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Baa Baa Baller

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GOAT

by George Wolf

I’m a Cleveland Cavaliers fan, so the name Steph Curry brings up one glorious memory, and plenty of forgettable ones.

But yes, fine, he is the game’s G.O.A.T. shooter and he seems like a good guy. And now he brings a bit of his own legend to the big screen as producer and supporting voice talent in GOAT, the story of a little sharpshooter with big dreams.

Will Harris (Caleb McLaughlin from Stranger Things) is an undersized goat in Vineland who is a big fan of Roarball (“Regional Organized Animal Roarball”). It’s just like basketball, if basketball was played by gigantic animals on a shape shifting court.

Will loves ball, his hometown Vineland Thorns and their best player, Jett Fillmore (Gabrielle Union). But as great as Jett is, the Thorns have never won the Claw (championship) and are mired in another losing streak, much to the delight of arch rival Mane Attraction (Aaron Pierre), a trash-talking horse with an extensive grooming routine.

One day at the local playground, Mane is accepting court challenges from all comers, and Will steps up. He drains a few long range threes, the footage goes viral, and Thorns owner Flo (Jenifer Lewis) decides the little guy might be just what her team needs.

But how can Will prove himself if Jett and Coach Dennis (Patton Oswalt) won’t accept the league first “small” as part of the team and give him some playing time already?

Nick Kroll, David Harbour, Jennifer Hudson, and Nicola Coughlan join Curry as supporting voices, as first time directors Tyree Dillihay and Adam Rosette adapt the book “Funky Dunks” with a team of four writers and a narrative that finds some fun in the familiar.

Parents and grandparents will get one or two solid LOLs, plus some tried and true sports plotting seen in Major League, Semi-Pro, Bad News Bears and even the “dream big” mantra from last year’s Marty Supreme. It’s surface level, easily digestible stuff for the younger set, built with 3-D animation that’s more busy and colorful, less memorable.

GOAT‘s not exactly a championship contender, but it is a scrappy gamer, and should give young sports fans and pop culture first stringers some ninety odd minutes to hold their attention.

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Once and Future

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Mufasa: The Lion King

by Hope Madden

It was hard not to be a little worried about Mufasa: The Lion King. Or maybe it was hard not to be worried about Barry Jenkins. Too few of our genuinely brilliant independent film directors come away from Giant Studio Efforts unscathed. (Quick callback to last week’s JD Chandor debacle, Kraven the Hunter.)

Surely there are some auteurs who are able to leave their unique thumbprints on Disney films. No one comes to mind except Rian Johnson, and man, people really universally loved The Last Jedi, didn’t they?   

Well, Mufasa is far from the flaming disaster of Kraven, thank goodness. And it’s not nearly as polarizingly renegade as Jedi.

Safe. That’s what it is.

It’s also very pretty, if equally needless. The film delivers the origin story of Simba’s father Mufasa, providing—as origin stories so often do—a glimpse into the early development of other beloved and not-so-beloved characters. Young Mufasa (Braelyn Rankins) is separated from his parents and his pride by a great flood. Washed far from home, he’s saved by a bratty little cub called Taka (Theo Somolu). While Taka’s father, the king, will never accept this outsider, Taka’s mother (Thandiwe Newton) takes him in.

As Simba and Taka (voiced as older lions by Aaron Pierre and Kelvin Harrison Jr., respectively) flee a marauding pride led by the villainous Kiros (Mads Mikkelsen, gloriously and effortlessly villainous), they find out what kind of lions they really are.

And here for a while we get a bit of something refreshing. Mufasa’s worthiness to rule is grounded in skills learned from hunting with the females in the pride. And some of these transcend hunting skills: he listens, he’s humble, he’s honest.

The CG animation is mainly very impressive and there are camera movements and choices that feel like new ideas in an old tradition. But tradition wins out, not just in the look but in the storytelling. (Outsiders are bad. It takes a king to lead. Women support the men who make things happen. Lions don’t eat meat?)

The core story is often interrupted by a framing device of an elderly Rafiki (John Kani) telling the story of Mufasa. These breaks are meant to be funny, and sometimes they do generate a chuckle, but they feel more like well-timed bathroom breaks for when the film hits Disney+.

But it’s not bad. Your kids might like it. They won’t likely remember it, but they won’t hate it. It’s perfectly safe.

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I See Old People

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Old

by Hope Madden and George Wolf

The last 20 some odd years have been somewhat odd for M. Night Shyamalan.

There was the meteoric rise, the faceplant fall, and the unexpected rise again. The writer/director’s highs (The Sixth Sense, Unbreakable, Split) have been clever, crowd-pleasing and well crafted, while the lows (The Last Airbender, After Earth, The Happening) became self-indulgent, condescending misfires.

Old, Shyamalan’s first since the disappointing Glass two years ago, may not rank among his best, but there is enough here to hold your interest while it delivers an earnest message about precious time.

Guy (Gael García Bernal) and Prisca (Vicky Krieps) are ready to separate, but want to enjoy one last dream vacation with 6 year-old Trent (Nolan River) and 11 year-old Maddox (Alexa Swinton) before breaking the news.

Shortly after getting a VIP welcome at their tropical resort, the family is offered access to a private beach paradise, just a short drive away. Once there, they find a few other guests have also gotten the invite to the pristine beach surrounded by majestic and imposing walls of rock.

But of course, there is a price to be paid for this privilege: time. Trent and Maddox are suddenly years older (and now played by Alex Wolff and Thomasin McKenzie), while the rest of the group (including Rufus Sewell, Abbey Lee and Aaron Pierre) also begins to feel the effects of a rapidly increased aging process.

Shyamalan’s camerawork – usually a plus – is again nimble and expressive. He’s able to fuel a feeling of confusion and disorientation on the ground, while frequent overhead shots provide the unmistakeable suggestion that this group is being watched.

His pace is also well-played, fast and frantic (with one very effective visual fright) in the early going, then a bit more measured to reflect cooler heads trying to plan an escape.

But while Shyamalan’s script is an adaptation of the graphic novel Sandcastle by Pierre-Oscar Lévy and Frederick Peeters, dialogue can still trip him up. It’s too frequently both silly and obvious, yet almost always rescued by a talented ensemble that never shrinks from selling every word of it.

This is a Shyamalan film, though, which will lead many to expect a humdinger of a twist. Don’t.

There is something waiting beyond the clearly defined metaphor about appreciating every day. But like the film, the resolution of Old is more tidy than revelatory, as easy to digest and appreciate as it is to forget.