Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom

_{Viola Davis gives an exceptional and fully committed performance as blues singer Ma Rainey}

It’s not typically the kind of film I’d seek out but the Oscar buzz and nominations made me check it out. It’s based on the play by August Wilson and while I’m not a big fan of plays, I can appreciate that sometimes staging a film like a play can work to its advantage by giving the viewer the feeling that they’re a fly on the wall, observing characters, scenes, and secrets.

Ma Rainey is definitely staged like a play, with the majority of the film comprised of lengthy scenes in the same three or so rooms of the recording studio where “Mother of the Blues” Ma Rainey (who I learned was, in fact, a real person) is making a new record. This stylistic choice is beneficial to doing some of the things it sets out to do, like bringing us closer to the characters and anchoring us to one location, but it’s almost too contained–to the point of being claustrophobic (which could absolutely be what director George C. Wolfe was going for, but it didn’t work for me).

Despite some successful production design and costuming, Viola Davis is the real draw here and gives a great performance as Ma Rainey. However, throughout the film I got the feeling that she (and the screenplay) only scratched the surface of Ma’s character. It seems like there’s so much more to tell, so it’s baffling why there’s not more of her. Ma Rainey’s name is in the title of the film, but it goes many lengthy scenes without her being mentioned or appearing. Instead, there’s a large focus placed on her bandmates. Ranging from the pragmatic Cutler to the naïve and high-dreaming Levee (Chadwick Boseman), they’re given just enough details to flesh them out, though it’s Levee who has the meatiest role. Chadwick Boseman gives a good performance here (his last on screen performance, it would turn out) as the tormented trumpeter who’s determined to make a name for himself. It’s a good part and Boseman puts a lot of raw emotion into it, but if I had watched it without knowing he was nominated for an Oscar for the role, I wouldn’t have thought it anything remarkable.

The film is only one hour and thirty minutes, but the lengthy tangential, and occasionally irritating monologues slow down the pace. As smart as the language and passionate as the performances, it just reminds you that people don’t talk that way in real life. There’s also an incredibly jarring scene in the film’s final few minutes that is shocking in its violence and doesn’t feel completely earned.

Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom didn’t receive an Oscar nomination for Best Picture, and it’s not hard to see why. The story just isn’t robust enough. There’s enough good material in August Wilson’s play and the real-life story of Ma Rainey herself to make for a compelling biopic, but shackling the film to the framework and staging of its play source material keep it from elevating it to greatness.

7/10

Mank

_{Mank’s technical achievements can’t make up for an uninteresting story and underdeveloped characters}

I’ll preface this review by saying that I’ve never seen Citizen Kane (gasp!)

Mank is the story of Herman Mankiewicz, a prominent Old Hollywood screenwriter arguably most famous for Citizen Kane, which many film critics and historians cite as the greatest film of all time. While Mank’s writing of Kane is the backdrop of the film, little focus is paid to his actual writing process. This is a shame, since it would’ve allowed the audience more insight into his psyche than we were given. (Plus, I’m always into movies about writers and the process of writing.) Instead, director David Fincher chooses to focus a large portion of the film on the governmental and Hollywood studio politics of the 1930s, which I found hard to care about and be fully invested in, especially since the characters involved in the political arguments, sandals, and intrigue weren’t fully realized.

While the film is decidedly focused on Mank, he really isn’t given the chance to develop as a character despite a fully committed performance from the always reliable Gary Oldman. As the alcoholic Mankiewicz finds himself battling with political and professional adversaries in his personal life, there’s more than enough fertile ground for creating drama and high stakes. However, the narrative structure is so jumpy as it flashes back to events in Mankiewicz’s past that slow down the film and really don’t serve a greater purpose. I understand that Fincher’s intent was to mirror the jumping-around-in-time aspect of Citizen Kane—and in that respect he succeeds—but it really doesn’t work here to propel the narrative or allow us to get fully invested in any of the characters. The pieces are there but they remain jumbled instead of clicking together.

The rest of the performances are fine (though not of the flashy Oscar-bait variety as some of the others in this year’s crop of nominees), with the other standout being Amanda Seyfried as actress Marion Davies. But despite the clear acting chops on display, the performances can’t make up for a poor screenplay without true character arcs or growth. I suppose you could argue that Mank going from not caring about receiving screenwriting credit for Kane at the beginning of the film to desiring it at the end counts as growth, but even then it’s flimsy.

I will say that Fincher did a good job making Mank look and feels like a film straight out of the 1930s, with great attention to detail paid to production design, sound, and costuming. It’s also a handsome looking film, with deep blacks and sharp, crisp whites. Unfortunately, though, Mank is another film in this year’s batch of Oscar-nominated films that I’d qualify as Just Okay. There’s solid source material and the framework of interesting characters, but little attention is paid to developing them into fully realized people or creating an engaging plot with real stakes.

While some viewers will no doubt be swept away by the film’s Old Hollywood charm and technical successes, solid production values can’t make up for a poor story. Had Mankiewicz himself written the film, I wonder if he would be so eager to take credit?

6/10

Godzilla vs. Kong

_{The MonsterVerse continues with the long-awaited face-off between Godzilla and Kong}

As the first big ol’ blockbuster I’ve seen in the theater since before COVID, Godzilla vs. Kong does not disappoint in terms of monster brawls and thrilling action sequences bolstered by some truly awesome CGI. As if that wasn’t enough, it also gifts us with the single greatest piece of dialogue and delivery in film all year. If you weren’t as delighted as I was after watching an irritated Kyle Chandler yelling, “You should be in school!” at Millie Bobby Brown, well, we clearly appreciate different things.

Chandler’s dialogue and delivery throughout the entire movie was awful and unintentionally hilarious. Unfortunately, his role as Millie Bobby Brown’s scientist father (one of the few carryovers from 2019’s Godzilla: King of the Monsters) is indicative of a larger problem with the film’s screenplay, which is filled with expository dialogue and a lack of a robust and compelling story. (While these kinds of movies don’t feel the need to give us a hefty, brain-teasing story, I did feel like the plot of King of the Monsters was more thought-out.)

But flimsy plot and screenplay aside, I really enjoyed the movie and had a great time the whole way through. It was very watchable and a visual feast so it’s surprising the runtime was kept fairly reined in at a trim two hours, especially since there were many plot points that could’ve easily filled a longer runtime. Personally, I wouldn’t have minded it going another hour. The fight scenes were killer (especially when paired with the killer score), the cinematography (especially that of Skull Island and Hollow Earth) was truly incredible—even breathtaking in some instances—and the plot never felt slow or biding its time until the next big action scene.

Like other films in the MonsterVerse, the human characters are flimsy at best and have one defining trait in lieu of development (Frazzled Scientist, Rebellious Teenager, Conflicted Researcher, etc.). I understand the rationale behind placing minimal importance on the human characters and shoving them aside so the monster mayhem can ensue, but these kind of movies work best when we’re invested in the humans as well. Without human anchors, what do we care if families are torn apart and entire cities are destroyed? Somehow, it makes the stakes seem smaller.

It’s frustrating because the framework for interesting character arcs and development is there, but not fully realized. The best human character elements of the film involve Rebecca Hall as Kong expert Ilene and her relationship with an orphaned Skull Island native, Jia. Their relationship is refreshing in its genuineness and is miles away the heart of the movie. But even more affecting is Jia’s relationship with Kong himself. She and Kong communicate via sign language, and the true friendship and understanding between child and beast is both a welcome surprise and an incredibly smart decision on the part of the filmmakers. There’s some genuine affecting moments involving Kong that caught me off guard and gift us with emotion that hasn’t been present in the MonsterVerse thus far. While Godzilla is a kickass Titan in his own way, in terms of emotional intelligence, Kong is miles above Godzilla. To give Kong this new development allows him to grow as a character and let us see another gentler, emotive, and yes, forlorn side to him besides the fierce Titan he is. Despite both Titans getting top billing in the title, I’d argue that this is 100% Kong’s movie.

As the film progresses, there are some plot elements (not so much twists, but unexpected narrative turns) that genuinely surprised me. Some were incredibly cool, like the concept and scenery of Hollow Earth (hello, spin-off!), while some were a little silly and felt like they belonged in a different movie (one particular plot point involving gravity comes to mind). Some could’ve used extra time to flesh out details and build up suspense, but the fact that the plot details of a monster movie can catch me off guard is impressive and made the journey throughout the film that much more entertaining and engaging.

Godzilla vs. Kong is a film of contradictions. It’s both narratively simple and complex. Its Titan characters are developed but its humans are not. It’s bonkers with Titan brawls and reserved on human action. Despite that, in terms of its high entertainment value and achieving what it set out to do, it’s a success. I’m not sure where the MonsterVerse goes from there, though there’s plenty of fresh ground to mine after some new plot developments in this one. So if someone’s serving up another helping of giant prehistoric monsters and apes battling it out? Sign me up…just give me a little human character development, too.

8/10

Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga

Will Ferrell and Rachel McAdams star as Icelandic pop duo Lars and Sigrit in Netflix’s Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga

If I was a responsible tournament participant, I would’ve watched one of the 2010 films on my priority list. Instead, I watched Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga and I’m so happy that I did. I’d been looking forward to Eurovision ever since it was announced because as if a film revolving around the over-the-top production values of the Eurovision Song Contest wasn’t enough to solidify my interest, Will Ferrell and Rachel McAdams starring as an Icelandic pop duo sure was.

For the uninitiated into the gloriousness of the long-running song contest, Eurovision features active member countries of the European Broadcasting Union competing to have the best song in Europe, with some of the contest’s real life winners including Celine Dion and ABBA. Think American Idol but for all of North America.

In Eurovision Song Contest, Will Ferrell and Rachel McAdams are Lars and Sigrit, a pop duo known as Fire Saga who has complete confidence in their singing, songwriting, and yes, costuming abilities even when no one else in their small Islandic fishing village of Húsavík does. They play local pubs but have dreams of something bigger, especially Lars who has dreamed of winning Eurovision since he and Sigrit were children. Through a series of comedic coincidences that allow them to actually enter the contest and perform at Eurovision, they get one step closer to achieving their dreams of winning.

Despite Lars being one of his more grounded, less hyper characters, Will Ferrell’s natural comedy chops are still on display. Whether through Lars’s unflinching confidence or social unawareness, Ferrell fully embodies Lars and makes him feel like a fully-realized person—with wants and fears and doubts—rather than a caricature (which would’ve been much easier). I suppose it also helps that he co-wrote the screenplay, giving him more of an investment and closer connection to the characters and material. As for Rachel McAdams? She’s fantastic here, nailing both the dramatic and comedic beats of Sigrit’s character, imbuing her with childlike innocence and earnestness, determination and resolve. After hits like Mean Girls and the more recent Game Night, hopefully Eurovision will finally get people to realize McAdams’s skill at comedy in addition to drama. The film is also filled with fantastic comedic supporting performances from Dan Stevens and Demi Lovato as fellow Eurovision contestants Alexander and Katiana.

I went into Eurovision expecting a joke-a-minute laugh-out-loud comedy and while it’s not that, I found that the longer I watched, I didn’t mind. Because what it is instead is an incredibly heartfelt and genuinely sweet story about friendship, the important things in life, and following your dreams no matter who tells you to give up. Which is not to say that the film isn’t funny. The jokes and sight gags genuinely land, especially because they’re character-based rather than of the raunchy, lowbrow sex and profanity variety that most comedies seem to have now. Some highlights include Lars insulting a group of American tourists, a sight gag featuring Icelandic elves, and a boat explosion. Yes, that’s right. Only in Eurovision can a fatal yacht explosion be so uproariously funny.

Another absolute pleasure that I wasn’t expecting was the music. When they released the kooky music video for Fire Saga’s “Volcano Man”, I was expecting the music in the film to be similarly over-the-top and played for laughs. But man, that’s not the case at all. Damn if the film’s entire soundtrack isn’t completely mesmerizing. As I watched the film, I found myself not only enjoying the songs but completely entranced. Like the recent A Star is Born, so much of Eurovision feels like a big European concert complete with glow sticks and wonky costumes. I even bought the soundtrack (which I rarely do for a film) and am listening to it as I write this review. Some of the songs are outrageous (and gloriously catchy) like the local Húsavík pub song “Ja Ja Ding Dong” and “Lion of Love” (sung by Dan Stevens’s character but dubbed by Erik Mjönes), but Fire Saga’s “Double Trouble” and “Húsavik” (Will Ferrell sings while Rachel McAdams is dubbed by real-life Junior Eurovision Song Contest contestant Molly Sandén) are genuinely enjoyable and perfectly fitting for the characters of Lars and Sigrit, the kind of Icelandic electro pop—good music and lyrics without being over-produced—that’s perfectly suited to these characters.

If I had one criticism, I almost wish that they had leaned even further into the absurdity of the whole thing—the Icelandic lyrics, the over-the-top costumes, Fire Saga’s unflinching confidence—but can see why they chose to play it more straight and keeping Lars and Sigrit grounded. From a comedy standpoint, I’m not sure if it was the right move, but from a drama perspective in creating fully realized characters, it works.

Some have said that the film’s two-hour runtime is too long, but the time flew by for me. It was well paced, the comedy landed, and the fantastic music and contest format of the film kept things moving along nicely. Honestly? I wouldn’t have minded if it were longer because I’d love to spend more time with these characters. In a summer (and year) filled with so much uncertainty and negativity, it’s incredibly refreshing to find a film that’s not only so unapologetically positive without being schmaltzy, but one that I’m already looking forward to re-watching.

8.5/10

Terminator: Dark Fate

Linda Hamilton is back as Sarah Connor in Terminator: Dark Fate, and the film’s all the better for it.

When Terminator Genisys came out in 2015, I left the theater thinking, “That was fun, but I don’t need another Terminator movie.” After all, with the creation of alternate timelines, the over-complication of time travel, and drifting further and further from the “do it small and do it well” mentality that James Cameron so wonderfully infused into The Terminator way back in 1984, what could another entry in the long-running franchise possibly have to say?

It turns out a bit more than I thought.

Picking up 22 years after the events of Terminator 2: Judgement Day (director Tim Miller smartly—and boldly—ignores its latter installments), young factory worker Dani Ramos (Natalia Reyes, a convincing “everywoman” and our entry into the story) has her world upended when the mysterious Grace (Mackenzie Davis) arrives. A human enhanced with Terminator-like abilities, she’s been sent from 2042 to protect her, adamant that Dani is integral to saving the world from a future that has yet to happen.

But when they cross paths with Sarah Connor, behind her dark sunglasses and determined scowl is an air of confusion. She prevented Judgement Day, way back in 1995. But as she and Dani quickly learn, the Judgement Day that Sarah and John prevented from happening wasn’t completely stopped, they just kicked the can down the road a few decades as mankind has—as it seems inevitable to do—found a new way to accidentally create the rise of an AI that seeks to wipe out mankind.

If this sounds a bit familiar to past installments, you would be right. But having Linda Hamilton back in the role of Sarah Connor, unapologetically kicking ass and taking names, is 100% the number one reason what makes this movie work. Dani is a good protagonist (the “new Sarah”, if you will), but Sarah (and Hamilton’s performance) is the anchor here—and what a huge, welcome anchor it is. The film wouldn’t be even close to as good as it was without her involvement. Even after 20+ years, Sarah (and Hamilton) is still fierce, capable, and commanding. Hamilton’s performance is seamless and you’d never know this is her first time returning to the series since T2, her performance informed by the new layers the script peels away at her character—grief, anger, obsessiveness, and a single-minded determination. Whether in a mere smirk, a look in her eyes, or body movement, Hamilton is able to convey—and convince us of—all Sarah is going through. And with two decades of emotional baggage, it’s a lot.

Tim Miller & co. made a smart move by choosing to focus on character more than past installments and it really works. The acting across the board is great, with passionate, convincing performances from all involved. From Mackenzie Davis’s fierceness, to the innocence and building intensity that Natalia Reyes infuses into Dani, not to mention the humorous, hulking, committed, and surprisingly emotional performance of Schwarzenegger, each is a welcome presence and from the minute their paths converge and they team up, their quartet really makes the movie work.

The action and set pieces are thrilling and (mostly) relentless, and the film strikes just enough of a nice balance between treading new ground and bringing up elements from past installments to be engaging. There’s also genuinely funny humor peppered throughout the script, whether in Sarah’s zingy one-liners, T-800’s dry delivery, or a character voicing what the audience is thinking. It offers moments of relief throughout the film’s frenetically-paced action sequences, as well as grounding the characters, reminding us that they’re real people with a variety of emotional states. The film has just enough moments of character-driven flashbacks and times of quiet reflection, and allowing these scenes to breath in between the big set pieces really allows the characters to grow and breathe and give the audience the chance to connect with them and be infested in their journeys.

The film drags just a bit in the middle portion (but not for long), some of the action and fight scenes a little too quick and blurry for the viewer to really be able to follow each beat, and I’m still not sure how I feel about the film’s treatment of John Connor, but overall I don’t really have much to mark it down for. I can only say what I would’ve wanted even more of what it did right—more Sarah, more flashbacks and character work, more meditation on the film’s themes. It smartly avoids what Genisys did wrong: over-complicating things. While much grander and spectacle than The Terminator, Dark Fate’s story is simple and familiar, yet propulsive and energetic, spending its time focusing on crafting engaging action and building compelling characters rather than attempting to dream up new ways for the plot to overcomplicate itself with time travel, alternate timelines, and the like, hoping that something will stick.

I really enjoyed Dark Fate and found it to be much better than I was expecting it to be. The film deals with some interesting themes (fate, forgiveness, grief, and whether or not people—and machines—can truly change), and I’d like them to take it even further in the planned sequels of the “new trilogy” Cameron is reportedly spearheading. While fans’ concerns and fatigue over Terminator re-boots, sequels, and alternate timelines is understandable, it’d be a shame if more people don’t see this because Dark Fate is better than it has a right to be, especially after all these years (and all these attempts). My main concern is the direction for future films, as they can’t keep revolving each one about the postponement of the (seemingly) inevitable Judgment Day, but damn if they don’t do it well here.

8.5/10

The Perfection

The Perfection ups the ante in originality and intensity

It takes a lot for a movie to surprise me these days, and I’d be lying if I didn’t go into Netflix-distributed films with more than a bit of skepticism. My mindset tends to be, Well, even if it’s terrible, at least I didn’t pay for it. The same was true before watching The Perfection, a film released by Netflix back in May with little fanfare or pop cultural chatter. And man, I’m kind of glad because what a fantastic surprise it turned out to be.

Without getting into spoiler territory (which is incredibly difficult given how many surprises are packed into every turn), the film revolves around a cellist (Allison Williams) who returns to the music academy she had to leave to take care of her sick mother ten years prior. It’s hard to nail down what the film’s focus will be going into these opening scenes, though we are able to get a feel for the characters—Lizzie (Logan Browning), another cellist, and Anton, the academy director, each giving us reasons to be suspicious of their actions—as well as the intensity, seriousness, reverence (and possibly obsession) with which everyone at the academy treats classical music. (Who would’ve thought the cello could sound so ominous and creepy?)

It’s not long before it becomes clear that the magic of The Perfection (and part of why its structure works so well) is that even though the viewer doesn’t know where the story is headed, in the way each scene builds on the last—in intensity, originality, and tension—it’s clear the filmmakers (especially director and co-writer Richard Shepard) do. The film has enough layers, character work, twists, fake-outs, and flashbacks to completely disable the viewer’s ability to predict where the story and characters will go next, each scene a new treat to unwrap and dissect while cringing and thinking, horrified, I can’t believe they just did that. Though it’s easy to see its influences in the intensity and rivalry of creation of Black Swan and the body horror of David Cronenberg, anyone who watches The Perfection and says they knew where it was going is lying.

Though pretty tonally consistent, the moments of tension, comedy, shock, and hands-over-face disbelief all work well in the capable and confident direction of Richard Shepard (which is especially impressive given the amount of story, material, and tension packed into the film’s trim 85 minutes). But none of this would work without the completely convincing, captivating lead performances of Allison Williams and Logan Browning who give so much to each emotion they’re tasked with playing—terror, shock, disgust, anger, and more—that it’s hard to imagine they weren’t physically drained after each day’s filming (especially Browning, who has some of the most intense, wrenching, visceral scenes in the film…and maybe I’ve seen in a long time). They’re so mesmerizing here that it makes me wish we had gotten to spend more time expanding on their motivations for their actions or reflecting on their pasts and the circumstances that brought them to this point.

The Perfection is what all good horror/thrillers should be—tense, relentless, expertly paced, surprising, and original. It also doesn’t hurt that it has a satisfying (and totally brutal) ending, its message of choosing to take ownership of trauma over victimization feeling earned rather than sappy or preachy. The film isn’t quite perfect (pun not intended), but it’s pretty damn close. So if Netflix is looking for ways to improve their film content, they should take a look at what makes The Perfection work. I’ll gladly take another one of these, please.

9/10

Ma

Octavia Spencer’s captivating performance elevates Ma from just another “teen” thriller.

Octavia Spencer is captivating as Sue Ann Ellington—Ma to her new friends—a middle-aged veterinarian who spends her spare time winning over the neighborhood kids by buying them alcohol and letting them party in her basement. She couldn’t stand to see them drink and drive, she says. Why is a well-adjusted woman worried about making friends with kids? Is she really that well-adjusted after all? We soon find out, as Ma’s backstory is peppered in throughout the film’s present-day action.

As Ma begins to further insert herself into their lives, her character necessitates Spencer to bounce from comedic one-liners to batshit crazy on a dime, and she handles it with all the authenticity and believably we’ve come to expect from her. She is both Annie Wilkes terrifying and Carrie White empathetic. The story shares some threads with both Carrie and Misery but, for all Ma’s violence and dark turns, it plays it a little too safe, a little too by-the-numbers. Regardless, it’s a fun thriller with a great performance by Spencer (and not too shabby ones from the teen actors).

Ma is in the upper tier of “teen” horror, for sure, but with a quicker pace and more intensity, it could’ve been a home run.

7/10

Molly’s Game

Jessica Chastain gives an exceptional performance as real-life “Poker Princess” Molly Bloom

Aaron Sorkin, best known for his vast array of film and TV writing credits, has long held off directing. That is until now. And he couldn’t have picked a better movie with which to put his directorial talents on display than Molly’s Game.

Molly’s Game tracks the rise and fall of real-life “Poker Princess” Molly Bloom. Once an Olympic skier (one of the best in the world, Molly tells us in one of the film’s frequent and energetic voiceovers), she had her whole professional life planned out until a skiing accident in her twenties ended her Olympic dreams.

The opening minutes of the film already provide us with a great set-up. When you’ve spent your life training and preparing for one thing, what do you do when it’s suddenly taken from you?

Cut to a few years later. Molly has recovered from her disappointment and is looking forward to a gap year before starting law school to let loose, have fun, and enjoy being young in Los Angeles, something which her tough Olympic training and drive to stand out from her also high-achieving brothers didn’t permit her to do.

It’s here in LA that her rise in (and inevitable fall from) the world of high stakes poker begins—working as a cocktail waitress before being offered a job as an assistant to a guy who runs a weekly poker game. But Molly has more passion, smarts, and drive than her position’s responsibilities. And while assisting with the games (doing the books, contacting players, etc.), it’s not long before she realizes she could be running her own games. And that’s exactly what she does.

The movie wouldn’t exist without Molly, and Jessica Chastain is perfect in the role, playing Molly with electricity and passion that allows Molly’s characteristics to shine: determination, independence, and at times, vulnerability. She doesn’t fall into any of the generic “woman in film” stereotypes. She’s not a coquettish vixen. Or a timid and eager-to please housewife. Or a pottymouthed rebel with a manufactured toughness. Or someone touting feminism in the streets. As a character, Molly is her own person, existing outside of the box Hollywood seems to paint for women in film. She just…is.

It’s challenging (both on film and in writing) to make a character seem real, as if they just exist as opposed to being created, so a real credit goes to both Aaron Sorkin (who also wrote the film, as if the whipping, back-and-forth dialogue didn’t give it away) and Jessica Chastain for pulling it off. Molly has both positives (she’s tough, independent, and always looking to achieve) and flaws (her drug usage and illegal pot-skimming), the film accentuating both, so kudos for crafting her as a complex character.

Though her flaws aren’t wiped away by her positive traits, they do shine a light on them. It’s always easier to make a character simply greedy or reckless to show them as “bad,” so it’s especially refreshing that Sorkin and Chastain (and, arguably, Molly Bloom herself, whose book the screenplay was adapted from) provide an emotional link to the reasoning behind Molly’s choices and actions—to be someone; to heal the wound of a dashed Olympic future; to excel at something her brothers wouldn’t have the chance at beating her; to gain the approval of her father (and prove him wrong).

During her upwards trajectory, it’s fun, exciting, and nerve-wracking to spend time as a fly on the wall in the actual poker games (much as Molly herself was) to not only see the ins and outs of the high-stakes (monetarily, personally, and professionally) nature, but to see—and understand—how easily it would have been to be transfixed by them, their dreamlike quality, and the possibilities they present.

A film comprising multiple years of its subject’s life holds the potential to be choppy in its editing, either quickly glossing over large sections of time, or devoting unequal amounts of screentime to its different parts. But here, the film’s smooth editing lends to its “along for the ride” nature and its never-jarring flashbacks help illuminate events in the present in an engaging way. The pace is also well done, Sorkin spending just enough time on each important moment in Molly’s life that also leads well into the next (though I wouldn’t have minded a little extra time devoted to the details and self-reflection of her downfall).

Pacing and editing are all well and good, but we can’t talk about an Aaron Sorkin film without talking about the dialogue, can we? Molly and her (at first) reluctant lawyer (Idris Elba) have their moments of long, powerful, emotional monologues, but moreover, it’s the skillful way the characters talk and narrate throughout the film (all rapid-fire responses where the perfect words come tumbling out) where Sorkin’s signature screenwriting prowess really shines.

I can’t find much about the film to take issue with aside from a moment between Molly and her father (a great, understated and thoughtful Kevin Costner) that, while one of the film’s best and emotional scenes, was a little too coincidental; that and the film, at two hours and twenty minutes, was a bit on the long side.

Molly’s Game is a cautionary tale for 2018—a story of falling down the seemingly innocuous rabbit hole and getting swept up by something bigger than yourself. But it’s also a great redemption story of someone who made something from nothing, and recognized her wrongdoings (and the emotional reasoning behind them), to once again start over.

Starting over. It’s a concept feared by many and embraced by few. But as Molly tells us near the end of the film, it’s the willingness to not only face it, but do it, that separates the real winners from the losers. And if that’s the case, Molly is most definitely a winner.

9/10

Annabelle: Creation

Though good on atmosphere and performances, Annabelle: Creation is slowly paced and short on scares

On paper, horror prequels shouldn’t work. Especially horror prequels in a pre-existing cinematic universe. Because when a film turns to prequels instead of sequels, it generally means the plot is capital-T Taped Out. But with Insidious: Chapter 3, Ouija: Origin of Evil and now Annabelle: Creation, horror prequels are treated not as a constraint, but embraced as an opportunity to tell more tales about how something in the first installment—a demonic presence, an evil entity, or a doll as a conduit for evil—came to be.

The first Annabelle did incredibly well at the box office so it’s no surprise a sequel was quickly announced. But what to do with the titular doll with eerily human features, muddled porcelain skin, and red-bowed pigtails? Annabelle already linked to The Conjuring where the doll ended up in a glass case in Ed and Lorraine Warrens’ basement, so where could a future installment go? Even with using retroactive continuity, how exciting (and plausible) would it be to go through the same motions of the first film with Annabelle in the possession of a new couple or family?

And so, with the subtitle Creation, we go back to the beginning when Annabelle was, well, created. I had been wondering how it would tie into the original, so the film gets bonus points for not taking the easy way out with retroactive continuity. Both films link together creatively and seamlessly without making the viewer feel cheated. (The Easter eggs to The Conjuring universe are pretty fun, too.)

The story picks up 12 years after the Mullins family lose their young daughter Annabelle (see where this is going?) in a car accident. Hoping it will give them some peace, they decide to take in a group displaced orphan girls. Among them are Janice (Talitha Bateman) and Linda (Ouija: Origin of Evil’s Lulu Wilson). They’re good friends, though feeling despondent they’ll never get adopted. Everything about their new home—from their joy over having a TV and radio, to the rooms that make it feel like a mansion—seems too good to be true. That is, until they find the Annabelle doll in a locked closet. This sets off a chain of events inexplicable to the young girls—the lights go out, Janice is locked in her room, the ghostly figure of Annabelle Mullins appears, and the doll itself is found moved around the house. What’s going on? Is Annabelle Mullins’ ghost haunting them? Is it another entity entirely? If you’ve seen the first installment (or either Conjuring films) you can probably guess the answer.

Though creative with its prequel story and link with Annabelle, unfortunately, Creation is a little short in the scares department. Though there are a few good, innovative ones (a creepy scarecrow; Janice’s wheelchair being pushed; the transforming figure of Annabelle Mullins), because most of the scares are familiar, there’s not really many that made an impression on me. Creation is pretty light on tension as well, which is what the first Annabelle did so successfully. With its utilization of lingering shots on everyday objects to make us feel uneasy, quick cuts to ratchet suspense, and playing with our—and the characters’—perceptions of reality, it seemed to understand that scares come not from creaking doors and creatures springing from darkened rooms, but from the careful building of tension. It also made good use of the doll itself. Annabelle’s John Leonetti lingered on it uncomfortably, showed it from multiple angles in multiple locations, as well as putting it in locations (i.e. a rocking chair) to create movement. But in Creation, instead of ratcheting up the creepiness and unease around her, more attention is given to the entity believed to be attached to it than Annabelle itself.

But despite the lack of genuine, innovative scares, the film’s atmosphere and locations (the many rooms of the Mullins’ house, barn, and yard) are very well done and fully immersive, the isolated locations making the viewer feel the characters’ seclusion and claustrophobia. It’s also well shot and directed, David Sandberg (Lights Out) managing to get great performances from all the actors, especially Talitha Bateman and Lulu Wilson whose shared friendship and fears both feel genuine.

The story, on the other hand, moves too slowly. I love and admire that Sandberg allowed the opening half to breathe by developing the characters, but it really did seem to drag, almost as if it knew it didn’t have enough scares and had to ration them. I almost wish it would’ve simplified the film even further by focusing on the Mullins and their lives after losing Annabelle since it seemed like the most interesting things about them—their suffering and horror—happened before the film started. Plus, I love Miranda Otto so wish she and her character were utilized more.

I didn’t like Annabelle: Creation nearly as much as I enjoyed the first installment. Despite its great performances and atmosphere, it’s slowly paced and high on jump scares. Though the series’ box office receipts prove that Annabelle continues to draw intrigue, now that we’ve seen both her beginning and end, it may be time to put her back in her wooden case and move onto the next file in the Warrens’ caseload.

7/10

The Dark Tower

Idris Elba and Tom Taylor are the standouts of The Dark Tower, perfectly capturing the spirit of the books

Confession time: if the filmmakers behind The Dark Tower would’ve made a straight adaptation of the first book in the book series, The Gunslinger, I would’ve hated it. Though the series has a rabid fan base, it’s no secret—even among uber King fans—that The Gunslinger is a bit on the slow side. Not only that, but it’s kind of weird in the sense it’s very easy to picture fans reading it and thinking, as I did, “What is this? Is it a western? Fantasy? Sci-Fi?” It definitely doesn’t conform to any one specific genre. So when news broke that a film version of The Dark Tower was in production (for real this time!), I was both concerned and intrigued that it would be a mixture of aspects from the series instead of a page-by-page adaptation of The Gunslinger.

Having seen the film, is it—and the future of a potential Dark Tower film franchise—better for it? In some ways, yes; in others, no. Combining aspects of the books (specially book one, The Gunslinger, and book three, The Wastelands) makes sense on a thematic and storytelling level since the characters of Roland and Jake are tethered on an emotional level. The film’s partial New York setting also allows viewers a place they recognize which offsets the otherworldly qualities of the worlds and places familiar to Roland. On the other hand, it maybe introduces a bit too much of the series’ sprawling mythology that might throw casual viewers for a loop (pun completely intended).

So do the Pros outweigh the Cons? Is it a faithful adaptation? Is the future of The Dark Tower film series in danger? Let’s talk it.

For those unfamiliar with the basic premise, the film follows Roland (Idris Elba), the last of his people (gunslingers, sworn to protect the titular Tower) pursing revenge against a nefarious enemy called the Man in Black (Matthew McConaughey) for killing his family. But all of that changes when he meets Jake (Tom Taylor), a boy from our world plagued by dreams of Roland, the Man in Black, and a score of other things of which he should have no knowledge.

It is usually the case in book-to-film adaptations that viewers are pleased the characters look the same, but complain the essence isn’t there—the intrinsic sense of what makes them them. In The Dark Tower, the opposite is true: the characters may look a little different from their literary counterparts, but the essence—the coldness, single-mindedness, and skepticism of Roland; the innocence and bravery of Jake—is totally there. And so I wonder of viewers saying the opposite: would they be happy either way?

Idris Elba is fantastic as Roland, perfectly matching the source material counterpart’s cold, loner exterior, his single-minded determination, and proficiency with guns. He’s a commanding on-screen presence and brings an intensity to the role with his body language and expressions that the script sometimes doesn’t quiet achieve, not to mention great comedic one-liners as a fish out of water. He marvels at Coke, hot dogs and, in a particularly humorous scene, gives a New York City doctor a pair of ancient coins for her services.

McConaughey also gives a great performance as the Man in Black, harnessing the psychic abilities of children in attempt to bring the Tower down. He’s darkly comic, both fearsome and enticing, and plays the Man in Black with a sense of dark glee that lets you know he clearly enjoys causing chaos wherever he goes.

But as good as Elba and McConaughey are, it’s Tom Taylor as Jake who’s the real standout. Jake is saddled with much of the film’s big moments and Taylor couldn’t be more perfect. Ranging from portraying a haunted sadness that no one believes his dreams, to fear of the Man in Black’s pursuit, to an awe and boyish innocence regarding Roland’s origins, to a particularly pained moment in the film’s third act, Taylor nails the role and Jake’s emotional journey and it’s not hard to see why the decision was made for the film to feature him so prominently.

As good as Elba and Taylor are individually, it’s when they come together—the Roland-Jake relationship—that’s the highlight of the film. Jake’s innocence and candor softens Roland’s hard exterior, while Roland provides the role of a father figure Jake’s been missing. The scenes of them bonding, trusting, and learning about each other are pure magic, completely capturing the spirit of the books, and sure to make dire-hard Dark Tower fans pleased the filmmakers understand the relationship’s emotional beats. (Among their screen time together, one scene of Roland teaching Jake how to shoot while reciting the gunslinger’s credo gave me both chills and watery eyes.)

In addition to the film’s action sequences and Roland’s exciting final confrontation with the Man in Black (which I would’ve liked to be a bit longer), one of the things the film got completely right was the landscape of Mid-World—harsh, dry land; craggy mountains; a barren, alien landscape. The location scouting and landscape utilization is a definite plus. However, it makes it disappointing in a way because when the film got something so completely right as this, it’s barely featured before we’re whisked off to the next location or set piece—the Manni village, an ancient theme park, the Dixie Pig, Devar Toi. All of them work, but the short amount of time we’re afforded to spend in each makes me think they didn’t utilize all the cool settings to their advantage since everything moved so quickly. It’s kind of the equivalent of going to a carnival, seeing a cool ride, and your parent grabbing you by the hand to move you onto the next thing when you’ve only had a taste of the one preceding it.

Which leads into my main issue with the film: pacing and editing. The opening of the film should’ve been a smooth introduction into the world(s) viewers were about to see, but the editing, especially in the film’s first third, was so choppy, sloppy, and jarring, that all I could help thinking was that there had to have been a better, simpler, more streamlined way to introduce viewers to the characters, quest, and worlds of The Dark Tower. Early on, we bounce between Jake, his visions, flashbacks of Roland, and present-day Man in Black. It’s a little much early on. (Aside: as much as I love Jake, I feel like the film should’ve started with our protagonist, Roland the gunslinger.) Because of runtime and budgetary restrictions, it seems they were trying to introduce too much at once instead of letting the audience become introduced to the story’s various pieces at an organic, relaxed pace. It does allow itself to wind down after the climax, but the abrupt ending does leave a little to be desired. A kind of, “that’s it?” without feeding the viewer any morsel of information or intrigue to give them any reason to hope for a sequel.

To say The Dark Tower has a rich mythology is an understatement. Not only are we introduced to a mythical Tower that, if it falls, chaos will reign supreme, but there’s also the aspect of the beams that keep the Tower in place, Taheen, vampires, and ominous graffiti that reads ALL HAIL THE CRIMSON KING. Fans of the books will no doubt recognize the terminology and its implications, but it’s a lot for the casual moviegoer to take in when everything moves so quickly. I’m not so sure the film’s mythology would be completely grasped upon first viewing. While it offers exciting possibilities for potential future installments, it wouldn’t have hurt to have more expositional detail about the more fantastical elements of the story and why we should care.

Ultimately, the film is a case of “More please!” Would I have liked more action? More Roland interacting with the Man in Black, perhaps giving the viewer a deeper insight into their relationship and the mythology surrounding them? More time spent in the Manni village, the Dixie Pig, and all of the film’s other cool locations? Yes, definitely, because these are good things. What’s in the film works; there’s just not enough of it.

I have a feeling I wouldn’t have enjoyed The Dark Tower quite as much as I did if I wasn’t a fan of the books. It’s not a straight up, page-by-page adaptation (structurally or otherwise) and the editing and pacing is a little off, but it’s a good introduction into Roland’s world. The characters and acting all work, it’s escapist entertainment in the best way, and most importantly, the spirit of the novels is fully intact.

The road to a Dark Tower film was a long and rocky one, but now with its foot is in the door, there’s more than enough material for future installments and adventures in Mid-World if we are lucky enough to be invited along on them.

8/10