Inferno (2016)

Let’s be very clear about one thing: although the Dan Brown “Robert Langdon” series has always tried to be Indiana Jones for the art history crowd, I can’t say that the films have been as first-rate as Raiders of the Lost Ark or as transcendently resplendent as Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. (The books do manage to capture a striking breakneck pace for prose, such that I do have a hard time putting them down, though I now wonder how much of that is due to the fact that each chapter ends on a cliffhanger.) At any rate, I liked The Da Vinci Code and Angels & Demons well enough at the time, playing along with the outlandish plots and high-profile performances, but Inferno is the third and hopefully last in the series, a spiral of utter rubbish that manages to be muddy, dull, and unpalatably preposterous.

Tom Hanks is back as Robert Langdon, the jack-of-all-trades academic whose expertise on Dante Alighieri is brought to bear when a dead futurist (Ben Foster) releases a warning that a plague will be unleashed on the world, bringing about an apocalypse intended to curb the earth’s growing population. Felicity Jones, late of Rogue One, plays Sienna Brooks, Langdon’s physician who becomes embroiled in the hunt for the plague after treating an amnesiac Langdon for an unremembered head injury.

I read Inferno a whole year and several dozen other books ago, so my memory of it is a little fuzzy, but I recall at least modestly enjoying it, even if the ending was utter claptrap. The good news, I suppose, is that the ending has changed for the film version, although a good number of things have also changed, evidently because they’d simply take too long. There are whole subplots excised from the novel, and while I’ll never be the guy who says a movie must match the book verbatim, the effect of these omissions is such that the movie starts to crumble into procedure. Rather than follow the puzzle-box mentality of the previous films, where it seemed clearer why we had to go from Point A to Point B, plotlines don’t materialize so much as arrive like leaden parachutists. There’s a particularly egregious moment – well, two, now that I think of it – where the film “reveals” that something we thought we’d seen was actually something else all along, and although I remember those moments coming off a little more effectively in the novel, the film deposits them with minimal buildup and next-to-no fanfare, as if to say, “Oh, time for the twist. Here you go.”

Part of the reason the film doesn’t feel like it’s following a strain of logic is that it’s not comprised of puzzle pieces weaved from preexisting artwork so much as Dan Brown has come up with his own maze, a path devised by the film’s antagonist to lead to the plague – which is inherently nutty, because if the goal is to release a plague, a plague which would be time-released whether you find it or not, why on earth would you point a colossal neon sign in its direction? Why put a ticking clock on the thing? Moreover, why tell anyone at all? This sort of plot works better when it’s an ancient mystery designed to be read by the initiated, but it’s a bit of a headscratcher why this story exists in the first place, other than to give Tom Hanks something to do for two hours; heaven knows Langdon is a busy enough man, a career symbologist with a newfound expertise in Dante studies alongside a reputation that draws the World Health Organization to enlist his help.

And speaking of the World Health Organization, hold onto your plague masks, because there’s a ludicrous diversion from the novel in that the film posits a foregoing romantic relationship between Langdon and the WHO’s director (Sidse Babett Knudsen, who you might recognize from her stint on Westworld). I’m not miffed that screenwriter David Koepp has expanded the role of this character or even tried to humanize Langdon a little beyond being a human decoder ring. But in a franchise that has seemed to pride itself on outlandish leaps in logic, this one takes the cake because it contributes nothing to the plot and goes literally nowhere, approaching character development but turning tail and thinking better of it.

As I recall, the first two Robert Langdon films had some semblance of suspense, some air of mystery that demanded solving. Inferno, however, ends up fairly boilerplate, with an attempt to reinvent the formula by giving Langdon amnesia and forcing him to piece it together along with us, but the payoffs are increasingly absurd and the twists uninspired. With Hanks at 60 and director Ron Howard joining that galaxy far, far away, it might be better to let Inferno burn out the franchise before a geriatric Langdon is called upon to solve the dispiriting mystery of who stole his oatmeal from the retirement home.

Inferno is rated PG-13 for “sequences of action and violence, disturbing images, some language, thematic elements and brief sensuality.” Directed by Ron Howard. Written by David Koepp. Based on the novel by Dan Brown. Starring Tom Hanks, Felicity Jones, Omar Sy, Irrfan Khan, Sidse Babett Knudsen, and Ben Foster.

Sully (2016)

Clint Eastwood’s directed fourteen films since he turned 70 in 2000, and while he may be better known to audiences as no-nonsense detective “Dirty” Harry Callahan or the grimly determined Man With No Name, he’s cultivating a reputation as a no-nonsense director, as well. Sully is one such exemplar of a tight and effective film with little patience for gaudy thrills or big-budget exploits; instead, the film wisely centers on a confident performance and its director’s admiration for the human dimension of heroism.

Sully is the true story of Chesley “Sully” Sullenberg (played by Tom Hanks), who became an international celebrity after successfully landing U.S. Airways Flight 1549 in the Hudson River in January 2009. The film explores the snap decisions made by the captain and the subsequent investigation following the water landing. From behind a tremendous mustache, Aaron Eckhart co-stars as Sully’s stalwart first officer Jeff Skiles.

At a little more than ninety minutes, Sully is an impressively tight biopic with an effective grasp on the emotions it wants its audience to have. Even though we know the true story and despite the film’s opening moments confirming the safe landing of US 1549, Eastwood manages a compelling amount of tension in the flashback sequences of the events in the cockpit. In a way, Sully reminds me of the more successful parts of Flight, in which Denzel Washington found himself the captain of a similarly troubled flight.

Of course, Flight succeeded on the shoulders of Denzel’s performance, and Sully lives up to the legend in Tom Hanks’s restrained, subtle turn as Sully. Hanks puts his everyman charm to good use in Sully, allowing us to see more easily the toll that such immediate celebrity takes on an average, good-natured human being. Hanks doesn’t have to tell us he’s shaken or weary or confident in his command decisions; he can do it all with a frown or a turn of his head or the certainty in his voice.

But Sully doesn’t verge as hagiographic as we might expect, reaffirming the decisions made by the captain but without overblowing his legend. Instead, Eastwood spends a surprising amount of time on the heroics of those around Sully – Skiles, the flight deck crew, the police, fire, and ferry workers who got the passengers out of the water. “It only took 24 minutes,” the film reminds us, for New York’s finest to rally together. And for a film that plays the numbers game, so often reminding us that Sully’s entire flight lasted 208 seconds, Eastwood is equally (if not more) invested in the way that US 1549 was an occasion for wider heroism.

As much of a piece with Flight as it is with Eastwood’s last, American Sniper, Sully is a portrait of Eastwood’s vision of heroism – patriotic, part of a community, willing and able to make hard decisions and to live with them. It’s a concise portrait from two master craftsmen, both affective and effective, and it shows that whatever directorial touch he’s got, Eastwood hasn’t lost it.

Sully is rated PG-13 for “some peril and brief strong language.” Directed by Clint Eastwood. Written by Todd Komarinicki. Based on the book Highest Duty by Chesley Sullenberger and Jeffrey Zaslow. Starring Tom Hanks, Aaron Eckhart, and Laura Linney.

Monday at the Movies - April 23, 2012

Welcome to Week Seventeen of “Monday at the Movies.” We take a break from The Godfather franchise, and – in honor of the impending arrival of Arrested Development, Season 4 – we join director Ron Howard for a controversial book adaptation.

The Da Vinci Code (2006) – I was a bit of a Holy Grail nut in high school, mostly because of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade marathons. I was a fan of Dan Brown’s novel, but I took it with a grain of salt because I never believed in the idea of the grail as a Christological bloodline (the cup is a more compelling and textually supported artifact). With Ron Howard directing the film adaptation, I enjoyed it immensely the first time around, appreciating the combination of Indiana Jones meets National Treasure. But on this most recent rewatch I found myself less enamored with the movie. Here we follow Tom Hanks as Robert Langdon in his move to solve the murder of a Louvre curator, which quickly embroils him in a centuries-old struggle between secret societies over the mystery of the Holy Grail; with Ian McKellen at his side and Alfred Molina against him, it’s a first-rate cast. McKellen in particular was a treat for me since I forgot he was in it, but he imbues Sir Leigh Teabing with enough eccentricity to make the character more than just a flat exposition machine. Unfortunately, the movie relies a lot on extreme leaps of logic that seem to work better in prose; I wasn’t convinced that Hanks was piecing together so much of the puzzle in his head, where the Robert Langdon in my head would have been able. My other major critique of this film is that Ron Howard isn’t an action director, as many of the “intense” action sequences fall flat; he is, however, an expert with jump scenes, as I found myself startled at several moments. But as I recall, many of these grievances are rectified by 2009’s Angels and Demons.

With one Robert Langdon feature down, stay tuned for more reviews of this franchise. But for now, that does it for this week’s edition of “Monday at the Movies.” We’ll see you here next week!

Toy Story 3 (2010)

I'm starting to feel a little bit old, particularly because I can remember vividly standing in line for Toy Story 2 with bated breath, dying to see my favorite toys (well, except for my Batman action figures) back in town.

That was eleven years ago. Here I am, all grown up - like Andy - in a transitional state of my life, with a third installment of the Toy Story franchise in theaters. I admit to some trepidation preceding my experience with the theatrical run, in part due to the historically low track record for threequels - which I feared might put a damper on what might otherwise have been a successful series of films from the folks over at Pixar.

Oh, ye of little faith. Toy Story 3 is everything a moviegoer - and a franchise fan - could want: a delightful and fulfilling follow-up, a fresh and fun film, and escapism at its effervescent peak.

The toys are indeed back in town, but not for long; owner Andy's off to college, and the fate of the toys is in flux. Sheriff Woody (voice of Tom Hanks) is the odds-on favorite to accompany Andy as he moves out, leaving Buzz Lightyear (Tim Allen) and the others - including cowgirl Jessie (Joan Cusack) and trusty steed Bullseye, Mr. & Mrs. Potato Head (Don Rickles and Estelle Harris, respectively), piggy bank Hamm (John Ratzenberger), and dinosaur Rex (Wallace Shawn) - bound for the attic. A twist of fate, however, brings the toys first to the curb on garbage day and inevitably to be donated to Sunnyside Daycare. Though Sunnyside - and its feudal lord Lotso Huggin Bear (Ned Beatty) - welcome the toys with open arms, it seems all that glitters is indeed not gold, and perhaps there is no worse fate than being played with.

I've extensively praised the voice cast for both the first and second films, so suffice it to say that no one sleeps through their performance. Hanks is pitch-perfect overconfident as always, and Allen is exuberantly boisterous as ever. Rickles, of course, can do no wrong in my book, and I particularly loved the "Get a haircut" shoutout to his standup comedy routine. What's especially worthy of note in this one is the crop of new additions to the voice cast. Beatty is a knockout as Lotso, capturing the multifaceted nature of the character and even making us believe that he smells like strawberries. A new group of toys - belonging to a little girl named Bonnie, a near clone of Boo from Monsters, Inc. - is introduced here, and they're among the cuter ones of the bunch; lederhosen-garbed Mr. Pricklepants (Timothy Dalton), triceratops Trixie (Kristen Schaal, late of Flight of the Conchords), and unicorn Buttercup (Jeff Garlin) are all fun and interesting characters worthy of their own spinquel (a word I think I coined, meaning a spin-off/sequel), though I could do without the one-dimensional (pun intended) Dolly (Bonnie Hunt). But my favorite new character here is Michael Keaton as Ken, Barbie's on/off boyfriend who embodies the "It is better to look good than to feel [or even be] good." Keaton, with his signature comedic timing, brings Ken entirely to life here, capturing all the narcissism and simplicity of what is essentially an accessory to a girl's toy (though he objects to all of the above).

Director Lee Unkrich takes the helm from John Lasseter for the third outing, though the transition is seamless. The screenplay is first-rate, opening new ground on a series I had assumed was closed. Where the first and the second films shared plot points, the third one stands on its own fairly well, opening itself to a new generation while keeping the diehard fans (the "Andyites," as Pixar refers to the audience who grew up with Andy) satisfied and smiling. I was particularly pleased with how generic the film felt, in the most positive sense of the word; nothing seemed forced, but rather the daycare plotline felt like the next logical step in the narrative trajectory of the franchise (in a way that the rejected "Buzz gets recalled" plotline did not). The film has plenty of surprises, even for a seasoned filmgoer; I had a similar experience with Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, where characters in peril still put me on the edge of my seat even though I know the impending doom is an artificial threat. So kudos to Unkrich's team for making the certain destruction facing our characters actually seem threatening and not formulaic.

Kudos also for a great visual look to the film. With an attention to detail on minute features like Jessie's yarn hair and the mesh tutu worn by Bonnie, the effects are polished (representing Pixar at the top of their technical game), and the stylized look of the film has a sharp glow to it that is comforting on an unconscious level and attractive on a conscious one. The characters all have intricate designs that speak to their personalities, particularly with the new faces; I'm struck by the implicit irony in a lot of these characterizations, as with the dour-faced clown Chuckles and the lumbering Vader-esque Big Baby (who is perennially reliable for those uncomfortable "creeeeeeepy" laughs).

On one level, I feel silly writing about the technical merits and narrative accomplishments of the film; part of me wants to shout, "It's a kids' movie! Stop looking for opportunites to brandish some literary analysis!" But on another level, I'm conscious of the fact that this is a Pixar movie, made by people who absolutely love their job and put as much of their passion into the finished product as possible so that an audience can derive the greatest quantity of enjoyment from it. To overlook the minutiae bubbling beneath the surface, to decline the chance to open the veritable toy chest that is this film would be to do a disservice to the creators of the film. But it's also easy to lose sight of the forest for the trees. I can get caught up, for example, in the myriad Star Wars references (there's a particularly pointed reference to the climax of Return of the Jedi, though not as direct as Toy Story 2's shout-out to The Empire Strikes Back) or in the quiet message delivered by Sid's cameo as a garbageman. But by doing that, though, I might forget that this is a movie that is first and foremost meant to be enjoyed.

To borrow a page from Ken's book, then, Toy Story 3 is simply "cool and groovy."
Aww, look - Toy Story 3 is rated G, but without any qualifying statements like "mild peril."

Toy Story 2 (1999)

Cinema King to Star Command - come in, Star Command. I've uncovered evidence of a sequel being better than its antecedent, something I haven't said since The Dark Knight (okay, High School Musical 3 can count).

On my way to reviewing all the Pixar films, a head cold and a lack of enthusiasm led me to skip over A Bug's Life (coming soon, I promise) and hop right on over to Toy Story 2, which I fondly remembered as a fantastic film but hadn't seen since its theatrical release. Fortunately, the film is still as shiny as Buzz Lightyear's laser beam and genuinely touching, to boot.

Where the first film dealt with the basic rules of the Toy Story world (toys animating when their owners aren't looking) and Buzz Lightyear's identity crisis, the second film puts the dramatic onus on Sheriff Woody (Tom Hanks), who finds out he's a rare collectible toy with an exhibit in Tokyo just waiting for his presence. Buzz (Tim Allen, delightfully bombastic as ever) leads the rest of the toys on a rescue mission to save Woody from the thieving clutches of collector Al (a wonderfully skeevy Wayne "Newman" Knight) before it's too late.

The script here is positively brilliant, lifting visual cues and plot points from the first Toy Story and turning them on their respective heads. If Buzz did something in Toy Story, Woody does it in Toy Story 2. Now if that sounds like lazy writing, it very well could have been were it not for the clever and fun way in which the modestly familiar plot is delivered. In addition to revisiting territory covered in Toy Story, Toy Story 2 adds a great deal to the franchise's mythology, including a supporting cast for Woody - featuring Joan Cusack as yodeling cowgirl Jessie and an adorably Harpo Marxist trusty steed named Bullseye - as well as the introduction of the Evil Emperor Zurg, around whom are centered some of my favorite scenes of the film. (The film's opener, pittting Buzz against Zurg in the latter's stronghold, is spectacular but takes a backseat to Zurg's superb revelation: "No, Buzz, I am your father!")

With all of the same voice cast returning from the first film, there's little to cover that hasn't already been said in my previous review. Hanks and Allen are still fine choices (Allen still coming out on top, especially when drawing subtle distinctions between Buzz and Utility Belt Buzz), and the supporting cast - especially Don Rickles as Mr. Potato Head and Wallace Shawn as Rex - shines. I've praised Knight, and Cusack's all right (though Jessie tugs at every heartstring when Sarah McLachlan sings "When Somebody Loved Me," a moving piece about being forgotten by someone who loved you), but Kelsey Grammer and his gravitas-laden voice is solid as Stinky Pete the Prospector. And let's not forget a charming cameo by Robert Goulet, who sings "You've Got a Friend in Me."

But what makes the film positively glitter is the fact that the filmmakers love making movies - and it shows. Between loving allusions (Star Wars sounds pepper the effects library) and downright good filmmaking, the whole movie carries with it an atmosphere of self-enjoyment and nostalgic appreciation for "the good ole days." That, I suppose, is what makes the film most abundantly rewatchable - if you want to remember the good ole days, the best way to do that is with a film that does exactly that.

Ride like the wind, Bullseye! On to Toy Story 3 with no reservations!


Toy Story 2 is still rated G.

Toy Story (1995)

The great Pixar review experiment begins with a look back at 1995's Toy Story, which I'm glad to say held up a little better than Raiders of the Lost Ark did last season. That's not to comparatively evaluate the films, but Toy Story - seen by an older me - held more surprises and unremembered gems than the oft-viewed Indiana Jones picture did.


The plotline of toy rivalry competing for the affections of owner Andy is the stuff of the animated Hollywood bible by this point, but for those of you just tuning in: Sheriff Woody (Tom Hanks) is Andy's favorite toy... until birthday gift Buzz Lightyear of Star Command (Tim Allen) upsets the delicate balance in the playroom. When a plan to recoup Andy's affections goes awry, Woodyd finds himself and Buzz fighting for their toy lives - literally, if vicious neighbor Sid has anything to say about it.


The visuals aren't as polished as later Pixar ventures (see WALL-E if you want photorealism), but the fanciful nature of the animation helps give Toy Story that "toys come alive" feel that warms our hearts. What does an even better job at bringing the film to life is a stellar voice cast that perfectly matches each character's appearance and personality. American favorite Tom Hanks is a knockout as Woody, capturing all of the sheriff's emotions (running the gamut from beloved leader to childhood favorite to dawning jealousy) and good-ole-boy charm without missing a beat. And, though I've become a huge Don Rickles fan (he voices Mr. Potato Head) in the intervening years since '95, the real star in the voice cast is Tim Allen, who comfortably dons Buzz Lightyear like a spacesuit and takes risks by flirting with an overly bombastic performance in order to fully capture the mildly delusional toy's bravado.


Both Billy Crystal (turning down the part of Buzz, a move he'd later regret and atone for by voicing Mike in Monsters, Inc.) and Mattel (who withheld Barbie from the film, expecting a flop) didn't think Pixar could dream the impossible dream of a computer-animated film, instead believing the digital wunderkinds to be tilting at windmills. But what makes the film a first-rate success isn't just the pretty pictures and soothing sounds (including a downright touching soundtrack from Randy Newman). It's the story, a solid piece of writing that speaks to every generation who beholds it (well, except for Andy Rooney, I'd bet). There's enough in here for kids and adults to appreciate, and they'd better appreciate it because Toy Story is better crafted than a lot of other pictures out there today. The script is expansive, creating a new world with new rules (especially appertaining to when toys can and cannot animate themselves) in a brilliantly digestible manner. And it's touching, too, tugging at those heartstrings right before reawakening the kid you adults thought you'd put away with the rest of the bricabrac in your toybox.


Food for thought: where's Andy's father?

Toy Story, not surprisingly, is rated G, though a few younger viewers might be perturbed by discussion of toy homicide, particularly within Sid's yard. Sid is one of the creepiest characters ever animated, and his army of Frankensteinian toys may give the faint at heart the willies.

Trailer Park: Toy Story 3 (2010)

You know it's a good trailer when you get chills running up your arm even though there's barely anything substantive on the screen.

Hi, folks. The trailer we're looking at today is from a sequel that everyone's been waiting around for: Toy Story 3. It's easy to take for granted the significance of the Toy Story franchise and the Pixar geniuses behind it, but it's also saying something extremely important to note that this trailer feels like a breath of fresh air amid trailers for remakes and bad horror pictures. And in less than two minutes, it's even more noteworthy that nothing happens in this trailer.

That's the genius of this trailer. All we have to do is hear the bouncing melody of Randy Newman's new classic "You've Got A Friend in Me" and see the characters file past the screen with their voices ringing nostalgia in our ears (good to hear that most of the cast is back!), and most of us have already preordered our tickets for Toy Story 3. The folks at Pixar have done it again.

Though there's no plot detail here, what I've managed to unearth is that the film seems to be about Andy growing up and leaving Woody and Buzz behind. With all the cast back in tow, Michael Keaton joins on as Ken (yes, that Ken), and the film is making its big-screen debut in Disney Digital 3-D (trust me, that's worth the extra price of admission) on June 18, 2010.

[In preparation, stay tuned for a tour de review through the Pixar catalogue. Their two most recent ventures, WALL-E and Up, are already posted, so we'll be starting at the beginning, with 1995's Toy Story.]