OK, not much gray area in that title, but it does sound fun.
It could have been, but producer Michael Bay and director Jonathan Liebesman can’t find a balance between Saturday morning sensibilities and adult superhero action.
There’s a serious origin story, as we see how the four massive turtles (and their wise sensai, a rat) come to live under the streets of New York City, battling a crime syndicate known as the Foot Clan.
Young TV reporter April O’Neil (Megan Fox) catches a glimpse of the secretive vigilantes in action, and instantly knows that unmasking them is the big story that will propel her career.
The turtles themselves still love pizza and make wisecracks, but these moments of silliness and self-aware humor seem meant for a different film. The plot that surrounds the young ninjas is full of cartoon obviousness played overly straight, with no hint of the tongue-in-cheek attitude it sorely needs.
In short, where’s the fun? The tech-savvy, 3D action sequences may be big and loud, but they’re also dull, confusing and instantly forgettable. It isn’t long before this film feels too long.
The idea of a big-budget TMNT reboot works, both on a nostalgia level and as a business model aimed at today’s kids.
Maybe it should have stayed an idea, because it lands on the big screen with a big, green, slimy thud.
Join us Friday, August 22nd for the next installment of Fright Club – now at 9:00 pm! The earlier start time should allow us to discuss the film after the screening. Prizes and fun before start time, too!
This month we proudly present the Ohio premier of Calvaire (The Ordeal), a bizarre and terrifying trip into madness!
With an effort that proves Richard Linklater to be indefinable as an artist even as it feels a natural evolution of his best work, Boyhood is a movie like no other.
Linklater filmed his low key opus over twelve years, pulling cast and crew back together for a few days each year to check back in on Mason (Ellar Coltrane), his sister Samantha (Lorelei Linklater) and their parents to see how things are hanging.
And that’s it. We participate in every year of Mason’s childhood, from Grade 1 to his freshman year in college. It’s not the big events, either, but the seemingly innocuous moments that, in sum, define a childhood.
Linklater’s genius has always been his generosity and patience with his cast and his mastery in observing the small event. Many of his films feel as if they are moving of their own accord and he’s simply there to capture it, letting the story unveil its own meaning and truth. The Before series offers obvious examples, but much of his work, from Slacker and Dazed and Confused onward, benefits from a casual observational style.
Never has he allowed this perception to define a film quite as entirely or as eloquently as he does in Boyhood. With the collaborative narrative Linklater sets a tone that is as close to reality as any film has managed. It’s both sweeping and precise, with Linklater’s deceptively loose structure strengthened by his near flawless editing and use of music to transition from one year to the next. He’s the surest bet so far for an Oscar in directing, and his film is the strongest contender yet for best picture.
For his cast, Linklater returned to regular contributor Ethan Hawke, whose performance as Mason’s somewhat flaky father marks the best work the actor’s ever done. Equally wonderful is Patricia Arquette with the meatier role of Mason’s mother, a loving if flawed matriarch. Linklater’s own daughter Lorelei also impresses and absolutely entertains as the boy’s sister.
Importantly, though our primary vehicle through this childhood is Mason, we come to truly know all these characters. None is given short shrift, and each is entirely fascinating in their own right.
But the film succeeds or fails with Coltrane, and Linklater owes a debt to the movie gods for this bit of casting. What a wonderful, fascinating, tender character the young actor carves out of this experience. With nary a false note, he carries us through the unforgettably familiar and authentic moments of insecurity, love, heartbreak, longing and confusion that mark childhood.
It’s a breathtakingly understated and authentic turn, perfect for the only film of its kind.
As a broke college student at Ohio State in 1985, I saved my pennies and stood in a line halfway down High St. to see Mr. Dynamite live at the Newport Music Hall.
My first cellphone ringtone was “Sex Machine.”
The point is, I love me some James Brown, and I really liked Get On Up.
It’s a bit of a relief, because with director Tate Taylor at the helm, I feared Brown’s story would get the same clichéd, soccer-mom-feel-good treatment Taylor gave The Help. Instead, buoyed by a meaty script from veteran writers Jez Butterworth and John-Henry Butterworth (Edge of Tomorrow/Fair Game) he takes some chances that pay dividends.
Get On Up breaks the “fourth wall” early and often, as Brown (Chadwick Boseman) looks the audience in the eye and reminds everyone how big a musical influence he remains to this day. This ignites a swagger that anchors the entire film, which, considering the subject, is the absolutely perfect vibe.
It ain’t braggin’ if you back it up, and Brown, warts and all, was one of the most important musical and cultural figures of the 20th century.
Taylor shows us Brown’s rags to riches story – from growing up in a Georgia brothel to easing tensions after Martin Luther King’s assassination – in scattershot fashion, dropping in on different periods without regard to chronology. Not only does this offer a stylistic alternative to similar films such Walk the Line and Ray, but it presents Brown as a sum of equal parts while also ensuring that any overt sentimentality is never given time to add weight.
Boseman is flat-out terrific, serving notice that his fine performance as Jackie Robinson in 42 was just a warm-up act. Boseman has Brown’s speaking voice, cocksure attitude and his incredible moves down cold, combining them all for a portrayal full of an electric charisma.
Anyone who remembers Eddie Murphy’s classic “James Brown Celebrity Hot Tub” from SNL knows how easily a Brown impersonation could slip into parody, but Boseman avoids any hint of it. His is a completely authentic performance that needs to be remembered in the coming award season.
From the early “chitlin circuit” tours, to the Apollo Theater to the legendary T.A.M.I. show, Taylor frames the live performance sequences with the cracking, cold sweat-inducing urgency that music this great demands. Kudos, too, to the sound editing department, frequently mixing Brown’s original vocal tracks into new arrangements, enabling wonderfully seamless film recreations.
Okay, so Brown’s personal demons could have been given more gravity, and there are a few biopic crutches (soul- searching in a dressing room mirror, for instance), but Taylor and the Butterworth boys score with the humanity they bring to two profound relationships in Brown’s life: his longtime friend Bobby Byrd (Nelsan Ellis) and his mother Susie (Viola Davis).
There’s true poignancy to the moments that find Susie, after a long absence, visiting her triumphant son backstage. It’s the film’s non-musical highlight, and yet another reminder of how little screen time Davis needs to be unforgettable.The same can be said for Brown’s music, and while this film will certainly thrill the fans, it’s good enough to win him plenty of new ones.
As a rule, August – like January – is the month studios sweep out their bin of movies that weren’t quite good enough to make the prime time cut. Usually we can expect little more than dregs until mid-autumn, when both holiday and awards season begins in earnest and studios once again proudly populate cinemas.
And yet, in what has been the summer of SciFi, James Gunn elevates our August with one of the most entertaining films of 2014, Marvel’s Guardians of the Galaxy.
An uneasy bond connects five interstellar losers, each needing another to 1) avenge, 2) cash in, 3) survive, and 4) save the galaxy. It has to do with an orb, is all very cosmic bounty hunter-y, and includes a raccoon that sounds remarkably like 2011’s Sexiest Man Alive.
Right there – casting Bradley Cooper as the raccoon – Gunn zigs when you expect him to zag. Cooper excels as the very angry varmint, joining an entirely inspired cast.
Chris Pratt, who beefcaked up a bit for the gig, shoulders the leading role in his second relentlessly enjoyable film this year, after January’s joyousThe Lego Movie, here playing the American intergalactic scavenger and adventurer, and lover of easy listening jams.
Pratt’s endearing combination of humility and confidence charms, and with a casual goofiness he elevates every line of the admittedly clever dialog, all of it brimming with crisp pop culture humor made funnier by the context (in that no one but Pratt’s Peter Quill could possibly get the earth references). He makes a hero of Kevin Bacon in his dramatic retelling of Footloose, which only gets funnier from Zoe Saldana’s callback in the final act.
Saldana joins WWE’s Dave Bautista and the voice of Vin Diesel (as a tree) to fill out Peter Quill’s band of misfits, and together the crew offers endless amounts of ruffian charm.
As important, all evil doers – from Lee Pace’s zealot Ronan to Benicio del Toro’s creepy Collector to Michael Rooker’s dangerous Yondu – are delightfully diabolical.
Gunn nicely articulates the galaxy and its characters, keeps the humor light, the action quick and the palette colorful.
Nearly ten years ago, Wedding Crashers taught us the best response to “people use only ten percent of our brains” is…”I think we use only ten percent of our hearts.”
Still, writer/director Luc Besson bases his new film Lucy on that old urban legend, and what might happen if someone could suddenly flex four, five or even ten times more grey matter muscle.
A ridiculous premise doesn’t have to sink a film, and this one actually gets off to a solid start as Lucy (Scarlett Johansson) unwillingly becomes a drug mule for ruthless Korean kingpin Mr. Jang (the always fascinating Min-sik Choi).
Jang’s henchman surgically stash a bag of his new product into Lucy’s abdomen, but the pouch breaks when she suffers a beating. In just minutes, the drug settles into Lucy’s bloodstream and begins opening countless new cognitive horizons.
It doesn’t take long to realize how much better this film is because of Johansson. She provides the terror-filled vulnerability to make us care about her character early on, then projects the right amount of wonder and determination as Lucy seeks out a famed brain researcher (Morgan Freeman, straight from Transcendence) to assist in her transformation.
Besson gets busy from the outset, as quick cuts and frenetic action are interspersed with scenes of animals in the wild, reinforcing the changing roles we see between hunter and prey. While not exactly subtle, it is stylish, and downright abstract compared to what Besson brings to the film’s second act.
As his characters begin to lament how we’ve all become more concerned with “having than being,” Besson shamelessly parrots Malick’s Tree of Life and Kubrick’s 2001, apparently believing the film to be an equally eloquent statement on mankind’s past, purpose, and future.
It isn’t, but with about 50 percent less pretension, Lucy could have been a fun guilty pleasure.
In case anyone didn’t catch last year’s not-so-subtle message in The Purge, writer/director James DeMonaco is back with The Purge: Anarchy, this time wielding his class warfare sermon like a blunt instrument.
DeMonaco’s original premise – an American society that celebrates a yearly night of complete lawlessness – remains a solid one. And while the first chapter borrowed heavily from from various films (as does Anarchy), it offered enough visual style to offset the lack of nuance in the presentation.
Following the usual playbook for a sequel, it’s more of everything in round two.
The sirens that signal the start of the purge sound quickly, and we focus in on a group of five citizens who are out after dark for very different reasons. A mother and daughter (Carmen Ejogo and Zoë Soul) are being hunted, a young couple (Zach Gilford and Kiele Sanchez) are on the run after suspicious car trouble, and one lone badass (Frank Grillo) is armed to the teeth with revenge on his mind.
DeMonaco again demonstrates his flair with a camera, offering several striking images of what the purge hath wrought – a bloody young woman’s desperate gaze or a flaming semi passing quickly in the background. Too often, though, his direction becomes obvious, muting any effect from a sudden scare or even a cloying red herring.
His script is worse, hammering home the plutocracy theme again and again until it is preached via a “bad guy to wounded guy” speech for the benefit of any audience members with a taste for Scooby-Dooings.
That’s not to imply DeMonaco’s grievances aren’t valid, they are, and there might even be a solid film buried in here somewhere, but success of The Purge lingers as a doubled-edge sword.
The path DeMonaco takes for Anarchy may seem the logical one, but it flirts with camp so often you wonder how much better it might have been with an outright satirical approach a la God Bless America.
By the time the morning sun brings this latest purge to a close, what began as a decent B-movie horror show becomes a sad imitation of The Running Man.
There’s a good chance you already know Sir Edmund Hillary was one of the first two men to reach the top of Mt. Everest. You may also know the other man was Sherpa Tenzing Norgay. Maybe you’ve seen Hillary’s famous photo of Norgay at the very top of the world.
Even after all these years, there’s more to their story, and the new documentary Beyond the Edge provides plenty of thrilling reasons to revisit the adventure.
No doubt, one of those reasons is 3D technology. Let’s be honest, if you’re looking for an excuse to play with the extra dimension, footage of Mt. Everest is a pretty damn good one.
Writer/director Leanne Pooley mixes deft reenactments with stirring archival footage and audio interviews, effectively pulling us into the launch of John Hunt’s Everest expedition in the spring of 1953.
The thirty three year old Hillary, a beekeeper and avid climber from New Zealand, was part of Hunt’s team, as was Norgay, an experienced and respected Nepalese mountaineer. Pooley lays the basic facts out clearly, and then slowly builds the drama as fate conspires to give the two men the chance to make history.
I’ve been fascinated by Mt. Everest for years and I’ve read many books on its climbing history, and the film still provided a fresh perspective. The 3D perspective is indeed a treat, but it’s the human drama of Beyond the Edge that still inspires.
You can officially forget Dr. Zaius. In fact, if you think Rupert Wyatt’s impressive Rise of the Planet of the Apes from 2011 was the best that particular series could possibly do, you can forget that, too. Dawn of the Planet of the Apes is an evolution to a far superior breed of film artistically, visually and emotionally.
The devastating truths of prejudice, bias, fear and powerlust are the foundational planks of any great piece of political theater, dating back to Shakespeare (fittingly) and before. Director Matt Reeves (Let Me In, Cloverfield), along with his team of writers, respects this. It is respect for the content that elevated the previous installment so far above franchise efforts as well as audience expectations.
With that respect and those expectations now established, Reeves picks up Wyatt’s themes and expands them with breathtaking expertise. The Simian Flu – the virus that gave Caesar (Andy Serkis) and other lab apes exceeding intelligence – proved catastrophic to the human population. Ten years after the outbreak and the “incident on the Golden Gate Bridge”, the apes are thriving in their own society in a forest beyond the city. Meanwhile, what’s left of the city’s human population struggles to survive.
Wisely, Reeves doesn’t pick sides, and in leaving judgment behind we’re able to see this thrilling Man V Ape escapade for its larger historical and human relevance.
These elements coursing beneath the surface of his film help to explain its profound impact, but it’s what’s layered on top that thrills.
In utterly stunning 3D, Reeves fills the expanse of his screen with fascinating and startling images, action sequences and set pieces at once familiar and unlike anything else unspooling this summer. Once again, you forget that half the drama before you erupts between CGI images and trained animals – the image is that true, the drama that compelling.
Dawn is as convincing on every front, even when it has no business succeeding. It is so loud, brutal, and committed to its premise that you cannot but surrender to the chaos. Equally successful as summer blockbuster and political allegory, the film is as well written in both arenas as any you will find.
Darker, more intense and deeply satisfying, Dawn of the Planet of the Apes takes a good thing and makes it better.
Before hitting the theater for this one, get your head right, because Borgman is gonna mess with it.
Writer/director Alex van Warmerdam delivers a surreal, nightmarish, sometimes darkly comical fable guaranteed to keep you off balance. It is meticulously crafted and deliberately paced, a minefield of psychological torment.
Jan Bijvoet is quietly riveting as Camiel Borgman, a vagrant on the run from a group of armed men who have discovered his impressive underground hideout. Fleeing through the woods, Camiel comes upon the home of an affluent family and reaches out for assistance.
The moment the front door is opened, the family begins to lose control of their lives.
Borgman is the Netherlands official selection for this year’s Academy Awards, and last year it became the first Dutch movie accepted to Cannes Film Festival in nearly four decades. A little background in European folklore will help to understand Camiel’s unusual behavior, and the effect he has on unsuspecting targets.
Still, don’t expect any concrete answers. van Warmerdam channels Michael Haneke but becomes even more cryptic, to a degree that occasionally threatens to derail the film’s compelling nature.
But the skills of all involved ultimately win the day. van Warmerdam offsets his mysterious script with assured, thoughtful direction, buoyed by a fine ensemble cast and crisp, sometimes remarkable cinematography.
Like its title character, Borgman is unique and hypnotic, leaving you with so many different feelings you won’t be quite sure which one is right.
