gun shots firing and vehicular collisions is like a ballet of a perfect derby show.  Monster razor blades are given their due, along with an assortment flame throwers. Also, kamikaze suicidal albinos are ready to act like destructive grenades.  Not one scene or shot in a Transformers CGI picture of metal vomit comes close to a millisecond of George Miller’s craft.

No other film could be as deserving of Academy Awards for sound, cinematography and editing as well as nominations for Best Picture and Best Director.  Even the warped-out S&M costume designs and make up are eye popping; merits that also earned Oscars.  You might have a fondness for art house cinema like Fellini or perhaps a Daniel Day-Lewis piece that invests in the method of caliber acting performances, but you cannot deny the artistic efforts vested by George Miller, his editor wife Margaret Sixel, and the rest of the crew. Mad Max: Fury Road was placed on so many top ten lists in the year 2015, and its because the film succeeds in the best of technical achievements. 

George Miller operates like that nasty kid named Sid from the Toy Story pictures.  He assembles his set pieces in the most tricked out, ugly and grotesque combinations of auto body parts, gives them engines that breathe fire and roar like vicious beasts that smell like diesel and then collides them altogether in a wide open plain.  Try to imagine Miller as a young child with his Matchbox cars on his bedroom floor.  His parents might have had some concern while observing his play activity.  What’s appreciated though is that this director never settled for simple with his Mad Max films and he never repeated what he’s already demonstrated.  No car crash looks the same.  No single shot is  repetitive.  This is how a director of any film genre should operate.  When they take attentive care to every frame they capture with their camera, then they get a Mad Max: Fury Road. 

One of the best films of the twenty-first century!

NOTE: I originally saw this film in 3-D in the theaters.  Wanna know my sentiments towards 3-D? Well, I hated this film after I saw it.  I gave up five minutes into the piece because the 3-D was unforgiving in distraction and dark beyond comprehension and measure.  Watching Mad Max: Fury Road again, a number of years later in a standard 4K on my 65-inch flat screen, you can likely tell by my write up that my sentiments have drastically changed for the picture.  It’s also telling to note that the new prequel film Furiosa is not being presented in 3-D.  Unless it is a James Cameron film or a special exception like Ridley Scott’s Prometheus, modern 3-D is as big a failure as the new formula Coke was back in the 1980s. 

BLACK MASS

By Marc S. Sanders

Black Mass tells the story of an FBI agent, and his two childhood friends who are brothers.  One brother is Billy Bulger, a Massachusetts state senator.  The other is notorious Boston gangster James “Whitey” Bulger.  The script has a lot of elements to make for a great crime drama, but I wonder what Johnny Depp is doing here made up to perform like a crazed ghoul.

The FBI agent is John Connolly (Joel Edgerton) who turns to Whitey (Depp), a fearful leader of the Irish mob in South Boston during the nineteen seventies through eighties to work as an informant, providing intel on the competing Italian Mafia.  It’s no secret about Whitey Bulger’s dealings or what territory he covers.  Agent Connolly does his best to protect his friend, so long as he collects pertinent information that leads to arrests.  However, what’s the limit to Bulger’s activities, and how does this reflect on a public figure like Whitey’s politician brother, Billy (Benedict Cumberbatch)?

Much of Black Mass reenacts recorded testimonies after everything has shaken out.  Guys who survived Whitey’s violent crew (Jesse Plemmons, Rory Cochrane) offer information on the gangster’s activities and what he compelled his captains to carry out.  Mixed in with these voiceovers are how Connolly responds to the progress of his operations.  Time and again, his superiors (first played by Kevin Bacon and later by Corey Stoll) question Connolly about how beneficial Bulger can be if the crook always has his finger on the trigger, killing those that might rat him out.  Black Mass is told from an assortment of different perspectives and sometimes that muddies the water.

The most interesting storyline is how Connolly uses and protects his criminal friend, while also stepping away from getting blood on his hands.  Joel Edgerton gives the best performance of the film as an FBI guy who turns a blind eye to Whitey’s crimes. Connolly thinks he can continue his own corruption while Whitey cooperates and leads him to big, heroic indictments of the Italian mob.  As long as the arrangement upholds, the corrupt agent will always have an answer for his actions and stay ahead of the ethical lines he knows he’s crossing.  More importantly, even if his wife protests, Connolly is getting prestigious promotions and collecting substantial paychecks for his progress.  Scott Cooper directs Edgerton with conflicts of overwhelming complications.

One problem is that Whitey Bulger is a loose cannon who is never intimidated, not even by the Feds, especially not by his childhood friend.  His brother Billy looks away to maintain a clean political image.  Therefore, it is quite easy for Whitey to gun down a rat associate in broad daylight in the middle of a wide-open parking lot, shotgun and all.  The killer doesn’t even need to run away from the scene of the crime.  This is Whitey Bulger.

Johnny Depp is great in the role, but does his portrayal belong in this film?  Depp’s career is widely celebrated for the quirky, makeup clad parts he plays such as Jack Sparrow and Edward Scissorhands.  Even Ed Wood is delightfully weird.  In Black Mass, the actor dons steel grey eye contacts, white slicked back hair making him appear almost bald, and skeletal teeth beneath a near albino complexion.  He looks like Skeletor without the hood.  Throw in a brooding, deep Bostonian accent and you have the ghoul I referred to earlier.  Is this Whitey Bulger?  Online photos of the real guy do not seem consistent with the film’s appearance.  Depp’s delivery of dialogue and even his wicked Freddy Krueger laugh seem too far beyond the realm of this crime drama.  The actor is working on another plane than everyone else in the cast who wear hairpieces, three-piece cotton suits and cheesy off-the-rack polyesters and denims to populate this time period from forty years ago. 

A scene showing Bulger dining on steaks with Connolly and his FBI partner (David Harbor) was famously used in preview showings ahead of the film’s release.  Take this scene out of context like the trailer did and Depp looks scary good as he terrifies Harbor for doing something as simple as revealing a long-time secret family recipe.  Afterwards, Whitey goes upstairs to harass Connolly’s wife (Julianne Nicholson) at the bedroom door.  The dinner scene sold me on getting a ticket for the movie as soon as it was released.  However, put it back into the framework of the script and I feel like Black Mass is diverting itself from a complex crime drama to a vampire in a Member’s Only jacket.  As good as Depp is with his makeup and his vocal inflections and pace, it just doesn’t seem to belong in this particular film.  Marlon Brando as Don Corleone with the shoe polish in the hair and the cotton in the mouth? That works.  Johnny Depp as Count Dracula in Sergio Valente skinny jeans is not as effective.

Because the script changes hands from one perspective to another and then another, I found the reenactments of Connolly and Bulger’s reign of crimes to be a little inconsistent.  I found much potential for Benedict Cumberbatch’s purpose as Whitey’s brother, but there is too much diverted away from that character because the picture is trafficked with what everyone else is doing and seeing on top of giving Johnny Depp a lot of scenery to chew.

Black Mass pursued the potential for a very interesting gangster picture like Goodfellas or Donnie Brasco, but it wants to capitalize too much on the latest Johnny Depp routine.  I think James “Whitey” Bulger is an interesting twentieth century bad guy with a violently daring and checkered background.  He had associates within his family and gang to color in a movie that’ll grab you.  The tainted lawmen who were involved are also intriguing.  Scott Cooper and the screenwriters knew this, but often they opt to go in different directions.  

Now that a loose interpretation of Bulger has been played by Jack Nicholson in Martin Scorsese’s Oscar winning The Departed and again here, it’s time to tell the cold-blooded killer’s story once more.  Just go simpler without all the clownish theatrics.

THE HATEFUL EIGHT

By Marc S. Sanders

Quentin Tarantino’s eighth film, The Hateful Eight, has the signature director’s fingerprints all over, but it still stands apart from the rest thanks to a lurid, foreboding soundtrack from Ennio Morricone with an Agatha Christie narrative approach.

During a post-Civil War period, near the mountaintops of Wisconsin, an image of a crucifixion post is blanketed in snow as a stagecoach races past.  The cold symbol spells doom.  The coach is stopped by a curious, well-dressed man in the middle of the road.  This is Major Marquis Warren (Samuel L Jackson), a legendary black Union veteran, now bounty hunter.  With a fierce blizzard on its way, the Major convinces another bounty hunter, who has paid for the coach, to hitch a ride.  That man is John Ruth (Kurt Russell) and he’s escorting his ten-thousand-dollar bounty, a black-eyed unsavory Daisy Domergue (Jennifer Jason Leigh), to her hanging in the nearby town of Red Rock.  A would-be sheriff of that town eventually hitches a ride as well, Chris Mannix (Walton Goggins). The coach has to take shelter from an oncoming blizzard at Minnie’s Haberdashery, where four other men are already holed up.  They are Confederate General Sandy Smithers (Bruce Dern), the charming British hangman Oswaldo Mobray (Tim Roth), Cowboy Joe Gage (Michael Madsen) and the giant like Mexican Bob (Demian Bichir).  Tarantino has invented another collection of seedy two-dimensional characters whose unique appearances and vocal inflections set them apart from the rest of the gang respectively. Still, they are interesting enough.

The first celebrated performer of the piece is Morricone’s Oscar winning soundtrack which is totally eerie, sinister and immersive.  I go back to that carved out wooden image of Christ hanging from the cross and covered in snow.  Morricone’s music replays the same notes but with more intensity each time it starts up again.  It’s as if the Devil is luring us into his hellish lair.  If the famed Conductor’s chords could speak it would start with “Once upon a time, on a dark and stormy night…”

Twists of fate await all of these men and the one woman.  Like a mystery from Dame Agatha, the characters are set up for introduction to each other, with a little bit of back story.  The ones that especially stand out belong to Major Warren who possesses a personalized letter from President Abraham Lincoln himself.  The curious question of what could possibly merit a ten-thousand-dollar bounty for a small woman like Daisy is the other mystery I initially take notice of.  Once everyone is gathered at Minnie’s Haberdashery, how will these people intersect with one another?

The Hateful Eight plays like a short story you might find in a Reader’s Digest.  Taratino might correct me and insist that more specifically it would be found in a magazine of lurid subject matter – pulp fiction.  Go figure.  It is a theme he sticks to and continues to reinvent himself with each passing film.  The creativity comes in the new situations he constructs for his players.  He’s placed his figures in another kind of western by this point already.  He’s applied them to an alternate kind of Nazi occupied Europe during the second world war.  He’s updated swordplay in a zippy Dojo.  Now, he inserts his personalities into primarily a single setting, like Christie did time and again. 

Clues are uncovered as the film moves on to indicate that something may have happened here, before the stagecoach arrived.  There’s a broken door that needs to be nailed shut each time it is crashed opened.  A jellybean?  A chess board sits in front of the General and appears to be in the middle of a game.  And where is Minnie and Sweet Dave, the caretakers? The Major positions himself as the detective and within the small confines of this log cabin suspicions will reveal more about how the men and Daisy are connected and why they are here, now, while a harsh, unforgiving blizzard rages on outside.

The dialogue of The Hateful Eight is not as memorable as other Tarantino scripts.  Yet, the characters are just as colorful, and there are a couple of zips in time to keep you alert when a new development surfaces.  Tarantino is not shy about the bloodshed either.  The violence plays like most of his other films with a kind of slapstick twist.  A character gets violently ill and vomits blood all over Daisy.  That’s after a couple of wallops to the nose and jaw, plus a face full of stew that she’s had to endure as John Ruth’s handcuffed prisoner.  Later, someone’s brains splatter all over her. 

None of the guys are standard cowboys of the Old West either.  Goggins plays a good-natured dimwit.  Jackson is impervious to the racial name calling.  Russell is a cranky old grunt.  Your grandfathers did not take your fathers to Saturday matinee “ride ‘em into the sunset” westerns like these.  This is the most garish of material, and as in your face as it is, it’s also quite entertaining.

Tarantino has definitely graduated from the simplicity of his first films, Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction.  The production value of The Hateful Eight is phenomenal.  Originally, I saw this movie in theaters with a couple of my Cinemaniac buddies.  Tarantino was proud to present it on 70mm Panavision film, complete with some intrusive lines and occasional burn spots.  Don’t tell me if this was not shot on location.  I don’t want to know.  I treasure the illusion. The deep snow-covered Wisconsin mountains are glorious to look at.  I feel completely absorbed in the setting with the harsh whispers of chilly winds happening outside as the dark blue of the snowstorm can be seen through the cabin windows.  This may be Quentin Tarantino’s most atmospheric film to date. 

This movie has a running time of three hours, but I strongly recommend to watch it without stopping.  The blu ray was a Hanukkah gift from my wife, and I tried watching the night before, but I kept having to pause it to struggle with a cold I’m currently fighting.  I only made it to “Chapter Four: Domergue’s Got A Secret.”  The next day, I told myself to start it from the beginning while everyone was out of the house and the experience was very fulfilling as Tarantino’s wintery day moves into night and then finally reaches its bloody conclusion. 

The Hateful Eight works like a graphic novel come to life.  It’s a great late-night rainy-day kind of picture.  If you haven’t seen it or it’s been a while since the last time, like it was for me, then I recommend checking it out during this winter season.  Trust me.  It just wouldn’t play as well on a hot summer night in July.  Quentin Tarantino and his cast work better when they are at their most cold blooded.

MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE ROGUE NATION

By Marc S. Sanders

Mission: Impossible Rogue Nation is as stunt filled as its predecessor. Perhaps even more.  The difference for me though, is that it is better than Ghost Protocol.  The stunts and action are at least equal in both films, but Rogue Nation also plays with its characters while not stopping at certain points to explain what must happen next.  Sure, the movie talks, but it speaks with developments and surprise, rather than starting the story all over again from square one (a shortcoming for me with the prior film).  Much of that is thanks to a new character, a disavowed British Intelligence Agent named Ilsa Faust played with perfect unsurety and mistrust by Rebecca Ferguson.  She’s the actress keeping me interested beyond the magnificent action scenes because I want to uncover what her game really is all about. 

Rogue Nation opens soon after Ghost Protocol ended.  A hearkening back to the original TV series has finally introduced the nefarious and clandestine organization known only as The Syndicate.  No one has been identified as heading this mysterious group.  A face or name has yet to be linked.  None of the major governments, including America, even believe they exist.  Tom Cruise as Super Spy Ethan Hunt is the only one certain that this Syndicate is responsible for a series of terrorists’ attacks and government overthrows occurring throughout the world.  By the way, I always call him Super Spy, because nothing gets past Ethan Hunt.  Not only can he run fast enough to hop onto a cargo plane taking off a runway, but he even has a talent for drawing as well as reading lips in various languages. Amazing!!!!  Incredible!!! Astounding!!!! ETHAN HUNT – SUPER SPY!!!!!

Don’t ask how we get there, but Ethan recruits his trusty pal and computer hacker Benjy (Simon Pegg) to attend an opera in Vienna where the leader of this shadowy Syndicate may be.  Complications and fistfights, along with sniper rifle assassination attempts ensue backstage during a performance, and now Ethan has convinced Benjy that his hunches must be true.  Ilsa is also there, but is she trying to kill Ethan or just fend him off, or is she working alongside of him?  Ferguson plays the role with a perfect poker face, and it helps keep the movie running along while wanting to find out more information.

Every Mission: Impossible film has that one especially heightened action set piece.  This time, Ethan has three minutes of inhaled oxygen while he enters an underwater vault to hack into a “safe deposit box.”  Benjy gleefully sees the simplicity in this.  “Well you can do that!”  As an extra bonus, we are treated to a kinetic motorcycle chase through Morocco.  The sound editing alone with revving engines and cars screeching, machine gun fire, and horns blasting is impressive enough.  Accompany it with well placed camerawork (nothing is blurry or shaky like in many other action films) and you have a set piece that’ll keep you alert.  Who needs dumb Fast/Furious junk when this stuff tops it?  Kudos to writer/director Christopher McQuarrie.

There are some standard motifs to Rogue Nation.  Once again, there’s a government official or two who does not trust Ethan Hunt’s intentions and thus he’s number one on the Most Wanted list.  How many times has this guy saved the world, already?  Give him a break! Also like before, most recently in the last installment, the IMF team has been shut down.  That does nothing for me anymore.  I wouldn’t expect anything less.  No IMF team, but Ethan and Benjy still get a hold of the most inventive gadgets and tricked out cars they can find.  So what’s the big deal if the IMF is on the chopping block?  Still, I like how this picture wraps its storyline up and defeats the villain.  It’s different and a welcome surprise.  Ilsa Faust’s character arc tidies itself up nicely as well.

Amazing stuff happening in this fifth chapter of the film franchise.  As long as Tom Cruise and company get more daring and aggressive with the impossible missions that need to be overcome, the staying power of these films holds.  Mission: Impossible Rogue Nation is a fantastic piece of filmmaking.

THE GIFT

By Marc S. Sanders

Blumhouse Pictures had a monster year in 2017 with the release of Jordan Peele’s smash hit thriller Get Out.  It was by no means some slasher film for cheap scares.  It built on those typical shocks to deliver a message over a well-crafted three act storyline that commented on present day race relations while the action of it all knocked the hell out of you.  Get Out was one of my favorite films of that year.  

Having just watched Joel Edgerton’s The Gift from 2015, I see a pattern from Blumhouse.  This is a company intent on making high grade material on very small budgets.  This company knows how to spend its money wisely, while showing you something that looks familiar but is altogether new.

Edgerton wrote and costars in The Gift as a stranger who intrudes on the life of a happy couple with a promising future, played with great chemistry by Jason Bateman and Rebecca Hall.  

Casting Bateman and Hall was a smart move.  In other respective efforts from both actors, they are at their best by giving the less is more approach to their resume of performances.  In this film, they come off as nothing special really when the film begins; happy and minding their own business.  It’s important because it enhances the disruption of Edgerton’s character, Gordo “the weirdo.” All that Gordo is doing is being friendly by leaving gifts on the couple’s doorstep. Harmless, really, but I found my own instincts on alert. The question is, however, was I ever right to question my instincts in the first place.

The Gift is a top notch psychological thriller.  Do Edgerton and Blumhouse follow the same trite cliches of suspense films like this though? That’s what is eye catching about the film.  You really don’t know how developments are going to end up until the movie is completely over.  For the most part, this film is wildly unpredictable.

I really liked it.  It was a new kind of disturbed piece written with foreshadowed detail by Edgerton.  He writes with common, nervously laughable awkwardness for his couple to struggle with.  This new guy is only signing his cards with happy faces and leaving gifts.  What’s so wrong about that?  

Edgerton’s direction is just as fine with wide shots during the daytime suburban scenes to offer comfort for Hall’s housewife character, and a narrow lens to unsettle you as you peer down a dark endless hallway.  For cripes sakes, it’s only your house.  Is your new house really that scary?

The ending is satisfying for me even if I did predict an early scene would return to make its point later.  Narratively speaking though, I credit the screenplay for inventing something beyond a final fight that would probably include kitchen knives and crashes through windows followed by someone falling to his gruesome death from a great height, or drowning a villain in a bathtub before shooting him when he miraculously comes back to life. 

See, that’s what the other movies are doing. Films like The Gift and Get Out are completely doing something else entirely.

SECRET IN THEIR EYES (2015)

By Marc S. Sanders

So here is a movie I thought I had figured out; the twist, I mean. Yet it’s ending didn’t turn out to be that way at all.

So, what did I get from Secret In Their Eyes? Well, I guess the confidence that I am probably a better writer than the ones who doctored this crap.

This is another mystery thriller, where everybody working in the same law enforcement department must remain divided and have animosity towards each other because if they didn’t have conflict they’d only get along and solve a very basic murder case.

See, it has to be this way.

The main character played by Chiwetel Ejiofor must play the obsessive (13 years obsessed!!!) FBI investigator prone to making dumb and impulsive mistakes because if he didn’t there’d be no movie.

Julia Roberts, effectively departing her glamour roles, as the cop/mother of a murdered daughter will only conveniently appear to make things awkward for Ejiofor and DA Nicole Kidman who is unnecessarily, overtly sexy to drive a subplot for more awkwardness. Oh, hi Julia. Didn’t expect you to step on to the elevator. Well, look who showed up at the office just as I get into town; things like that.

Nothing that these characters do seem very wise or necessary but we are supposed to believe these are some of LA’s best legal minds; break in and steal evidence without a warrant, solve a murder by looking at a picture from company picnic, beat a confession out of a suspect, and presume you found the killer again because a guy made parole 13 years later and the ages match up. He might have had a nose job, but that’s gotta be the guy. Ejiofor says it is. So it must be true. Stop arguing with me. Ejiofor says he’s right and you’re wrong. Case closed. Shouldn’t these great legal minds look a little deeper before they make their conclusions? There’s more concrete evidence in a game of Clue than anything I found in Secret In Their Eyes.

I guess now that I’ve watched the film and see that my predicted ending never turned up, maybe I’ll keep it to myself, jot it down on paper and sell my own screenplay. If this crap could attract a Hollywood budget with top talents to fill the roles, how bad could I do?

BEASTS OF NO NATION (2015)

by Miguel E. Rodriguez

Director: Cary Joji Fukunaga
Cast: Idris Elba, Kurt Egyiawan, Abraham Attah
My Rating: 8/10
Rotten Tomatometer: 92% Certified Fresh

PLOT: In an unnamed African country, a young boy gets separated from his family and is trained to be a soldier for a guerilla combat unit.


It’s been said – I don’t remember by whom, maybe François Truffaut – that there is no such thing as an anti-war film because combat scenes are inherently thrilling.  Look at the D-Day landing in Spielberg’s Saving Private Ryan.  Brutal and horrific…but visceral and powerful and exciting at the same time.  Squint at those scenes a little bit, think about the ultimate sacrifice made by so many soldiers for their country, and it’s almost a recruitment film.

There are, as always, exceptions to the rule.  I challenge anyone to watch the Russian film Come and See, about the experiences of a young soldier during World War II, and come away feeling anything but dismay and disgust at the institution of war.

Beasts of No Nation is also an exception.  Directed by Cary Joji Fukunaga (No Time to Die, co-writer of It [2017]), it features numerous combat scenes involving pre-teen boys firing machine guns, tossing grenades, and wielding machetes on men, women, and children.  The movie is fictional, but the experiences are taken from true-life stories of real boys who were kidnapped by rebel armies.

The young boy in this story is Agu (Abraham Attah in a brilliant, subtle performance).  He’s maybe 11 or 12 years old.  In the opening scenes, we see he and his family are poor, but happy.  He plays with his friends.  They try to sell an “imagination TV” to anyone who will listen to their pitch.  (What is an imagination TV?  …use your imagination.)

One day rebel forces march into town.  Or government forces.  It’s never made quite clear, and I think that’s on purpose.  In this unnamed country, one side is as bad as the other, so it really makes no difference.  His mother and sister are whisked out of town to relative safety, while Agu and his father and brother are left behind.  However, he is soon separated from them (in a scene that reminded me oddly of Empire of the Sun, though even more traumatic) and he runs into the jungle where he is soon captured by a roving combat squad led by a man known simply as the Commandant (Idris Elba, in another brilliant performance).  The Commandant sees potential in Agu and takes him under his wing.

Here’s where it starts to get disturbing.  Agu is trained to be a soldier.  This involves standard training about how to move in the field, but it also involves a brutal hazing ritual where he must run between two columns of men who beat him with heavy sticks as he passes.  Make it through and you graduate.  Get knocked out and…well, you don’t want to get knocked out.  He and other boys are subjected to a cloud of smoke and haze created by burning gunpowder.

Why do this?  From the army’s standpoint, a young boy makes an ideal soldier.  He requires little pay, eats less food than a grown man, never questions orders, and provides unswerving loyalty in return.  The trick is teaching them to kill on command.  For Agu, this part of his training comes when a prisoner pleading for his life is brought before him.  The Commandant hands him a machete.  “This man is with the people who killed your family,” he says.  The scene is simply shot, but it’s horrifying to see Agu’s eyes go blank as he stares at the prisoner.  The culmination of this scene is one of the most disturbing visuals I’ve seen since Requiem for a Dream.  The most chilling part is Agu’s voiceover, which we hear at many other points in the film: “God, I have killed a man.  It is the worst sin…but I am knowing, too, it is the right thing to be doing.”  Brr.

Whether Agu finds redemption or rescue or whatever, I leave to you to discover.  I will say the movie looks marvelous.  Director Fukunaga served as his own cinematographer AND camera operator (after the first operator tore a hammy on his first day).  It’s well made, directed with a sure hand and a fine visual instinct.  I don’t want to give away too much about the ending, but watch Agu’s face.  As he speaks, you can see the blank, flat stare of someone who has seen enough to know he’s seen too much.  It’s the face of someone who has been through more than any of us should be put through.  And he’s not even old enough to shave yet.  That’s what makes Beasts of No Nation a truly anti-war film.

ANT-MAN

By Marc S. Sanders

Peyton Reed not only capitalizes on Edgar Wright’s interpretation of Marvel’s Ant-Man, but also on the first chapter of the MCU, Iron Man. The similarities in the two films are so familiar that Ant-Man seems a little boring and redundant. You’ll turn to your seat mate midway through and say “We’ve seen this.”

Nevertheless, Reed’s film is saved thanks to a likable Paul Rudd, a welcome Michael Douglas and a scene stealing Michael Pena. Evangeline Lilly is here but she’s as useful as Gwenyth Paltrow has been. Corey Stoll is the bald villain, like Jeff Bridges before him, and well… LOOK!!! You just needed to find someone to be the villain; the guy interested in stealing technology to use for making a lot of money and other nefarious purposes. You’ve seen it all before.

Pena is given the best stuff to do as Reed takes advantage of visually recounting a “telephone game” story of what he and then what she said and then what he said after that. Michael Pena is a really funny guy who deserves more work. He’ll likely get a lead in an ABC family sitcom one day called Pena or Michael!, let’s say.

Rudd has fun with the stupidity of his superhero name and abilities. Let’s face it. Controlling the minds of ants is not as flashy as Batman and his gadgets or Spider-Man web slinging through the city. Rudd smirks through all of it. So, I felt okay to smirk as well.

The film suffers from a lot of exposition and a few too many characters. In a flashback 80s scene, Douglas’ character (the original Ant-Man) breaks some SHIELD agent’s nose. What’s so special or offensive about this guy? I don’t know. Also, Bobby Cannavale is a pain in the ass cop for Rudd to deal with, but more or less you’d have the same film if he was excised from the final cut.

Reed saves his movie with a really fun ending consisting of a battle involving shrinking and enlarging and shrinking again aboard a Thomas The Train Engine toy playset. It’s Rudd as Ant-Man vs Stoll as Yellowjacket (very cool looking and not used enough). As well, you can’t help but smile when you see a fifty foot high toy train crash through a house.

This is a scrappy little film in the Marvel Cinematic Universe and not much seems original, but you got a cast that’s likable and an ending to be entertained by.

Nothing special, but nothing terrible either.

AVENGERS: AGE OF ULTRON

By Marc S. Sanders

The character of Ultron, a terrorizing cyborg, has been a favorite Marvel Comics villain of mine ever since I discovered him in 1984 during the Secret Wars 12 issue limited run. He looked sinister with a devilish face in the shape of a metallic claw. His sonic blasts appeared more destructive than anything else ever drawn on the page. Ultron was a badass!!! (“Language!”). That being said, the cinematic interpretation is quite different, yet he’s modeled on a much more grown up sculpt.

Ultron is still a terrorist bent on utter destruction, but now he has a disregard for man. He’s written quite inventively as a direct contradiction to arguably the favorite of all the Marvel cinematic characters, Iron Man aka Tony Stark. How fitting that James Spader is cast opposite his former brat pack cast mate (Less Than Zero), Robert Downey, Jr. It is really uncanny how the dialect of Spader’s limitless Ultron can sound just like Downey’s genius Stark but with a means of annihilation; “All of you against all of me.” Ultron is smart first, powerful second. He’s not just a monochromatic android. There’s a means to his end and an inventive science to his purpose; uproot a country high in the sky and then DROP IT BACK DOWN INTO THE PLANET, like an anvil flattening Wile E. Coyote. It’s actually more novel than I’m giving it credit for.

Most Marvel afficianados from the blogs, and fellow colleagues as well, do not care much for this chapter in the MCU. I have yet to understand why. Again, each character is really drawn out beautifully by Joss Whedon with a respective storyline. Finally, Jeremy Renner’s Hawkeye is given some oomph to his back story. So is Paul Bettany as the other cyborg, Vision, formerly J.A.R.V.I.S, the artificial intelligence.

Vision/J.A.R.V.I.S. outshines Data (“Star Trek: TNG,” apologies to my friend, Jim Johnson), but will never top C-3PO. I like how he’s introduced as an amalgamation of all of the film’s main characters’ abilities. Bruce Banner and Tony Stark, Thor, Ultron, Scarlet Witch, some brilliant doctor friend, and even the nation of Wakanda. They all have a piece of themselves in Vision. It’s a better story than the comics ever suggested. Maybe I’m biased having grown up on these stories, but the Vision element makes me want to clap every time I see it. So inventive and economically told for a two-hour film with a ginormous cast. Vision’s introduction is one of the best scenes in all of the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

A great device to unhinge most of the Avengers comes through by means of Elizabeth Olsen’s Scarlet Witch (identified as Wanda Maximoff) who cripples them with mind control. How else should a sorceress take out a whole lotta muscle? It works and it gives Olsen conflict to play with. The visual effects surrounding her are also pretty cool. Sure, it might be just some neon red mist, but the cinematography and CGI surrounding her look gorgeous.

This installment also serves as neat set up for what’s to come. Quick Easter Egg in Age Of Ultron: Tony Stark Name drops the term “Endgame.” Oooooooo!!!!!!

It is really admirable what Marvel and Disney have done with the MCU, and especially watching this film. It’s ironic how filmmaker James Cameron made a statement hoping for “Avengers fatigue” so the phenomenon can die down in movie houses, etc. Funny! For me, seeing all of Ultron’s toys and wit seemed to outshine quite a bit of the residuals spawned from Cameron’s Terminator franchise.

Whedon wrote and directed a film with much more intelligence, wit, at least as much action, and threat than I ever got from Cameron’s reputation of clunky dialogue and plot hole time travel storytelling. It would do Mr. Cameron well to maybe not throw stones at the glass Avengers towers. I’m skeptical that his upcoming FOUR Avatar films will carry the smirk inducing cues the MCU has used to its advantage.

SPECTRE

By Marc S. Sanders

It’s fortunate that the success of Mike Myers’ Austin Powers franchise did not wash out the best features of the James Bond series. Had it done so, we wouldn’t have been treated to the outstanding production of Daniel Craig’s film, Spectre, with an opportunity to face off against a reinvented Ernst Stavro Blofeld played perfectly by Christoph Waltz. One of my few complaints however, is that we didn’t get enough material for the two-time Oscar winner.

Director Sam Mendes returns following Skyfall to reinvigorate the original traditions and blueprints that attracted audiences to 007 in 1962 with Dr. No. Blofeld lays in wait in his secret fortress of a lair housed within a desert crater (an upgrade from the volcano in You Only Live Twice), ready to offer exquisite hospitality to Bond and his love interest before providing an unrequested guided tour of his technology and hideous plots. No, he never had to show Bond anything. Yet Blofeld was never bashful, with or without his cat. Waltz is the right choice for this 21st century iteration of the staple villain. Gone is most of the camp presented in the character during the later Connery films. Most of the camp actually. He does still have the white cat after all.

Craig remains a great 007. The role is not a mimic of past Bonds. Craig is everything of the “blunt instrument” that author Ian Fleming described. Thanks to his physique and some great fight choreography, a marvelous fisticuffs scene occurs between him and brutish Dave Bautista aboard a moving train. Craig always looking great in the white dinner jacket tux, even while he’s getting pushed around.

Lea Seydoux is serviceable as the Bond girl, Madeline Swann, daughter of an old enemy of Bond with information necessary in the pursuit. Seydoux is not the best Bond girl. Others have offered more intellect beyond the beauty. Still, that might only be due to the limits of the script. She’s a good actor nonetheless.

Ben Whishaw and Naomie Harris are great as Q and Moneypenny. The roles have stepped up in frankness and skills that stretch out more than a traditional one scene cameo. Whishaw as Q is more of a know it all and Harris as Moneypenny reminds the audience that she has a life outside the office.

Ralph Fiennes is good too as M. Though I do wish his storyline was better here where he is dealing with an over abundant policy in complete government surveillance. The antagonist against Fiennes is nothing special and as quick as this storyline started, you knew how it was going to end. Still, I like watching Fiennes in the role.

Spectre has great scenes, most especially the signature opening taking place on the Day of the Dead in Mexico City that culminates in the destruction of a city block before Bond disables two bad guys aboard a spiraling helicopter. Steady cam and very clear edits make this a knockout.

I also appreciate the gag that not all things work accordingly for Bond. He orders his signature Vodka Martini, shaken not stirred, and is denied as he is at a bar located in an isolated strict health retreat. As well, his Aston Martin is not as reliable thanks to empty hidden machine guns hidden behind the logo in the trunk. Not everything comes as easy for Craig’s Bond, and that allows for some tongue in cheek humor.

I liked Spectre more on a repeat viewing. Mendes shot a gorgeous looking globetrotting picture of Mexico City, Rome, Austria, Tangiers and clear evening London.

Considering the next installment is likely to be Craig’s last film is disheartening. With Spectre, a summation of all the prior Craig films is assembled leading to what has been a great miniseries within the storied franchise. I’ve liked following this James Bond. There are revelations about the character including his orphan history, his faults and his coldness that only serves to protect the Queen’s country. The Daniel Craig Bond is the best following the very different albeit wry interpretation of Sean Connery.

Still, I’ll take what I can get, and once again happily look down the target scope aimed right for 007 before the blood comes pouring down.