Category: 2024

A COMPLETE UNKNOWN (2024)

by Miguel E. Rodriguez

DIRECTOR: James Mangold
CAST: Timothée Chalamet, Edward Norton, Elle Fanning, Monica Barbaro, Boyd Holbrook
MY RATING: 9/10
ROTTEN TOMATOMETER: 79% Certified Fresh

PLOT: In 1961, Bob Dylan arrives in NYC for the first time.  Four years later, his groundbreaking performance in Newport changed the music world forever.


The 1994 documentary Hoop Dreams began as a small-scale, 30-minute project concentrating on two inner-city boys who dreamed of making it to the NBA.  It was supposed to cover only a few months in their lives, but as their stories progressed, the filmmakers just continued filming, and the sprawling documentary eventually covered five years and became an absorbing three-hour odyssey.

In a weird way, that’s how I felt about James Mangold’s Dylan biopic A Complete Unknown.  The movie opens with no backstory, no flashbacks, just a disheveled young Bobby Dylan (Timothée Chalamet) arriving in 1961 New York City with his guitar, determined to meet his idol, legendary folk singer Woody Guthrie, hospitalized at the time with Huntington’s disease and no longer able to sing or speak.  In Guthrie’s hospital room, Dylan also meets another folk legend, Pete Seeger (Edward Norton), in what must count as one of the greatest musical summit conferences of all time.

The way this scene is shot, it almost feels like, after it’s over, it could be the end of a marvelous short film about three legends bumping into each other.  But, like Hoop Dreams, this biopic remains focused on the unknown Bobby Dylan, with his nasal whine and preternatural gift for lyrics, for five years.  He eventually gets more and more exposure and cuts his first album.  Along the way, he meets two women who will be his emotional touchstones during the film: the celebrated Joan Baez (Monica Barbaro), whom Dylan accuses of being and singing “too pretty,” and Sylvie Russo (Elle Fanning), who becomes his girlfriend despite his flirtations with Ms. Baez.

But throughout the film – and this is one of the reasons I enjoyed it more than I thought I would – we remain focused almost exclusively on Dylan, the man and his music.  We are treated to countless scenes of Dylan performing live, Dylan recording in a studio, Dylan scratching out a new song note for note and word for word.  If a soundtrack album were ever compiled of the full-length versions of all the songs we hear in A Complete Unknown, I have to believe it would be between two to three hours long, if not more.

Why did I react so favorably to this kind of treatment?  My two favorite musical biopics of all time are Ray [2004] and Amadeus [1984].  Amadeus certainly contains a LOT of music, much like A Complete Unknown, but we are given a lot of background information into Mozart’s life, his relationship with his father, his childhood years, and so on, whereas the Dylan film presents him as a blank slate without a single flashback to his younger years.  Ray is much more in the vein of your “traditional” musical biopics like Walk the Line [2005, also directed by Mangold] or Bohemian Rhapsody [2018], containing the standard story beats of struggles in their personal lives, a haunting past, liberal-to-moderate use of flashbacks, you get the idea.

I suppose part of my enjoyment of A Complete Unknown stems from the fact that, even though I’m not a Dylan fan, or Fan with a capital F, I appreciate the songs themselves, with their intricate lyrics and folksy rhythms, so I thoroughly enjoyed the myriad musical breaks.  I also liked the way the movie did not spoon-feed me chunks of information it felt I needed to know.  Instead of the movie telling me how I should feel about a scene or a moment with clunky dialogue or exposition, it simply presents a situation and kind of stands back from it, allowing me to form my own emotional reactions to the material.  That’s a tricky storytelling method; one false step and you’re left with a story with no heart, no meat in the middle.  But A Complete Unknown pulls it off extremely well.  I’m sure there’s a way to explain how they did it, but I’m not the one to try.  I just know that it works, and that’s enough for me.

Any discussion of this movie must necessarily include Timothée Chalamet’s magnetic performance as Bob Dylan.  It is destined for an Oscar nomination.  I am reliably informed that Chalamet did all the singing himself (as did Norton and Barbaro as Seeger and Baez, and Boyd Holbrook as Johnny Cash), and he went to great lengths to mimic Dylan’s trademark sound.  Combined with the pitch-perfect hair and makeup, it really feels like the real Dylan onscreen, especially when the movie jumps forward to the Newport Music Festivals of ‘64 and ‘65.  Of course, I wasn’t alive back then, but I have seen pictures and documentary footage of the man himself, and Chalamet is utterly convincing.  Even if you’re not a Dylan fan, this movie is worth watching just to see Chalamet’s performance…he’s that good.

My colleague, Marc Sanders, mentions in his review how the production design of the film went to great lengths to recreate early-1960s New York City, and I second that statement.  It’s as utterly convincing as Chalamet himself, especially when it comes to the various “underground” music clubs Dylan performs in, clubs where the folk music revolution was born.  I get the feeling that anyone who watches this movie, who was also alive at the time, will be easily transported back to that era when Kennedy’s Camelot was in full swing, as was the hippie movement, the folk movement, the civil rights movement, the Cold War, the Beatles.  There are aspects of this film that I may never fully appreciate since I was born in the early ‘70s, but I get the gist.

I feel compelled to rebut a specific argument from my girlfriend, who did not like the movie because it did not give us any real background information about who Bob Dylan really is.  (We only get a single tantalizing glimpse when someone leafs through one of his old scrapbooks that had been delivered to a “Mr. Zimmerman.”)  All the movie does, so her argument goes, is present us with a performer singing his music, culminating in a pivotal big concert, of which the same could be said of many other biopics that came before.  A Complete Unknown could just as well have been about Richie Havens, or Jerry Lee Lewis, or Janis Joplin, or anyone else.  There is no real personal conflict presented in the film.

To which I have to say…that’s not quite true.  I acknowledge the absence of background story and flashbacks, but for me, as I said, that’s a strength, not a weakness.  It follows the theme set up by the film’s title, after all.  Also, there is a real conflict in the story, as Dylan, after becoming the figurehead for the folk music movement in America, takes the unprecedented step of recording an album and performing live songs that are (gasp!) non-acoustic.  He complains that his fans want him to sing “Blowin’ in the Wind” for the rest of his life. This generates shockwaves throughout the folk community, and at one of his concerts where he performs an electric set, the crowd jeers, throws trash at him, and even calls him “Judas.”  That pretty much counts as “conflict,” in my opinion.

A Complete Unknown goes down as one of the best films of 2024 that I’ve seen.  For Dylan fans, it is an absolute must-see.  For fans of great acting, it’s also a must-see.  If you’re not a Dylan fan at all, well, it’s not likely to change your mind, but do yourself a favor and give it a chance.  Not many musical biopics, or films of ANY kind, are made this well and with as much loving care as A Complete Unknown.

RED ONE (2024)

by Miguel E. Rodriguez

DIRECTOR: Jake Kasdan
CAST: Dwayne Johnson, Chris Evans, Lucy Liu, J.K. Simmons
MY RATING: 8/10
ROTTEN TOMATOMETER: 30%

PLOT: After Santa Claus is kidnapped, the North Pole’s Head of Security must team up with a notorious hacker in a globe-trotting mission to (all together now) save Christmas.


Jake Kasdan’s Red One is by no means perfect, but it is not nearly as bad as the plethora of negative reviews would have you believe.  The Rotten Tomatoes website lists such jabs as:

  • “…forgettable as a first dusting of snow.”
  • “…offers big-budget visuals but lacks soul…”
  • And my favorite: “An ugly, under-lit, joyless slog, devoid of any holiday charm or sense of fun.”

Let me first address that “under-lit” comment.  I first attempted to watch this movie at our local AMC cineplex, and I noticed that the ads and previews were so dim that parts of the screen looked almost black.  I petitioned the manager to adjust the projector settings twice, but to no avail.  (“That projector has been giving us problems for two weeks.”)  When the movie started and it was just as dark as the previews, I gave it up as a lost cause, left and got a refund, and streamed it on Prime instead, and on our big-screen HD TV, presto, no more under-lit areas.  Everything was perfectly visible, clear, and bright.  So, it’s entirely possible that that reviewer’s issue with the screen being “under-lit” could have been a projector issue, and NOT a problem with the film itself.  Just wanted to throw that in there.

As far as those other negative comments go, well, I don’t know what kind of mindset those folks were in as they watched Red One, but it’s difficult for me to comprehend how anyone could call it “joyless.”  I found it charming and funny myself.  But then, when it comes to holiday movies, I have always been partial to the ones that attempt to provide logical solutions to the massive logistical problems involved in getting one man to travel the entire globe in a single night, delivering presents to every household that’s waiting for them.

For example, in The Polar Express, we are treated to a semi-industrial North Pole that runs like clockwork and (thanks to convenient time dilation) can get everything into Santa’s sleigh so he can dash away just before midnight. Red One ups that ante right from the get-go.

After he has taken a brief holiday in the city – masquerading as, of course, a mall Santa – the real Santa Claus, call sign “Red One” (J.K. Simmons), is driven to the nearest military airbase in an armored limo with a motorcade escort.  Accompanying him is his Chief of Security, Callum Drift (Dwayne Johnson)…because of course the real Santa would have a bodyguard.  It just makes sense.  Then, at the airbase, under blacked-out radar coverage, Santa’s state-of-the-art sleigh, powered by eight gigantic reindeer and carefully monitored by NORAD, takes off for the North Pole with a fighter jet escort.

I dunno, man, I just ate this stuff up with a spoon.  The imagination and attention to detail that went into creating this version of the Santa mythology brought a smile to my face for pretty much the entire movie.  Another example: I mentioned to my girlfriend that this version of Santa Claus is not very fat, which is usually a given.  But then there’s a scene where Santa lifts weights in a gym as Drift spots him, and I thought, okay, I can buy that.  Santa needed to drop a few pounds. It sounds absurd writing it out like that, but I’m telling you, for me it all made sense.

So, like I said, right away I was on board with the logistics of the story.  Then the real plot kicks in when Santa is kidnapped under everyone’s noses by a gang of bad guys who manage to infiltrate the North Pole’s highly sophisticated defensive measures.  The only way Drift and his colleagues will have a chance of retrieving Santa before Christmas Eve is with the help of Jack O’Malley (Chris Evans), a talented but amoral tech genius who claims he can track down anyone, anywhere, anytime.

There’s the usual backstory of Jack’s son who lives with his mother and her husband, and Jack was never father material to begin with, but the son is going to play in a concert on Christmas Eve, and so on.  I’m not saying this material is irrelevant, but for me it was secondary to my enjoyment of how the filmmakers were treating all the mythological/fantasy/sci-fi material.  We get talking polar bears [not the Golden Compass kind, the Zootopia kind], murderous snowmen who are seemingly invincible, tech gadgets that turn Matchbox cars into full-size vehicles [I want one!], a whole new use for Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robots, and we even get to meet Santa’s brother.  Yep…his brother.

I mention all these details because they are what I responded to mostly during the film.  The plot?  The plot is, let’s face it, standard thriller fare, with a reasonably interesting big-bad and hidden connections and a few surprises, but because the filmmakers went to such great lengths to provide a fascinating backstory for all the mythological characters and how the North Pole is organized logistically, I didn’t particularly care if the story was perhaps shallow and mildly predictable to anyone who has seen more than 10 movies in their lives.  I’m not ashamed to admit it.

But because of how the filmmakers were telling the story this time around, I just ate it up.  Dwayne Johnson and Chris Evans are a decent screen pairing.  Bonnie Hunt as Mrs. Claus was a treat.  Lucy Liu was perhaps the most wasted of the entire cast, although she does get one very brief kicking-ass scene.  The motive behind Santa’s kidnapping was credible.  There was nothing in the movie that broke its own set of rules, which is more than I can say of quite a few would-be thrillers out there.

Heck, I’m just gonna say it: Red One is the Galaxy Quest of Christmas movies.  You either buy into the preposterous, but logically sound, premise and laugh for a while, or you don’t.  As for me, I’ll be watching this one again next Christmas.  Or maybe sooner.

A COMPLETE UNKNOWN

By Marc S. Sanders

A drifter hitches a ride into New York City with a guitar on his back looking for Woody Guthrie.  He only comes to realize that his musical idol is in a New Jersey hospital ward with a debilitating illness. The drifter just came from Jersey.

The young stranger eventually catches up with the legendary folk singer, and a friend named Pete Seegar.  He plays a song he wrote for the ill and mute Mr. Guthrie and the men are dazzled by this young man.  This is Bob Dylan, and he writes music and lyrics as quickly as he breathes.  But where did this wunderkind stem from?  To everyone that encounters Bob Dylan, he’s simply A Complete Unknown.

Timothée Chalamet delivers a blazingly convincing performance as Bob Dylan, surely a front runner for the Best Actor Oscar.  The appearance is easy to get used to. The dialect and expressions of what I’d like to think is the summit of what most of us know about the musician never falters from an apathetic expression or that mumbling hoarseness we all know.  Everything from the clothes to the shaggy brown hair to the sunglasses and motorcycle he confidently rides perfect this embodiment. In James Mangold’s latest musician biography (prior credits include the Johnny Cash bio Walk The Line), with Timothée Chalamet in this role, I was truly watching a Bob Dylan of the early to mid-1960’s.

Any movie has a conflict for its story to work around.  There’s more than one conflict in A Complete Unknown, but Bob Dylan would not know that.  He’s content with doing what he does and has not one care for what anyone else wants him to be or wants him to share.  Bob lacks much concern for the tumultuous times of the mid twentieth century either.  JFK and Malcolm X are assassinated.  The Vietnam War persists.  The Cuban Missile Crisis terrifies everyone.  Yet, Bob only focuses on his songwriting.  He’ll make connections with Pete Seegar (Edward Norton) and develop a sometimes-romantic tryst but mostly singing partnership with Joan Baez (Monica Barbaro).  He also gets involved with Sylvie Russo (Elle Fanning), one of his first fans.  However, no matter what they might expect of the performer, he’s only going to follow the path that drives him.  Therefore, that will be their own respective problems to contend with, not his.  Bob is only going to follow that path that he chooses.

Sylvie wants to know more about her live-in boyfriend who only tells tales of when he moved with a travelling carnival.  Joan wants to know where he learned to play guitar or even how he developed a knack for poetic lyricism.  Later, she’ll want to play the original numbers that solidified their friendship on stage despite his stubbornness not to agree.  It becomes curious when photo albums are delivered, addressed to a Robert Zimmerman.  Pete and his other peers want Bob, a now marquee name, to hold on to the grassroots of folk singing.  Bob will not acquiesce though.  Like other masterful musicians such as Prince or John Lennon and Elton John, Bob Dylan is going to continue to reinvent himself. 

In a matter of months, the signer becomes a nationwide superstar and he can’t walk the streets without getting bombarded; something he never wanted.  He performs with a passion for the music he’s written and he persists in making the next new thing with his talents as he transitions from acoustic to electric guitar and incorporates keyboards and drums to accompany his performances.  His friend Pete sees a berth becoming wider from the folk music he parades at annual festivals in Newport, Rhode Island and what Dylan insists on only playing.  Record producers (primarily represented by actor Dan Fogler) beg the singer to perform his older familiar tracks, but Bob Dylan only wants to move on to what is new and fresh. 

A Complete Unknown is full of such energy because it delivers what was produced by the guy who composed all of these magnificent and magnetic tracks from Song To Woodie to Blowin’ In The Wind to Like A Rolling Stone and to The Time’s They Are A Changing and A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall.  You might not know or even understand all the verses by heart, but you quickly catch on to the choruses. To hear these newly composed songs pulled out of a dusty attic for an updated biography, performed by Timothée Chalamet in underground bars, at concert festivals or even in messy apartments is addicting.  You don’t want the actor to stop the song.  You don’t want the film to cut away from any of the numbers and you wish the concert would never end.  Like Joan Baez, Bob Dylan’s works stay with you.

I’ve become a huge admirer of James Mangold.  He’s a writer/director who does not criticize his subjects.  He empathizes with them and respects their boundaries.  We might find frustrations in people like Bob Dylan or Johnny Cash, but Mangold does not compromise the biography.  He finds reasons for you to like these men even while those who stand in their circles might not care for their attitudes. 

The director is also skillful at showing the history of the time.  Like the last Indiana Jones film he covered, the settings are so authentic.  New York City in A Complete Unknown is depicted down to the finest detail including the yellow street signs within the small boroughs of damp Brownstones and city streets that Bob Dylan navigates. The musty interiors of Woody Guthrie’s hospital room or Pete Seegar’s cabin home are shot with a hazy photography.  The Newport music festival, full of concert spectator extras feels like it was pulled from a documentary; what maybe a calm and relaxing Woodstock might have looked like.

Beyond Timothée Chalamet, the cast of this film is superb.  Elle Fanning need not say a word as James Mangold provides an assortment of close ups depicting her pain of wanting to love Bob Dylan but knowing she just can’t.  Her complexion turns into a weeping pink without one tear shed.  Monica Barbaro is on the cusp of becoming a marquee name in films.  The actress who was recently in action material with Tom Cruise and Arnold Schwarzenegger hides so well under the folk appearance of Joan Baez and she carries an immense stage presence. Scoot McNairy is Woody Guthrie who never speaks and only stares straight ahead during visits from Bob and Pete. Yet, the silent performance offers the only character who truly understood the value of an enigmatic Bob Dylan. Edward Norton has given a new range as a liberal and calm Pete Seegar who uses folk music as an escape from the turmoil of the times and not as a harbor to protest or fight an authority with aggression and violence.  He might wish for his friend Bob Dylan to uphold the value of folk music, but he knows he can’t keep a bird caged in one place either.  Norton’s introductory scene in a courthouse with a banjo in hand is unforgettable.  The casting is simply perfect in A Complete Unknown.

Since I saw this film on Christmas Day, I have not stopped thinking about it, and I think I want to see it again in a theater with a speaker system that amplifies the power of Bob Dylan’s guitar and mumbly vocals.  Right now, nothing sounds better.

A Complete Unknown is one of the best films of the year.

CARRY-ON

By Marc S. Sanders

Action movies have been done to death, haven’t they?  Yet, don’t we still get a kick out of them?

Sure, I need my TCM classics like It Happened One Night or my updated biographies like Angelina Jolie’s Maria, but action movies are like the best junk food without any of the calories.  Still, an action picture has to have that special attraction if it is to stand apart from the others.  I got bloated by the time I got to the fourth Lethal Weapon.  The first is a perfect wham bang shoot ‘em up set during Christmas time. Now Netflix grants us a long-lasting candy cane with its airport run around chaser flick known as Carry-On.

What makes this mad bomber fest a smash is that the hero, TSA agent Ethan Kopek (Taron Egerton), actually cries out of fear and pain as the bad guy beats up on him and frightens him into direct obedience.  He begs with tears coming down his cheeks for the bad guy to just stop with his mission.  He screams “WHY ME?”  The Rock, Stallone, Schwarzenegger, Willis, Ford, Gibson – those guys don’t cry.  Yet, little Ethan Kopek does, and once he gets his wits about him does he truly become a super hero.  I recall the moment happens in the last twenty minutes of the picture.  Ethan throws off his pansy TSA uniform shirt and makes a go at saving the day in his black undershirt.  Now he’s earned John McClane’s respect.

On the busiest travel day of the year, December 24th, Ethan is assigned to scan the carry on luggage ensuring travelers have not packed contraband items.  He and his colleagues have to put up with all the typical TSA complaints that come with the job.  My hat’s off to screenwriter T.J. Fixman for allowing some time to show the challenges of this occupation.  It adds some truth, comedy and depth to a thankless job that’s hardly celebrated or acknowledged like cops, doctors, athletes, and attorneys.  

Ethan is handed an earpiece and a mysterious voice, provided by Jason Bateman, gives him direct instructions to allow one black suitcase with a red ribbon to pass through inspection.  If Ethan deviates in any way at all, the voice promises that Nora (Sophia Carson) will be killed.  She is Ethan’s pregnant girlfriend and also runs airport security at LAX.  

Movies like this function like a game or sport.  The villain sets up boundaries.  How is Ethan going to save the day or get around the unexpected while trying to avoid harm to Nora or the airport as a whole?  As far as he knows, he is always being watched by the guy talking in his ear.  There’s rules and obstacles he must observe.  Granted, Carry-On allows a lot of unlikely and hard to buy conveniences to let our hero obtain the advantage, but he’s also not Superman, and at times when you believe Ethan is coming out ahead, Bateman’s antagonist changes up the game.  

Heck! A bomb is activated not at the end of the movie, but dead center right in the middle of the story.  Normally, the end all be all explosive serves as the final exclamation point with the expected digital clock countdown.  However, in Carry-On if it can get deactivated, there will still be more story to go.  Bateman’s villain really has everything thought out and Egerton’s character has no choice but to man up to the plate once again.

A side story with Danielle Deadwyler as an investigative cop named Elena will eventually intersect with the main narrative.  It’s nothing special until a car ride on the way to the airport plays Wham’s Last Christmas on the radio and the scene explodes into a mind-blowing thrill reminiscent of what I saw in Children Of Men twenty years ago.  The construction of this scene alone is absolute fun.  

Deadwyler’s character is written with a lot of carte blanche to allow Ethan to save the day.  No, none of this is ever likely to be how things go.  Yet, I recall Arnold Schwarzenegger being thrown out of an airplane and surviving a crash landing in a garbage heap thirty thousand feet below (Eraser).

If you watch Carry-On, I will not be surprised if you protest its merits based on a collection of plot holes.  The most glaring one to me is that LAX does not look nearly as crowded as the script insists, nor what I’d expect on Christmas Eve day.  Also, traffic is really easy to get around on the way to the airport.  (New Orleans fills in for Los Angeles.). However, just because Dreamworks and Netflix cut corners on spending for more extras and scenic inconveniences, it does not mean my enjoyment with the film is suspended. 

To make up for where the film’s budget might have come in the way, there are storyline surprises that enter from nowhere. Logic is applied to what’s inserted at these opportune times.  Ethan and Elena experience a set back and now new forms of game play must take hold.  You accept what’s thrown at you because of the cast and set ups.

Taron Egerton is a deliberately wimpy, but also an attractive, unlikely hero.  Jason Bateman ranks with other impressive Die Hard type movie villains like Alan Rickman, Tommy Lee Jones and Dennis Hopper.

Carry-On’s director, Jaume Collet-Serra, is well aware of the near miss escapes that allow his movie to…well…carry on.  He really doesn’t try to hide or distract from the plot holes or questions that audiences may argue.  Yet, I say who cares? This cast of mostly unknowns step up to embrace the dialogue and circumstances of the script while trying to win the game.  

Look, anything you see in Carry-On can theoretically happen.  

Would it happen?  

Let’s just change the subject please.  You have a plane to catch.

CONCLAVE

By Marc S. Sanders

conflict

noun

  • 1.
    a serious disagreement or argument,

conclave

noun

con· clave ˈkän-ˌklāv 

Synonyms of conclave

1

: a private meeting or secret assembly

especially  : a meeting of Roman Catholic cardinals secluded continuously while choosing a pope 

2

: a gathering of a group or association

As I watched Edward Berger’s new film, Conclave, the word “conflict” came to mind based simply off of the same prefix the two terms share.  This picture does not just depict a sequestered assembly to elect a new Pope for the Roman Catholic Church.  It goes further because nothing goes as expected for the Dean of the Conclave, Cardinal Lawrence (Ralph Fiennes, doing Oscar caliber work).  

Now that the Pope has passed away, the various cardinals assemble, and all seem to have their own impressions of who should take the reins.  Cardinal Bellini (Stanley Tucci, man I love this guy) is the liberal candidate, tolerant and supportive of the gay population and accepting of women in authoritative positions.  Cardinal Tedesco (Sergio Castellitto) is on the conservative side believing the position should rightly return to an Italian with restrictions and containments of liberal ideals that have diminished what the church used to stand for.  There is also Bishop Tremblay (John Lithgow) who has an abundance of support to no one’s surprise. A few others earned some votes during the initial balloting, but it’s seemingly of no big consequence. Still, over the course of the film, multiple votes will have to be counted until the minimum majority necessary for a new Pope is collected.

The men of God convene in a formality of faith, swearing their handwritten votes before the Almighty.  Yet, Lawrence, as a dean of ethics and morality, is becoming apprised of some questionable irregularities among his peers.  While some of these men are earning more and more support with each passing tally, new developments present themselves forcing Lawrence to question if there should be some investigations to determine if some of these men are qualified to acquire the Papacy beyond an election.  Hence, the conclave is getting gravely interrupted by an overwhelming number of conflicts for Lawrence to consider.

I must stop there with my summary of Berger’s film, based on the novel by Robert Harris.  This is a top notch drama helmed by an outstanding cast.  At the very least the adapted screenplay by Peter Straughan will win the Oscar.  The dialogue is aggressive and forthright when it needs to be.  An institution like the Roman Catholic Church operates on secrecy.  However, it’s so interesting to see these devout men of God challenge one another. Just because they are the highest priests does not constitute them beyond sin or even corruption.  As Stanley Tucci’s character demonstrates, they might not be polite either.  Simply honest when their personal stance is challenged.  

The script is also quietly ponderous.  Ralph Fiennes shows an internal conflict between his duties to the church and how he truly characterizes some of his peers.  He even begins to wonder if he should continue as a priest. Has his faith remained uncompromised? Frankly, how can a priest of the highest order live satisfyingly knowing that no person is of an upmost perfection even if they swear by their faith? Still, the strict expectations of a widespread religion will demand contexts of that notion.

Constructively, Conclave has a gripping energy.  The performances from especially Fiennes, Tucci and Lithgow are magnetic as soon as they enter the piece.  Isabella Rossellini delivers an under-radar performance as a nun who works with a necessary audaciousness to her character.  She knows things that should never have occurred.  Yet, how will she confront these intimidating, stark, red-robed figureheads?  Does she even have a right or authority to speak?

The music from Volker Bertelmann could belong in Hitchcock thriller if Bernard Hermann wasn’t available.  It keeps you alert and never anchors your feelings as new developments come to light.  The composition only enhances the weight of the drama.  

Edward Berger is an observant director.  Ahead of the conclave he reminds you that even telephones are not permitted inside and tossed in a heap outdoors.  The priests are smokers. Personally, I find that surprising as cigarettes almost seem like a mild narcotic and a contradiction of how I envision a Catholic priest should behave.  Nevertheless, Berger also gives you a close up of a pile of cigarette butts tossed on the ground just ahead of being sequestered. These men turn off the world outside to focus on this important election. It’s as if they live in a submarine below the surface.

Conclave wil be a very divisive film.  Politically, it’s apparent that it favors one side (liberal vs conservative) over another.  In addition, it is not shy about showing its characters with their assortments of fault.  I am not educated in Catholicism.  Though I am well aware of the value it holds across its worshippers.   For many, their faith is held above all else and those people will find a discomfort with this picture.  I might even be understating that assessment.  Some folks of the Catholic order, and maybe other denominations of Christianity, will even take grave offense to this fictionalized depiction.

Conclave is truly conflicting.

Because I do not hold any value in Catholicism, much less any religion anymore (just a shred for the Judaic customs I was raised on), I did not hold any bias or objections to Edward Berger’s film. Rather I was engaged in how difficult it is to balance yourself as a Catholic priest.  For Cardinal Lawrence, Ralph Fiennes is neither likable nor unlikable but I certainly felt his character’s frustrations and the challenges he is obliged to navigate.  

Who is judging these Cardinals? 

God?  

Or is it each one of them?  

Conclave is built on one believable, yet shocking, surprise after another.  Still, when the big twist at the end arrives, it is completely blind siding and Straughan’s script leaves his audiences with a new question that’s practically impossible to contend or compromise.  

Again, Conclave is very, very conflicting.

Nevertheless, this is one of the best films I have seen in a very long time.  So much so, that I cannot wait to see it again.

Conclave is one of the best films of the year.

GLADIATOR II

By Marc S. Sanders

With Gladiator II, you get two of everything.  Two heroes, two emperors, two great white sharks, but only one Denzel Washington which is plenty.

The sequel to Ridley Scott’s Best Picture Oscar winner takes place sixteen years after those events when we had the impression that Rome was left in a state of nobility, devoid of treacherous gladiator games. Not so.  

Two flamboyant young men named Geta and Catacalla have taken joint rule of Rome thanks to their continued worldwide conquering delivered by their General Acacious (Pedro Pascal).  The general fought for Rome, even if he didn’t agree with the rulers’ policies.  Now he wants to rest with his wife Lucilla (Connie Nielsen, one of two returning cast members of the original film).  Though it’s hard for Acacious to remain apathetic even while the two brats demand more widespread conquests.

Elsewhere is Lucius, Lucilla’s son, a child in the first film, now an adult whose African army suffers defeat at the opening of this film.  The opening naval sea raid upon an impenetrable fort is massively impressive with arrows, fireballs, swords, sea water drownings and gory bloodletting.  Lucius is played by Paul Mescal.   

Gladiator II is full of parallel stories.  Still, you can bet these characters’ paths will all intersect in coincidental soap opera fashion during the run time of the film.

There’s nothing new to this follow up picture that you hadn’t already seen in the original Gladiator.  In fact, the first hour follows a near exact blueprint of its predecessor.  Lucius, a once revered battle commander who lost his wife, is purchased as a slave by Macrinus (Denzel Washington) to fight in gladiator games throughout the Coliseums of Rome.  Because the violence of the sport is so well assembled and enhanced compared to the last movie, it’s easy to get caught up in the fun the film offers.  The action pieces are magnificent.

Though most of the movie is ridiculous.  Historians just close up your encyclopedias.  

Most absurd, yet deliciously fun, is when the emperors arrange for the ring to be filled with salt water and man-eating sharks at the ready as naval battles are reenacted.  Now I’m not sure if this was truly accomplished in Roman times with state-of-the-art plumbing to transport and hold all of this water.  I am also skeptical of bringing bloodthirsty great white sharks straight from the Mediterranean directly into the Coliseum, but I’ll be damned if anyone tells me this centerpiece of bloodshed is not giddy to behold.

Other moments that will have you clapping are match ups between the warriors and big ass mutant, buck toothed (I mean like BUCK TOOTHED) monkeys as well your typical rhino melee.  That latter match had Miguel thinking of Attack Of The Clones.  

The best of the performances belongs to Washington.  As gleefully over the top (Miguel’s description) as Ridley Scott’s sequel is, Denzel Washington is doing scene stealing work on level with Jack Nicholson and Gene Hackman.  He’s playfully deceitful while appearing proudly respectable with his signature, toothy grin and colorfully eloquent robes that billow with his performance.  The film is not Oscar worthy, but Washington’s performance is because he masterfully works the mind-bending trickery of the character.  Macrinus worms his way through the Senators with conniving wagers placed on Lucius’ undetected fighting talents.  Actor Tim McInnerny is someone I’ve never heard of but as he plays a pitiful, gambling addicted weakling (think of Beaker from The Muppets) against Denzel Washington’s brash and conceited character, you can’t help but take pleasure in how things work out for each of the pair.

Joseph Quinn and Fred Hechinger are the cherub appearing emperors with extroverted cheekbones highlighted in bright rouge.  Combined,  these guys work really well as fill ins for the spoiled brattiness that Joaquin Phoenix left behind in the prior film.  Oh these kiddies are cruel and you just love to hate them.

The two heroes, Paul Mescal and Pedro Pascal, are what is left a little too bland.  They do not match the appeal that Russell Crowe delivered and it’s not simple to care for them or their outcomes.  Lacking any kind of dynamics, they occupy the athletic builds of these guys they’ve been cast to play and that’s where the script limits them.

Thankfully, Gladiator II is very entertaining.  It might not be wholly original when digging up tropes that have been used in many other sword and sandal epics, but Ridley Scott really committed to the carnage and gore we expect.  The director took much pleasure with the outrageous material and the smartest decision was to acquire Denzel Washington.  

Another actor would have slept his way through this role just for a paycheck.  Washington uses the twisted material at his disposal to own the picture all to himself.  I imagine the script documents an unforgettable monologue for his character in front of the weakling Roman senators.  This two time Oscar winning actor must have approached Ridley Scott and said let me try something.  Then the prop department made preparations for a sickeningly, grisly presentation that offers a marvelous image for the Roman Gods to behold, and one that’s hard to forget or not laughingly appreciate.  It may be a stomach-turning scene for some.  On the other hand, I applaud the brashness of the moment.

Our current Congress might be in disarray but with Gladiator II, Denzel Washington and Ridley Scott declare with confidence a resounding “HOLD MY BEER!”

GLADIATOR II (2024)

by Miguel E. Rodriguez

DIRECTOR: Ridley Scott
CAST: Paul Mescal, Denzel Washington, Pedro Pascal, Connie Nielsen
MY RATING: 6/10
ROTTEN TOMATOMETER: 72% Certified Fresh

PLOT: After his home is conquered by the tyrannical emperors who now lead Rome, a rebel soldier becomes a gladiator and must look to his past to find the strength to return the glory of Rome to its people.


[SPOILER ALERT: There is a key plot point that I must divulge in my review, but it is not something I knew before watching the film, despite the fact it was supposedly spoiled in one of the trailers.  You have been warned.]

While I was being underwhelmed by Ridley Scott’s latest film, Gladiator II, I was reminded of his previous lapses in judgement.  Although he is the deservedly acclaimed director of masterpieces like Alien, Black Hawk Down, Kingdom of Heaven, and Thelma & Louise, he also helmed such misfires as 1492: Conquest of Paradise, House of Gucci, and the regrettable Robin Hood [2010].  My point is that Gladiator II is a reminder that Mr. Scott is human like anyone else and occasionally makes mistakes.

I’m not saying that Gladiator II is a terrible film, though.  It is not aggressively bad like some other films I could mention (*cough, The Counselor, cough*).  It has some amazing sights, like the rhino battle in the Colosseum, and it boasts a triumphantly over-the-top performance from Denzel Washington as Macrinus, a flamboyant trainer of gladiators with designs of his own for the city of Rome.  On those merits alone, Gladiator II is maybe worth a watch.

But…but…

While the story is interesting from a standpoint of pure plotting, and while we get the requisite nostalgia bombs of seeing Connie Nielsen back again along with periodic flashbacks to the first Gladiator [2000], I felt curiously distant from the film itself.  I have theories about this phenomenon, but nothing conclusive.

First, the lead actor, Paul Mescal, as [SPOILER ALERT] Lucius.  He looks the part, I grant you that, at least from a physical standpoint.  He’s built, he appears to do most of the physical stunts himself, and he delivers his lines with the appropriate gravitas.  But I never got behind him as the hero of the piece.  Maybe it’s because he’s a complete unknown to me?  Maybe because we barely got to know him before he was suddenly thrust into the main story arc?  (By contrast, in the first Gladiator, we got to know Maximus inside and out before he became a gladiator.)

My sympathies went entirely towards Pedro Pascal as General Acacius, the military mastermind behind Rome’s greatest victories.  He is the new husband of Lucilla (played by the returning Connie Nielsen), whose son, you’ll remember, was last seen following Maximus’s body out of the Colosseum, sixteen years before Gladiator II begins.  Acacius is dutiful almost to a fault, deferring all glory on the battlefield to the empire of Rome, even if it’s currently being run by a couple of brothers (Emperors Geta and Caracalla) who are entitled, bloodthirsty tyrants.  He is weary of the constant bloodshed and wonders if there isn’t a better way to restore Rome to glory.

And Denzel Washington…well, I’ll get to him in a minute.

So, the story, while it must have been compelling on paper, seems to be a healthy echo of the first film.  Another defeated soldier becomes a gladiator.  Another successful Roman general wants to restore Rome.  More spectacular, bloody battles inside and outside the Colosseum.  More political intrigue regarding power-hungry senators and double-dealing merchants.  Forgive me, but I’ve been there, and I’ve done that.  (And adding massive sharks to a Colosseum battle does not intrinsically make it better than anything from the first film.  However, some basic research does show that the Colosseum WAS occasionally flooded with about 5 feet of water to stage mock naval battles…so there you go.)

The undeniable highlights of the film are any scenes involving Denzel Washington.  Not since Training Day has he chewed the scenery with this much gusto (although his recent turn as Macbeth comes pretty close).  I’m guessing he still has traces of Gladiator II set pieces stuck between his teeth.  He can command a scene by his presence alone, but he adds these marvelous gestures of adjusting his robes and tossing in one of his dazzling smiles when you might least expect it.  He makes one of the greatest uses of a dramatic pause that I’ve ever heard.  (“I own…[beat, beat, beat, beat, beat]…your house.”)  In another scene, he uses an exceedingly gory prop as a punctuation mark during a speech; if he gets nominated for an Oscar for this role, that’s the scene they SHOULD use for a clip, but they probably won’t.  Shame.  The whole performance is a classic example of taking a smaller role, owning it, and turning it into a thing of beauty.  In hindsight, it’s probably a good thing that he doesn’t have much screen time, because he simply outguns his scene partners at every turn.  You can’t take your eyes off this guy.

The drawback to Washington’s masterful performance is that I found myself marking time between his scenes, instead of falling into the world of the story.  I followed along, was able to keep track of which senator was doing what and why Lucilla was so distraught and so on.  But to the degree that I was able to follow along, I just didn’t care.  I was reminded of Troy, another sword-and-sandals epic, also told on a grand scale with innumerable extras and some world-class battle scenes, but which also left me apathetic for much of its running time.

Gladiator II improves on the first film only in terms of the complexity of its visual effects and the addition of Denzel Washington.  Aside from that, I’m afraid it does very little to make me care about its heroes, its plot twists, its unexpected deaths, and the glory of Rome.

(And I had to exercise superhuman restraint, at the final shots of the film, to keep myself from yelling out loud, “Talk to me, Goose!”)

WICKED PART ONE

By Marc S Sanders

The blessing of film is that it provides a channel to forms of entertainment that not everyone necessarily has access to.  I was never fascinated with the Tony Awards so much (even though I attended three live ceremonies) because the nominees were exclusive to what was performed in the last year on Broadway in New York City.  How can I or the rest of the country get enamored with the best of the best when we hardly have access to see any of the performances?  With movies, well you just go to the movies!

Wicked is one of the few musicals in the last twenty years that has taken on a worldwide fascination.  It was a very long novel before it became the touring stage production following a massive debut on Broadway. Perhaps because the story returns to a familiar setting, the fantastical land of Oz, the book and show carried a strong appeal.  Wicked arrived with an established brand.  Who doesn’t know The Wizard Of Oz?  Nevertheless, Wicked never needed magical ruby slippers (or rather silver as author L Frank Baum intended) to find its footing.  It’s always been worthy of its accolades apart from any other properties.  The new film, directed by John M Chu, will become a timeless classic all by itself.  Despite some technical issues, this cinematic adaptation is wondrous.

Elphaba (Cynthia Erivo) is the green skinned awkward teen, who was rejected by her father and only served a purpose to tend to her wheelchair bound sister Nessarose (Marissa Bode).  She accompanies them to drop her sister off at the esteemed magical school known as Shiz.  However, the headmistress of the institution, Madame Morrible (Michelle Yeoh), requests that Elphaba stay on as a student that she will personally teach as well.  Elphaba is roomed with the self-absorbed Galinda (Ariana Grande), where their relationship is frictional at first and later adoringly empathetic.  Eventually, we come to realize the destinies of these young ladies will develop into what is all too familiar in L Frank Baum’s eternal The Wizard Of Oz – Elphaba becomes The Wicked Witch Of The West while Galinda is recognized as Glinda, the pinkishly tender Good Witch Of The North. 

This Part One iteration of Wicked is very faithful to the stage production.  Every recognizable number is included from the operatic “No One Mourns The Wicked” to the giddily cheerful “Popular” to the climaxing, fist pumping, take charge “Defying Gravity” that closes out Act One.  The latter number is arguably one of the most well recognized and beloved theatrical songs of the twenty-first century thus far.  The edits and choreography of every number is magnificent, full of energy, and the harmonies work like natural dialogue as opposed to something like West Side Story where it’s not crazy to ask exactly why rival street gangs suddenly break out into song while trying to knife one another. 

John M Chu makes sure that his cast use every prop and set piece available.  You can’t help but grin while Ariana Grande does a circular swan flight from a chandelier while making a case for why it’s best to be popular.  “One Short Day” is a massive declaration within narrow school courtyards and corridors that berth out toward wide open endless fields into a vast blue sky for Elphaba to declare what she yearns for.  Cynthia Erivo has that knack to sing and perform personally to her character’s own subconscious when she’s in these intimate, private moments.  She then bursts out with confident volume to show that as repulsive as she might appear to everyone around her, the soul inside is what is beautiful.  In order to cast Elphaba, you really need one of the most beautiful singing voices in the world because the character is most stunning when she is expressing herself vocally. 

Ariana Grande is good. Though I still prefer the two iterations of the character that I saw on stage prior to this film.  Her performance is a different interpretation than what is traditionally in a live production.  I especially noticed that change when her character attempts to explain how to properly pronounce her name of Galinda.  The stage version of this memorable moment induced the laughs from me more.  As beautiful as Grande is in her characterization and singing, she’s not so humorous as the live stage performances.  So, the humor of Galinda, the self-entitled spoiled rich girl with everything, is not as strong.  As well, at the top of the film, I had an issue with understanding precisely what Ariana Grande was singing at first.  Was she harmonizing or was she singing dialogue?  Perhaps, that is not so much a fault of the actress as it is the recording.  Yet, the issue does not last long, and soon you are treated to Galinda laying it all out there.  She might not be as funny this time, but she’s incredibly charming and loved by her surrounding entourage of student followers, especially from Bowen Yang (Saturday Night Live) and Bronwyn James. 

The sets are spectacular and I learned afterwards that they are mostly physically constructed.  So, there is a texture to the schoolgrounds of Shiz with bridges and babbling brooks as well as regal castle-like architecture.  This is a Universal picture and many may presume that Disney would have produced something like this musical fantasy.  However, in Disney’s hands, much of this film would have been polished in a grandiose, yet artificial, CGI.  John M Chu and his crew went the smart route and diminished the cartoon sheen that comes with CGI.

My issue though is in the cinematography.  Regrettably, I could not see Wicked in a Dolby cinema.  So, we settled for a traditional theatre at AMC which was fine.  Yet, I was wondering at first if there was something wrong with the projector.  A lot of the scenes taking place in the daytime seemed washed out, especially with close ups on Ariana Grande and her complexion.  Then I concluded that John M Chu’s cinematographer relied on a lot of blaring sunlight for many of the scenes.  I imagine it was used to contrast the dark green complexion of Elphaba, emphasizing how much she doesn’t belong in this environment and amping up what an eyesore the character must feel like within the world of Shiz.  When Elphaba dominates a scene or a caption or when the film arrives at the Emerald City, the photography is just right.  Elsewhere at Shiz, it’s very oversaturated with a fuzzy kind of look to it.  Was I wearing the wrong spectacles?  Wait, I don’t wear glasses or contacts!  I could not get past this for much of the film. There was just too much white light, and it didn’t compliment the pinks and pales that accompany Galinda and some of the environments and extras.

My wife and I agreed we are going to see it in theatres at least one more time within a Dolby surround sound.  You should too.  We missed the surround sound of the winning music blaring through the entire theatre.  In a traditional theatre, the sound feels as if it is only coming from the front, or behind the screen.  Dolby or IMAX enhance the audible as if your mind is right at the center of an orb with the most gorgeous, pitch perfect sounds accompanying you.  Dolby and IMAX will also enrich the colors, and Wicked is most certainly vibrant.  Every scene looks like a completed coloring book, despite my one noted imperfection.  A year after Barbie, and pink is still in.  Greens and blacks are just as impactful.

Wicked is magnificent entertainment, worth seeing again.  The music is enchanting and easy to catch on to.  It’s fun and dramatic and every lyric works to shape the characters.  The story is magnificent as well with eye opening twists while allegorically adopting a message demonstrating the harm of prejudice.  There’s also opportunity to show where life can be a disappointment at times when you encounter false idols and learn truths about yourself and those you have grown close to.  I speak in vague terms on these accounts so as not to spoil what this powerful story delivers.

The film is smart in invention as well.  There are good, solid moments that were never staged in the live performances, but thanks to the art of filmmaking new ideas seem totally appropriate where the classic 1939 film, The Wizard Of Oz, are referenced.  Though, I have yet to see Part Two, I can confidently say Wicked works as a solid prequel.

I was one of the skeptics who believed breaking this film into two parts was a shameless studio cash grab.  It certainly seems that way and maybe it is, but considering how good this new musical film adaptation is, I am eager for another installment.  So, I will happily fork over more admission money a year from now and I am confident that I’ll wholeheartedly enjoy Wicked Part Two.  This is a brilliantly creative story with a strong cast, sensational music and eye-popping invention.  I may know what becomes of the characters and how this story ends, but I can’t wait to see it reenacted for its latter half, and I am eager to see what new creations present themselves in its next chapter. 

Wicked is one of the best films of the year.  A triumphing soar through the skies on a magical broomstick.

HERETIC

By Marc S. Sanders

Heretic operates like you’re playing Dungeons & Dragons but adapted into an Escape Room experience.  The stakes at play are bigger than just your life.  You have no choice but to truly test your faith.  Can you adhere to the religious beliefs you always vowed to uphold when a lunatic is holding you captive?

Sister Barnes and Sister Paxton (Sophie Thatcher, Chloe East) are two impressionable young ladies who are proud to spread the gospel of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints from door to door.  With bicycles and pamphlets in hand, proudly wearing their name tags, they visit the homes of those who have recently expressed interest in the church.

As a dark and stormy night approaches, they knock on the door of an eerie house that belongs to the charming Mr. Reed (Hugh Grant in an utterly surprising role).  Once the ladies are assured that the gentleman’s wife is at home, ready to offer some blueberry pie, they happily enter and are quickly engaged in an unsettling test that will carry on through the evening.

I went into Heretic not knowing a single thing about the film and that made my encounter with the piece that much more interesting.  It’s a disturbing thriller that always kept me curious.  Mr. Reed seems to go on tangents that eventually get to a point where the Sisters are confused, but eventually coherent of the strange man’s demonstrations.  The film is not shy about challenging practically every religious denomination known to man from Christianity to Judaism to Islam and Mormonism.  According to Mr. Reed the ten thousand other doctrines spread across the planet need also be questioned.

Higher powers and miracles – do they really exist?

There’s no doubt that Heretic is a suspenseful thriller teetering on horror but unlike most effective efforts in this genre I was never uneasy with the picture.  It doesn’t rely on jump scares and only gore introduces itself when it must serve the storytelling.  However, it’s an intelligent character study where the heroines are challenged over and over again while remaining in captivity.  So, I was always enthralled with how Sister Barnes and Sister Paxton will entertain their destiny from one step to another.  Stay for pie or don’t.  Lie or tell the truth.  Choose the purple door or the green door.  Belief or Disbelief.

As someone who is primarily educated in Judaism only, it was still not hard to follow the wordy, rambling dissertations of Mr. Reed.  He easily compares his own take on religion to the different interpretations found in music from bands like The Hollies and Radiohead, as well as the various editions of the board game Monopoly which suddenly take on new meanings.  He even brings up Jar Jar Binks to deliver a point.  It’s odd.

Hugh Grant is an unlikely selection for a role like the charming, yet sinister Mr. Reed.  As weird as he is in this darkened house with endless hallways, I wanted to trust him through most of the first half of the picture.  I didn’t care if there was a haunting corridor or staircase to walk down.  This is Hugh Grant of Notting Hill fame.  Grant’s resume of roles lends to the surprising effectiveness of his part here.  He’s always been that adoring charmer on screen.  Ian McKellan or Anthony Hopkins?  I’d never trust them.  Hugh Grant?  Well, why wouldn’t I?

I was hoping-praying actually-that Heretic would not dissolve into a sick rape and slasher movie typical of when young girls are welcomed into a creepy, inescapable house.  That’s cheap, exploitative thrills.  Fortunately, this movie never goes that route.  

The roles of the two Sisters are brilliantly written.  To open the piece, before you know anything about Sister Barnes and Sister Paxton the two women are sitting on a park bench that bears a seedy condom advertisement while staring into a heavenly Utah sky. The topic of their conversation is of a pornographic nature.  Sinful and mischievous, despite the value they hold in their religion and the proud purpose they serve with the church.  These are complex characters that are compelled by their antagonist to make some fair hypotheses about if they genuinely embrace what they claim to value and share with a community.

Heretic is most definitely a psychological thriller with some grotesque imagery.  It gets its audience caught in a trapped claustrophobia thanks to a lot of spooky atmospheric labyrinths.  Furthermore, its strengths lie in the writing, directing and most importantly three of the best performances to come out this year from Hugh Grant, Sophie Thatcher and Chloe East.  

This is a thinking thriller for anyone who has ever uttered a single prayer at least once in their lifetime.  If that’s you, then Mr. Reed may have some questions for you.  Get out of the rain and step inside.  

TRAP

By Marc S. Sanders

The devil is in the details and when you are watching an M Night Shyamalan film it’s transparent enough to know the writer/ director has a penchant for disregard.  He’ll put the two by fours together but he doesn’t hammer the nails into place treating his structure with less sturdiness than a house of cards.

His latest thriller Trap gains from a respectable, though nothing great, performance by Josh Hartnett as a psychotic serial killer named Cooper, also known as The Butcher.  However, Shyamalan takes away the actor’s credibility by allowing his portrayal to make unbelievable escapes while also being granted an ability to eavesdrop on people while attending a loud pop/rock concert with his pre-teen daughter, Riley (Ariel Donoghue). 

Cooper and Riley have a great father/daughter relationship.  She’s beyond thrilled to see her favorite singer, Lady Raven (Saleyka Shyamalan, the director’s real-life daughter), live on stage.  He’s thrilled to accompany her while munching on stadium snacks and granting the dutiful empathy she needs from middle school drama. Cooper only gets alarmed though when he sees an overwhelming amount of police officers and FBI agents roaming all over the stadium.  He asks some questions and learns that this event is being used as a means to capture the infamous killer on the loose known as The Butcher.  Now Cooper must play a game of cat and mouse by evading the authorities while not alarming Riley.

Once again, Shyamalan has an enticing set up, but then he doesn’t deliver.  First it’s hard to swallow Hartnett’s character listening in on conversations happening yards away down hallowed hallways, or even backstage where Lady Raven’s voice is blaring through stadium speakers while she’s dancing and singing in front of thirty thousand fan girls.   Reader, I saw Sting in concert performing one of the quietest songs imaginable, “Fields Of Gold,” and I still could not hear my wife ask me to get her a Coke when she was standing right next to me.

Midway through the film it only gets more ridiculous and even corny as Lady Raven ends up at the family home where Cooper’s wife (Alison Pill) and children become enamored with the celebrity playing piano in their living room.  Then there is an overly long scene meant to offer terrifying suspense when a character locks herself in the bathroom.  Then it’s back to Raven’s limo and then onto a new house and then back to the first house.

The structure of Shyamalan’s script seems to always paint itself into a corner.  So what does the writer do? If he’s trapped with no idea, well he just deepens the corner further and further.  He defies his blueprint, and pushes those two by fours further and further out.  

All of it is hard to digest.  Cooper needs to escape a limousine surrounded by swarms of both fans and police officers. Cut to the next shot and Josh Hartnett’s character is walking away from the commotion unbeknownst to everyone else who stayed glued to the doors and windows of the limo.  Excuse me but none of the car doors ever opened.  I didn’t even see the sunroof open.  Yet, the film insists the guy escaped from the vehicle.  So just go with it.  OKAY??? 

The irony of a film called Trap is that the filmmakers could not even figure out the traps they devised.  Therefore, they’ll just disregard offering up the sleight of hand and move along.

No good magician insists his audience trust him when he says that his assistant who stepped in the box has disappeared.  A good magician, or even a bad magician, is at least smart enough to know that we need to see it for ourselves.