Haunted Mansion (2023)

I’ve been on something of a cinematic high lately, recapturing the magic of the movies with a few hits right in a row. I have wondered over the last several months whether I’ve outgrown movies, lapped my favorite franchises and genres, yet movies like Mission: Impossible – Dead Reckoning, Oppenheimer, and Barbie have reminded this moviegoer that it’s not “a me problem.” Movies can still be fun, they can even be great, but lately they just haven’t been.
 
With Disney’s Haunted Mansion, dear readers, we’re back – back to disappointments at the box office, creaky scripts and undercooked performances designed to cash in on nostalgia, a distinctive brand, or both. This Haunted Mansion is a sight better than the Eddie Murphy foray that preceded it two decades ago, but as bars go that’s a fairly low one to hurdle. 
 
Gabbie (Rosario Dawson) and her son Travis (Chase W. Dillon) have just moved to Louisiana and taken up residence in, well, a haunted mansion. An attempt to exorcise the home unites a grieving astrophysicist (LaKeith Stanfield), an off-kilter priest (Owen Wilson), a history professor (Danny DeVito), and a low-rent medium (Tiffany Haddish) against nearly 1,000 ghouls led by the leering Hatbox Ghost (Jared Leto).
 
I was on the fence about seeing Haunted Mansion for a number of reasons. Back in 2003, the Eddie Murphy film of the same name had failed to impress; today, the trailers were similarly undistinguished, and its Rotten Tomatoes rating was less than stellar. Plus, I reminded myself, the whole affair would likely be landing on Disney+ within six weeks. But too much time on one’s hands is a dangerous proposition, and so I plunked down for two dismal hours (not counting a slate of less inspiring trailers) that I cannot in good faith recommend to any but the most thoroughly indoctrinated devotees of the theme park attraction which lends its name and likeness to Haunted Mansion.
 
The Eddie Murphy take on The Haunted Mansion debuted in 2003, grafting the theme park set decoration onto a fairly boilerplate ghost story about doomed love and spooky manors. But another film was released that year – Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl – and Disney has been chasing that high ever since, hoping against hope that any of its myriad attractions would prove to be the next bankable franchise. (I loved Tomorrowland, though not everyone did, and the less said about Jungle Cruise, the better.) In my head, Pirates and Haunted Mansion are two halves of the same coin: dense and intricate attractions hung together by a mere suggestion of a story amid a collection of memorable mise-en-scènes. They’re handily my two favorite rides at Walt Disney World, over and against even the thrilliest roller coasters.
 
They cracked Pirates well enough, wringing the franchise dry to the point that only Johnny Depp’s mountainous legal woes could end the film series. Yet this is the second Haunted Mansion in as many decades, with no less than Guillermo Del Toro trying to make it work circa 2012. (One has to imagine his Crimson Peak shares some DNA with The Haunted Mansion.) This particular Haunted Mansion has only one credited writer (Katie Dippold, late of the beleaguered Ghostbusters reboot), but a litany of voices have contributed to the script at varying stages, to the point where no character feels like they’re in the same film. Owen Wilson and Danny DeVito clown their way through the film, almost a Disney-fied Waiting for Ghost-dot, while Tiffany Haddish’s character is either a buffoon or the world’s greatest psychic, depending on what the plot requires. And then there’s LaKeith Stanfield, who is frankly better than the film deserves, handily carrying an emotional arc that actually manages to move the audience, even if nothing else in the film is clicking.
 
The film’s greatest mystery is why mega-stars like Jamie Lee Curtis and Jared Leto are anywhere near this thing. Not because they’re too good for the movie, but because their parts could well and truly have been played by anyone, and at least someone slightly less expensive. Curtis is stately and imperious as Madame Leota, but after receiving what amounts to a Lifetime Achievement Award for her role in Everything Everywhere All At Once, she doesn’t need to stoop to a third-rate Eleanor Audley imitation, and her blue crystal ball does more acting than most others in the film. Leto especially makes almost no impression, aside from a brief flashback where we see a Hatbox Ghost pre-decapitation; his ghost face is purely computer-generated, while his voice is run through so many filters that it might as well be Mae West under there. (He gets the “And” credit too, which suggests he made a boatload of money on this movie, which... good for him, I suppose.)
 
There are a few chuckles in the film, and at least one decent jump-scare, but on the whole the film feels like a collection of bits that don’t exactly work together. It feels assembled by committee, and just about the only thing to justify its existence is the presence of a cacophony of cameos from recognizable props like chairs, stanchions, and wallpaper. While stretching rooms and hatchets in the attic may not mean much to the general moviegoing public – and indeed they mean not much more in context – they’re sure to light up any foolish mortal who knows the Haunted Mansion(s) well. And if I’d been streaming the film at home, perhaps I’d have been more forgiving of this Haunted Mansion. But as it stands, those little cameos and winking nods only made me wish I were on vacation.

And why this wasn't released in October, I'm sure I can't say.
 

Haunted Mansion is rated PG-13 for “some thematic elements and scary action.” Directed by Justin Simien. Written by Katie Dippold. Starring LaKeith Stanfield, Tiffany Haddish, Owen Wilson, Danny DeVito, Rosario Dawson, Jamie Lee Curtis, and Jared Leto.

The Defenders (2017)

We have always already known it was all building to this. Back in 2015 (only two years ago!), Daredevil debuted with the promise that its protagonist would eventually join Netflix’s Jessica Jones, Luke Cage, and Iron Fist in The Defenders, echoing the successful franchise building that culminated in 2012’s The Avengers. And so it is all but a little impossible not to compare The Defenders to The Avengers; on an instinctual level, Defenders is not as successful as Avengers, but then again it’s more successful than it could have been, and it has the unbelievable ability to make me care about The Hand.

How do these lovable nutjobs end up together? While Danny Rand, the Immortal Iron Fist (Finn Jones), pursues The Hand in fulfillment of his mission from the mystical K’un-Lun, Luke Cage (Mike Colter) rejoins Harlem and finds its youth in danger. Likewise, Jessica Jones (Krysten Ritter) becomes embroiled in corporate terrorism when her client tries to bomb his own office, and through a friend of a friend (Rosario Dawson) she finds herself represented by Matt Murdock, alias Daredevil (Charlie Cox). All the while, The Hand’s leader Alexandra (Sigourney Weaver) has sinister plans for her latest protégé Elektra (Élodie Yung), the new Black Sky warrior.

The Avengers did this remarkable thing where it built on what came before and moved it into new territory without ever losing sight of the audience members who might not have done all the homework from Iron Man on. The Defenders aces those first two categories, finding clever ways to bring these characters together while setting up some intriguing new stories for them, but it isn’t the best introduction to some of these characters, particularly Daredevil and Luke Cage (whose standalone seasons left them in places that Defenders contorts to resolve in time for them to unite). Then again, I’m not sure that there are too many folks out there who haven’t followed the Netflix universe as closely, and so maybe it’s folly to expect Defenders to be entirely its own thing.

Then again, The Defenders is such viscerally engaging viewing material that I almost wish they’d discontinue the bulk of the Netflix project and just do a few more seasons of The Defenders instead. The Defenders ably collects all of what works about each show, scraps what doesn’t, and blends it all together in a show that doesn’t have any dead spots – likely a casualty of its eight episodes (compared to Marvel/Netflix’s standard thirteen). For all that Daredevil can be a mopey sort, The Defenders pairs him with three others who will call him out on that. The show even seems hyper-aware of the creative problems of Iron Fist, hanging a lantern on Danny’s idiocy and protracted self-introductions, in the process matching him with characters who can finesse him into a more capable character. Jess and Luke change the least, for my money because they’re characters who are already in stellar shape, and it’s a real delight to see them sharing the screen again after Luke’s turn on Jessica Jones.

Without fail, The Hand has been the least inspiring aspect of the Marvel Netflix Universe; I didn’t care on Daredevil (and I really didn’t care on Daredevil: Season 2), and The Hand was just one more element that didn’t add up for Iron Fist. However, The Defenders takes The Hand bigger, showcasing their ancient influence, sweeping plans, and fascinatingly distinctive leaders, including Weaver’s Alexandra (who brings a genre pedigree to the role with charisma and grace) and my personal favorite, Madame Gao. While the Defenders learn to work together, The Hand struggles not to kill each other in a gripping give-and-take that feels a little like Game of Thrones mixed with the more interesting kung-fu bits of The Matrix. Elektra too, somewhat dull in the overstuffed second season of Daredevil, emerges on top as her character struggles to find her place within The Hand and at Alexandra’s side.

Where Marvel/Netflix has done well, The Defenders continues to thrive. What the universe hasn’t cracked, The Defenders patches up. I would have liked to have seen more from the non-super supporting characters, as The Defenders largely relegates Foggy, Trish, and Colleen to a police holding room; additionally, it’s a little surprising that there’s nary a nod to Frank Castle in here. Instead, The Defenders lasers its focus on its four protagonists, who crackle in every scene they’ve got; even separated, when the show feels more like an anthology than a team-up, there are fine moments of characterization and plotting that make The Defenders feel like a win.

Make mine Marvel, and roll on The Punisher (because I hear Inhumans isn’t very good).

The Defenders is rated TV-MA. Created by Douglas Petrie and Marco Ramirez. Based on the Marvel Comics. Starring Charlie Cox, Krysten Ritter, Mike Colter, Finn Jones, Élodie Yung, Rosario Dawson, and Sigourney Weaver.

Monday at the Movies - May 1, 2017

Welcome to another installment of “Monday at the Movies.” We’re not at the movies, though; if you’ve wondered what your Cinema King thought about the last few rounds of the Marvel/Netflix experiment, look no further.

Daredevil: Season Two (2016) – After falling head over heels for the first season of Daredevil, knocking it out in about four days thanks to the binge model of Netflix, I definitely felt the law of diminishing returns in effect for Daredevil’s sophomore outing, which took me a few weeks to wrap up. After last season’s singular focus on how Wilson Fisk’s rise paralleled Daredevil’s, this season has two main components: an arc introducing the gun-toting vigilante The Punisher (Jon Bernthal), followed by the return of the deadly Elektra (Élodie Yung) into the life of Matt Murdock (Charlie Cox). The first of these is exceptional, and had the rest of the season been as good it would have pushed Season Two to the top of what Marvel Television has been able to accomplish; Bernthal is frankly definitive as the violent, tortured Punisher, with iconic moments ripped from the comics and given their due. The Punisher’s arc over the season takes him to fascinating places, interacting with fantastic characters, and setting him up for a dynamite solo series (which, of course, is happening). It’s the second half, though, which failed to impress this reviewer, as it goes full ninja into what I think is the least interesting aspect of Daredevil – his battles against The Hand. The stakes of this conflict are nebulous – the city is in danger, but isn’t it always? – and would appear to pull their punches in advance of The Defenders. Though Yung is a fine choice for Elektra, the plotting never fully convinces us that she’s anything but trouble for Matt Murdock, who’s exceptionally angsty this season. Hat-tip, though, to Elden Henson, whose portrayal of Foggy Nelson ends up being a major show-stealer and a bright light in a season that can be dismally dark.

Luke Cage (2016) – Fresh off a stint on Jessica Jones, Mike Colter is back as the man with unbreakable skin, and his performance as Luke Cage deserves to stand shoulder to shoulder with some of the top performances in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. His Luke is a resolute figure of unflappable grace, of tough decisions, and uncompromising morality, and for all that we say that superheroes are figures of admiration, Colter really embodies it. Put another way, I want to be this guy. Like Daredevil: Season Two, Luke Cage is narratively bifurcated, though it’d be a spoiler to say precisely why; suffice it to say that the villains, Cornell “Cottonmouth” Stokes (the recently-Oscared Mahershala Ali) and Mariah Dillard (Alfre Woodard, who’s deft enough to make you forget she’s an entirely different character in Civil War), are as variable and fascinating as Luke is stalwart and unfaltering. It’s unquestionably among the timeliest, most political material Marvel has turned out of late, and that thematic resonance gives Luke Cage a weight that I don’t think the other Netflix programs have quite attained (though Jessica Jones felt psychologically and personally heavy). Consequently, we feel quite tangibly all the struggles and expectations placed on Luke, justly or otherwise, as he finds himself in a position to navigate issues so much larger than a man without superpowers might be able to bear on his own. Notably, Luke Cage has a real pulse in the form of its soundtrack, which significantly differentiates it from the rest of the Marvel Cinematic Universe; the show’s use of music, both diegetic and otherwise, becomes the lifeblood of the show and a fitting barometer for the mood of the community.

Iron Fist (2017) – For the past month, everyone’s been talking about Iron Fist, though not for the reasons Marvel would have liked. A good number of people are upset about the character’s race, while an even larger contingent is dubbing this show the worst thing Marvel’s ever done for other reasons altogether. For my money, and this may be a reaction to having my expectations titanically lowered by early reviews, Iron Fist is not terrible, but it’s not especially good, either. If you can power through the first episode (as seems to be the advice for most shows), you’re in the clear; Iron Fist has one of the least successful openers of any show I’ve watched, with characters who behave irrationally and without any sense of a motivation or indeed of characterization in any sense. As the show progresses, though, the characters crystallize a little more clearly, particularly the increasingly compelling brother-sister duo of Ward and Joy Meachum (Tom Pelphrey and Jessica Stroup). Aside from the fact that I still don’t care what The Hand is doing, a recurring problem for the show is that its titular protagonist Danny Rand (Finn Jones, late of Game of Thrones) is a bit of a stunted man-child who behaves like an idiot and makes one ill-advised decision after another between bouts of temper tantrums and social awkwardness. If the character is deliberately crafted that way, Jones is bang-on, but it’s off-putting to have a show where everyone knows better than the main character. The show’s women, though, end up its greatest strength; Colleen Wing (Jessica Henwick) is the capable badass Marvel’s Netflix universe deserves, Madame Gao (Wai Ching Ho, back from Daredevil) is a captivating character and a continuity hound’s delight, and it’s always a treat to see Claire Temple (Rosario Dawson) try to talk some sense into the self-destructive vigilantes who headline these shows. Iron Fist seeds a few tantalizing developments for a likely second season, but the show needs to do some major work on its eponymous hero if audiences are going to connect with this aloof kung fu dope.

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

The Lego Batman Movie (2017)

I was pleasantly surprised – I think we all were – by The Lego Movie, which ended up being more heartfelt and entertaining than it had any right to be. Its ostensible spin-off, The Lego Batman Movie, is quite fun, albeit in another direction; rather than critique what in 2014 I called “Hollywood’s remake-happy philosophy,” The Lego Batman Movie lasers its vision on Batman for a loving farce of all that the character can be, has been, and ought to be.

Will Arnett returns to voice The Dark Knight, darker than ever with a new theme song and a smashing set of gadgets, vehicles, and outfits. He’s a Batman that has it all, except for a family, and at the insistence of his trusty butler Alfred (Ralph Fiennes, delightfully droll), Batman takes under his wing the young orphan Dick Grayson (Michael Cera). While Batman learns to work with new police commissioner Barbara Gordon (Rosario Dawson), The Joker (Zach Galifianakis) plots his latest scheme, smarting from Batman’s declaration that Joker is not his greatest enemy.

With The Lego Movie, there was a sense that anything was possible and everything was awesome. For The Lego Batman Movie, everything is still awesome (though that earworm won’t wend its way to your brain in the movie proper), though there’s less a sense that anything can happen and more a focused attempt to bring every aspect of Batman to bear on this adaptation. I’d venture to say every corner of the Bat-mythos is spotlighted here, from the 1940s serials to Batman v Superman, from Crazy Quilt to The Mutant Leader.

For this reason, I’d hazard a guess that I loved this movie more than more filmgoers because it engages with my favorite aspect of my favorite fictional character – this idea that Batman is a conceptually rich figure with a myriad of possibilities built into his very nature. It’s difficult to imagine Captain America in space, or Superman in a mafia noir, or Iron Man in a detective story, or Green Lantern in World War II. Yet Batman works in all these settings, and so I reveled in the idea that The Lego Batman Movie embraces everything that’s ever been done with the character as equally valid (even if, as Alfred says, 1966 was “that weird one”).

There’s something of a farce at play, but it’s one done in earnest and without a trace of malice. Batman is the same grim-n-gritty caricature from The Lego Movie, snarling and petulant, but it’s giddy fun to watch him serenely chow down on lobster thermidor in his Bat-dinghy. Batman’s aversion to teamwork gets turned up to eleven here, providing the framework for a fairly boilerplate “learn to get along” plot that works largely because it’s dressed up in a cape and Bat-ears. In spite of gently spoofing the Bat, there’s something very accurate about the film’s portrayal; Joker’s obsession with Batman rings quite true with the comics, which have leaned toward interpreting his hate as repressed love, while Batman’s “master builder” status (inherited from The Lego Movie) feels of a piece with his apparent canonical ability to create any gadget.

If I have a critique about the film, it’s that its marketing was a little misleading in the sense that the trailers and posters promised a coterie of Bat-villains running the gamut from The Riddler to Egghead. Yes, these characters all do appear, as does the entirety of the Justice League, but I can’t help feeling that they’re somewhat underused, particularly considering the all-star voice cast behind them (Channing Tatum returns as Superman, while Conan O’Brien debuts as Riddler). Only The Joker gets any considerable amount of screen-time – appropriate, naturally – though the reduction of the other villains to near-cameo status feels a bit like someone wafting cake beneath your nose, only to deliver pie. (Fortunately, though, it’s not Joker’s preferred “cyanide pie in the face.”)

The Lego Batman Movie is delirious in its satire and throws everything into the mix for a playful romp through the Bat-mythos. I’ve seen a lot of critics take Lego Batman as an opportunity to turn up their nose at Batman v Superman, as if two competing interpretations of Batman can’t coexist. Rather, I think Lego Batman makes quite the opposite argument – that Batman can wear any suit he likes (with apologies to Henry Ford, even if it’s not black; even if it has rabbit ears, Bat-nipples, or a tutu). Batman goes through cultural evolutions all the time – about every four years, by Alfred’s math – and so Lego Batman ought to be something that cultivates our appreciation for the character’s infinite possibilities, not something that we use to tear down the past. Heck, it’s a Lego movie. Let’s build something.

The Lego Batman Movie is rated PG for “rude humor and some action.” Directed by Chris McKay. Written by Seth Grahame-Smith, Chris McKenna, Erik Sommers, Jared Stern, and John Wittington. Starring Will Arnett, Zach Galifianakis, Michael Cera, Rosario Dawson, and Ralph Fiennes.

Monday at the Movies - April 27, 2015

Welcome to another installment of “Monday at the Movies.”  This week, back to movies but staying firmly within the realm of superheroes. Presented in chronological (not alphabetical) order, for those playing the home game.

Justice League: Throne of Atlantis (2015) – As the title might suggest, there are two things going on in this film. On the one hand, we have a sequel to Justice League: War, inspired by the New 52 incarnation of the world’s greatest superhero team, while on the other we have the introduction of Aquaman to this animated universe. Here’s the thing about Throne of Atlantis, based on a recent popular storyline by DC’s resident blockbuster writer Geoff Johns: only one of these plotlines is terribly interesting, and unfortunately for fans of underwater mythology it isn’t the one where the guy talks to fish. The Justice League bits and the character interactions are spot-on brilliant, particularly the scenes before the big battles and action setpieces; there’s a wonderful first date between Superman (Jerry O’Connell) and Wonder Woman (Rosario Dawson), and there’s a lovely internecine clash of personalities when Green Lantern (Nathan Fillion) tries to help Batman (Jason O’Mara) on a police chase through Gotham City. And the creative team does a strong job juggling a League of seven disparate personalities. The Aquaman parts, sadly, are much less compelling; this iteration of Aquaman is part depressive alcoholic, part reticent heir to throne but only with nothing better to do. Sam Witwer is a strong choice for the voice of the film’s villain, Ocean Master, but this character is actually terribly dull, as is (sadly) Harry Lennix’s rendition of Black Manta. It’s not a terrible film by most stretches of the imagination, but there are parts of it that are more boring than they ought to be. Throne of Atlantis should have taken more cues from Johns’s more engaging reinvention of Aquaman than they have, because this Aquaman is fairly boilerplate and a little too stuffy for his own good.

Batman vs. Robin (2015) – Maybe I’m just a sucker for the Caped Crusader, because there are things about this movie that ought to be unforgivable to a true believer like myself, but I kind of liked this one, maybe even more than its predecessor Son of Batman. This animated film stitches together plotlines from two distinct comics – Grant Morrison’s Batman vs. Robin (in which Damian Wayne tries to prove himself) and Scott Snyder’s Court of Owls (in which a shadowy conspiracy makes its bid for Gotham) – and basically waters both down to make for a more coherent 80 minutes than the sum of the parts might suggest. Here’s what works: the film looks very good, especially the Court of Owls iconography, and I’m still a fan of the chemistry between Jason O’Mara’s Batman and Stuart Allen’s Damian. I did feel that the Owls plotline was shortchanged by (without spoiling too much) putting too many faces to what should be by definition a faceless organization, but I appreciated the way it allowed Damian to fall under the Court’s sway while he bristles against his father’s training. And the film’s concluding battle, taken mostly from the comics, is a crackling good fight between Batman and the Owls in the former’s gadget-laden Batcave. It’s actually quite remarkable that a storyline from 2012 has already been adapted – kudos to Snyder and artist Greg Capullo for crafting a modern-day classic – but a more faithful adaptation would have earned two enthusiastic thumbs up rather than my usual review of “Hey, it’s Batman, so not bad.”

That does it for this week’s edition of “Monday at the Movies.” We’ll see you here next week; I hear there’s some big movie coming out this Friday... something-vengers. Might review that one next.

Daredevil (2015)

2003’s Daredevil left a bit of a stink on the character – a special shame, given the talented cast and the ample source material on which to draw. Twelve years later, one senses a bit of Marvel challenging themselves once more; having aced it with Guardians of the Galaxy, Marvel attempts once more to make something work which sounds impossible on paper: here, reboot a character whose last incarnation branded him with failure. And, of course, they’ve done it again – the hype is real, and Daredevil is not to be missed.

In thirteen Netflix-exclusive episodes set in a Hell’s Kitchen devastated by the Battle of New York, Matt Murdock (Charlie Cox) is building his law practice with partner Foggy Nelson (Elden Henson) while Wilson Fisk (Vincent D’Onofrio) builds his criminal empire. Their paths begin to intertwine when Nelson & Murdock serve as the defense for Karen Page (Deborah Ann Woll), a woman accused of murder. Meanwhile, Matt Murdock tries to better his city in his nocturnal guise as the vigilante “Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.”

Daredevil isn’t a television show so much as a thirteen-hour operatic drama (that, and your votes, are how I justify reviewing it here) which does well to participate in the Marvel Cinematic Universe without enslaving itself to that larger world. By comparison, ABC’s Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. has always found itself in tension between the world of the films and its own narrative; Agents has never been unwatchable, but one can tell the difference between strong episodes and episodes that are treading water until the show will be affected by the events of an upcoming film. (Case in point, Agents was clearly in a holding pattern for much of its first season until the fall of SHIELD as presented in Captain America: The Winter Soldier, after which the show picked up steam again.)

Daredevil is in no such position, and aside from one or two very brief references the show would succeed just as well as a standalone entity divorced from larger proceedings. Daredevil’s greatest strength is its ability to build from within, to craft a plot that bows to its characters, who are themselves very thoroughly developed and fantastically executed. At opposite ends of the moral spectrum, Cox and D’Onofrio are fabulous performers; Cox’s Matt is pretty much note-perfect from the comics (I say as someone who’s read as many Daredevil comics as I can reach), while D’Onofrio is more “man who would be Kingpin” than the titanic juggernaut of crime in the comics. Behind this incarnation of Fisk, we can see glimpse of the mob boss to be, and D’Onofrio plays a psychologically compelling figure, broken in places but resolute and terrifying in others. One of Marvel’s greatest abilities has always been in the casting department, and these two are welcome additions to the MCU pantheon.

The supporting cast are equally gifted, and again they seem to pair off quite nicely. Foggy Nelson is a tough character to get a bead on, but Henson is an absolute scene-stealer, as is Bob Gunton as Fisk’s associate Leland Owlsley; both are the indisputable comic reliefs of the show, and they’ll leave you begging for spin-off appearance from each. As for the ladies in each powerful man’s life, Woll is a gifted performer and carries a range of emotions at a moment’s notice, while Ayelet Zurer as Fisk’s love Vanessa plays a wonderful approximation of a Lady Macbeth-to-be.

Being a television show and not a more streamlined film, there are so many other wonderful characters to discuss, like Rosario Dawson’s Claire Temple (the future Night Nurse, true believers know) or even Peter McRobbie as the priest in whom Matt confides. The most memorable star of the show, though, is Daredevil’s astonishing and exhausting action sequences. By now, you’ve probably heard tell of the legendary hallway scene of Episode 2, a long-take fight in which no punches are pulled and no quarter is given. The best action sequences should leave the audience with a strong emotional response – either cheers of enthusiasm or sighs of exhaustion. With Daredevil, the intensity often yields the latter; just as the performers are often visibly drained, we too feel that same depletion. The relentless combat, the stellar direction, and the stakes proposed by the narrative make me seriously wonder if these are better than the action scenes in Captain America: The Winter Soldier (though Winter Soldier had, if one may nitpick, truly remarkable sound editing).

The only false note struck by the show is, intriguingly enough, in the very middle episode, the seventh, amid a fantastic appearance by Scott Glenn as Stick, the blind man who trained Matt Murdock. While Glenn is the best possible casting for this important role, and he positively crackles against Cox. There are, however, too many unanswered questions in this episode, a design flaw only made apparent by how tightly self-determined the rest of the episodes are. One must, of course, permit the Marvel Cinematic Universe its interconnectedness, and I’m certain these issues will be addressed in a subsequent Netflix series (Iron Fist, perhaps).

This one moment of absent resolution, however, doesn’t negate the overall success of Marvel’s first foray into bingeable streaming content. It does leave me wanting more in a way that feels more artificial than the way the show demonstrates that more of the same will be a good thing. Daredevil is somewhat unlike everything we’ve seen since 2008’s Iron Man, in terms of its intensity and its grit, but it demonstrates Marvel’s recent genre versatility – Iron Man 3 was an 80s action film, Winter Soldier a 70s espionage drama, and Guardians a space opera. Daredevil is a full-fledged neo-noir crime drama in which the protagonist just happens to dress up in a costume.

Put another way, we have at least four more Netflix shows coming down the pike – AKA Jessica Jones, Luke Cage, Iron Fist, and team-up The Defenders (think The (Television) Avengers). If we’re being honest, I was going to watch them anyway, superhero shill that I am, but Daredevil guarantees that I won’t do so with an ounce of begrudging. Whether you watch them all in one go or one at a time, the episodes that comprise Daredevil are among 2015’s best thirteen hours.

Daredevil is rated TV-MA. There is no nudity, save for a fleeting moment in the first episode (played to emphasize Matt’s blindness, so nothing is seen). It is, however, quite violent, certainly the most violent piece to carry the Marvel name; in addition to being visceral and gory, the series as a whole has a very gritty vibe to it that gives each moment of violence the additional gravitas of brutal realism. The profanity is on the higher threshold of PG-13, with a preponderance of “S-words” (not “swords”).

Monday at the Movies - November 3, 2014

Welcome to another edition of “Monday at the Movies.”  We haven’t reviewed a musical around these parts, so let’s give it a go.

Rent (2005) – Let’s begin by separating the film from the stage play (which I’ve never seen) and take the movie adaptation on its own merits.  I feel about Rent very much the same way I felt about the last musical I reviewed, Baz Luhrmann’s Moulin Rouge – on a technical level, I see that the moving parts work, and there are some fine performers clearly invested in the material, but from an audience perspective both Moulin Rouge and Rent felt very empty.  I’ll qualify this review by quoting my Moulin Rouge review – I don’t think I’m the audience for this film – but as a reviewer that doesn’t let the movie off the hook.  Rent feels empty because it seems to strip away a lot of what makes the characters individually definable (see the Plinkett test) and reduces a lot of their motivations to “I’ve got problems, man, and life is tough.”  A few deleted scenes really draw this out, especially with the character of Mark, who seems hollow in the film proper but has a much fuller characterization when he gets to, for lack of a better term, sing about his feelings.  I already have a tenuous relationship with musicals – I really like exuberantly dumb musicals like High School Musical or tonally thick ones like Sweeney Todd – so I’m certain that Rent isn’t for me.  Maybe if I’d come to it with the stage play in mind:  I get the strong sense that this particular Rent is targeted to those with the stage play near and dear at heart.  For those of us newcomers, however, the effect is much closer to wondering what all the fuss is about.

That does it for this week’s edition of “Monday at the Movies.” We’ll see you here next week for reviews of Big Hero 6 and Interstellar, and this Friday is the Double-Oh-Seventh of the month... The Cinema King has a full dance card, so be sure to subscribe – you won’t want to miss a moment!

Monday at the Movies - December 3, 2012

Welcome to Week Forty-Three of “Monday at the Movies.”  This week, in anticipation of Django Unchained we’re finishing up the last two Quentin Tarantino movies that haven’t been reviewed on the site; as we did with our Christopher Nolan retrospective, links are provided to the reviews of the other films, in order of release.

Reservoir Dogs (1992)

Pulp Fiction (1994)

Jackie Brown (1997) – I’ve long considered this my least favorite Quentin Tarantino movie, in part because it’s the least flashy in his oeuvre.  But as I get older I’m looking at the film differently, and I think it’s actually one of his better films because of its aesthetic restraint.  Adapted from an Elmore Leonard novel (the only entry in Tarantino’s filmography not based on an original screenplay), Jackie Brown stars Pam Grier as the eponymous stewardess who schemes with bail bondsman Max Cherry (Robert Forster) and the ATF to take down kingpin Ordell Robbie (Samuel L. Jackson).  The three leads are all in fine form – Grier is believable as the kick-ass protagonist, Forster plays romantic but subdued, and Jackson is pitch-perfect as the villain – but the highlight here is how well Tarantino makes his homage to the blaxploitation genre without being consumed by it.  Tarantino has had a difficult relationship with homage, with some “loving references” feeling a lot like plagiarism (the burial of The Bride in Kill Bill, Vol. 2, for example), but here he seems tapped into the feeling of a blaxploitation movie (and even, with Grier and Sid Haig, some of the familiar faces) without sacrificing watchability for self-indulgence.  The film is smart and spirited, witty without being too wild.  The smaller parts from the ensemble cast – which includes Robert DeNiro, Bridget Fonda, and Michael Keaton – make this movie feel quite full, but it’s a fullness that gives the film depth and relevance.  Rather than exist just as an homage, Jackie Brown is one of Tarantino’s more accomplished films, perhaps out of place in an otherwise exhaustively exuberant catalogue, but at the same time perhaps the most mature (in sensibility, not in rating) of his films.

Kill Bill, Vol. 1 (2003)

Kill Bill, Vol. 2 (2004)

Death Proof (2007) – Tarantino recently noted that he wants Death Proof to be regarded as his worst film, which prompted me to revisit it.  Originally part of the double-feature experiment Grindhouse with Robert Rodriguez’s Planet Terror, Death Proof stars Kurt Russell as Stuntman Mike, a serial murderer who victimizes two groups of women with his invincible stunt car.  The first group (including Sydney Poitier and Vanessa Ferlito) succumbs to Mike’s car and the objectifying male gaze of the camera; this is Tarantino at his most exploitive, and it seems that the lusty way he films these women is less an homage to the genre of female revenge film and more a personal fetish given celluloid life.  Though Russell is better and more badass in this first half, the problematic treatment of women borders on deplorable.  The second half attempts to redeem these sins, with another group of women (including Rosario Dawson, stuntwoman Zoë Bell as herself, and Tracie Thoms, who’s like a cross between Wanda Sykes and Samuel L. Jackson) taking on the task of revenge.  This group is more fun, in part because we spend more time with them and know them better, but that attention leaves Russell by the wayside, giving the film a very uneven feeling.  Tarantino’s dialogue is punchy, but everyone talks like everyone else.  The result is a film that on the surface is peppy and poppy in the “grindhouse” tradition, but if you look deeper the film is fraught with problems – of representation, of balance, of identity.  I enjoyed the film enthusiastically as a high schooler, but age has somewhat cooled me on this movie; if it ends up being the worst Tarantino film, I can live with that.

Inglourious Basterds (2009)

Be sure to check back later this month for a full review of Django Unchained, but for now that does it for this week’s edition of “Monday at the Movies.”  Between finals week and The Dark Knight Rises on DVD tomorrow, I’m gonna be pretty busy, but next Monday we’ll have a look at a few movies that wrestle with sanity (opportune timing for those of us going crazy for finals).

Unstoppable (2010)

It's no secret that a) I love Denzel Washington, and b) I always feel a little bit guilty about not having time between September and May to update this site regularly. So when I got a chance to catch a preview screening of Tony Scott's new Denzel vehicle (pun intended) Unstoppable, I jumped at the chance.

That's right, kids; we're reviewing this one a day before it hits wide release. You're welcome.

In Unstoppable, Denzel's fifth collaboration with director Tony Scott, Washington plays engineer Frank Barnes, a company man who's feeling the economy's generational burden - a fact further emphasized when he's paired with young conductor Will Colson, who's fighting family issues and the perception that he got the job more on the strength of his family name than his qualifications. When dispatcher Connie Hooper (Rosario Dawson, in a part that could have been played by anyone) reports that there's a fast-paced runaway train carying hazardous materials on their track, Frank and Will have to decide whether to follow orders and detour their train or take on the 70 mph beast behind them.

The trailer for this one had a few people groaning; the dialogue ("a missle the size of the Chrysler building") and the compounded escalation of the peril (toxic chemicals, a train full of children, a horse) led a few skeptics to raise a wary eyebrow. And I'll concede that there were moments in the lead-up to the film's debut where I wasn't sure whether this would be a formulaic race-against-the-clock. But it was silly of me to doubt Denzel Washington and Tony Scott. Denzel brings his characteristic charisma to the screen, and Scott deploys his moving-train cinematography to great effect here.

All this is not to say that Unstoppable is one of the greatest films of 2010 (I'm sure that, come the end of the year, Inception and Toy Story 3 are going to top my list). But it works. And it's a whole heck of a lot of fun. I've said many times before that Denzel, like Johnny Depp, is one of the best living actors; unlike Depp, though, who's often as bizarre as he is compelling, Denzel is always a great deal of fun to watch, exuding vibrant charm and exuberant personality in everything he does - without sacrificing an iota of craftsmanship (see Malcolm X if all you know about Denzel is the Jay Pharoah impression from SNL a few weeks back). It probably says something about the contagious nature of his personality that I'm referring to him by his first name. In fact, I'd hazard a guess that only Denzel could take the word "Me" and turn it into a line that gets the biggest laugh in a packed cinema. So when the screen isn't filled with a train careening on the tracks, Denzel's either getting the audience to crack a smile or tugging at their heartstrings with his earnest recounting of his backstory.

But the moments when the focus of the film isn't on the action are few and far between. It's interesting that Tony Scott, whose recent movies (Domino, Deja Vu) always looked like they were filmed from a moving train, has shifted to making movies about trains (here and in The Taking of Pelham 123). Now, in movies like this, there are only two ways this can end - either they stop the train, or they don't. I won't spoil which ending Scott chooses for Unstoppable, but I will say that the film lures the audience into a sensibility that all this will turn out all right; the catastrophe is precipitated when a portly railyard employee (Kevin Smith standby [and stand-in, as in the underrated Art School Confidential] Ethan Suplee) goofs, a scene played for laughs until we realize that the air brakes aren't connected and the train can't be stopped remotely.

From there, Scott introduces a number of complicating factors that make the threat more credible - and more palpable - than I was ready to give the film credit, based on the trailers. Sure, we know that the schoolkids on a field trip aren't going to collide head-on with the renegade train, but we're not so sure about the automotive stalled on the tracks. In some ways, the latter is far more effective, upping the stakes by suggesting what the train could do (a variation on Hitchcock's bang-v.-anticipation theory). My apologies to the people seated next to me on either side in the theater, because I'm sure I was hooting and hollering throughout the movie; even though I kept telling myself that the movie had to turn out all right - the cavalier comedy of the first reel suggested as much - I found myself holding my breath, gritting my teeth, and then inhaling sharply at each turn.

When the film ends - after two heartstopping climaxes - Scott wisely lets the audience breathe and, rather than end with a last-second one-last-scare moment, decompresses by revisiting the lighter moments of the film: scene-stealing engineer Ned (Lew Temple) takes center stage at a press conference, Denzel gets one last wisecrack (which honestly tipped the scales in favor of my enjoyment of the movie), and we're treated to another shot of Ethan Suplee falling on his ass. At the end of the day, then, Unstoppable isn't just an action movie; it's an action movie that's willing to have fun, both with itself and with its audience.

If you're on the fence about this one, I'd encourage you to climb aboard; you might be pleasantly surprised. Denzel alone is worth the price of admission.

Unstoppable is rated PG-13 "for sequences of action and peril, and some language." Obviously, the train barrelling down the tracks might unsettle some, as will the repeated complicating factors thrown in the path (often literally) of the train. A few F-bombs get tossed around casually, but they're negligible in the big scheme.