Forbidden Planet (1956)

Director: Fred M. Wilcox

Cast: Leslie Nielsen, Anne Francis, Walter Pidgeon, and Robby the Robot as Himself

Have I Seen it Before: Many, many times.

Did I Like It: It is the cinematic equivalent of chicken soup. I can’t prove it, but it might be capable of curing disease.

I previously published this review in a previous blog post entitled “Old Stuff, Part Two: Forbidden Planet” on December 17th, 2018.

I’ve always been old. Last week, I wrote about my <undying love for the brothers Marx>, but it doesn’t stop there.  I remain less than convinced that adding sound to motion pictures (or flicker shows, if you prefer) was an entirely good idea.

But, folks, there is some truly great stuff back there in the past, and I’d like to continue sharing some of that stuff with you this week.

Because everybody loves spaceship movies this week, I think there is no better time to introduce you to the spaceship movie. The original, you might say.

I could write—and have, on occasion considered writing—an entire book about Gene Roddenberry. Twenty-five plus years after his death, his legacy as the semi-messianic, borderline Hubbard-esque figure at the center of the Star Trek phenomenon. The truth appears to paint a far different picture of the man. At best, he is the template for James Cromwell’s portrayal of Zefram Cochrane in Star Trek: First Contact (1996)*, at worst he was a credit-hogging charlatan, the worst parts of Trek are the parts for which he is most directly responsible**. 

Nowhere is his status as “visionary” more in question, than when we realize that his precious vision of a semi-militarized, faster-than-light human race comes directly from the MGM science fiction classic, Forbidden Planet (1956).

Commander Adams checks in on a previously thought lost human expedition to the far-off planet Altair IV. There he finds remains of a super-advanced alien civilization, the humans left behind by early exploration to the region, and (because it’s a movie) a pretty girl***. Robots, spaceships, alien planets ensue. Everything you love about Trek (aside from the occasionally non-sensical utopia influences) appears in this movie first. While it’s electronic-synth score places the film firmly as a product of its time, it’s important once again to realize this film originated these tropes. 

The movie transcends these tropes, and rises above the B-movie trappings not only through its innovation of a sub-genre that dominates the Sci-Fi world of today, but also its special effects. It would be hard to fathom that a movie now over 60 years old sports a mixture of model, miniature, process, and optical effects that still hold up today, but somehow they do. It’s almost as if the level of technology used in producing special effects is meaningless, and the real important matter is the care with which those tools are implemented. Miniature models can look great, like in this film, or they can dangle from a string in the works of someone like Ed Wood. I suppose CGI, as well, can be used to terrific effect by the like of…

All right, maybe practical effects work is always better. My bad.

At any rate, if you’re a fan of Star Trek or really any of what we now take for granted in the modern American science fiction film, and you haven’t seen Forbidden Planet, then you need to remember your roots. This might be the point in the article where I recommend various streaming services to find the movie… The thing is, it’s not on Netflix, it’s not on Amazon Prime, nor is it on Hulu. I guess you’ll have to just find it on DVD or Blu Ray, which come to think of it, might need to be a topic for another one of these “old things” blog posts.

Anyway, we may pick up this discussion again next week with some other items to consider. I may move on to some other topics as well. There’s probably some end-of-the-year things I want to ruminate on before 2018 begins, and with it, some changes to this space.

*The writers and producers insist that this isn’t the case, but I imagine that their denials are a bit of self-preservation, as the surviving Roddenberrys had and still have a significant influence over the fan base. I think they could probably admit the Cochrane-Roddenberry connection now, but people just aren’t asking the in-depth questions about movies from twenty years ago that I think should be asked.

**And I also have suspicion that, were he alive today, we’d be having a far different conversation about him.

***Sound familiar? It’s essentially the plot of The Cage, the first, embryonic trailer of The Original Series starring one-time-Jesus, Jeffery Hunter. I’m on to you, Roddenberry. Death will not protect you.

Solo: A Star Wars Story (2018)

Director: Ron Howard, but to get into that story any further might begin the review prematurely.

Cast: Alden Ehrenreich, Woody Harrelson, Emilia Clarke, Donald Glover

Have I Seen it Before: Saw it in the theater. I had long since decided to be excited about it, despite the kerfuffle behind the scenes. It seems like a simpler time, just over six months ago.

Did I Like It: It was fine.

A Han Solo-based prequel seems like an astoundingly bad idea on paper. Do we really need to see how Han (Ehrenreich) and Chewie (Joonas Suotamo, having fully replaced the aging Peter Mayhew since The Last Jedi (2017)) met? Do we need to see the long-fabled gambling match where Lando Calrissian (Glover) loses his prized Millennium Falcon? Do we really need to see the conclusion of a story where, inevitably, Han will learn the virtue of shooting first? Is there need for more elaboration on just what the Kessel Run is? Did we not learn anything from the rationale for the prequel trilogy?

Given it’s pointedly bad idea bona fides, the logical conclusion was to reach out to Phil Lord and Christopher Miller. With The Lego Movie (2014), 21 Jump Street (2012), and hell, 22 Jump Street (2014), they have an unbroken track record of turning wildly stupid pitches into insanely watchable movies. There was reason enough to get excited.

And then Lucasfilm fired them. Apparently they were making the film too watchable, and that didn’t quite fit in with the earnings projections already made to Disney shareholders. They hired Ron Howard. He’s a great director in his own right. He brought Michael Keaton into the movies with Night Shift (1982), and is therefore worthy of our respect. Here, unfortunately, he is a hired gun, and it shows.

As the boy who would be Solo, Ehrenreich never quite feels up to the task, turning in the kind of work that can’t help but bring to mind the trajectory of Brandon Routh, forced to do a tepid impression of Christopher Reeve in Superman Returns (2006). Ehrenreich is charming enough, and we can only hope that there is some nice TV show he can call home in a few years. As Calrissian, Glover equates himself far better, still offering a performance with only flourishes of an impression of Billy Dee Williams, more akin to the work of Chris Pine as Captain Kirk in the recent Star Trek movies.

The film ends up a wildly over-budgeted adaptation of a tie-in novel that might have been written in the mid-90s*. There is even a bewildering cameo jammed into the third act by none other than the crown prince of prequels, Darth Maul (Ray Park), that by all accounts has nothing to do with the actual film at hand, and came off a list of possible reveals that could happen at the end. Even so, the movie is largely fine, and a better way to spend a little over two hours than digging ditches, but it isn’t the film it could have been, and that’s a shame.

Maybe, a la what happened with Richard Donner’s cut of Superman II, we might one day see the best version of this movie. A guy can hope, right?

* The Star Wars line did produce a young Solo trilogy in the 90s, written by the late A.C. Crispin. They trade in a lot of the same story beats as this movie, but remain firmly entrenched in the now defunct Legends canon.

Groundhog Day (1993)

Director: Harold Ramis

Cast: Bill Murray, Andie MacDowell, Chris Elliott, Stephen Tobolowsky

Have I Seen it Before: I’m well-versed in Peak Murray™ 

Did I Like It: This movie really should have everything running against it, and yet it is a career best for all parties involved. It boggles the mind.

The film is nearly perfect, and in fact the only aspect that ages poorly is the song “Weatherman,” wedged into the opening and credits like a lazy, hoary square peg forced into a perfectly round hole. It reeks of a studio note that came to life and terrorized the countryside, but after an IMDB search, I’m horrified to realize it was written by the film’s composer, George Fenton, and director Harold Ramis. RIP, but Harold? If you can hear me, you were Egon, for Christ’s sake. Use your head.

And for every other part, he did. The film is a master’s course in comedy plotting, with not a wasted moment in the film proper. Each moment works on its own, and in turn either sets something up for later on, or pays something else off from before (in some cases, it accomplishes both). It’s theme is pure to the point of crystallization. It engrosses, despite a third act that in less adept hands would be a weirdly soft landing for such a manic tale. While Ghostbusters (1984) will always have a special place in this child of the 80s and 90s, Groundhog Day is the best thing with which Murray or Ramis has ever been associated. It’s often imitated—including, ahem, by me—but here they were working without the net of what had come before.

And there’s no reason—on paper—why any of this should have come to pass. I’m not 100% certain, but I am as sure as I can be that this film was shot out of order. The identical framing and blocking of scenes as Phil Connors (Murray) barrels through a time loop of unknown origins makes me think that the only practical way to shoot would be to get all of the Ned The Head scenes at the same time, the Gobbler’s Knob reports at the same time, or all of the scenes in the B and B at the same time, etc. That each scene has with it a certain amount of sameness, but requires of Murray completely different levels of performance with each iteration. It’s a masterful performance from him, made all the more strangely miraculous when one realizes that Murray and Ramis were not speaking to each other (and indeed, were estranged for most of the rest of Ramis’ life) for the duration of production. The reasons have only been alluded to*, but that the needle-thin precision work needed for this film to avoid being a complete train wreck makes the film all the more of a marvel to behold.

* Maybe Murray hated “Weatherman” as much as I do.

Inside Out (2015)

Director: Pete Docter

Cast: Amy Poehler, Phyllis Smith, Richard Kind, Lewis Black

Have I Seen it Before: Yes, although I didn’t see it in the theater, which is becoming a recurring trend with me and Pixar films. 

Did I Like It: Pixar takes such delicate care with their films, that they have yet to make an unwatchable film. There’s too much energy and craft on display to fall short of that standard. The true measure of their success is whether or not it sticks with you like a gut punch (a la the Toy Story series) or end up insubstantial confections that begin to disappear the moment the credits begin (a la the Cars series).

I can happily report that this film resides in the prior category. At their best, Pixar films have an ability to convert an otherwise banal situation (checking your bag at the airport, moving, or bedtime) into stories of epic proportions. Synthesizing what feels like an entire lifetime of reading about Junigan archetypes* into what amounts to a road movie, Joy (Amy Poehler), Sadness (Phyllis Smith) and the other emotions in the head of eleven-year-old Riley (Kaitlyn Dias) haphazardly find their way to work together more… efficiently feels like the wrong word, as the most efficient manner for them to conduct their mission would be to have Joy run the show. Instead, they must realize that they are an interdependent system. Each will perish without the others.

It might seem like a simplistic system, narrowing all of human emotions—even for the adults—down to five emotions, but when the borders begin to blur, the story really cuts through and sticks with you long after its over. The happiest memories are usually a response to the saddest, so is the opposite, on and on until a complex human being is created. It makes one think about their own core memories, and the continuum of how one feels about all of those key moments. 

Thus, it’s one of the best Pixar films (and that is pretty impressive company to be among), and worth immediate viewing if you haven’t already done so.

*I honestly have no idea if the film has any relation to true Jungian psychology, but it feels like the intelligent thing to type there, doesn’t it?

Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country (1991)

Director: Nicholas Meyer

Cast: William Shatner, Leonard Nimoy, DeForrest Kelley, Kevin Spacey Christopher Plummer*

Have I Seen it Before: Well, this is the first film in the Star Trek series I’ve reviewed, so unless we happen to be dealing with a new release, it’s a pretty safe bet that I’ve seen it before.

Did I Like It: It might objectively be the best Star Trek film of all time. Does that mean it is the best Star Trek film of all time, or even the best Star Trek film directed by Nicholas Meyer? Well, that’s a different story.

I’ve written a couple of times in these reviews about timelessness in films. It’s appropriate to broach the subject of the film, because the notion was put into my head by Meyer, and he perfects the reach for a timeless quality in this film. Beyond a few scant special effects that might have been a little ahead of their time, there’s not really an aspect of this movie, from the music, to the cinematography, all the way to the hair styles, there is almost nothing about this film that restricts it to being made in the early 1990s. It’s a marvel to behold, and a phenomenon that Meyer’s other great space-opera Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan (1982) can’t even claim, even though that is one of my all-time top five movies.

Even the one element that threatens to make the film strictly of its time manages to transcend. Clearly a parable about the end of the Soviet Union (with just a pinch of Watergate-esque intrigue thrown in for good measure), the film is clearly commenting about the end of the 80s and the beginning the 90s. The Klingons have their own version of Chernobyl, unrelenting hostilities are coming to an unfathomable end, and the old guard is to varying degrees uncomfortable with the forthcoming future, or the titular undiscovered country**. But I think it may be a byproduct of living in a political era that could—politely—called “interesting” that the macro machinations of the galaxy here can’t help but feel relevant to the here and now. This is when Star Trek often works the best, and it shows.

* Could you imagine? Don’t. #2017jokesfiresale

** Which is a strange title for this film, if treated to any further scrutiny. The Wrath of Khan was originally called The Undiscovered Country, and as it is an allusion to Hamlet, and specifically death, it feels more appropriate to that film. Here, it is essentially saying that the sometime arduous road to peace only ends in death. Ominous. Mad ominous, folks. 

The Founder (2016)

Director: John Lee Hancock

Cast: Michael Keaton, Nick Offerman, John Carroll Lynch, Linda Cardellini

Have I Seen it Before: Yes.

Did I Like It: McDonalds and Michael Keaton? Yes, please, on all fronts.

Michael Keaton not withstanding, the notion that The Social Network (2010) except about hamburgers and french fries instead of the burgeoning frontier of social media seems like it would be kind of a dud. Thankfully, this film benefits a mostly breakneck pacing that forbids the audience to realize they might otherwise be bored by an epic of food service and small-scale real estate deals. The film also has just enough of a wry sense of humor about whether or not the growing of McDonalds was a good development for human society, or an ongoing trash fire. I type that last sentence not so much out of a place of judgment, and more out of a place of self-deprecation, as I could really go for a bag of double cheeseburgers from any of the three McDonalds restaurants within two miles from my house. 

Maybe the subject of the film is sexier than one might originally assume. That’s either a testament to the film, or to cheeseburgers, and I’m honestly not sure which one is the case.

But, as I mentioned above, it also has Michael Keaton in it. History—and frankly, this screenplay—would prefer to have Ray Kroc be a cad at best, and a monster capable of demolishing western civilization as we know it at worst. In the hands of the once and hopefully future Beetlejuice, the man is instead scrappy, and worthy of a heroic role in a movie. He’s a torrent of can-do post-war Americanism, finally realizing that the best kind of people to bring his burgeoning empire to the rest of the world are other scrappers like himself. This quality Keaton brings to the role doesn’t diminish from our sympathy for Richard and Maurice McDonald (Nick Offerman and John Carroll Lynch, respectively) and the tragedy that unfolds as they lose the rights to their own name, or for Ethel Kroc (an unfortunately underused Laura Dern) as she comes to support her husband’s harebrained schemes, but turns out to not be enough for his ego. Naturally, the film streamlines another spouse between Ethel and Joan (Linda Cardellini), but thems the breaks in the biopic game.

It’s going to be a cold day in hell before I don’t recommend a film starring Keaton*, but beyond the casting, The Founder still delivers on everything its promised and is in that pantheon of truly great biopics.

* I’ll admit right now, I still have not seen Clean and Sober (1988), because I’m not terribly in the business of being depressed in a Keaton movie or Jack Frost (1998), probably for the same reason. But so far, the record remains unbroken.

Dr. No (1962)

Director: Terence Young

Cast: Sean Connery, Joseph Wiseman, Jack Lord, Ursula Andress

Have I Seen it Before: I’ve seen them all before, let’s get that out of the way right now.

Did I Like It: It’s got some fascinating embryonic charms going for it. Ultimately it’s early Connery, so there’s plenty to like.

Man alive, the opening sequence to this, the first James Bond film, is disconcertingly weird. That isn’t necessarily a bad thing, just hard to ignore. In fact, it is sort of thrilling in a way, as it is clear the once and future EON Productions isn’t yet churning out a product with a winning formula, but actually trying to make a film. This phenomenon will come up a lot in the first several Connery-led pictures.

There are very few things that indeed come fully formed in this initial outing. Q-branch and their wonderful toys are nary heard from, there is no pre-title action set piece , and the gun-barrel shot is truncated and sounds like a flying saucer landed (both a byproduct of the aforementioned embryonic title sequence), and Bond (Connery) is—by his own standards—nearly eligible to join the priesthood. 

What is arrived in its full form is Connery’s Bond. With just the right menace of masculine confidence, wry charm, and the lethal edge in which Roger Moore remained supremely disinterested, Connery owns the role from his first scene. Indeed, that first sequence with Bond and Sylvia Trench (Eunice Gayson*) trading barbs during a round of baccarat may be one of the more prototypical Bond scenes in the canon. Legend (and DVD behind-the-scenes featurettes) have it that the scene from From Russia With Love (1963) where Bond first meets Tatiana Romanova (Daniela Bianchi) is what is used to audition new Bonds before white smoke seeps out of the chimney at EON Productions, but I really think this scene is the much more important test.

The plot is sort of perfunctory, coming together and resolving itself with a simplicity that just isn’t found in some of the later entries. That isn’t much a criticism, though, as I am no baffled by how supremely bored I found myself during the final stretches of the later entries during the tenure of Roger Moore or Pierce Bronsan.

Also, is Felix Leiter (Jack Lord) wearing women’s sunglasses in this movie? Man the sixties were wild, weren’t they?

*Although the role’s dialogue was spoken by the same woman, Nikki van der Zyl, who dubbed over Ursula Andress later in the movie

Ghostbusters II (1989)

Director: Ivan Reitman

Cast: Bill Murray, Sigourney Weaver, Dan Aykroyd, Peter MacNicol

Have I Seen it Before: Let’s just assume I’ve seen every movie released in the summer of 1989 about a thousand times.

Did I Like It: It has all the same ingredients as the original, and is still a satisfying meal, but in the end there is nothing like the first taste.

Comedy sequels are rough. Quick, name a good one. You probably didn’t mention Caddyshack 2 (1988). Or Analyze That (2002). Or The Whole Ten Yards (2004). Or Fletch Lives (1989). Smokey and The Bandit II (1980)? Smokey and the Bandit Part 3 (1983)? What’s left that can rise above the absolute laughless masses? The Austin Powers movies? Was the original even that funny after the hazy binge that was the 90s ended? Anchorman 2: The Legend Continues (2013)? Watchable, yes. Funny, sure. But not the same as the original.

So it is too with Ghostbusters II. Many—including much of the cast—have poured cold water over the second film, and I get it. The plot needlessly contrives putting the busters back to square one. There’s too much of Slimer and other elements and choices elevated by the only occasionally good Real Ghostbusters cartoon series. The notion of a Jaeger Statue of Liberty is sort of disappointing in a world that has Kaiju Marshmallow Men.

Although I admit that my soft spot for the movie may be a byproduct of people irrationally loving movies they first saw when they were five years old, but this movie is still Peak Murray, and thus cannot be dismissed entirely. I enjoy it every time I watch it, even if it is not as joy inducing as the original, or even if it is not quite as fresh as the 2016 remake. Watch it, and realize that while it isn’t perfect, it could have been truly embarrassing. That it isn’t in that low pantheon of comedy sequels is certainly worth something.

Ghostbusters (1984)

Director: Ivan Reitman

Cast: Bill Murray, Dan Aykroyd, Harold Ramis, Sigourney Weaver

Have I Seen it Before: Do you want me to perform it for you?

Did I Like It: Top five, likely. Top ten, definitely.

Ghostbusters fandom is a divided place now, it seems. If you like the original films, the 2016 remake is akin to sacrilege, inciting a series of dumb opinions, many of which coming from people who have never seen the new film. Similarly, to those who really found something to attach themselves to in the new film, the original is less thrilling.

To wit, the question I come to as I start writing this review: Is it possible to like both the original and brand new Ghostbusters? I enjoyed the new film, and never once felt threatened by its existence. This may be one of the prime pieces of evidence supporting the notion that I’m not an entitled man baby, and just like funny movies about people catching ghosts. And yet, the original film is one of my all-time favorites. I hope it isn’t perceived as sexist to prefer the original, because I’m of the mind that ghostbusting must know no borders of race, creed, or gender.

Now that we have that out of the way, I will restrict my comments to the original film.

There’s something special about Bill Murray. With many comic actors—indeed, many of those appear in this film—there is a period where they are at their funniest. Not so with Murray, as while he changes as the years go by, each version of Murray is equally watchable. That being said, the Murray enjoyed by filmgoers in the 80s through the mid-90s is peak Murray. He’s aspirational. Some people my age might have wanted to be James Bond or Michael Jordan, but the kind of people I would most get along with wanted to be like any Bill Murray character, even if they couldn’t quite admit. Laid back, but charismatic. Funny, but no one’s fool. Loved—even if begrudgingly so—by the best of people, and detested by the worst. For someone trying to get by on his wits, Bill Murray is the peak of manliness, and no more so than in this movie.

There’s an interesting extension to the above thought that I realized during this viewing. Any role during this same period that Bill Murray played, Chevy Chase could have played as well, and vice versa. However, when Murray plays the role, he is the heroic scamp, where if Chase portrayed the character, he’d be an irredeemable asshole. If Murray had been in Fletch (1985), it would have been an even better film, and if Chase had played Dr. Peter Venkman, the movie would have suffered within this alternate universe.

While the movie lives and dies by Murray’s presence, the rest of the cast helps elevate the movie to a true classic worthy of eventual remake. In my deep Ghostbuster fandom, I once had occasion to read the original screenplay by Aykroyd and Ramis. The script is fine, but the movie as we have all come to enjoy it is not on the page, it is in the performances. This film is a brilliant low-key comedy wrapped up in the trappings of a summer blockbuster. The blockbuster elements will fade (and in the case of the special effects, already have), but the film will live forever, owing to the bizarre, ineffable alchemy that is the true fun of the movie.

Aquaman (2018)

Director: James Wan

Cast: Jason Momoa, Amber Heard, Patrick Wilson, Nicole Kidman

Have I Seen it Before: It’s hard to see an action movie these days—with their wall-to-wall CGI, bombastic film scores, and framing of shots like their in a gyroscope—and not feel like you’ve been watching the movie many times. Does that begin to answer the question? Probably not. No, I haven’t seen it. At this writing it is a brand new movie. There. Now I’ve answered it.

Did I Like It: I didn’t hate it, which, as it turns out, still manages to bring up the average of post-Nolan DC movies.

I’m not entirely sure why Jason Momoa has spent most of his acting career up until this point being the strong, silent type. I mean, I guess I get the strong part. The man is built like a Joel Schumacher fever dream, but here he gets to let his leading man flag fly, and acquits himself well. He’s often funny, usually charming, and never seems lost in the course of starring in his own movie. That’s not an easy task, especially for someone who has been largely taciturn for much of his acting career.

The movie surrounding him has an odd tone, though. With it’s synthesizer-heavy score, reverse-engineered pseudo-Indiana Jones plot, and the mere presence of Dolph Lundgren* makes this film so thoroughly entrenched in an aesthetic pulled from the 1980s*. With no further context, there’s very little outside of the CGI to indicate that this film was truly made in the second decade fo the 21st century. It’s kind of a refreshing choice, at times. It actually sends my imagination into overdrive about what the film would be like had it been made thirty-plus years earlier. Lundgren would still be in it, although in either the role of Arthur Curry (Momoa) or Orm/Ocean Master (Patrick Wilson, showing up once again to cash some DC money and hopefully not be noticed in the process), while somebody like Sylvester Stallone would be the other role. The imaginary film might have been directed by Stallone as well. The increase in montages for this film would be negligible, if any.

And that might have made it a better movie. The ultimately slapdash fashion in which the film is put together makes me question whether this retro sensibility was either intentional, accidental, or the ongoing trend of studios insisting that all tentpole films be as much like the Guardians of the Galaxy films as possible. Also, the film is an absolute exposition fest. You know it’s going to be a doozy when the film injects a voice over in the first few minutes, but it only gets worse from there. While someone may have decided that this much world building is necessary for a first film set in a world of which audiences likely have little-to-no knowledge, the proceedings are far too weighted down. While this isn’t the annoyingly self-serious Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice (2016) or the muddled Justice League (2017), it doesn’t quite reach the magnificence of Wonder Woman (2017) or any of the largely superior Marvel films. Keep trying DC, you might yet get it down one of these days.

*Who, by the way, between this and Creed II, is having a renaissance the likes of which we haven’t seen since the one two punch of Masters of the Universe (1987) and The Punisher (1989).

Batman Returns (1992)

Director: Tim Burton

Cast: Michael “Greatest of All Time” Keaton, Danny DeVito, Michelle Pfeiffer, and Christopher “Yeah, But Imagine If I Had Been Playing The Scarecrow” Walken 

Have I Seen it Before: So, so many times.

Did I Like It: I’ll do you one further. Not only is it a great movie—even if it intentionally plays fast and loose with the core of Batman—it may be damn psychic.

But before I get to the film’s prescience, let’s talk a little bit about the movie in the context of the time it was released. One supposes that Warner Bros. wanted to reassemble as much of the team responsible for Batman (1989) as possible, and were willing to just about anything to get Michael Keaton and Tim Burton to acquiesce where they might have otherwise been disinterested in the prospect of returning to the batcave. 

So Warner Bros. decided to let them do whatever the hell they wanted as long as it featured the Penguin, an action set piece with the Batmobile, and was ready for summer 1992.

They delivered on all of those promises, and went completely nuts with everything else. In a movie essentially meant to entertain children, there sure is a lot of filicide, borderline S&M, and biting of Republican noses*. I can almost see why McDonalds got all bet out of shape in the summer of ’92. Maybe that means I’m getting older, but we’re treated to an unashamedly idiosyncratic movie in place of what could have been a throughly bland summer blockbuster. The Schumacher of it all that was to follow proves pretty conclusively that this movie was a special treat that is unlikely to come 

But in the twenty-five years since the film’s release, it has taken on a new life.

Now, I don’t want to say that there is some modern parable in the story of a woman beset by a crushing degree of sexual violence and harassment, while the rest of society is slowly burning under the caprice of a malevolent homunculi trying to grab all the political power he can before laying siege to everything in sight…

But I could.   

*Watch that movie again and tell me that each and every person supporting The Penguin (DeVito) in his bid for Mayor of Gotham isn’t a Republican, and I’ll be able to tell you haven’t been paying attention. Oswald Means Order, indeed.

Watchmen (2009)

Director: Zack Snyder

Cast: Jackie Earle Haley, Billy Crudup, Matthew Goode, and Malin Åkerman

Have I Seen it Before: Yeah. I mean, I’ve read the comic book, so there’s not a lot that doesn’t cover both spheres of that particular venn diagram.

Did I Like It: Well… It’s not my least favorite Zack Snyder movie. It may even be my favorite Snyder film. But I’m quickly realizing that this doesn’t answer the question. 

Here are some things I really like about Watchmen:

• I’m eternally a sucker for alternate histories set in the 1980s. Ultimately, this is going to be granddaddy of that very niche genre.

• I’m eternally a sucker for characters who can’t/won’t see time in a linear fashion. Billy Pilgrim, The Doctor, Doc Brown, Doctor Manhattan. They are all my kind of folks.

• The Owlship is a neat vehicle unlike anything seen before or since in comicdom.

• It’s always worth engaging in a story with no easy answers. Morally reprehensible characters have a point. Likable people make awful choices.

• The costume choices made in the film subtly hints at the costume design of the Batman films in the 1990s. The armor Ozymandias (Matthew Goode) even has nipples.

Look at that, I eventually got to something I like about the film. There isn’t much there, sadly.

While reading Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons’ original Watchmen comic, I was struck by how good the work is. How comprehensive. How fully-realized. How dense, but in a good way. 

And I remembered how much I didn’t think the movie lived up to that promise. However, now that the film has no sense of anticipation hover around it, it must have improved with age, no?

Sadly, no is right. I went for the Ultimate Cut in this viewing, rationalizing that perhaps with more of Moore and Gibbons’ work injected into the proceedings, things will have improved even more still. Not so, as Snyder’s insistence on transcription is only offset by some his truly baffling choices when he takes a swing at adaptation. Snyder probably shouldn’t shoulder all of the blame for the misfire, as Moore really intended for the work to be unadaptable and appears to have largely succeeded. It is entirely possible that there isn’t a cinematic version of this story that works. The forthcoming HBO series may or may not prove me wrong on that one

Also, I have a confession: I have never quite understood why Tales of The Black Freighter is such an essential part of the story in any format, beyond driving home the fact that in a world where superheroes were real, people would search for escapism in some other kind of story. Sure, there are some parallel qualities to the two stories, but beyond that it just added some depth to frames including Bernard (Jesse Reid). Now with all of the side story cut into the film, everything is just a longer and feels that way, with two feature-length movies fighting for screen time. Even the comic realized a little bit of Black Freighter goes a long way.

I’ve never seen a filmmaker who so wildly veers between tone deaf musical choices, and cues that are way too on the nose. In one of his better sequences—incidentally, the one where there is the most adaptation over transcription—over the montage opening credits, Bob Dylan’s “The Times They Are a-Changin’” pins the tail right on the donkey. On the other end of things, Wagner blaring over the conclusion of the Vietnam War makes me feel like I’ve seen this movie before, because I have. The less said about Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” over the Owlship sex scene, the better off we all are*. I’m not sure why “99 Luftballoons” or “The Sound of Silence” are in this movie, other than they are both catchy and at least one of them would have gotten some serious FM play in 1985.

The cast is all over the place, sadly. Haley does yeoman’s work holding the movie together as what turns out to be the protagonist. Jeffery Dean Morgan—a good actor—is so earnest in every scene he inhabits that the earlier moral ghoulishness never comes across. Billy Crudup is supposed to be sleepwalking through the film, but I can’t quite figure out why everyone else decided to do the same thing.

Snyder may be a good director, but until he makes a film that isn’t irritating at its core, I’m not sure anyone is going to believe it.

*Okay, you want to talk about it? I challenge you to find a more awkward, uncomfortable sex scene in a movie. I don’t want to sound like a prude, but I just got embarrassed with its wanton earnestness. The comic book didn’t have that, I assure you.

Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)

Director: Bob Perischetti, Peter Ramsey, Rodney Rothman

Cast: Shameik Moore, Jake Johnson, Hailee Steinfeld, Mahershala Ali, Bryan Tyree Henry, Lily Tomlin, John Mulaney, Nicolas Cage, Liev Schreiber

Have I Seen it Before: Have I ever even seen anything like it? Let’s put it this way: I normally only list only four cast members. Here, as there are so many other great ones doing great work here, limiting things to only four felt somehow unfair.

Did I Like It: God, yes.

Why, of why, didn’t Lucasfilm just let Lord and Miller make the Solo movie they wanted to make? They have an absolutely unbroken track record of turning idiotic ideas (The Lego Movie (2014), 21 Jump Street (2012), Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs (2009)) into insanely watchable movies. They’re involvement here is only tangential, but they manage to turn a pretty good idea into a surprising, wondrous epic that is certainly in the running for best Spider-Man movie ever, best animated movie of the year, and is hands down the best animated feature film featuring superheroes of all time. Batman: Mask of the Phantasm (1993)—a film I dearly love and the previous king of the category—has been dethroned.

Now, transdimensional fiestas, and meta commentary on the sprawling history of a seminal character is more than enough to attract my interest. The animation style, fusing together traditional cel, Pixar-level 3D, and a frenetic appreciation for an era of comic books just ever-so-slightly past both serves the story at every moment, and manages to be entirely new, all at the same time. I tend to stay away from 3d presentations, but when I see this movie again—and I surely will—I may deign to take on an extra pair of glasses for the experience.

That every character—even the supporting ones—has an equal claim to pathos and hilarity is truly remarkable. The cast—as I mentioned above—delivers on this seemingly impossible task. 

Shameik Moore imbues Miles Morales, the film’s newest Spider-Man with such likable charisma, that anyone whole complains about a black Spider-Man is going to find new depths of foolishness in their complaints. All of the clever flash of the movie would fail to come together if Morales’ story and Moore’s performance weren’t among the best parts of a film already filled with best parts.

Among the others, Chris Pine is a perfect amalgam of ever cinematic Spider-Man to date, emphasis on the perfect, while Jake Johnson is a far more schlubby (and dare I say attainable) version of the same. The arc of Johnson’s Parker and his relationship with Morales gives hope to this thirty-something who realizes Spider-men keep getting younger, while I do the opposite. John Mulaney becomes the cartoon character we never knew he was destined to be. While I’m loathe to lump together and put near the end Hailee Steinfeld and Kimiko Glenn as Spider-Gwen and Peni Parker, theirs were the versions of the character I was least familiar with, and the ones I’m most eager to read more about as soon as possible. Even Nicolas Cage comes to play first and get paid second. It’s been a long time, Nic! It almost made me forget about Left Behind (2014), and actually gets me to warm up to the idea of Mandy. 

Go see this movie. It comes with my highest recommendation.

Creed II (2018)

Director: Steven Caple Jr.

Cast: Michael B. Jordan, Tessa Thompson, Sylvester Stallone, and Dolph Lundgren

Have I Seen it Before: Well, no… But I’ve seen a Rocky movie before, so in a sense, yes… But don’t let that scare you away.

Did I Like It: Yes. What’s not to like?

Highly dubious spoilers about the film to follow.

Look, even if Ryan Coogler had directed the followup to his transcendent Creed (2015), it probably wouldn’t have been quite as searingly good as the original film, and in that parallel dimension, Black Panther (2018) is directed by some lesser mortal. So, as long as we get that out of the way, Creed II is still pretty terrific. Taking the bones of the most preposterous (not necessarily bad) Rocky movie and making a familiar rehash. But if this series is the Thanksgiving dinner of movies, then I’m glad that we still get a feast every once in a while. It is a delicious meal that cannot help but make one feel good.

It’s predictability may keep it from completely blowing the paint off the walls, but it does manage to throw some curve balls. Adonis is brought low in the second act not by losing his newly won Championship Title to the antagonist, but retaining it in a fight he was well on his way to losing, had not the referee’s ruling disqualified the Baby Drago (Florian Munteanu, who with his quiet anguis may take the title of best actual-boxer to play in these movies). That’s mildly surprising, but when Ivan Drago (Dolph Lundgren, doing easily his best work, lurching through scenes like a coiled snake ready to pounce) throws in the towel ending the final battle between the two younger fighters, my jaw hit the ground. I would have been highly dubious if someone told me that this movie could have easily been called The Redemption of Ivan Drago, but here we are, proving once and for all that if he can change, really, truly, everyone can change.

Cue the end of the United States’ current troubles with Russia, no?

Ahem.

Now, Stallone recently announced (although it wouldn’t be completely out of the question to guess that he might be engaging in contract negotiations through the press) that this will be his swan song as Balboa. I think I’m okay with this. As I mentioned in my review of Creed, I kind of assumed that our last ride with the Stallion had happened years ago, and if this is it, that’s okay. It was nice to get some extra time with him. But, with that doubt in the back of my mind, it might even be better that we may have more time with him yet to come.

The Front Runner (2018)

Director: Jason Reitman

Cast: Hugh Jackman, Vera Farmiga, J.K. Simmons, Alfred Molina

Have I Seen it Before: No, but there are times when I feel like I lived it.

Did I Like It: I wanted to. At least we got that pretty rad poster of Hart’s campaign bus driving off a cliff. Of course, that is not the poster I include in this post, wherein Hugh Jackman has the look of a man who has just sharted, but I digress.

A political film is going to have a hard time avoiding making a political point about the time they are released. Even All The President’s Men sheds light (at the time of its release) about recent events. This movie certainly can’t make any claim to the latter goal, as most people would view the 1988 election, the Democratic Primary that year, and Gary Hart himself as a footnote in political history. 

When the film tries to make its statement about the here and now, things get truly muddled, indeed. Is it a #metoo commentary, wherein the shoddy treatment of Donna Rice (Sara Paxton) by the powerful yet clueless Hart (Jackman)? Maybe. There are certainly scenes that would approach that kind of a statement. Are we supposed to look down on the morally compromised journalists as they make their slow embrace of tabloid methods? Again, maybe, but at this particular moment in history, lay off journalists, man, they’re having a rough enough time as it is. Are we supposed to take Hart’s side and lament that this jungle environment ensures that the best and brightest won’t take to public life? Again, maybe, but the point feels like weak sauce in a world that has pointedly moved on from heralding Bill Clinton as any kind of mistreated hero.

I just wish the movie would pick a lane, and that said lane wouldn’t be quite as tone deaf.

It should also bear mentioning that I may be among the worst audiences for a political film, as I keep trying to pick apart the history. Several minor anachronisms run throughout, but the most glaring example comes from right at the beginning. The opening scene takes place at the height of the 1984 Democratic National Convention, with Walter Mondale and Geraldine Ferraro ascending to their eventual status as America’s greatest sacrificial lambs. Hart soberly assesses Mondale’s chances in the fall, and resolves that he will be the one to bring the Democratic Party back from the brink on the next go around. 

We cut to nearly a year before the Iowa caucuses, and the title on screen says “Four Years Later.” It wasn’t four years later. It was barely three years later. That’s just math, Jason Reitman. It doesn’t take a lot to jar me out of believing a political narrative, but even that is pretty egregious.

Shut up, Mac? Yeah, you bet. I’ll get right on that.

Creed (2015)

Director: Ryan Coogler

Cast: Michael B. Jordan, Tessa Thompson, Phylicia Rashad, and (against all odds, as it should be) Sylvester Stallone as Rocky Balboa

Have I Seen it Before: Man, I was there opening weekend.

Did I Like It: What a stupid idea for a movie, and yet it was executed flawlessly.

As the end credits for Rocky Balboa (2006) begin, a feeling always came over me. This is it. This is the end. It was great while it lasted, Rock. Thanks for coming back one last time.

And here we are, again. And man am I glad.

Just to pitch the idea for a seventh Rocky movie takes a certain amount of bravery-to-the-point of insanity, to then turn around and make such a vital, necessary film is an act of subtle, but superlative genius. To wit, this moment that I may be paraphrasing:

ADONIS

Why do you want to be a singer?

BIANCA

It makes me feel alive.

ADONIS says nothing, smiles slightly.

That is amazing. New and fresh and interesting and incisive like a blade.

And yet, it is Rocky through and through. The film is so steeped in the mythology of the previous entries in the series. The whole movie wouldn’t exist without Rocky IV (1985). Rocky would be a completely different character without Rocky V (1990) and Rocky Balboa (2006). Ever wonder who won the top secret fight at the end of Rocky III (1982), well this movie has your answer. Coogler and company love making a great movie, but they love every Rocky just as much. These movies have a format, but when the inevitable third act training montage comes barreling down the tracks, even it is born again, without ever being ashamed of its roots. 

When the book on the greatest directors of all time is finished, Ryan Coogler will get his own chapter, and Black Panther (2018) is only a piece of that.

As sharp as Coogler’s choices are, he would be nowhere without his cast. Michael B. Jordan cements himself as a bona fide movie star while still channeling Carl Weathers just enough. Tessa Thompson is such a fabulous actress, with a naturalistic chameleon quality that I only just now realized she is the same actress from Thor: Ragnarok (2017). And then there is Stallone. Frankly, he deserved the Oscar for this round as Rocky. He so thoroughly abandons any sense of ego he might have once had—and his self-image in the 80s was undeniable—to play a Rocky laid low, but still resolute. That there is more Rocky to explore is staggering.

Just as an aside, a weird moment that I hadn’t fully digested in previous viewings: The moment where Adonis (Jordan) does an impression of Brando from The Godfather (1972). Which leads me to this strange question: In the Rockyverse do both Adrian Balboa and the actress Talia Shire exist? Maybe Creed II (2018) will finally shed some light on that. Maybe it’ll take several more movies before we get that answer. That suits me just fine. Keep ‘em coming, Rock.

Rocky III (1982)

Director: Sylvester Stallone

Cast: Sylvester Stallone, Talia Shire, Burt Young, Carl Weathers, Burgess Meredith Mr. T, and Hulk Hogan as essentially himself*

Have I Seen it Before: Honestly, I’ve probably seen it more than any other film in the Rocky series… Which brings me to…

Did I Like It: You’re going to call me crazy, but…

Rocky III may be my favorite of the Rocky films. I really, really enjoy this movie. You might say it’s entirely tied to Survivor’s superlative lets-get-pumped “Eye of the Tiger,” but my appreciation for this movie goes deeper. I own a framed poster of the movie. Now, my wife eventually asked that I take it (or as she refers to it “my framed photo of a greased, half-naked Sylvester Stallone) off the wall, but that’s a story for a different time…

Sure, the original is a classic, and Rocky IV is perhaps the most sublimely ridiculous 80s cornball comic book movie, and the fact that Rocky Balboa (2006) and Creed (2015) were able to get more blood out of that stone (or Rock) is a pretty impressive… But this movie is nearly the perfect distillation of what the Rocky series is. It’s the perfect blend of the heart and the cornball that made the series indelible, and helped it win the Cold War, in that order…

There’s a self-awareness to the proceedings that’s endearing when it isn’t purely entertaining, or more accurately, completely wrong. Mickey (Burgess Meredith) turns to Adrian (Talia Shire) during one of the more bombastic scenes and Another moment I can’t help but chuckle at is the boxing announcers assertion in the lead up to the climactic battle between Rocky (Stallone) and Clubber Lang (Mr. T) that this is “absolutely his last fight, win, lose, or draw.” That’s pretty funny, as I’m still not 100% sure that we’ve seen the Italian Stallion’s last fight… at least outside of the ring.

*Between this and Gremlins 2: The New Batch (1990), I’m surprised to realize how many films I really enjoy feature the once and future Terry Bollea.

Spy (2015)

Director: Paul Feig

Cast: Melissa McCarthy, Jason Statham, Rose Byrne, Jude Law

Have I Seen it Before: Several times, which I think alone should be testament to the film.

Did I Like It: I mean, just on spec, any film that is making people MAD ON THE INTERNET can’t be all bad, right?

That last sentiment may sound like faintly damning praise, but the virtues of Paul Feig’s paean to the 50-plus years of Bond films (and there is seldom room for references in the film beyond 007) go beyond the fact that Feig’s oeuvre stands as one of the premiere reasons for assholes to wail on the internet (the latest Star Wars movies and the fact that no one likes them being among the others). 

I’m struggling to even think of another satire or spoof of the spy genre that has worked as effectively. Casino Royale (1967) came at the height of the series popularity, but is a woeful mess more known for being extraordinarily useful as a waystation for particularly difficult rounds of The Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon than anything else. Spy Hard (1996) is completely forgettable beyond the rather apt inclusion of a Weird All theme song. And while the first Austin Powers movie might have some charms, what it became has ensured that it’s re-watch value is nil.

Now with Spy, fusing knowing homages to Roger Moore, Sean Connery, and even a bit of Pierce Brosnan in the character of Bradley Fine (Jude Law), but also the later days of Daniel Craig with Rick Ford (Jason Statham). From the cinematography to the music choices, all the way down to small elements of the production design, the viewer feels automatically at home in the Bondian trappings. It also never tries too hard to ingratiate itself in that milieu. It’s perfectly happy being a medium-concept comedy, better made than most in the genre.

Plus, Allison Janney is in it. There’s not a whole lot more else you need to know. 

Horror of Dracula (1958)

Director: Terence Fisher

Cast: Peter Cushing, Christopher Lee, Michael Gough, Melissa Stribling

Have I Seen it Before: Never. It feels like a glaring omission in my cinematic diet.

Did I Like It: I felt like I was going to like it immensely because, Hammer, and because I tend to like anything more than I would normally, as long as it features Michael Gough.

As I begin to venture through a litany of Dracula films for my duties on Beyond The Cabin in the Woods, I had no idea that I was starting to get cynical, but I most certainly was. I could probably at this point write a pretty passsable Dracula film in my sleep. Harker (or whoever) goes through the Borgo Pass to Castle Dracula. There, he is greeted warmly by the count. From there, spooky happenings transpire. Mina is at the center of things. Rinse. Repeat.

And yet, I’m pleased to report that Horror of Dracula managed to surprise me. I did enjoy the trappings of the Hammer aesthetic, but when it became abundantly clear that Jonathan Harker (John Van Eyssen) has arrived in our story to kill-not assist Dracula—matters are sufficiently flipped upside down that the film never wavered in carrying my attention. While the film doesn’t feel the need to carry on this flipping of the script beyond the first half an hour, it didn’t matter. I was already hooked. Filmed with an almost timeless quality, I often had a hard time beleiving it was filmed in the late 1950s and—sight unseen—I would have placed it in the late 60s or maybe even the early 70s.

Filled with all of the barely-restrained British camp, flowing red paint*, and slyly apt cast you would expect from Hammer, this film—against all of my expectations—has leapfrogged its way into my favorite adaptation of the Stoker novel so far. If you haven’t seen it—as I shamefully hadn’t—take heed of my example and correct your error.

*Including in the first shot, where I almost dared to think it might be too much.

Dracula (1931) (English-Language Version)

Director: Tod Browning (the poor man’s James Whale, but we’ll get to that)

Cast: Bela Lugosi, Helen Chandler, David Manners*, Edward Van Sloane

Have I Seen it Before: Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Did I Like It: I just said, “Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.”

Look, I love the classic Universal Monster movies. Bride of Frankenstein (1935) is one of my all-time favorite movies. I could watch Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein (1948)** on a loop forever. I even kind of liked The Mummy (2017) because—for all of its faults—it was trying to recapture the original shared universe that these films initially inhabited.

However, not all of the Universal classics—even A-list ones made before they were relegated to the neglected b-side of the Laemmle production empire—are created equal. So, in that spirit, here’s a confession about this granddaddy of all vampire films.

It’s frightfully dull.

Like, it should be a controlled substance, because it’s chemically indistinct from an aggressive, possibly habit-forming sleeping pill. I’ve watched this movie probably a dozen times over the course of my life, and not once have I avoided feeling drowsy by the last half hour. It works like a charm, every time.

Even on this viewing, amped up with a little more caffeine than I perhaps should have consumed, by the time the lady in white starts offering some local children chocolate, I can feel my eyes starting to grow heavy. I persevered through sheer dint of will power, but it was a struggle.

Now “coma-inducing” doesn’t feel like high praise for a film, and on it’s face that is probably correct. On the cutting edge of talking pictures, cinema really hadn’t figured out how to do anything more advanced than a filmed performance of a stage play at this point. Indeed, the film is rather a slavish adaptation of the stage play by Hamilton Deane and John L Balderston, rather than the original novel by Bram Stoker. Every time I see a bat hanging by a string, or an awkwardly blocked scene, I can’t help but think of a stage production that could have used a little bit more time. Also, it should be mentioned, Tod Browning may not have been up to the task of adapting the film. The Spanish-language version of the film—produced using many of the same resources and at the same time as this film—is actually far more striking in its artistic flourishes. To imagine what James Whale could have done with this material. Oy.

But, also, it’s flaws can become kind of endearing. That it lulls me into such deep comfort, that my mind and body thinks its time to sleep may be a virtue. It’s probably not the virtue that the filmmakers would have hoped for, but to be the cinematic equivalent of a warm blanket is at least something.

And then, I can’t help but wonder if the film—and, by extension, Dracula himself—have managed to gain a thorough thrall on me… What have I done while I thought I was sleeping during this movie? Oh, Master… I’ve been loyal. Please don’t kill me!

Ahem.

* Has there ever been a more contract-player-leading-man name than David Manners? Honestly, if you had to guess which b-level milquetoast would eventually become the President of the United States, I wouldn’t have gone with Reagan; this guy would be my pick. Doesn’t matter if Manners is Canadian.

** The only other movie in which Lugosi played the role Count Dracula (and not some vaguely Dracula-ish figure). Now you know, and knowing is half the battle.