Film Review: Home Sweet Home Alone (2021)

Max Mercer is left home alone when his family heads out on a trip to Japan and they just kinda forgot to bring him along. While they scramble to get back home, Max discovers that a couple is trying to break into their home with the goal of retrieving a valuable heirloom. When Max mishears their intentions, he believes they're trying to kidnap him, so he sets up a series of dangerous traps to thwart the would-be criminals.

A reboot designed to stream to families for Christmas on Disney+, this might be the most frustrating Home Alone movie to date (which really says something after all the gripes I had about the casting for Home Alone 4). Archie Yates plays Max as an insufferable brat. It'd be understandable if there was a maturity arc to him like there was in the original Home Alone, but not enough time is spent on that kind of development. The worst mistake this film makes is with the burglars. The film puts most of its focus on characterizing them as relatable, down-on-their-luck citizens simply trying to regain possession of their own property. All of the film's conflict is enabled through a fundamental misunderstanding. Literally all of this could have been avoided with a simple talk. They even try to reason towards the end, but the kid choses violence. Our sympathies wind up becoming twisted and confused—we've always rooted for the kid before to outsmart the buffoonish villains, but now it seemed like the kid became unreasonably violent and cruel. This happens precisely because the "villains" are no longer villains. There is a scene where Pam has her feet burned, and she lays on the snow crying—this hit way harder than a Home Alone film should have, and I realized I was rooting for the crooks and not the kid.

I see this as a fundamental failure in storytelling. Even though there seems to always be a big push to make villains relatable, this franchise demonstrates that this is not an approach that works for every story. Previous films worked perfectly fine with one-note villains with simple, selfish motivations that made us love to hate them, and thus we root for the kid. If the goal of Home Sweet Home Alone was to deconstruct that formula, to make the kid a villain, well how messed up is that? And when the final act kicks off, with Max shooting pool balls into Jeff's head, or using a treadmill to hurl weights at them with lethal force, the kid comes across as an absolute psycho. It didn't have to be this way. There is a place for one-dimensional villains, and this was the place for it. Granted, it wouldn't be anything new or interesting, but the film by nature is not new or interesting.

As the film balances multiple POVs (some of which are absolutely unnecessary), the film aims to make us understand all sides of the picture, but the end result is a frustrating situation where all the characters resolve their differences and all the conflict just evaporates. It renders the whole affair pointless. This is the other problem with the film's approach—you wind up walking away from with with a shrug, and maybe the frustrated impression that all of this could have been played out differently. At its worst, it's a waste of time.

It is a shame, because I do feel that the quality of the film is improved from the fourth and fifth movies. Cinematography is not too shabby, often boasting shots with interesting lighting. I'd even say that the jokes are a grade funnier and edgier than the last few movies, and the traps showcased in the finale are pretty inventive. Performances are fine, but none of them were huge standouts one way or the other. It is interesting to see various nods to the first couple of films, strongly suggesting a continuity (even though it's also a reboot? I dunno). As such, Devin Ratray's cameo is probably the most pleasant surprise to the movie. That, and the music, which apes the original themes John Williams initially composed (although any original tunes are not particularly good standouts).

If this was meant to spin things around and make Max a villain and the crooks "good guys," the film fails because why would I want that in a Home Alone movie. This isn't freakin' Eden Lake, where violent kids are a horrific problem that has to be villainized and exposed. If this is meant to be taken as a Home Alone reboot, where we are 100% behind Max and want to see the crooks harmed, the film fails because of the sympathy it garners for those crooks (even if unintentionally). While deep relatable villains have done well for previous Disney hits like Frozen, it has no place here. This film would have worked if it kept things simple, but by toying around with character depth and sympathies, I came out of it troubled and confused. It's easily the worst story I've seen for a Home Alone film (even factoring in the direct-to-video sequels). It's a bummer, because the film itself isn't that bad to look at.

2/10

Film Review: Home Alone: The Holiday Heist (2012)

When a family moves into a supposedly haunted house, Finn opts to spend the holidays engrossed in his video games. But when thieves attempt to break into the house to steal priceless art that was hidden in a secret room by bootleggers, Finn has to arrange traps and outwit the crooks to defend his house and his sister.

Well, at least they aren't bastardising the McCallister family again. The fifth Home Alone film attempts to stand out on its own with its focus on video game addiction (although, funnily enough, it is gamer techniques and even the help of a stranger online that helps Finn win the day in the end). I'll even say that the way it incorporates a historic house with a secret room used in the bootlegging days is kinda neat. There is a whole shtick where Finn believes the house is haunted, which factors into the story in a few ways, but I think it could have been a stronger element. It's pretty harmless in the end, with some goofy antics, but there are moments where it feels like the film tries to break the mold somewhat. There's even an amusing montage where Finn tries to buy $2K worth of tools at a hardware store, but winds up walking away with a reel of twine.

Sadly, other aspects to the film struggle to impress. The traps and home defense scenes are barely memorable, and easily some of the weakest of the series. The melodrama pads out the movie somewhat, serving little more than to find an excuse for the kid to actually be home alone rather than adding any heart or depth. Nothing in the film's quality helps—it's blandly filmed with functional, but not exceptional, editing. Performances are fair. The biggest name here is Malcolm McDowell as the villain, but a man of his stature deserves better. Christian Martyn plays the lead as Finn, and he's fine—thankfully not as obnoxious as the last couple of leads, but there are moments where I wish this kid could have gotten his act together quicker.

Everything about this production comes across as mundane—from the script to the execution, it exists simply for its own sake. In the age of Internet streaming, it could be pegged as merely "content," offering a familiar story with no real flair or anything of interest. Superficially entertaining, but notably weak.

3/10

Film Review: Home Alone 4: Taking Back The House (2002)

The McCallister family goes through some things, with Peter divorcing his wife and falling for a wealthier woman. When the two finally reveal their intentions to marry, they invite Kevin to their high-tech house and regale him with gifts. But when a familiar crook snoops around the house and causes havoc that Kevin is blamed for, Kevin has no choice but to use his new toys and the house's features to outsmart the burglars and expose their plans.

The first (and sadly not the last) direct-to-video Home Alone sequel doesn't leave a great impression, even from the first frame. With its cheap editing and transition effects, over-the-top acting, and bizarre cinematography that sways from overly mediocre to overly cartoony, it just looks cheap and lame. What makes this entry a hard sell for me, however, is the cast. These are supposed to be the same characters from the first two movies, but they look and act nothing like their respective counterparts. Jason Beghe as the father is probably the best standout, but even then, he's no John Heard. Heard played a father figure who was supportive, assertive, firm when he needed to be, but still loving. Beghe plays this character up as more conflicted and confused than he should be, and it doesn't help that Clare Carey plays Mrs. McCallister as passive. By comparison, Catherine O'Hara played this character with equal parts motherly love and fiery determination. Carey and Beghe both made me realize just how strong the original performances actually were. Sadly though, the weak casting extends to Kevin himself—Mike Weinberg struggles to really nail any emotional depth, and he comes across as just another hyperactive ten-year-old. It's a definite far cry from Macaulay Culkin's take. I'm also a lot less enthused about Giddeon Jacobs as Buzz, who doesn't even look the part with his shorter stature and curly hair—he plays this character strictly as the obnoxious bully. But the one casting choice that really grinds my gears, sadly, is French Stewart playing Marv. He doesn't really bother to inhabit the same character that Daniel Stern brought to life so vividly before—Stewart simply falls back on his usual shtick, focusing on goofy faces, lots of bumbling, and playing a lame, dumb character. This works with enough charm in something like Third Rock From the Sun, but it does not translate into this character at all, because it lacks threat. Even with all the stupid things Marv said and did in the first two movies, Stern could still play the role with menace and angst—Stewart has none of that. 

As if the characterizations alone aren't enough to be distracting, none of these players even look like their respective characters (except maybe Beghe, who sorta looks closer to Heard). It really says something when the cast of Home Alone 3 looks more spot-on than the cast that's actually supposed to re-adapt the McCallisters. Seth Smith looked closer to Buzz than Jacobs. Haviland Morris looked closer to Kate than Carey. And, of course, Weinberg is a weird choice for Kevin, since he looks much smaller and mousier than Culkin.

Casting choices might be the most distracting thing about this movie, but it has a trickle-down effect, since the story hinges on all these characters. Most of it plays out more like a Lifetime drama, with the focus put on the love triangle between Peter, Kate, and Natalie (played by Joana Going in one of the film's better performances). The melodrama is (maybe understandably) sidelined by the cartoony hijinks that occur when Marv and his girlfriend repeatedly attempt to break into the house (all part of a scheme to kidnap a royal prince that's supposed to visit the house, and all of this absolutely feels tacked on and contrived, especially given the unlikely wish-fulfillment outcome of all these threads). There are additional subplots in which Kevin suspects the butler of being an inside man, but any twist the film pulls is as predictable as they come. There are enough jokes, gags, and pratfalls to keep anybody's monkey brain engaged, but it all comes with no real setup or subtlety. God help us, there's even one or two fart jokes in the mix. It's a kid's movie to the core, even though it looks like it also wants to be a family drama too, but it all comes across as goofy and lame.

The production quality is notably weak, with functional photography and editing that looks like something I could have made at home. Despite the unique setting, most of the set design and props look overly-polished and fake, and sometimes cheap. While most of the performances are off-key, I have to admit that the best standouts are in the more original characters. Erick Avari, for example, plays the stuffy butler about as well as you'd expect Avari to play him as, and it works. I also have a soft spot for Missi Pyle, who absolutely goes over-the-top in her role to match Stewart's buffoonery, but at least she comes across as original. Barbara Babcock is fine. Seeming to match the picture itself, the music score is also lame.

Beyond merely being weak, this film is poorly-written tripe that offers nothing really new or original. Even worse, it takes familiar characters we loved from the first two movies and takes them down unbecoming directions, both in the story and with the performances. With lame, cartoony gags spacing out the predictable melodrama, it all comes across as cliched and dumb. If it was made today, you could even accuse it of being AI-generated. Unfortunately, humans are responsible for this, and someday an AI god will probably judge all mankind for the head-scratching decision to bring Home Alone 4 into existence with this god-awful cast and script.

2/10

Film Review: Home Alone 3 (1997)

In a Chicago suburb, Alex is a young mischievous kid who has to stay home from school due to chicken pox. He receives a gift of a remote-controlled car, but little does he know that a series of events lead to a super-secret military microchip being concealed inside of it, and a gang of thieves are actively tracking it down. Alex will need to weaponize his house in order to outsmart the criminals.

I had ignored this sequel for years, pegging it as lame, disconnected trash. My curiosity got the better of me, but now I can confirm that it is indeed lame and disconnected. By 1996, Macaulay Culkin took a break from acting and turned down the chance to play a teenage Kevin McCallister—now we’re given a different group of characters who just can’t hold a candle to the original cast. Outside the hands of Chris Columbus, Raja Gosnell takes the director’s chair and cranks up the slapstick comedy to an obnoxious degree, clearly designed to cater to children with no regard for nuance or maturity. Worst of all though, this is a film that sacrifices credibility for the sake of its gags. You really want me to believe that a kid with an RC car can really outsmart high-tech international thieves that have eluded the FBI for seven years? This only works because the villains are nerfed repeatedly—even to the point of being outsmarted by a parrot on a few occasions. And a rat (although I did laugh at the callback to the “don’t move!” gag that clearly echoes the tarantula scene from the first film—Alice hitting her own teammate in the nether regions to hit a rat dangling from his pants might be the only funny part in this movie, but that might be saying something). It’s one of those comedies where the situations are so stupid and the setups are so weak that the gags have very little payoff. It’s not enough to watch bad guys wallow in mud and ice or get hit on the head with stuff—they bumble too much to be taken seriously, and the plotline fumbles too much to let it be taken seriously.

It is a shame though, because I can tell that this film really wants to jump on the tech-thriller bandwagon that defined the late 90s. The whole MacGuffin of the film definitely echoes the microchip from Sneakers, while using the thieves as villains only reminds me of The Saint, Ronin, and Entrapment. In an age that boasted The Rock, Air Force One, Brosnan’s Bond movies, and the first Mission Impossible movie, invoking terrorism and technology must have seemed like a slam-dunk decision to push this movie as relevant and spicy. And hot dang, even the inclusion of Rya Kihlstedt seemed like a way to make all of this even more modern and sexy, like having Catwoman in the movie (…you know what, it worked. Rya’s performance is my favorite part of this whole thing. Shame the plot demanded that she had to bumble through the climax across some lame gags though). The thing is, none of this should have ever factored into a Home Alone movie. Because it’s freakin’ Home Alone. Adding spy movie nonsense to a Christmas comedy is just coloring way too far outside the box. Could it have worked? Maybe with a lot more finesse. As it is here though, as part of an established franchise, it comes across as hackneyed, try-hard, and stupid.

Sadly, there really isn’t much more to this story. It does play up the whole “boy who cried wolf” angle as it shows grown-ups constantly clashing with Alex, who tries his hardest to do his due diligence and report crime when he sees it. It’s predictable more than it is tense. There is a major subplot in which Alex warms an old lady’s heart and she comes to realize how sweet he is—it’s cute and all, but it comes with the force of a sledgehammer, whereas the heartfelt connections in the last two movies were brush strokes. Worst of all, it feels weirdly disconnected as the film swings from the goofy comedy to super-cereal tech-thriller stuff to comforting Lifetime movie territory. It doesn’t help that Nick Glennie-Smith scored this like a cartoon, which only makes the goofy scenes sound lamer (and certainly a far cry from John Williams’ masterful scores from before).

Aside from Rya Kihlstedt, a very young Scarlett Johansson, and an acceptably fair performances from Olek Krupa and Haviland Morris, the cast is not particularly great. Alex Linz definitely tries to match the lovable mischief and good-hearted nature that Macaulay Culkin brought to Kevin in the previous films, but Alex stands no chance to fill those shoes—the character he plays comes across as superficial at best. The other villain characters (jeez, there are four of them) only exist to be buffoons, and it is frustrating since there are scenes where they actually are competent, until the script demands that they aren’t and have to bumble through buckets of adhesive and other ridiculous hazards. The film is presented with a notably brighter, more colorful flair than before, which makes it look candy-coated. Cinematography is often fast, loose, and in-your-face, catering even further into the kid demographic, but at the loss of depth and gravitas.

If I had seen this as a ten-year-old, I likely would have been sufficiently entertained, but still let down by the drop in quality concerning the writing and performances. Changes in the cast and crew are a large part of it, but the film still flunks out because of how it deviates from its predecessors to embrace the cartoony kid-friendly shenanigans without any sense of discipline. It is superficially entertaining with its gags and focus on ridiculous stakes involving military technology, but it still comes across as stupid. It’s ultimately on-par with movies like Cats and Dogs, Zoom, or the live-action Thunderbirds. Kids might love it, sure, but they deserve quality too. Let them watch the first two Home Alones at the least.

4/10

Film Review: Home Alone 2: Lost In New York (1992)

The McCallister family plans a trip to Florida, but a series of events leads to one of their youngest, Kevin, getting on the wrong flight and becoming stranded in New York City. While the family scrambles to locate and reunite with him, Kevin scams his way into living at a hotel, but a pair of familiar criminals spot him in the city and plot their revenge.

Given the box office success of the first Home Alone, a franchise was likely inevitable. At the very least, the second film remains consistent to the first thanks to the returning cast and crew, to include writer John Hughes and director Chris Columbus. Both of them weave a new story but with the exact same story beats as the first. It does come across a rehash this way, forcing Kevin to undergo a whole new round of discovery, moral lessons, and home defense that feels very familiar (if not utterly derivative). The same elements of comedic, slapstick mischief and cartoony violence play out like they did before, but with a different set of circumstances and different setpieces. While Marv took an iron to the face in the last movie, how he’s hit by many bricks. While Harry had a blowtorch singe his scalp before, now it’s set totally on fire before literally exploding (and somehow he survives this). When you’re an 11 year old boy watching these shenanigans, with paint, toolboxes, kerosene, and pigeons becoming the mechanisms for a new round of vigilante justice, it comes off as so much bigger, bolder, and funnier.

This extends to the story as well. Going far beyond the premise of a boy stuck alone in a house, now the scenery opens up to the grandeur of NYC, which is romanticized to a huge degree but occasionally shows its threatening side. The familiar beats of Kevin splurging and exploring carry over from the first film, but there is something more significant in the way he navigates the city, tests the hotel staff, discovers Duncan’s Toy Chest, and connects with the pigeon lady. It’s a much bigger sand box than before. Even though the story pattern remains the same, it helps that Kevin carries himself with the same maturity he showed in the end of the first film. He came across as a total brat in the opening scenes of Home Alone 1—in the second film, he’s agreeably tempered, and even relatable. It only makes sense that plunging him into a whole city is the next greatest adventure for him, because it pushes his newfound maturity to the next level. His assumptions and perspectives are challenged once again. Threats are bigger and more dangerous. It comes across as an expanded and bigger-scale adventure, as every good sequel should.

One interesting quirk about the script is that it does play up the absurdity that Kevin is abandoned twice across the two movies, leading to scenes where the characters jokes about it. Parallels do factor into most scenes, often mirroring the first film either for contrast, to keep various gags running, or to expand on the family dynamic. If the repetition doesn’t bother you, then it comes across as consistent, and maybe even charming.

A big part of the film’s appeal is in its city setting, which is showcased with quality cinematography. The same qualities from before carry over, with camera movement and placement giving the film some snap where it’s needed, but not always drawing attention to itself. Colors continue to be naturalistic, but factor into key scenes where necessary. Editing is pretty snappy, and it’s especially notable (maybe even a little obnoxious) how it frequently cuts to close-ups with characters delivering a reaction phrase or expression. The cast is well-worn at this point, with Macaulay Culkin, Joe Pesci, Daniel Stern, Catherine O’Hara, Peter Heard, and many other familiar names delivering spirited and entertaining performances. A few good additions to the cast are Tim Curry, who plays a stuffy hotel concierge with a regal flair, Rob Schneider, who succeeds precisely because he’s toned-down and plays things straight, and Brenda Fricker, who balances menace and emotion with surprising nuance. John Williams returns to score this movie with the same themes as before, and it’s just as effective the second time around. And of course there are some commercial songs in the mix—strangely, I find them more fitting this time around.

I wouldn’t blame anybody for accusing this of being a shameless rehash, but I have a nostalgic bias. Then and now, I always admired how this film expanded the scope while staying true to the formula and gags of the first film. It helps that Hughes and Columbus put in the effort to make the story stick and still deliver wholesome messages and feelings where it counts. It’s much more than can be said about most other Christmas movie sequels.

8/10

Film Review: Home Alone (1990)

When the McCallister family takes a vacation to Paris, a series of events leads the clan to accidentally leave one of their youngest, Kevin, behind. Alone in the home, Kevin learns to take care of himself. When a pair of shady burglars target the house, he takes steps to scare them away, but must eventually confront them and defend the house.

Home Alone was a smash hit in 1990 and it continues to be a regular staple for Christmas time. It has plenty going for it—slapstick comedy and goofy hijinks for the kids, and a few serious narrative threads laid over the scripts to unify its morals and deliver some stronger emotional payoffs. The former is easily the most memorable part that draws the most attention, even to the point of drawing parallels to Die Hard and Saw thanks to the way Kevin choses violence to torment and humiliate the robbers. I’m 76% certain these comparisons are satirical though—it’s easy to see that Home Alone carries a lightweight tone even during its busy climax. When the home defense subplot kicks in, it’s played in a bloodless, cartoony fashion, albeit with some level of creditability and without too much mugging to the audience (something that gets lost in the execution from Home Alone 3 onwards). Somehow, this film straddles a fine line between playing up the buffoonery of the villains and maintaining them as serious, creditable threats (in no small part thanks to Joe Pesci and Daniel Stern, both of whom commit to their parts admirably). As a kid, watching Kevin outsmart and torment Harry and Marv was certainly the biggest highlight since these scenes rolled up action and comedy into an exciting bundle. As an adult, I can’t help but to see it as a form of low-key absurdism.

The build-up to the thrilling climax is no less compelling though as the story focuses on Kevin’s shenanigans and his family’s struggle to reunite with him. There are many scenes that show off Kevin just being a wild and crazy kid (a shtick that would define Macaulay Culkin as the most famous wild child actor of the 90s—leave it this kid to make a ridiculous face-slapping scream iconic), but the story’s trajectory firmly propels Kevin on an arc that emphasizes maturity, responsibility, and gaining perspective. The plotline maintains its snap as characters overcome a variety of challenges, both mundane and major. It feels unified and complete thanks to the way it sets up various assumptions in the first act, then forces the characters to discover different truths through their challenges (as any good story should). There are good moral lessons embedded into the story, and with the Christmas setting, it is pleasant (and perhaps enlightening) to see the moments when people are actually good and kind.

This film doesn’t really beat you over the head with style—the photography is firm and steady, but rarely a huge standout. It finds subtle ways to accentuate the story though, so the invisible nature of the cinematography could be one of the reasons why the film succeeds as it does. There are plenty of effective scenes where the camera places us in Kevin’s shoes, invoking a more connected experience. I didn’t think much of the film’s color scheme since it's mostly natural-looking, but I have to admit that the way it contrasts the warm interiors with the cold, gray outside world is likely an inspiring creative choice. It all serves as a comfortable backdrop to let the actors shine—aside from Culkin, Pesci, and Stern, there is a plethora of other great performances from the likes of Catherine O’Hara, John Heard, Gerry Bamman, Devin Ratray, and a bunch of child actors that help breathe life to this massive family. John Candy appears towards the end in a few select scenes (an appearance that he shot for one day only, for a mere $414, and was entirely improv—what a guy). Permeating the entire film is the magical score by John Williams (boasting some classic carols in the mix, in addition to the “Somewhere In My Memory” theme). Its memorable leitmotifs invoke a number of emotions, while some cues (like the whole “Making the Plane” bit) successfully draws inspiration from Tchaikovsky. Naturally, the film also uses its fair share of commercially licensed Christmas songs, some of which have their place and some of which are dully inserted because Christmas. For all that goes, keep your eyes open for a cute nod to It’s A Wonderful Life (although the film noir pastiche, Angels With Filthy Souls, is a funny and creative inclusion that stands out as its own funny centerpiece).

When this film came out, I had taken it for granted, because as a young boy I was more invested in the exciting final act and the rest seemed mundane (although there are a ton of great lines that makes the whole film entertaining all the same). As an adult, I’ve come to appreciate the effort John Hughes and Chris Columbus put into the script. It does a perfect job of setting up a number of gags and delivering good punchlines. Above all though, it sets up the characters in a way that they learn and grow into better people, leading up to a heart-warming denouement where family connection is celebrated. The film is memorable for its slapstick, but it still resonates thanks to the way it invokes heart and the Christmas spirit.

8/10

Film Review: Soylent Green (1973)

In the near future of...2022...the world suffers from overpopulation and resource depletion. Forty million citizens crowd up New York City alone. Living conditions have deteriorated to the point where people own very little, human lives have little value, and most people live off of manufactured government-issued sustenance. As a new variant of foodstuffs is released to the public, a businessman from the Soylent corporation is murdered, and a detective named Robert Thorn (Charlton Heston) digs into the case. A string of circumstances and some deadly turns leads him to the horrifying truth behind Soylent's latest product.

There are definitely big talking points the film explores, which elevates this as a pointed piece of dystopian science fiction. The depressing vision of an overpopulated world is a gritty and grim prediction as it is, and even though we aren't eating little colored squares just yet, some issues remain prevalent today. The biggest and most impressionable scene might be the one where dumptrucks plow into rioting crowds and scoop up dozens of human beings into their hoppers.

This is a detective story first and foremost though, so all these world-building elements are intrinsically entwined with the mystery that Thorn unravels. The film moves at a fair pace, balancing the occasional slice-of-life scenes and melodrama with sudden bursts of interrogations, chases, and fistfights. The film achieves a rhythm between tension, mystery, and shocking revelations. While most of this appears to be lifted from the original novel (Harry Harrison's Make Room! Make Room!), filmmakers twisted the story so that it ends, and ultimately hinges on, Soylent Green and its horrendous secret. Chances are that the final reveal might have been spoiled for you already, but even with that knowledge, there is a sobering tragedy in watching the characters discover the truth and all its dire, nihilistic implications. You know things are bad when people who know the truth just want to die (corporations have even made it easy to die via institutionalized euthanasia, leading to one of the film's more pleasant sequences, which sends off one of the most lovable characters off on a bittersweet note).

None of this is as mind-blowing as Planet of the Apes or as action-packed as The Omega Man, but Charlton Heston still exudes grit and machismo in the lead role. In this sci-fi trifecta, Soylent Green is easily the film with the most gravitas, largely because of how grounded it is. So grounded that it might look dated to modern eyes. There's no escaping the sheer amount of kitschy 70s paraphernalia that ordains each scene (not to mention the costumes, which range from drab work garments to flashy colored robes). I couldn't help but to notice that some scenes look built from cheap materials, like bubble wrap for a transparent sliding door, or crinkled plastic for a shower curtain. I can't tell if this is an intentional way of showing how desperate this world is, or if it's just a production shortcut. Cinematography is not particularly pretty--the film is constantly awash in hazy gray, brown, green, and yellow hues as the camera focuses on drab locations. Camera work and editing have a standard, workman quality that lets the ugly world speak for itself. The flashiest scenes occur in the opening montage, which is a kind of photographic slideshow with music, but even this comes across as a product of the 70s. Music is rarely a standout. Sound quality is good for its time, with maybe a few scenes where unusual sound effects emphasize the sci-fi setting.

Despite the limitations of the production and the time it was made, the film is built from a functional script that successfully combines all the necessary elements (the world-building, the detective story and all its tension, the sobering critique on society) into a cohesive package. The cast shows fair talent--when Heston isn't beating people up and outrunning corporate assassins, he spends some time hanging out with his buddy Sol--Edward G Robinson's final role, for which he brings an amiable personality and wisdom that makes his character shine through the story's cynicism. Other performances aren't terrible, but not quite as memorable as Heston or Robinson--I'd peg Brock Peters and Paula Kelly as the next best performances worth noting.

This is a rather ugly film, and it's hard to look past its dated production quality. But these aspects ultimately contribute to a grim and depressing picture of the future. The story alone, with its grim and memorable twist, makes Soylent Green a classic picture to my eyes. An easy recommendation to all sci-fi fans.

8/10

Film Review: Awaken (2018)

Few films exist intending to awaken the mind and the senses. It takes a sophisticated and artful approach for films like Koyaanisqatsi, Samsara, and Baraka to stir the soul—these films succeed because of their photographic prowess and a firm thematic direction. Tom Löwe (formerly the cinematographer that shot Visitors, with some experience behind Terrence Malick’s later works) attempted to create a stirring experience with a short piece called TimeScapes, stitched together from scenes shot all around the American Southwest. For a five-year period, Löwe embarked on a new project to piece together a new stirring experience with footage from around the world (shot in over 35 different countries). A film that promises to “awaken” your spirit.

As I noted with TimeScapes, I believe there is merit in art for art’s sake. I appreciated that film precisely because it was devoid of theme or meaning—the stunning landscapes alone had me enamored. Awaken is more of the same, but it expands the scope to include many scenes with exotic-looking people. This includes a ballerina dancing on a prairie. A group of women with torches and wreaths moving through a forest. Men throwing fishing nets into water. All of that in smooth slow-motion, plus time-lapsed shots of mountains, cities, oceans, and clouds. There’s a prolonged shot of a dolphin leaping out of the sea in slow motion. A swimming elephant, shot from underneath. Trees and rocks beneath moving stars, so vividly captured that you can clearly see the Milky Way. Towards the middle, there’s a colorful festival with fantastic costumes, dances, and flying candle-lit lanterns. Holy crap, this might be one of the most stunning films I’ve laid eyes on. Liv Tyler lends her voice to provide a few words of poetry (although it remains rather vague).

The question remains, of course, what is the point? I really want to say it’s fine to not have a point, as I felt with TimeScapes. The problem is, Awaken probably needs a point since so they staged many shots with models doing very specific actions. Why watch scenes of dancers, torch girls, fishermen, and elephants for 74 minutes? It’s one thing to appreciate the world’s unassuming beauty, but it’s another to select specific images and string them together. Alas, this film seems to have picked totally random scenes with no clear connective tissue. The issue is further convoluted since the film repeats all its key shots towards the end, serving as a coda before the credits. If the intent is on humanity, technology, nature, or other broad themes, the scenes aren’t really pointed enough to elicit deep thoughts.

As a fan of these types of films, however, I give this one much credit for the sheer quality of its photography, which is consistently beautiful to behold. Joseph Trapanese’s score is mesmerizing and sensuous, and it goes a long way to adding a more emotional tone to the imagery. Take it in as an audio-visual meditation experience, and I found it hypnotic, tranquil, and pleasant. In some scenes, it aims to be uplifting and motivational. On these surface-level merits, I find enough to admire, but there’s always a chance the mind will make its own meaning out of what’s shown.

Ironically, Awaken may put casual audiences to sleep with its frequent slow-motion and repeated shots. It may also dazzle with its sumptuous cinematography, and the music is a work of art on its own. I can’t really recommend it unless you’re already familiar with Tom Löwe, his producers (Terrence Malick and Godfrey Reggio), or Ron Fricke. Even then, it’s a little hard to grasp meaning out of what’s shown. But then, approaching it with an empty mind might be the best approach, and you might find at least some appreciation for such an ambitious project.

8/10

Film Review: Zack Snyder's Justice League (2021)

A grave injustice was done four years ago. Perhaps it was desperation, greed, or just plain incompetence, but in delivering an epic superhero mash-up to rival the Marvel Cinematic Universe, Warner Brothers whipped together Justice League with haphazard results. Zack Snyder finished the work already, having filmed hours of content that merely needed editing and polish. Unfortunately, he had to step away from post-production when his daughter passed away. Warner Bros reeled in Joss Wheadon, and for reasons that I will probably never fathom, he reshot a number of scenes, swapping out Snyder’s gravitas for quippy banter nobody asked for. Epic scenes were replaced with bland, talky scenes that felt more at home in soap operas or sitcoms. And all of this was mashed together between the bloated action scenes, leaving hardly any room for story beats, emotional payoffs, or any kind of nuance. Unsurprisingly, the film flopped. But the reasons were so transparent that fans petitioned for a real director’s cut to be assembled. Despite the cost involved, Warner Bros surprisingly obliged and let Snyder return to finish what he started.

Zack Snyder’s Justice League follows the events of Man of Steel and Batman vs Superman: Dawn of Justice, and naturally the three together comprise a face-melting trilogy. With Kal-El’s demise in the previous film, mysterious artifacts suddenly awaken around the world, and a menacing tyrant from another world seeks them out. When the forces of Themyscira and Atlantis fail to stop Steppenwolf, Batman (Ben Affleck) and Wonder Woman (Gal Gadot) team up with Aquaman (Jason Mamoa), Cyborg (Ray Fisher) and the Flash (Ezra Miller) to analyze the threat they face and find a way to save the world.

Sure, this is the same plot as the 2017 cut, but this sucker is almost four hours long, split up into six bite-sized parts as a miniseries format. Even though all the big-scale setpieces remain, they are spaced out with substantial breathing room to permit longer, better scenes. We’re finally given a proper understanding of Cyborg’s character—where he came from, why he despises his father, and we’re ultimately given a stronger avenue to care and root for him. Aquaman is treated with greater earnestness, and I appreciate the scenes that foreshadow his own stand-alone movie from 2018. Steppenwolf is given a make-over, visually for one, and with just enough dialogue to give him a better motivation, which elevates him a grade more. However, it’s the appearance of Darkseid—a bigger, more menacing antagonist who wasn’t even in the original cut--who will elicit more chills. The mythology behind the Mother Boxes seems so much more interesting--maybe because it feels less rushed, and they feel like threats more than McGuffins (and this is probably because their use is actually entwined with the plot and characters better). There are probably hundreds of other smaller details that unifies the movie and aligns it with the other DCEU properties (including a reappearance of Jared Leto as the Joker, Eisenberg’s return as Lex Luthor, a brief glimpse of Deadshot, a better representation of a Green Lantern dude).

What impresses me the most, however, is that the film is structured in a way that makes more sense. It’s clear that the 2017 cut shuffled many of the same scenes in a nonsensical way and tried to smoothen it out with extra dialogue. In Snyder’s cut, every character is given their own spotlight, and they are developed sufficiently before moving onto the major turning points and big-scale action scenes. Despite some exposition, most of the story is delivered with visually striking scenes that show more and tell less--the exact opposite of the older cut, and hot dang it works. Nothing feels rushed, and somehow very little feels extraneous.

All that being said, if you hated Zack Snyder’s work before, this film will not change your mind at all. His excesses are still highly evident--the film is loaded with slow-motion, disaster porn, CGI, and brooding. The entire film is given a dark veneer that paints every scene in black, brown, gray, and bronze--the exact opposite of Wheadon’s candy-colored treatment. It’s also head-scratching that this was all finished in a square 1.33:1 aspect ratio. Compared to other Snyder films, however, I believe this one is much more palatable, with a steady camera. Composition and angles are often quite striking, and it captures the locations, props, and costumes with remarkable detail. Special effects paint most scenes with fantastic results--it’s not the best CGI ever, but it’s a vast improvement from before and it looks awesome to my eyes. One of the greatest improvements is with the music score--Tom Holkenborg (aka JXL) brings back the themes that Hans Zimmer originally spearheaded, and they add a lot of awesome-sounding guitars. However, it adds a lot more emotion and changes the dynamic of all scenes (especially the action scenes), and it goes a long way in delivering a punchier experience.

Performances remain the same as before, but with far less jokiness and hokeyness. Ben Affleck is still quite the intimidating presence as Batman. I’m a little more awed by Ray Fisher’s role. A little less impressed by Gadot—she still looks great in action, but her line delivery leaves something to be desired. Jason Momoa exudes machoism and gravitas--his role seems stiff here, but at least he’s not saying stuff like “ah-right!” again. I never had a problem with Miller’s Flash, but I know many viewers find his humorous take annoying—little has changed between the two cuts. I’m still impressed by Henry Cavill’s take on Superman. A plethora of other stars—Jeremy Irons, JK Simmons, Amy Adams, Diane Lane, Willem Dafoe, Leto and Eisenberg—round off this huge cast with admirable talent.

Despite the sheer length of the film, its strengths became apparent to me when I considered the epic setpieces that were coming (such as the bank robbery scenes, the big fight under Gotham Harbor, the resurrection of Superman, the climactic fight) and knew that this film would not whiz through each of them the same way the 2017 cut did. Space between the action matters, and Snyder’s completed cut represents the story as it should be told—with attention given to setting up the characters, the stakes, the mythology, and the reasons behind the spectacle. Few years ago, it seemed like Warner Bros and Wheadon were solely interested in the spectacle—it’s meaningless without the right setup. It ticks me off the more I think about it because, in a hundred years of cinema, you’d think studios would understand how films fail when they’re sliced and diced too much. This kind of nonsense ruined Suicide Squad (not to mention non-DC films like X-Men Origins: Wolverine, Spider-Man 3, 2015’s Fantastic Four). This somewhat mirrors the situation decades ago with Superman II, in which Richard Lester finished Richard Donner’s film with way too much comedy and cheese. Some time later, the Donner cut showed us the vision that could have been (imperfect of course, but still fascinating and arguably improved). In the modern age, we have the good fortune to see Zack Snyder’s vision for Justice League in good quality--a far better experience than the unjustly butchered version previously released to theaters. Some things can never be changed or fixed about it, but it at least feels coherent, complete, satisfying...and immensely epic.

It feels like justice has been served.

8/10

Film Review: The Wizard (1989)

Video games are more than just games. They can be a sport. In the 1980s, it might sound laughable and silly. Now, 30+ years later, and those Starcraft tournaments in South Korea are no joke. Some players have an uncanny knack for winning--they are wizards.

The Wizard is a cute little yarn about a kid with special needs named Jimmy (Luke Edwards). His parents undergo an ugly divorce, so he wants to run off to California. He winds up doing so accompanied by his brother Corey (Fred Savage). Along the way, they befriend a girl (Jenny Lewis). When it becomes apparent that they need cash to move on, the trio discovers that Jimmy is a bonafide video game wizard, and they push themselves into a tournament.

My interest to see this movie stemmed from some recent video game history videos I stumbled across on Youtube (as such, it comes as no surprise to me that this movie is loaded with Nintendo propaganda). The Wizard has the distinction of being the first time any American had ever laid eyes on Super Mario Bros 3--prior to this, the game had been released and played all over Japan and it was rightfully hyped as a masterclass platformer. Couple that with a memorable "so bad it's good" scene where a rival kid shows off the Power Glove, and the film becomes a kitschy time capsule of Nintendo's highs and lows by the end of the decade.

If this movie was strictly about games and Nintendo, I would have been more invested. And this could have been easy for the film if it focused strictly on the tournament. Alas, it treats it as an ends rather than a means. Without indulging in the specific characteristics of what defines Jimmy as a "wizard," we're left with a rather lame melodrama about kids running away and avoiding adult problems. Right from the start, the film shoots its credibility in the foot as the two brothers somehow cross Death Valley without dying. To say nothing about the useless subplot in which a bounty hunter chases after these kids (with bumbling antics to ensue).

I see what the film's doing though. So-many years after movies like Rocky and The Karate Kid successfully showcased underdogs (and kids) building themselves up to become champions, The Wizard carbon-copies the plot structure expecting us to care about these lost underdog kids before proving themselves in a major championship. It doesn't really work because most of the film is more interested in showing how Jimmy is emotionally tormented (and is bullied in at least one scene) and exploring the trauma that makes him clam up as he does. But it does so in the framework of a chase film--one that seems cheaply shot all across California (and possibly Nevada or Utah, it all looks similar).

What's really odd about this flick is that the adult actors inject their performances with way more energy and camp than the kids, who play it pretty straight and serious. It becomes tonally weird--stiff in some places, goofy in others. Most of the money seems to be put in the few scenes that do feature video games, but it still amounts to nothing more than a room full of cheering kids in front of three or so screens. The film is competently shot and edited, for what it's worth. Every time an emotional moment is warranted, an 80s rock ballad kicks in, and I found it quite annoying.

I would have been six when this came out, and if I saw the film then I might have enjoyed it just fine. Even with an enthusiasm for the 80s and gaming culture, I can't really get invested in this as an adult--there's simply not enough gaming involved, and the actual meat of this story just doesn't work.

Oh, and those final championship scenes with Super Mario Bros 3? I was really distracted by how poorly these kids played it. Jimmy hesitates way too much and he could have gotten the warp whistle way earlier than the castle level. In fact, all these kids sucked at it. When I was ten, I could have pwned them all. For all that goes, here's a guy who beat most of the game in 10 minutes--he surpassed the scores in the movie within 30 seconds.

Also, screw the Power Glove. It's so bad.

4/10

Film Review: Jaws (1975)

Is there a scarier living creature than a shark? All muscle and teeth, they prowl the oceans with precision senses to hunt and devour just about any sea creature. Though they rarely target people, one can't help but to fear them when they do attack. With rows of teeth that constantly regenerate, the jaws of a shark can leave a person deformed and mangled in a best-case scenario. At worst, you're dead meat.

1975's Jaws is a fictitious yarn about a Great White shark that attacks an unassuming girl, leaving only a mangled corpse that makes police chief Martin Brody (Roy Scheider) raise the alarm to close Amity Island's beaches. When the mayor (Murray Hamilton) and his cronies refuse to shut down the beaches during tourist season, the shark continues to wreak havoc. Even a local bounty hunt fails to catch the maneater, causing Brody to team up with oceanographer Matt Hooper (Richard Dreyfus) and salty boat captain Quint (Robert Shaw) to hunt and kill the monstrous shark once and for all.

Before you come out and scream that books are always better than their movie counterparts, I'd like to point out that Peter Benchley's novel Jaws was wisely adapted by Spielberg to keep all the cool parts and ditch the bad, resulting in one genuinely solid movie that surpasses the book. Care was given to make the characters relate-able and likable--indeed, the actors help as they juggle levity and emotion that paints their characters as fully-dimensional human beings. It really helps that some subplots, including one where Hooper sleeps with Brody's wife, is excised completely (seriously, that stuff really killed the novel for me, good riddance).

The film banks on the threat of the shark to drive its story--even in the first half, set amidst the mundane bustle of a small seaside town, the tension is cranked up thanks to the political pressure Body faces. It's amplified in interesting ways, thanks largely to Spielberg's penchant for always having characters talk over each other and splitting their attention--I can't say I like this technique in other films he's made, but it works in Jaws as our own attention becomes split between all the mundane babble and the overarching threats Brody always eyeballs. The film proceeds to string the audience along with its tension, using little more than shots of a single dorsal fin skimming the ocean--this leads to one or two fake-outs, but the inevitable payoff may elicit a startling scream all the same. This ultimately builds up to a nearly hour-long finale where the leads board the Orca and face the shark head-on--the film still finds time to wedge in chemistry and character-building, but the final hunt remains captivating as the boat falls apart and the three heroes face constant problems, before "Bruce" makes his final lunge. Suffice to say, all of the film's thrills work phenomenally thanks to its content and style.

A simple story, but one told well thanks to its dedicated performances, creditable location shooting, and quality of production. The cinematography is often pleasing, using postcard-like composition to bring out the rugged charm of the town and the sea--it really helps that the crew built rigs and watertight camera boxes to film at sea as well as they did. Even with such gear, however, the production went 100 days over schedule and millions of dollars over budget--the cast and crew alike pulled long hours across this strenuous shoot, having to face challenges with the ocean and malfunctions with the mechanical shark. Limitations ultimately forced Spielberg to cut the film with less of the shark shown, but the film is all the better for it since it achieves a "less is more" effect. Like a Hitchcock film, Jaws builds tension through suggestion and the careful reveal of details (and this is an effect that would further influence Gareth Edwards with Monsters and 2014's Godzilla). Part of Jaws' success stems from John Williams' score, which further emphasizes threat with the simple, minimalist use of strings. To this day, you'll likely hear the theme's gradual build and feel chills as if you are indeed being hunted by a shark.

Spielberg might have been in over his head regarding the production--this being his third feature-length film, his ego and inexperience probably made this a bigger pain in the butt than it needed to be, but it is refreshing to read his current reflections, in which he humbly admits to his faults. It was a creative learning experience that nearly ruined the guy's career. And yet, the film came out as a smash success full of iconography--with a lean script, solid style, and wonderful performances, it remains a modern-day classic. It really says something that, even in my generation, the film is instantly recognized by just its music and a few good memes. The cast and crew are champs for bringing this all to life. The film seems to bite deeper each time I see it.

9/10

Film Review: Cats (2019)

Dear reader--forgive me if I seem out of sorts. My recent bout of madness began when I finished watching Cats. Even though I viewed this on my television set, I can affirm that this is not a film. It can only be described as a thing that should not be.

The tale of Cats is a curious oddity for theater circuits, although it might fare best on the stage where the camp bears charm. On film, we are thrust into a horrifying world where cats and human beings have merged into one--all abominations made possible with the undisciplined science of CGI. To watch the film is to watch a monstrous hoard of cat/human hybrids prancing about a neon-lit reality where the shape and size of things constantly fluxes scene-to-scene. Even the reality within the film breaks as the CGI fails to cover every blemish of the performers and costumes. With terrifying veracity and a daunting runtime, the film whisks its viewers into a damnable hellscape where the hybrids sensually flex and sway their bodies amidst cheese-coated serenades and jazz numbers. It's perhaps at its most terrifying when a decidedly miscast Rebel Wilson enslaves some subraces of rat/child hybrids and cockroach people, and devours some of them with uncaring glee.

Such is the horror that Tom Hooper conjured out of Andrew Lloyd Weber's stageplay (in turn, a whimsical adaptation of TS Elliot's stories). By nature of its origins, Cats is constructed in a formless fashion, amounting to little more than a string of musical setpieces that spotlights specific "Jellicle" cats--the definition of which is left mysterious, but suggests a form of grace and redemption for a few chosen characters. For the film, however, these origins are bastardized into a script, where cinematic conflict and act structure are forced upon this plotless tale. Within this malformed structure, the characters remain one-dimensional specters that prance in and out of each scene with little consequence. Any semblance of romance and adventure is abandoned in favor of contrived structure, and ghastly spectacle and song. I can't deny that the music is fairly catchy--the sheer cathartic power of Jennifer Hudson's solos may be the film's most redeeming feature. I am largely smitten by Francesca Hayward's performance and Taylor Swift's brief appearance (curiously, she had collaborated with Weber on a new song, "Beautiful Ghosts," which Hayward sings quite well in the film's middle, even though it sacrifices pacing to do so). But such music is like a siren's song, luring film-goers into the depths of an empty abyss where the currents of a story are faint and inconsequential. Such is the damnable emptiness that's conjured when filmmakers fail (or don't bother) to comprehend that some elements of a stage musical make for poor cinema, and some elements of cinema make for a poor musical. Alas, the film's attempt to balance both mediums results in an aberration that could have only been summoned from the Necronomicon.

Who knows how much sweat, tears, and money was sacrificed to conjure this reality? Much care was given in elaborate props, sets, costumes, and lighting, but the film remains infamous for its garish, inconsistent (and upon its release, incomplete!) special effects. The cast is noteworthy, but it is perhaps sobering to watch distinguished thespians like Sir Ian McKellen and Dame Judi Dench devote their talents to such bizarre fare (transformed as monstrous cats nonetheless). All the cartoonish gloss and color does little to patch the imperfections, much less the vapid story or the unwise decision to bring this film into being in the first place.

Film and theater lovers take heed--I have ventured through the uncanny valley of madness and witnessed the unfathomable terrors of endlessly wavering tails, twitching ears, and fur-lined faces. In a time ravaged by a global pandemic, domestic rioting, and rampaging murder hornets, I can only conclude that Cats is the harbinger of mankind's doom. Every night, I behold the abyssal night sky and wonder on humanity's significance in a universe where Cats exists. Amidst the endless sea of multiverses, it may all be a literal reality where cat people truly perform ritualistic song to invoke immortality. What are we compared to such Jellicle abominations? I have gazed long into the void in search of an answer. Then, I heard a song whispered out of the darkness:

Meow meow meow meow

Meow meow meow meow

Meow meow meow meow

Meow meow meow meow

3/10

Film Review: The Mandela Effect (2019)

Over the past few years, I became acquainted with a bizarre new theory that suggests our reality is changing. You remember Nelson Mandela, the South African leader who passed away in prison in the 1980s? No, he was alive up until 2013. You remember the Berenstein Bears? Look again--they've always been spelled as the Berenstain Bears. Was it Jiffy peanut butter, or just Jiff?

People are noticing small details everywhere that seem slightly off, and they'd swear that it was never this way. I read up on many of these details, and I gotta say--it's mostly baloney. Especially the movie lines--these are so easy to misremember, especially when they're erroneously repeated or spoofed by other people and sources. Even movie titles can be hard to remember properly (I knew a guy who always pronounced Mel Gibson's Apocalypto as "Apocacrypto" and I couldn't fathom why he pronounced it that way--but hey, the Mandela Effect really got to me when I realized the Tom Cruise vampire movie was always Interview With THE Vampire and not "a" vampire). There are many factors that contribute to an individual misremembering things, but it can spread into the public consciousness when biases are constantly reinforced and all humans share a similar thinking pattern. Yes, I believe our public forgetfulness of Nelson Mandela's fate was purely natural, and not some malevolent force changing reality. If nothing else, Occam's Razor would favor the former as the more likely explanation. But come on people, some of us can affirm that these details were always one way and not the other--I only had to ask my mom about the Berenstain Bears to confirm that it was always spelled "-ain," and I had simply been spelling it wrong all this time (phonetic and cultural influences affect that memory). To suggest that a person's memory is flawless and it's the world that changes--that's just arrogance.

Suffice to say, I don't believe in the Mandela Effect, beyond the notion that people's brains are fallible. But that's not to say that the phenomenon isn't fascinating--I do find myself drawn to reading and studying it, even though most cases people bring up make me roll my eyes.

It's only inevitable that some filmmaker would use this as a premise to drive a thriller in which a character's reality changes all around them--this is the kind of thing that could invoke Franz Kafka's or Philip K. Dick's strangest nightmares. Hell, even I've been inspired to spin this into a possible novel idea. It's just as well though that David Guy Levy beat me to the punch with The Mandela Effect movie.

The film follows a typical guy (Charlie Hofheimer) who has a wife and child, but in a tragic accident his daughter passes away. In the course of everyday life, he catches onto the small details that seem off (the real-life details mentioned above--the misspelled Berenstain Bears, the misquoted Star Wars lines, whether or not Curious George has a tail). Inevitably, he digs into the details behind the Mandela Effect and discovers that reality is indeed changing all around him--even to the point where reality changes before his eyes.

The film casts its net wide, encompassing the typical conclusions you might have already heard about (most especially Simulation Theory--which, like The Matrix, simply suggests we're all living in a computer simulation). The Mandela Effect layers on the ideas of String Theory and some brief philosophical musings on free will to create the illusion that there's a reason behind all of this madness. However, the film never really delivers a satisfactory answer--maybe we're supposed to speculate on our own that a higher intelligence (or God) is running our universe as a simulation, but this is never made explicit, and if anything it comes off as an unfocused babble. What's really disappointing is that the film paints itself into a corner--when reality seems to finally break, it has no choice but to fall back on the old Donnie Darko trick and use a quick and dirty montage to take us all back to the beginning. Only, in this case it feels like a repeat of the Futurama joke where the characters can't go back in time--they wait trillions of years for the universe to die, become reborn, and wait for everything to happen exactly as it had before. Played straight though, it comes off as a cheap and uninspired--maybe even pretentious.

It's not all a total wash though--the film is perfectly watchable, thanks to the fair photography, grounded performances, agreeable pacing, and an wonderful electric music score. The film only suffers because its script feels like a first draft--so full of unrefined ideas and musings, but made even worse with blunt dialogue, random voice-overs, and bland characterization. It's at its worst when it tries to beat viewers over the head with its ideas--it's pretty clear the film wants to draw cosmic connections and deliver thought-provoking existentialist themes, but there's no nuance or clarity. On the other hand, the film also tries its hardest to make you care for the character and his family--but once again, there's no nuance behind the emotions.

I can't help but to think that Donnie Darko achieves the film's goals in a better, more succinct way, and it does so while maintaining its enigma. And without any bloody Mandela Effects. The difference is in the scripts--one successfully shows more and tells less, and one does not. I can't buy The Mandela Effect, but it is watchable and its finale does have a few interesting effects. When it comes to thrillers that involve changing realities, there are much better titles worth watching.

4/10

Film Review: The Fifth Element (1997)

In a unified and harmonious universe, life thrives amidst the forces of nature, often epitomized in certain mythologies with four elements: earth, air, water, and fire. For humanity, however, a fifth element exists in the center of all these forces, and is necessary to defeat absolute evil.

So goes the bizarre mythology behind The Fifth Element, in which all five elements are made into literal artifacts that were once kept in an ancient Egyptian ruin, but were whisked away by aliens for safe keeping. When the year 2263, a mysterious cosmic force manifests in deep space and seems to grow more powerful when attacked. Per the guidance of a priest named Vito Cornelius (Ian Holm), Earth has 48 hours to find the elements and reunite them, or else life will perish. A chain of events leads to the rebirth of the fifth element: a supreme being named Leeloo Dallas Multipass--no, wait, sorry, just Leeloo (Milla Jovovich). She inevitably crosses paths with cab driver and ex-space-fighter Korben Dallas (Bruce Willis), and he embarks on an adventure to save the planet.

All of this craziness is the brainchild of Luc Besson, who penned his ideas and storylines while only sixteen years old. Twenty-two years later, the final product stands as one of the most unique sci-fi extravaganzas ever made. In terms of immersion, the sheer amount of detail, worldbuilding, and eccentric design gives Star Wars a run for its money. In terms of action and effects, the film dazzles with a calculated use of models, pyrotechnics, and eye-popping CGI. Viewing it today, you might see some creases showing in the older effects and some of the sets (seriously, there's one set where the wall is just tin foil, and Jovovich just runs right through it--I dunno, just roll with it). Regardless, most of it holds up handsomely, and the film leaves you with memorable sights of a futuristic New York full of flying cars, on top of fantastic spaceships, an exotic flying hotel, and a literal space opera.

The film flies by a mile a minute--not with explosions and action, even though both are in abundance (seriously, the last act feels like Die Hard in space--Willis' own charisma keeps it just as badass). The cast fills the gaps between the action with arousing levity. Even in the robes of a mystic priest, Ian Holm's deadpan reactions will elicit chuckles. The film's villain, Zorg (Gary Oldman), is a hammy, one-dimensional mustache-twirler you'll love to hate. In the last half, the obnoxious antics are cranked to overdrive thanks to Chris Tucker's hyperactive performance as an effeminate pop radio star who just can't shut up--this guy might actually make or break the film for many viewers. The whole cast is populated by zany, cartoony expressions and reactions--the sheer spunk of the cast and script makes the film snappy, even when narrative momentum dries up in the middle. All of it is accentuated by the stylish visual palette, the sumptuous production design, and Eric Serra's strangely clanky music score (some of these music choices are head-scratching, but hot dang, the Diva's Dance is hip!).

Judging the story is probably a futile task--it's a strange hodgepodge of vaguely-defined mysticism, ancient aliens, prophecies, and tropes that feel ripped from other sci-fi and action movies. It suddenly occurred to me that the premise of using the five elements--earth, fire, wind, water, and heart--to save the planet is literally the same as Captain Planet. I'm not sure if that's an intentional parallel. Besson did collaborate with Jean-Claude Mézières, who penned the Valérian comics, which in turn fed more inspiration into The Fifth Element (especially the decision to make Dallas a cab driver, although this was also something that 1981's Heavy Metal showed, itself based off of the French comic The Long Tomorrow--between all of this and Besson producing all those Taxi movies, I feel like the French love taxi drivers). The characters feel archetypal, especially Bruce Willis, who plays Dallas like a futuristic John McClane with less cursing. In the same vein as Besson's other films (especially Nikita and The Professional), the relationship between two characters from two completely different backgrounds (worlds even) becomes the through-line that makes the funny scenes funnier, the romance cuter, and the action weighty. Can't say that any of these characters have a firm arc, but Dallas' search for love seems to be good enough in a movie that's already packed. Few scenes are wedged in to give Leeloo doubt over the value of the human race, and it might feel like something ham-fisted in the last minute. But if there's any consistent point to the movie, it is the conflict between forces of life and forces of destruction. I'm certain the film wants to say more about it through exploring armed conflict, political corruption, industrial espionage, environmental damage, rampant consumerism--it's all shown in brief flashes, but never explored in explicit detail.

What I admire about the film is that the whole thing--all its eccentricities, its far-reaching ambitions, its twists and double-crosses, its bizarre premise--is perfectly digestible thanks to the steady and careful way it unveils the story. Exposition is delivered in short punchy bursts, which always keeps the audience informed, but also stays within character and never feels like a droll infodump--and that's the way it should be. Nothing is confusing because every important piece of the characters' journeys are shown to us. The film's strongest moments are the ones where the camera lingers with the characters as they explore the city, the ships, the planets, and through their eyes, we experience their adventure and become invested in the stakes. This is just good storytelling, plain and simple.

Understandably, the film will lose some people. Rudy Rhod is only slightly less annoying than Jar Jar Binks--frankly, Rudy's cartoony antics never made me cringe as much, but I know it bothers many viewers. The whole film has awkward tics, quirks, and neurotic reactions. You know what though? I love how snappy, spirited, and unique the experience is. It's never boring, even when it's obnoxious. Everything is just pop pop POP!

If you want to see a great sci-fi adventure unlike any other, this may be your ticket. It's cartoonish and not particularly deep, but it's well-crafted with a lot of zest and heart.

10/10

Film Review: The Dunes (2019)

Imagine how awkward it'd be if a domestic abuse counselor is actually a domestic abuser. Maybe this happens in some places, I wouldn't know. This, however, is the framing premise for The Dunes.

No, it is not a shameless sci-fi knockoff attempting to cash in on Villeneuve's upcoming Dune adaptation. This is a slow-burning thriller in which a counselor named Gerald (Barton Bund) becomes exceptionally paranoid and controlling over his ex-wife (Ann Marie Damman) and her son, who are plotting to run off to the other side of the country with her new boyfriend (Ele Bardha). What's a psychopath like Gerald to do but slowly go insane and try and murder everybody?

I only came across this film because I'm a fan of its music composer--a self-made metal artist named Klayton (aka Celldweller). The ambient electronic score he conjured up for this picture is easily its best feature--whether on its own or married with the melodrama, the music is quite haunting, and even punchy when it needs to be. Unfortunately, music alone doesn't carry a film, no matter how hard it tries.

The film offers a bland (if not outright unlikely) story with a bland presentation, amounting to nothing more than a glorified Lifetime movie. Of the handful of characters that populate this cheap affair, none of them are particularly interesting or likable--it hurts the film the most because it offers zero motivations for their actions and zero reason to care about their relationships. I'm not even clear on who the main character is really supposed to be--the film spends an uncomfortable amount of time on Gerald, whose most defining feature is being a total jerk. The film explores its theme in a listless and muddled way, padding its cast with side characters that contribute little to the story, and following characters through mundane conversations that kill the narrative momentum. It does build up to a reasonably tense climax (surprise, it's on a beach with actual sand-dunes). Even then, the conclusion might elicit an unintentional laugh rather than catharsis.

I feel as though the film wants to be taken seriously--there is gravitas, but it's without credibility. There is an attempt at style and quality, but it's without nuance. With the still and steady photographic composition and occasional punch in the editing, I can't help but to think The Dunes is trying to ape better indie thrillers that have pitted men and women against each other (such as 2018's Revenge or 2017's You Were Never Really Here--heck, 1991's Sleeping With the Enemy is a bigger hoot than this). The Dunes falls way short because its script lacks nuance--this even extends to individual lines bluntly starting the obvious, with no sense of finesse or personality. The film attempts to gloss over its shortcomings by adding edge (and I mean, if you're not immediately shocked by the sharp outbursts of domestic abuse, you will be beat over the head with ample amounts of cursing and senseless rage). There are ultimately characters to root for--your choices are a misogynist villain you want to punch, and a bunch of cardboard cutouts who are victimized.

If the film wants me to pick a side, think about these issues, and feel for them, it offers no avenue to do so. It is simply a slog to watch, and it'd be completely flavorless if it wasn't for Klayton's atmospheric score and the occasional eye-popping cut. Otherwise, it's quite forgettable at best. I'd recommend skipping this movie, but if you like dark, ambient electronic music, check out the soundtrack by all means.

3/10

Film Review: Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith (2005)

Over the course of two whole movies, we watched as characters and events aligned with the epic lore of Star Wars that fans know and love. The third chapter of this ambitious trilogy closes the loop, finally showing us the full vision of how a republic transforms into a tyrannical empire, and how one of the most ominous screen villains of all time was born.

The film thrusts us into the thick of a galactic civil war between the republic and their clone army, and separatists with their droid army. Obi-Wan Kenobi (Ewan McGregor) is on the hunt for General Grevious (voiced by Matthew Wood), while Anakin Skywalker (Hayden Christensen) treads a fine line between loyalty to the Jedi Council and loyalty to Supreme Chancellor Palpatine (Ian McDiarmid). Anakin is further pushed and pulled by his forbidden marriage to Padme Amidala (Natalie Portman), who is now pregnant and destined to perish upon childbirth. Inevitably, Anakin is forced to choose his destiny, and the Dark Side is the only side that promises him total control over life and death.

While all Star Wars films strive for eye-popping spectacle, Revenge of the Sith stands out right from frame one as the camera follows a pair of starfighters through the upper atmosphere of Coruscant, where an immense battle rages between hulking starships and countless droids. It segues seamlessly into a spectacular attack on a capital starship, where our heroic Jedi chop through droids, navigate treacherous obstacles, and finally duel with an old enemy to rescue a hostage. This is all just the first half-hour. The film further stuffs itself with more over-the-top sequences--Obi-Wan duels a multi-armed Grevious, before hopping on a giant lizard to chase the droid general in some kind of donut-shaped bike with legs (I can't make this stuff up). When Palpatine is revealed to be a dreaded Sith lord, many Jedi confront him in a series of confrontations, including Yoda, who takes the fight to the senate rotunda and they straight-up trash the whole place.

All this action and special effects would bear no strength if it wasn't encased in a halfway-decent story. Fortunately, the film takes the time to ensure the right pieces are in the right places--this leads to some slower pacing in the second act. It is a necessary step though as the film meticulously raises all the right stakes, underscores all the right motivations, and makes all the right connections to convincingly sell the tragedy and make it emotionally-charged. The film showcases some of the series' most sobering moments, including a gut-wrenching montage of scenes where clone troopers ruthlessly purge the Jedi. It all builds to a confrontation between Obi-Wan and Darth Vader on a volcanic planet--as over-the-top as it is, the fight is every bit as thrilling and cathartic as I imagined it would be. By the film's end, it's satisfying to see how all the threads align with the original films.

Issues from previous films--awkward writing, stilted line delivery, lack of chemistry--still plagues this film in its worst scenes. I do believe the cast stepped up their game though, which makes the film far more palatable. Ewan McGregor is still on-point. Christensen plays a more solid hero, and his arc bears an emotional power that feels genuinely earned. Portman's character, sadly, doesn't kick as much butt or show as much power as before, but her performance is hardly to fault. Ian McDiarmid steals the spotlight in a wonderfully hammy role. Other actors--Samuel L. Jackson, Frank Oz, Christopher Lee--are as reliable as ever.

While other prequel films aged questionably, Revenge of the Sith looks impressive with its plethora of fantastic sets, props, and costumes. CGI effects continue to dominate the spotlight, but most of them hold up quite handsomely. Photography and editing are decent, to the point where some scenes stand out as a purer form of cinematic expression (most especially one eerie scene where Anakin and Padme regard each other silently across the city--it's an uncanny occurrence where something is felt through the images, rather than explained in dialogue). The imagery is punctuated well with a snappy sound design (although there are moments where I find the film noisy and the battle droids' wimpy dialogue grating). John Williams' music is as epic and emotional as the rest of the film.

This is the film that makes the prequel trilogy worth seeing. It does the work to build up the characters and their stakes, and it makes the inevitable downfall appropriately sober and bleak. It's not entirely without its problems--pacing is hardly perfect, some line delivery is still iffy, the action scenes might be a bit much. The film does deliver everything it needs to, including humor, spectacle, and a lovable family of characters. By its end though, it truly makes you feel the power of the Dark Side.

8/10

Film Review: Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones (2002)

Just before the new millennium, a new trilogy of Star Wars kicked off with an eye-popping (but rather imperfect and campy) prequel film. Its next chapter would continue to capitalize off of emerging technology to pull an entire galaxy into the perils of a full-blown conflict. As a republic falters, so too does a hero.

Episode II picks up ten years after the Naboo incident. A former Jedi Master named Count Dooku (Sir Christopher Lee--his third-best villain behind Dracula (likely the inspiration for this character) and Saruman) stirs things up by convincing entire worlds to leave the senate. In the midst of this schism, somebody is out to assassinate Senator Amidala (Natalie Portman). Obi-Wan Kenobi (Ewan McGregor) and his Padawan Anakin Skywalker (Hayden Christensen) team up to protect the senator, and eventually uncover a secret separatist conspiracy to wage war against the republic. To counter the threat, the republic may need an army of its own--it just so happens that a clone army was created in secret, ready to fight when needed.

The Clone Wars is a major event referenced in the 1977 film, and it's brief mention always elicited speculation on what this could have looked like (and now we have many cartoon shows and video games to explore every nuance of this sprawling conflict). Attack of the Clones slowly builds to an epic climax that shows the outbreak of war in the most spectacular fashion. It begins in the spirit of older adventures like Flash Gordon, where the heroes are trapped in an arena and must fight for their lives. This escalates into an immense brawl between hundreds of Jedi and hundreds of battle droids--there are just blasters and lightsabers everywhere. Just when you think it's big enough, the battle overflows across the planet, where airships, walking machines, missiles, and immense armies fill up the screen. It just builds and builds--the Battle of Geonosis is a facemelter of a finale.

The path to get there is a slow burner though--one that understandably must take the time to chronicle Anakin Skywalker's emotional turmoil, which inevitably foreshadows his turn to the Dark Side. The story echoes the plot structure of The Empire Strikes Back, in the sense that romance is a focus, and the hero is challenged to the point of change. While the film hits up important points in Anakin's backstory that contribute to his fall arc, they are rather predictable checkboxes. The film's least-exciting moments occur with the romance between him and Padme--cringe-worthy dialogue, lackluster chemistry, and limp acting makes their exchange unconvincing, cheesy, and at its worst, droll. It's a shame, because Christensen looks the part (I'm quite certain his hair and attitude was meant to mirror James Dean to some degree), Portman pulls her weight just fine, and they're both presented in front of some extremely lush and beautiful scenery (courtesy of lovely location shooting from Italy and Spain). Their subplot becomes much more engaging when Anakin revisits his old stomping grounds, but it's hard to relate to his journey when he complains, rages out, and acts creepy.

A second narrative thread is followed through Obi-Wan's investigation, which is the more interesting and exciting plotline--it is from this that we see some really fun sequences involving a fight with a bounty hunter, a chase through an asteroid field, and encounters with shady characters. On closer scrutiny, I can't help but to scratch my head at the leads he finds (one of which is given from an owner of a diner--lol, wut?) and how they connect (Sifo Diyas? A bounty hunter becomes a template for a million clones? And they're connected to...who now? Dooku? Sidious? Both? How though? Why did Jango flee like he did? Why was he even on Kamino in the first place? What is going on here?).

This episode suffers quite a bit of drag in its opening acts, despite an eye-popping chase scene across Coruscant. Once again, I can't help but to regard the script the source of the prequel's problems--we're still given many scenes where exposition is flatly delivered, and characters go through the motions without exercising their own agency or showing motivation. Attack of the Clones does improve on some of the issues The Phantom Menace showed, in the sense that the film makes an effort to show characters in motion and show more of the world around them. Comedy and camp are toned down, to the point where there's improved gravitas (but also at the expense of spirit, which is one reason why I'd lean heavier on Episode I).

As one of the first-ever films shot on digital cameras, the film has a slick veneer that hasn't necessarily aged well. Special effects are as abundant as ever--they look a grade more polished than The Phantom Menace, but creature effects continue to look garish at times, and many backdrops and character models look rather cartoony. Fortunately, the film boasts a plethora of wonderful-looking ship designs, robots, aliens, weapons, vehicles, planetscapes--it's as broad and imaginative as ever. The supporting cast helps populate the side characters with admirable dedication--Samuel L. Jackson, Frank Oz, Ian McDiarmid, Temuera Morrison, Anthony Daniels, are all a pleasure to watch. the soundscape is punchy and unique (and it's especially notable how they created an entire alien language that can never be recreated by the human tongue. Also, those seismic charges will blow you away). John Williams' music score is on-point. The Love Theme in particular stands out as capturing the very tone and mood that the film aims for--that of a sweeping romantic epic. The music succeeds--not sure the film does though.

If this is meant to capture the same scope and feeling as classic epics like Doctor Zhivago (and there are some clear parallels), the film falls short. At its worst, Attack of the Clones feels like a slapdash effort held together with a script that leaves more to be desired (specifically, more answers, more refinement, and more reasoning behind the characters would have gone far). Some of the editing feels a little sloppy this way too (especially considering certain edits and the impromptu way the droid factory scene was shot and added to the film). Fortunately, the film boasts some marvelous action setpieces that will satisfy fans. It's still quite the adventure, and once revealed, the actual clones are an awe-inspiring sight.

7/10