All posts by maddwolf

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Running Man

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Mission: Impossible – The Final Reckoning

by George Wolf

Remember that eye-popping train stunt in Dead Reckoning? How is this latest Mission: Impossible chapter possibly going to up that ante? Well, it takes two of the film’s nearly three hours to get there, but once Tom Cruise and director/co-writer Christopher McQuarrie break out the dual bi-planes, hang on for some serious thrills.

And The Final Reckoning delivers plenty of them, more than enough to cruise past (pun intended) some clunky moments for a crowd-pleasing, satisfying capper to an epic franchise.

We pick up where they left us two years ago, with Ethan Hunt (Cruise) and his team of Luther (Ving Rhames), Benji (Simon Pegg), and Grace (Hayley Atwell) on the trail of villain Gabriel (Esai Morales) and the secrets of disarming the doomsday AI program known as “The Entity.”

In just 72 hours, The Entity’s efforts to frighten and divide the population will enable it to gain control over every nuclear arsenal in the world, and deploy each one. Hunt’s mission? Find The Entity’s original source code, and pair it with Luther’s poison pill algorithm that will distort the AI’s reality enough to bring it down.

That’s a mighty big ask in three days, one takes the MI team across the globe, under the sea and in the air for more IMAX-worthy stunts and camerawork. And Cruise – one of cinema’s great movie stars – sells every minute of it with his ageless physicality and effortless charisma.

And though the the film’s themes are mighty relevant, McQuarrie can lean too much on exposition dialog and some forced visual reminders. But he also knows the last three decades have earned some capital that the film spends quite well, bringing in plot points and characters from previous installments to play important parts of the plan. Sure, The Final Reckoning gets a bit sentimental toward the final shot, but after all this time that feels right.

It also feels like a fitting start to summer movie season, a fitting end to a solid franchise, and a fine mission accomplished.

Outtakes

Stab Me With a Spoon

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Fear Street: Prom Queen

by George Wolf

If you’ve been waiting for Netflix to bring their bloody Fear Street fun to the 1980s, Prom Queen is here to gag you with a spoon (or stab you with a hatchet). But after some satisfying time traveling to the 90s, the 70s, and 1666, part four of the series proves the devil is in the details.

Really, one big detail.

After adapting the original trilogy of R.L. Stine’s Fear Street books, writer/director Leigh Janiak gets only an executive producer credit here, and her absence stands out like a new zit on the night of the big dance.

It’s 1988 in the cursed town of Shadyside, and outcast Lori Granger (India Fowler) tells us she is running for Prom Queen. Seems the town is still whispering about what Lori’s Mom did to her Dad years ago, and Lori wants to prove her worth. Standing in the way? Only Queen Bee Tiffany (Fina Strazza) and her “Wolfpack.”

That, plus the masked, red poncho-wearing marauder who starts picking off the Prom Queen candidates one by one.

Director and co-writer Matt Palmer provides the requisite kills, but can never capture the fun that has made Fear Street such a blast to visit. To start with, the time stamp is off. Where’s the big hair, the slang and the fashions from the late 80s? The production has also switched music supervisors, leaving us with needle drops that are a few years off the mark.

The homages to classic horror, Heathers and Mean Girls seem to be here more as an expected requirement than an understood assignment. Plus, the killer’s identity is not much of a surprise while solid performers such as Katherine Waterston and Lily Taylor are wasted with shallow, throwaway roles.

Is there an After Prom? Maybe that’s where the fun is.

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Black & Blue Hawaii

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Lilo & Stitch

by Hope Madden

As a general rule, I’m no fan of Disney’s live action remakes. Loved Jon Favreau’s 2016 reimagining of The Jungle Book, but not a single reboot since has lived up to the impressive fun of that one, and most just feel like a soulless cash grab.

Can Lilo & Stitch, an update of Dean DeBlois and Chris Sanders surprise 2002 cultural treasure, meet that high bar?

No, but it comes a lot closer than most.

Sanders wrote and directed 2024’s beautiful emotional gut-punch The Wild Robot, and the pair is responsible for 2010’s equally brilliant How to Train Your Dragon. Director Dean Fleischer Camp’s update, based on an adapted screenplay by Chris Kekanoikalani Bright and Mike Van Waes, remains true to the original’s themes of outsiders longing for connection.

Also, the actual Hawaii is one of the few locations as eye-popping as any animated world. The new Lilo & Stitch is also blessed with a lead who surpasses her animated predecessor in wily spunk and pinchable cheeks. Maia Kealoha’s Lilo, never cloying or false, allows the film the sense of childlike chaos that helps it transcend the artificiality of the story.

The tale itself—about a cute, fuzzy, dangerous, alien scientific experiment crash landed in an undeveloped spot of Hawaii, chased by its creator as well as American intelligence, who’s taken in as a rescue dog by a lonely orphan—remains mainly true to the original.

Live action Stitch is at least as much fun as animated Stitch, although the moments of physical connection—hugs, pets, kisses on the nose–look off. But the joy between Lilo and Stitch is as vibrantly real as ever.

The balance of the cast—Sydney Agudong as Lilo’s frazzled older sister Nani, Zach Galifianakis as bumbling evil genius Jumba, Billy Magnussen as Earth fanboy Pleakley, among others—fully commit to the bit. They make the fun spots funnier and the emotional beats heart-tuggier.

The biggest let down is the updated script, which can’t match the original in terms of the delightfully, delicately human writing. But the contrast between the alien and natural world makes this a natural fit for the leap to live action, and the charming lawlessness of the story is as much fun today as it was in 2002.

Outtakes

Get Your Drink On

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Fountain of Youth

by George Wolf

Knock, knock.

Who’s there?

Bab’s uvula.

Bab’s uvula who?

I don’t know, Babs, but I do know this: if you’re going to decipher the map to the fountain of youth, you’ve got to raise the wreck of the Lusitania and grab the long-lost Rembrandt painting that’s still in the ship’s safe.

So they do that, just like it was a random Tuesday, which clues you in to how ridiculous Apple TV’s Fountain of Youth can get. But it is pretty fun ridiculousness, at least for a while.

Years ago, Luke Purdue (John Krasinski) and his sister Charlotte (Natalie Portman) went on many adventures with their archeologist Dad. But now Charlotte is a divorced Mom working as an art curator who – according to her brother – could use a bit of excitement.

And Luke has just the thing. Billionaire Owen Carver (Domhnall Gleeson) has hired Luke to locate the Fountain of Youth. Owen is dying of liver cancer, and since he can afford health care, he’s financing the expedition in hopes of finding a cure and drinking from it.

So they’re off to raise wrecks and piece together clues, with Luke cracking wise, Charlotte struggling to be the voice of reason, and the whole team trying to stay one step ahead of the super sexy Esme (Eiza González) and her group committed to protecting the legendary Fountain.

Yes, James Vanderbilt’s script is lousy with Indiana Jones, National Treasure and Da Vinci Code inspirations – along with the explanatory dialog that seems required of streaming releases. But, director Guy Ritchie’s snappy direction and the chemistry of this veteran cast break down your impulse to write the whole thing off. There’s action, derring-do, mystery solving, and enough archeological super-heroics to make you wonder if this was some discarded idea for an Indy sequel.

And as you’re wondering how they’re going to get out of the adventure corner they’ve painted themselves into, along comes act three to deliver a pretty shameless Raiders of the Lost Ark imitation. I know, that was decades ago, but come on.

Stanley Tucci’s late cameo cements the intention to continue these adventures with future films, which could be promising. Krasinski makes a likable hero, his flirting with González gives off frisky sparks and Portman classes up the script’s attempts to just make her the wet blanket.

Keep the action and the will-they-or-won’t-they sparring between Luke and Esme, beef up Charlotte’s character and for Lord’s sake stop raiding the crypts of other classic adventure films.

Then you might just have something, Babs.

Outtakes

That’s His Name, Don’t Wear it Out

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Pee-wee as Himself

by Hope Madden

If there’s one thing Matt Wolf’s 2-part documentary Pee-wee as Himself does, it reminds you what a cultural phenomenon Pee-wee Herman was in the 80s. Movies to TV to MTV to toys to talk shows, he was everywhere and he was beloved by children, college kids, and adults alike.

Who would have guessed that this goofy, bow-tied man-child could steal so many hearts? Or how decidedly and abruptly it could all have ended?

The filmmaker walks an interesting line. The Pee-wee story seems custom-made for a rags-to-riches-to-rags doc, but that’s clearly not what either Wolf or Paul Reubens—the man behind the bowtie—wants.

Unbeknownst to Wolf, during the filming of the documentary, Reubens was in the midst of the 6-year battle with cancer he would lose on July 30, 2023. Knowing now what he did not know then, Wolf lingers over weighty turns of phrase.

Charmingly acerbic but often candid, Reubens is openly reluctant to hand over control of his image after so many years of calculating every detail of his public life. Part of what makes the film so electric is how early and often the two butt heads over which of them ought to be in control of the documentary. This conflict itself paints a portrait of the artist more authentic than any amount of historical data ever could.

Wolf pulls from 40 hours’ worth of interviews with Reubens, who is playful, funny, and occasionally confrontational and annoyed—mainly with Wolf. The filmmaker flanks those conversation snippets with family photos and video from the actor’s massive collection.

The utterly delightful Episode 1 introduces a Paul Reubens unknown even to his most ardent fans (of which I am most certainly one). We’re privy to the foundational yearnings and explorations, choices and happenstances that led the eccentric and creatively gifted young Reubens toward abandoning himself entirely to his adorably oddball alter ego.

These clues to the early budding of the genius are as fascinating as clips from his work on The Gong Show and with The Groundlings are joyous. And for those who’ve loved Pee-wee since childhood, footage from his HBO special, early Letterman appearances, and of course, Pee-wee’s Big Adventure thrill to the point of tears.

Episode 2 could be called Post Adventure. P.W.  Herman was at the top of the world and still climbing. One blockbuster film under his white belt, Pee-wee was about to conquer, of all things, children’s television. Wolf reminds his audience—those who may not know and those who may have forgotten—of the show’s subversive genius.

The inevitable tragic downfall haunts the second film from its opening shot, but neither the filmmaker nor Reubens play the victim card. Whether recounting the collateral damage of his fame (partnerships fractured and friends lost), his career missteps (Big Top Pee-wee), or the immediate and deafening public reaction to his 1991 arrest, both Wolf and Reubens are clear eyed.

You may not be as the second film comes to its close. Wolf lets Reubens have the last word, maybe because he had no choice at all, but again, it’s that conflict itself that best defines the consummate performance artist. Paul Reubens decided who got to know what.

Pee-wee as Himself is revelatory, nostalgic, glorious viewing for Pee-wee fans. That’s me. Maybe that’s not you. Maybe you think I’m a big dummy for loving Pee-wee like I do.

I know you are, but what am I?

Shudder Premiere

Daddy’s Little Girl

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The Surrender

by Hope Madden

At one point in writer/director Julia Max’s feature debut The Surrender, Barbara (the always reliable Kate Burton) tells her daughter, Megan (Colby Minifie), that their grief over the death of the family patriarch is not the same. After 40 years together, Barbara says, “I don’t know who I am without him.”

That’s really the heart of the horror film that sees a bereaved mother and daughter transgress the laws of nature to bring their beloved husband/father back from the dead.

Max uses horror tropes to play nimbly with the dishonesty of memory and the ugliness of reality. What The Surrender unveils is that mother and daughter do not know who they are as a family without Robert (Vaughn Armstrong); they don’t recognize the other without the third wheel for balance.

As a character study and a glimpse into family politics, particularly during the tailspin of grief, The Surrender is beautifully, authentically written. Every inexplicable grace Barbara has granted Stephen during their decades is somehow unavailable to her daughter, who, in turn, forgives and forgets conveniently when it comes to her father. But Megan’s less forgiving of her mom.

And so, the two grasp desperately to regain balance and relieve their panic and grief, which is where the horror comes in. Max returns to the exquisitely horrific image that opens the film once Megan and Barbara, aided by “the man” (Neil Sandilands, compellingly understated), go in search of Stephen.

Max’s image of the other realm is as imaginative as it is stark. There’s a bleak beauty to it all that recalls Liam Gavin’s genre masterpiece, A Dark Song. The Surrender never reaches those heights, but Max knows how to ground the supernatural in relatable reality and wonders which is worse.

Fright Club

Fright Club: Punk Rock Horror

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There is a chaotic energy, a violence to punk rock that makes it a perfect score to horror. Like horror, punk frightens. It upsets the status quo, that’s its whole purpose. It’s inspired a lot of filmmakers and a lot of movies: Uncle Peckerhead, Class of 1984, Driller Killer and more. But here are our own personal favorite punk rock horror movies.

5 Repo Man (1984)

Is it horror? Maybe, maybe not. Is it punk?

You’re goddamn right!

Here’s who you’ll hear in Repo Man: Iggy Pop, Suicidal Tendencies, Flack Flag, Fear, The Plugz, Circle Jerks – probably more that I’ve forgotten. Three punks wander the streets doing crimes. And the whole movie is basically a love letter to people who repossess cars. It’s anarchy!

Writer/director Alex Cox brought a decidedly anarchic vibe to the project, which served him well in later films Sid & Nancy (masterpiece!) and Straight to HellI. The guy’s got his bona fides.

Plus Harry Dean Stanton. And a lot of people explode, leaving behind only their bloody shoes, so that’s horror, right?

4 Freaky Tales (2024)

Eric “Sleepy” Floyd played thirteen years in the NBA, making the All Star team in 1987 as a member of the Golden State Warriors. Freaky Tales makes him the heroic centerpiece of a wild anthology that loves the late 80s, Oakland, and Nazis dying some horrible deaths.

Let’s party!

Ryan Fleck may be an Oakland native, but his films with partner Anna Boden haven’t primed us for this campy, Grindhouse detour. Freaky Tales feels like a return to a low budget indie mindset, where ambitious and energetic newcomers want to showcase their favorite movies, music, and neighborhoods while they splatter blood and blow shit up.

3 Return of the Living Dead

Do you want to party? Because guess what time it is!

Dan O’Bannon, writer behind Alien and Total Recall, co-wrote and directed the film that introduced into the genre the abiding zombie trait of brain eating, and is the first film in which zombies groan “braaaaiiiinnnnssss.”

Plus, the great Linnea Quigley Leg Warmer Dance Scene, a fun 80s punk rock soundtrack, Clu Gulagar and a lot of campy fun – all of this combined to create one of the more memorable and weirdly important zombie comedies.

2 The Ranger (2018)

The ordered, quiet, vintage world of Smokey the Bear meets the chaos and volume of punk rock in Jenn Wexler’s feature debut, The Ranger.

Chloë Levine and her buddies/band are hiding out from the law. She takes them to the wooded cabin where she spent her childhood, which may not have been as idyllic as she’s letting on.

Jeremy Holm is a stitch as the zealous park ranger here to ensure rules are followed and punks clean up their act. The culture clash is a ton of fun, as is the 80s slasher vibe. This movie’s a blast.

1 Green Room (2015)

Young punk band the Ain’t Rights is in desperate need of a paying gig, even if it is at a rough private club for the “boots and braces” crowd (i.e. white power skinheads). Bass guitarist Pat (Anton Yelchin) eschews social media promotion for the “time and aggression” of live shows, and when he accidentally witnesses a murder in the club’s makeshift green room, Pat and his band find plenty of both.

As he did with Blue Ruin, Saulnier plunges unprepared characters into a world of casual savagery, finding out just what they have to offer in a nasty backwoods standoff.  It’s a path worn by Straw Dogs, Deliverance, and plenty more, but Saulnier again shows a knack for establishing his own thoughtful thumbprint. 

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This Is the End

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Final Destination: Bloodlines

by Hope Madden

I’ll give you three reasons Final Destination: Bloodlines is the best since James Wong’s clever 2000 original, if not the best in the whole franchise.

Number one, gone is the nihilistic tone that had us all hating characters and waiting glibly for them to die. Instead, directors Zach Lipovsky and Adam B. Stein invest in character development. So, when Stefani (Kaitlyn Santa Juana) realizes her whole family is doomed, you find yourself emotionally attached to each of the damned.

The directors owe a debt to Santa Juana and the whole ensemble—little brother Charlie (Teo Briones), cousin Bobby (Owen Patrick Joyner), dear Uncle Howard (Alex Zahara) and especially, against all odds, cousin Erik (cast stand out Richard Harmon). The actors share a relatable familial bond that helps the film draw you in. And the presence of genre beloved Tony Todd in his final role seals the emotional deal.

An even larger debt is owed to an impressive writing team: Guy Busick (Ready or Not, Scream), Lori Evans Taylor, and Jon Watts (Spider-Man: Homecoming, Clown). We’ll give them Reason Number 2: a great script, full of pathos, tension, and the darkest humor. I laughed out loud often. Was it inappropriate? Probably, but it was no less enjoyable.

Reason Number Three, for this series, is the big one.  The Rube Goldberg of Death franchise boasts many clever, nasty kills and the sixth episode does not let us down. Smart, nutty and goretastic with some of the most impressive comic-beat editing of the year, the bloody mayhem in this film is giddy with its power.

The film offers affectionate nods to some of the franchise’s most memorable moments, but fans of the series would be pleased even without them. Rather than a photocopy of previous installments—one premonition saving a gaggle of good looking youngsters, only for Death to stalk them one by one in the order that they would have died without intervention—Bloodlines delivers as fresh an idea within the bounds of the mythology as you could ask for.

Plus we all get to spend a few more minutes with Tony Todd.

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Voice of Experience

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Hurry Up Tomorrow

by George Wolf

After the chaotic mess that was The Idol, it would have been easy for Abel Tesfaye (aka The Weeknd) to craft Hurry Up Tomorrow as a safely commercial extension of his new album.

To his credit, he doesn’t, and having Trey Edward Shults as his director and co-writer is the first sign that Tresfaye is after something more challenging. He gets that something, though it often frustrates more than it satisfies.

Tesfaye plays himself as a troubled superstar on tour. The crowds are huge and adoring, but a phone message (voiced by Riley Keough) accuses Abel of being a horrible, self-absorbed person, and his personal demons are taking such a toll on his voice that a doctor prescribes immediate rest. Abel’s manager Lee (Barry Keoghan) shrugs it off, assuring the star he is “invincible.”

A backstage meeting with the mysterious Anima (Jenna Ortega) leads to a day of fun and some lifted spirits, but it soon becomes obvious her very dangerous past may repeat itself in Abel’s very immediate future.

Early on, the skilled Shults (Krisha, It Comes at Night, Waves) brings some Gaspar Noé immersion vibes, rolling out cascades of pulsing music and flashing lights, extended takes and minimal dialog. But as this finally gives way to a thriller narrative that has echoes of Misery, the self-awareness of Keough’s accusations can’t save the film from the weight of self indulgence.

Ortega and Keoghan bring their usual sparks, enough to highlight Tresfaye’s limited acting range – though he is in fine voice. But despite the film’s overall ambition, the themes here are too old and familiar. And though Hurry Up Tomorrow can be visually interesting, the story it tells is never compelling, and only The Weeknd superfans should be hurrying out to see it.

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Flight of Fun

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Fight or Flight

by Brandon Thomas

Some might say we’re amidst a Josh Hartnett renaissance (Hartaissance?). 2023’s Oppenheimer saw the former teen heartthrob nearly steal the show in a more adult and subdued performance than we’re used to seeing from the actor. Last summer’s Trap was a complete 180 from the Oscar-winning drama, where Hartnett was allowed to lean into pure camp, and while the movie itself is pretty abysmal, Hartnett was having the time of his life. Fight or Flight – for better or worse – falls somewhere in the middle of the Hartaissance. 

Disgraced government operative Lucas Reyes (Hartnett) has spent the last few years drinking his way through Southeast Asia after being blacklisted when a mission went bad. While nursing one of his daily hangovers, Lucas is contacted by his former boss and lover (Katee Sackhoff, The Mandalorian) to help capture an elusive criminal named The Ghost. The only problem is that he has to capture the Ghost on a trans-Pacific flight that is also full of other assassins. 

You don’t go into Fight or Flight expecting originality. The film is a whole lot of Bullet Train, with a dash of John Wick (which it shares producers). It’s hard to fault director James Madigan and writers Brooks McLaren and D.J. Cotrona for this approach. Hard-hitting action with an ironic sense of humor is a formula that’s popular with audiences at the moment. The film irons out enough of a personality of its own, even if that’s mostly thanks to Hartnett.

Speaking of Hartnett, he’s once again relishing the opportunity to do something different. His resume already boasts a few action films, but Fight or Flight allows him to roll up his sleeves and get a bit messy with the stunts. Lucas is plenty capable in a fight, but it’s fun watching Hartnett reckon with his character’s rusty skills in the face of killers in their prime. Blending dangerous action with spot-on comic timing is a difficult needle to thread, and Hartnett is surprisingly good at it. 

Madigan makes the most of his first effort as director of a feature film. Having worked as a second-unit director for over a decade, Madigan has plenty of experience on action-packed sets, and he brings that skill to Fight or Flight. Not having a Marvel-type budget, the thrills are kept more grounded for the most part. Madigan gets a lot of mileage out of fun gags that involve broken wine glasses and a sprinkler head, just to name a few. Don’t even get me started about the chainsaw on a plane. This is an action director who understands that creative fights get the blood pumping harder than a CG fireball.

Despite getting an initial “been there, done that” feeling with Fight or Flight, the fun action mixed with a bonkers Josh Hartnett performance makes this one a worthwhile effort.