Power Rangers (2017)

Director: Dean Israelite

Cast: Dacre Montgomery, Naomi Scott, Bryan Cranston, Elizabeth Banks

Have I Seen It Before: Oddly, yes. One of those moments where I had to get an oil change, the oil change was going to take longer than two hours, and my lube place was within walking distance of a theater, all at the same time.

Did I Like It: I apparently liked it well enough to watch it again which I’ll admit surprised me a little bit. The movie is, at it’s core an incredibly average and occasionally cheap superhero affair. I’m sure that Bryan Cranston and Elizabeth Banks managed to quite effectively remodel something in their houses but accomplished little else. The actual rangers are fine enough, understanding the assignment of bringing a pinch of modern* The Breakfast Club (1985) to the convoluted mythology that launched a thousand action figures.

It would be damning praise, one would assume, to say this is probably the best one could hope from for a big screen adaptation of Power Rangers, but as I watch this for what I imagine would be the final time, I’m struck by—despite all of its profound pandering; indeed, because of that pandering—just how effective an adaptation of the old TV show this is. This is filled with warmed over material from other—if not better—more successful films, but have you ever actually watched an episode of Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers? If you haven’t, I wouldn’t say I blame you, but the show is actually built around footage from another (it sort of shames me to admit) Japanese TV show, Kyōryū Sentai Zyuranger. It wouldn’t be Power Rangers if it wasn’t sort of disappointing and essentially the cinematic or televisual equivalent of leftover casserole.

*Would a modern audience have genuinely been unable to handle a genuine 90s (or even 80s?) energy to the proceedings? If you’re going to go for homage, follow through does count for something.

Cocaine Bear (2023)

Director: Elizabeth Banks

Cast: Keri Russell, O’Shea Jackson Jr., Alden Ehrenreich, Ray Liotta

Have I Seen it Before: Nope.

Did I Like It: Christopher Miller and Phil Lord are associated with this, and they have a nearly unassailable track record of making bad ideas for films insanely watchable. Solo: A Star Wars Story (2018) might have struggled, but that was rather pointedly not their fault. Here, they have an absolutely killer—perhaps too on the nose—pitch for a movie, so one wonders how they might fair.

However, I fear your mileage with this movie will be tied almost exclusively to the crowd with which you see the film. I saw it with a small crowd that was so primed for howling with every joke and explosion of ultra-violence, with any other movie they might have been astonishingly irritating.

But this kind of movie is so delightfully shameless in its execution, that the shamelessness of the audience only seemed like part and parcel with the whole experience. I even found myself crying out a few times, usually when something horrible happened to Margo Martindale, which, to be fair, was often enough. If the movie hadn’t had a wide release and more than few big stars, it might have been the stuff of midnight screenings for years to come.

Or maybe not. As it stands, I’m wondering if with me writing this review nearly a week after I saw the film and after it was released, the movie may have already collectively disappeared from our collective awareness. I’m certainly struggling to find at least 300 words to write on the subject. I can’t imagine I’m alone when I say that I appreciate funny, ultra-violent, mid-budget movies which don’t feel the need to break two hours in runtime.

So I don’t actually think I’m actually complaining about the film as I write that last part. The title of the film will likely linger in my memory for some time, but memories of the film itself might very well disappear entirely with another week’s distance.

The Lego Movie (2014)

Director: Phil Lord, Christopher Miller

Cast: Chris Pratt, Will Ferrell, Elizabeth Banks, Will Arnett

Have I Seen it Before: Oh, certainly. The theatrical release coincided with my most recent dip into the wild world of LEGO. I’ve taken another dip recently, partially due to the COVID-19 pandemic, and also because they have finally relented to the wishes I never even knew I had and are releasing a LEGO typewriter quite soon.

Did I Like It: It’s a pretty dumb idea for a movie, and one that has become all-too-prevalent in the movies over the last few decades. Take anything. Any property which people will automatically recognize and already has the potential for endless tie-in products. Doesn’t matter is if it has no narrative that one can find. Dust off some rudimentary Joseph Campbell. And you’ve got yourself a movie. After Star Wars - Episode IV: A New Hope (1977)—to say nothing of its sequels—and Batman (1989) it irretrievably became a governing principle of Hollywood production.

That’s not necessarily a bad thing. I like—hell, border on psychotically love—both of those films. Those films had narratives to tap into or create. The problems started when the experiment got out of the lab and anything was worthy of a feature film. You can get upset with this assessment if you like, but aside from Madeline Khan, Clue (1985) isn’t as good as you remember it. This doesn’t even cover the journeys into the inexplicable that were Ouija (2014) and Battleship (2012). Even the Pirates of the Caribbean films started off strong, but almost immediately descended into the basest forms of corporate synergy that one would have assumed they would always be.

And so, too, it could have been with The Lego Movie. But it wasn’t. Lord and Miller take their unique skills that actually made 21 Jump Street (2012) a watchable film and make a movie meant to market toys—delightful and engaging though they may be—and make it a revolutionary notion in simultaneous support of embracing the inner spark of creative anarchy and holding in high esteem the virtue of collective action.

It’s a children’s movie that should never have gotten the green light from a major studio, to say nothing of the board of directors of a toy company with shareholders to consider. Every once in a while film can harness something that surpasses the commercial necessities of producing pieces of art at such a high level.

That this worked so brilliantly—and not a little bit hilariously—almost makes the fact that they tried to make a movie out of Super Mario Bros. (1993) worth all the trouble.