Venom: Let There Be Carnage (2021)

When Venom came out in 2018, I remember the world freaking out. Was it good? Could a bad movie make that much money? With its late-90s vibe and gleefully cheesy mentality, was Venom the future of superhero movies? I vividly remember insisting, “Venom is fine.” It certainly wasn’t worth the consternation into which so many comics fans lathered themselves. (Then again, nothing usually is.)

On the other hand, its sequel, Venom: Let There Be Carnage, is not fine. It’s dire. It’s nearly unwatchable. Its only saving grace is that it’s only ninety minutes long, and you will want to run to the nearest comic book to cleanse your palate.

 

Possessed by the man-eating alien symbiote Venom, Eddie Brock (Tom Hardy) has found himself the only reporter to whom serial killer Cletus Kasady (Woody Harrelson) will make his confessions. Kasady’s time on death row is short-lived, though, once he too becomes infected with a symbiote that transforms him into the murderous Carnage. While Carnage scampers off to free his equally homicidal lover Shriek (Naomie Harris), Eddie must mend his fractured relationship with Venom before San Francisco burns.

 

Somehow, at 97 minutes, Let There Be Carnage still feels like it’s too long. The plot meanders and dithers until Kasady becomes Carnage, as though we need ample exposition to make us believe that Woody Harrelson is playing a crazy person. Between his manic eyes and the insane red wig he was sporting in the previous film’s mid-credits scene (a bonkers creative decision that is, alas, ignored in this film), I don’t think we need to wait more than thirty minutes before Kasady transforms into Carnage, especially when the film is already this brief. The showdown between these two characters, which ought to be a hallmark feature of the film, is limited to the climactic third-act setpiece. Compare to the comics, which made Carnage the star of a 14-issue crossover series, “Maximum Carnage.” For a villain this iconic, with a performer as significant as Harrelson, it seems almost a waste not to use him more.

 

The film is, like its twin protagonist and antagonist, bifurcated between identities. On the one hand, it is a superhero sequel in which the stakes are raised with a high-profile villain from the comics. On the other hand, Let There Be Carnage may as well be a CGI remake of The Odd Couple, in which Tom Hardy is forced to share an apartment with his own gooey anthropomorphized voice. You might charitably view this as a satirical riff on the standard sequel, in which the superhero wrestles with his chosen path and contemplates abandoning the heroic path (cf., Spider-Man 2). But it’s hard to be charitable to a movie in which Tom Hardy is keeping live chickens in his apartment to stop himself from cannibalizing muggers and hobos. At every turn, there are glimmers of a less deranged film, but time after time Venom takes the manic path. If you’re a filmgoer who likes the volume at eleven, though, perhaps Let There Be Carnage is the Venom for you.

 

Throughout Let There Be Carnage, one thing is abundantly clear – everyone who made the film was clearly having a ball, serving up plate after plate of ham. Indeed, some of this fun must have come from the fact that, yes, the studio let them make a movie so unhinged, so eccentric. It’s the sort of blank check creative recklessness that comes with recouping eight times your budget, but the first film was already abundantly nutty; Let There Be Carnage is like giving cotton candy to a caffeinated toddler at a theme park’s last call. And I’m sure there are moviegoers for whom this is the perfect flavor of superhero movie, madcap and ludicrous. To them I say, God bless. I look at this film, having forgotten what I actually liked about the first Venom, and I realize that Let There Be Carnage is simply not on my wavelength. It is difficult even to recognize it as residing on the same planet as I do. 

Venom: Let There Be Carnage is rated PG-13 for “intense sequences of violence and action, some strong language, disturbing material and suggestive references.” Directed by Andy Serkis. Written by Tom Hardy and Kelly Marcel. Starring Tom Hardy, Michelle Williams, Naomie Harris, Reid Scott, Stephen Graham, and Woody Harrelson.

Venom (2018)

I’ll not bury the lead here: guys, Venom is fine. It’s a movie about Tom Hardy and his relationship with his weird voice, personified by a giant blob monster that wants to make as much of a mess as he can. The movie is clunky and basic, but it knows that it’s not going to change the world. Even though it feels at times overlong, it doesn’t overstay its welcome. Put another way, it’s fun enough that I don’t begrudge it the $6 I paid to see it.

Hardy stars as Eddie Brock, an investigative reporter with a chip on his shoulder. Assigned to a puff piece on one-percenter Carlton Drake (Riz Ahmed), Eddie discovers that Drake’s Life Foundation is preying on vulnerable members of society for shady experimental tests. One such test involves Drake’s acquisition of several symbiotes, gooey space aliens that bond with other lifeforms – and soon one bonds with Eddie, transforming him into the hulking Venom.

The principal thing to get out of the way is that this isn’t a Spider-Man film, and that’s upset a lot of people. But here’s my hot take – I don’t think that Spider-Man would actually fix anything that’s wrong with the film, and anyone who thinks otherwise is actually still sore over the third act of Spider-Man 3 eleven (yes, eleven) years ago. The trouble with putting Spider-Man and Venom in a movie together is that it’s a lot of ground to cover; you’ve got to do Spider-Man’s black costume, Spidey ditching the suit, and Eddie Brock becoming Venom first as a villain before somewhat reforming. But wait, you say, this is why God (or Stan Lee) invented a shared universe, to make this story over the course of a few films! To which I reply, yes, but who has the patience to see that story again, only this time spread out across several years? No, better to try something new, and since superheroes are our modern mythology it’s perfectly fine to reinterpret them every once in a while and try something new.

The first act, as I mentioned above, is somewhat heavyhanded. It’s full of characters who speak their motivation rather than show us, with a villain who’s only evil because he’s evil and rich. Academy Award nominee Michelle Williams, who’s all but admitted she turned up for the paycheck, has very little to do as Brock’s fiancée, a kind of obligatory character who reminds one of the narratively inert love interests from late-90s Batman movies. Indeed, her most interesting scene is quickly brushed aside, in a way that feels very much like the film saying, “No, no, a final setpiece is no place for a lady.” In that vein, the film sweats at each turn in the story, baldly showing the effort needed to pivot from one plotline to the next. Once the film establishes what Drake is up to, for example, it quickly swerves by having one character explain that, actually, never mind, what’s he’s really doing is something more sinister, which requires a bigger setpiece to resolve.

The seams on the film are so readily apparent that it’s a marvel the film works at all. However, what it stitches together is actually quite interesting, governed by the most watchably peculiar performance from Tom Hardy whose dialogue, in a rare departure for Hardy, is rather easy to understand. Hardy makes the peculiar choice to play Eddie Brock like a folksy huckster of a reporter, distracted and fidgety; his Venom voice, on the other hand, is classic Hardy, all snarls and grunts with more digital filter than a Daft Punk greatest hits album. This dichotomy, with Hardy playing both to his strength and at once wildly against type, is riveting, and while most of the movie seems to be phoning it in, Hardy is singlehandedly making the best case for more movies in a Venom Cinematic Universe.

So too is a wildly optimistic mid-credits sequence – optimistic in its swing-for-the-bleachers bid for a sequel co-starring a real surprise. No spoilers, but it’s a moment that led at least one man in my audience to holler incredulously, “Wait, is that [name redacted]?!” But it’s emblematic of the movie writ large – nuts and silly and a little ill-advised, but wholly confident and earnest in a way that I think resonated with $80 million or so worth of moviegoers this weekend. It’s a throwback to a simpler era of comic book movies, which ended without the necessity of a sequel to build the narrative world. Even the Eminem track that plays over the credits, written especially for this movie, feels like a relic of a bygone era. But I won’t deny that the clunky first act reminded me a lot of the equally unwieldy first act of Ant-Man, which ended up being a sleeper hit. I won’t say that Venom is as objectively good as Ant-Man, and I can’t say that I’m in a terrific hurry to see it again, but it’s at least as fun as a pint-sized Ant-Man.

Venom is rated PG-13 for “intense sequences of sci-fi violence and action, and for language.” Directed by Ruben Fleischer. Written by Jeff Pinkner, Scott Rosenberg, and Kelly Marcel. Based on the Marvel Comics by Todd McFarlane and David Michelinie. Starring Tom Hardy, Michelle Williams, Riz Ahmed, Scott Haze, Reid Scott, and Jenny Slate.

Monday at the Movies - September 24, 2018

Welcome to another installment of “Monday at the Movies.” This week, a film which gives lie to the old expression about how the sausage is made.

All the Money in the World (2017)– A year or so from its release, it is a shame that the most interesting – and distracting – thing about All the Money in the World remains the ballyhoo surrounding the replacement of Kevin Spacey with Christopher Plummer in the role of billionaire J. Paul Getty. It’s unfortunate because the film is otherwise quite fine, neither a triumphant masterpiece nor a mordant trainwreck, but in every scene with Plummer there’s a macabre curiosity about what Spacey, beneath mountains of Gumby makeup, had done with the part, whether we’ll ever see any of the footage that necessitated the speedy and expensive reshoots. Plummer is doing masterful work, as he always does, and I have no doubt that he gave a more engaging performance than Spacey, who was exceedingly distracting in the prosthetics-laden trailers. Michelle Williams, as the mother of the abducted Getty grandson, is equally compelling, heartbreaking in the frustration we share with her at the immovable object of Plummer’s Getty. Mark Wahlberg, however, is disruptively miscast as the CIA operative turned Getty advisor Fletcher Chace; Wahlberg plays Chace like a scrappy everyman, albeit without the sobered gravitas needed to believe that this man is dangerous and capable of anything. (One almost expects him to tell an OPEC sheik, apropos of Andy Samberg, “Say hi to your mother for me.”) But the suspense of the film, a true story, falls somewhat tepid with knowledge of how the facts turned out, and the continual reminder of the film’s tumultuous gestation gets in the way of two very solid performances. Then again, I would much rather director Ridley Scott make films like this instead of persist in reinscribing the Alien mythos to the point of murky exposition (after Prometheus, I’ve still not hauled myself in front of Alien: Covenant, and I consider the prospect leavened with dread.)

That does it for this week’s edition of “Monday at the Movies.” We’ll see you next week!

Monday at the Movies - September 8, 2014

Welcome to another edition of “Monday at the Movies.”  Tomorrow is Michelle Williams’s birthday, so we’re going to pretend that this next review isn’t a complete coincidence and act like we timed this perfectly.

The Station Agent (2003) – For those who weren’t already aware of Peter Dinklage’s star-making performance in Thomas McCarthy’s directorial debut, the rising star of Dinklage thanks to his household status in Game of Thrones will be inviting newcomers to what is a truly compelling feature, imperfect in the way that most debuts are but worth experiencing the remarkably brief runtime.  Dinklage delivers a phenomenally moving performance as Fin, the eponymous man who lives in an abandoned train depot, and it’s a remarkable role since the film never patronizes to the audience by demanding sympathy for a protagonist with dwarfism; instead, Dinklage’s quiet solemnity and the occasional condescension from a passer-by make the case eloquently for basic human dignity.  Patricia Clarkson and Bobby Cannavale costar as Fin’s friends, who break through the insulation he’s erected around himself, and the film is highly enjoyable in developing the relationship between this unlikely trio.  Fortunately, the film also treats its audience with respect by not forcing the clichéd “damaged people” love affair between Dinklage and Clarkson; that plotline goes to a young Michelle Williams, who’s less a broken soul and more charming librarian who bonds with Fin over his need for a library card.  Unfortunately, the film stumbles a bit when it gives equal time to Clarkson’s plotline about her separation from her husband; under the weight of two despondent protagonists, the film buckles, and there are a few beats where the depressing quality almost overwhelms.  I applaud the film for its anti-Hollywood ending, in which love doesn’t quite conquer all, for it makes a more affirming statement about friendship, and as the characters smile at the end, it’s a gift to the audience that we too feel that we’ve found a new batch of misfits with whom we can spend time.

That does it for this week’s edition of “Monday at the Movies.” We’ll see you here next week!

Oz the Great and Powerful (2013)

For whatever reason (perhaps deservedly so), 1939’s The Wizard of Oz has attained a kind of untouchable status, casting a large shadow over any project attempting to approach any adaptation of L. Frank Baum’s work.  But after Disney made a pretty penny revisiting Alice in Wonderland with Tim Burton, now they’ve let Sam Raimi take a crack with Oz the Great and Powerful.

And it’s better than I was expecting.

James Franco stars as the eponymous Oscar Diggs, a selfish traveling magician who is transported from Kansas to the magical land of Oz by way of – what else? – a tornado.  Once his hot-air balloon lands, Oscar (known as “Oz”) meets a trio of witches – Theodora (Mila Kunis), Evanora (Rachel Weisz), and Glinda (Michelle Williams) – who contend that he is the subject of a prophecy concerning the fate of Oz.  Trouble is, Oscar’s no wizard, even if his flying monkey and china doll companions believe he is...

It may be that I just had low expectations for a prequel to the aforementioned Wizard, but I found myself rather enchanted by Oz the Great and Powerful.  Raimi goes a long way to redeeming himself for Spider-Man 3 (redemption he had begun with 2009’s Drag Me to Hell), and the movie is clearly the creation of someone enamored with the art of filmmaking itself.  Of course, I’m a bit of a sucker for this kind of meta-film, but it’s particularly clever when, for example, we learn that behind the curtain lies a movie camera.

After learning that Robert Downey Jr. was under consideration for the role of Oscar, I was disappointed that it came down to James Franco, but Franco actually does a pretty good job with Oscar, capturing the bogus charisma and accompanying self-doubt that the character inhabits.  I can’t tell if Franco’s clueless perma-smile is the result of good casting or good acting, but it works in the context of the film.  He’s also an effective gateway character, his obliviousness helping us get acclimated to Oz and any dramatic ironies therein.

The witches are perhaps better cast, more interesting because of how recognizable they are from the 1939 movie.  I can’t tell if we’re meant to recognize Theodora and Evanora on sight (so it might be spoiling to say what each one does), but Kunis and Weisz are quite good as two very different kinds of witches.  But I say it’s Williams who steals the show as Glinda, adhering closely to Billie Burke’s iconic performance while adding some of the good-girl-snark that’s become popular these days (see also Peppy in The Artist). 

Younger fans will likely adore Finley the flying monkey (Zach Braff) and the China Doll (Joey King), but for me the standout feature of the film is the way that it pays tribute to some of the 1939 film’s formal attributes without retreading them.  For instance, in a shot that I wish wasn’t spoiled by the trailers, Oscar’s arrival in Oz is marked by a transition from 4:3 fullscreen to 2.35:1 widescreen.  It’s a great way to recapture the magic of 1939’s shift from sepia-tone to color for an audience already ultra-accustomed to that kind of twist (but don’t worry, you still bet a color change, too).  The film also plays up the dual-casting from the 1939 film, with Williams, Braff, and King making appearances in Kansas and Oz; it perpetuates the surreal quality of Oz while also inviting interpretation as to the reality of what’s going on.

It’s to Raimi’s credit that these formal nods never feel like obligatory deferential references.  Instead, they pay homage to the long legacy of Baum’s work while reinventing and/or reintroducing the Land of Oz to a new audience.  All told, Oz the Great and Powerful is quite good.

Oz the Great and Powerful is rated PG “for sequences of action and scary images, and brief mild language.”  This movie is quite tame, appropriate for most audiences; the flying baboons are a bit ooky, and maybe the Wicked Witch might creep some out when she appears, but all in all this is a pretty wholesome flick.