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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. 

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Shoot the Glass

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Cleaner

by George Wolf

Just months ago, Netflix thriller Carry-On rode a serious Die Hard vibe for a ridiculous bit of popcorn fun. Cleaner has much of the same in mind, borrowing some more specific plot points for Daisy Ridley’s turn as the fly in some terrorist’s ointment.

Ridley plays Joey Locke, an ex-soldier who still carries scars from an abusive childhood shared with her autistic brother Michael (newcomer Matthew Tuck). Joey is already struggling to hold on to her job as a window cleaner and make sure Michael is cared for, but her day is about to get much worse.

Joey’s latest gig is cleaning the windows at the London high rise where the Agnian Energy Corp is holding their annual gala. No, it’s not Nakatomi Plaza and it’s not Christmas Eve, but Marcus (Clive Owen) and his group of environmentalist activists crash the party with a plan to expose Agnian’s history of crime and corruption.

At least, that what Marcus thinks. His buddy Noah Santos (Taz Skylar) has more extreme plans, violently hijacking the operation and the building, with 300 hostages (including Michael) inside.

Their best hope? One pissed off Joey, right outside the glass, dangling high up on her cleaning platform.

At first, Joey is only thinking of Michael’s safety. But once inside the building, the anti-authority streak that got Joey kicked out of the military pushes her to go after the bad guys, and Ridley sells it with gusto.

Veteran director Martin Campbell (Casino Royale, Goldeneye, Memory) doesn’t waste time in getting down to business, and engineers some effective action set pieces both inside and outside the glass. And the team of screenwriters does arrange a surprise of two amid the mash of recycled ideas.

But when you have someone as talented as Ridley cast as the everywoman trying to save the day, the idea still works. She seems especially energized at the chance to get physical, and manages to pull the unmemorable Cleaner up to satisfying new heights.

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It’s a Brawl World After All

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Boy Kills World

by George Wolf

Boy Kills World feels like a film the gamers are going to love.

For the rest of us, it offers a hyper stylized, uber-violent riff on The Hunger Games by way of Kill Bill while it harbors Deadpool aspirations and a coy surprise waiting in act three. But while the style is never in doubt, real substance is lacking.

Bill Skarsgård supplies plenty of physical charisma as “Boy,” whose family was murdered years earlier during a lethal event known as “The Culling.” Once a year in this post apocalyptic landscape, enemies of ruling matriarch Hilda Van Der Koy (Famke Janssen) are rounded up and executed for sport and entertainment. Though Boy survived the assault, he was left deaf and mute, and has spent several years training with a mysterious shaman (Yayan Ruhian) until the time was right to take his revenge.

Against the shaman’s advice, Boy feels the time is now. And though he’s evolved into a singular killing machine, Boy is not alone. He has an inner voice adopted from a favorite video game (veteran voice actor H. Jon Benjamin), and a fever dream imagination that often bickers with the ghost of his rebellious little sister (Quinn Copeland).

On the eve of another Culling, Boy’s martial arts rampage of blood begins, and one of his early weapons of choice is a cheese grater.

Go on.

In his debut feature, director and co-writer Moritz Mohr skillfully captures the frenzied, level-up mayhem of video games. Cinematographer Peter Matjasko, composer Ludvig Forssell and editor Lucian Barnard help complete the gaming pastiche, while the screenplay keeps Benjamin supplied with commentary that’s consistently fueled by meta-sarcasm that never hits the master level of self-awareness.

As Boy starts up the ladder of the Van Der Koy family (Michelle Dockery, Brett Gelman, Sharlto Copley) and their Head of Security (Jessica Rothe), he falls in with a group known as the Resistance before the narrative takes its unexpected pivot.

Boy’s states of delirium have already opened the door for an unreliable narrator, so Mohr commits considerable effort (and exposition) in making sure we understand the twist.

But what we need even more is a reason to care.

Much like Hardcore Henry almost ten years ago, the film’s gaming mindset results in action that is visually exciting, but as emotionally empty as a “Play again?” reset. There’s never any motivation to get invested in the stakes, or in the attitude that often reeks of desperation hipness.

So while Boy Kills World‘s target audience may be blown away, those outside the center will find some tedium inside this finely orchestrated mayhem.

There’s no doubt you’ll find a few new uses for your cheese grater.

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One Small Ember

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Monkey Man

by George Wolf

A new hero has arrived. And with him, an exciting new filmmaker.

After directing just two short films, Dev Patel moves to features with Monkey Man, an assured and thrillingly violent story of heritage and revenge.

Patel (who also gets a story credit) is charismatic and commanding as “Bobby,” an underground fighter in India who takes dives for “Tiger” (Sharlto Copley) and cons his way into a job washing dishes at an exclusive club run by Queenie Kapoor (Ashwini Kalsekar).

But Bobby has a plan to get promoted to serving in the VIP room. Once in, he’ll get close enough to police chief Rana Singh (Sikandar Kher) to make him pay for crimes committed against Bobby’s mother (Adithi Kalkunte) years before.

Complications arise, leaving Bobby a very wounded and hunted man, until some mystical assistance from Alpha (Vipin Sharma) turns Bobby into a lethal leader for the common people.

Patel doesn’t run from his inspirations, even name-dropping John Wick early in the film. You’ll also see shades of martial arts masters, Winding Refn, Tarantino and more, but Patel is always ready to put his own stamp on a familiar march to a showdown. He favors quick cuts and close ups with scattershot POV shots to enhance the impressive fight choreography and striking color palettes at work.

Similarly, Patel teams with screenwriters John Colle and Paul Angunawela—plus producer Jordan Peele—to take some well known themes and move them progressively forward. Rebelling against the totalitarian tactics of Baba Shakti (Makrand Deshpandi) and the Sovereign Party, a forgotten and oppressed population turns to the Monkey Man for deliverance.

And as much as this feels like an origin story, it is a dark one. Patel has indeed delivered a statement, as much about his filmmaking prowess as it is about his worldview. But the statement is grim and bloody, so leave the little ones at home and strap in for the thrilling, visceral rise of Patel and the Monkey Man.

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Shut Up and Shoot

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Silent Night

by George Wolf

December is a busy month, so Brian (Joel Kinnaman) has some helpful reminders written on his wall calendar.

“Pick up Mom from the airport?”

“Buy a ham?”

No, no, Brian is thinking bigger this year, especially for his Christmas Eve party plans.

“Kill them all!”

And, if things go really well, “start a gang war?” Yes, he really writes that down.

A year ago, Brian’s son was killed by a stray bullet from a gangland shootout in suburban Texas. Brian himself was shot in the throat during the mayhem, and he’s spent all his silent days and nights since then ignoring his wife (Catalina Sandino Moreno, doing what she can with a thankless role) and planning some very bad tidings of revenge.

Silent Night is director John Woo’s first American film in 20 years, but his considerable skill with an action sequence is never enough to elevate the film beyond a misguided fantasy of bloodlust and wall-building.

And even then, the blood-spilling combat doesn’t begin until nearly halfway in, as we wade through 50 tedious minutes of dialog-free montages with Brian target shooting, reinforcing his ride and making anguished faces.

Despite the title, the Christmas setting feels tacked-on for marketing purposes, becoming the only theme in Robert Archer Lynn’s script that’s soft-pedaled. The “silent” gimmick becomes contrived pretty quickly, there are numerous gaps in logic and you wonder why everyone involved here was so comfortable with an angry, self-righteous white man executing countless Mexicans.

Sure, Brian tips off an African-American cop (Scott Mescudi) about his mission to do what the law won’t, but the film is never hazy about what heroes and villains look like.

Those hand-written calendar notes teased the possibility for some humorous lunacy that is completely ignored, as the only thing over-the-top here is the utter seriousness of tone. Could Nic Cage and a face-off machine have saved this holiday turkey? Tough call. Even Woo’s battle sequences seem uninspired and repetitive, and the most memorable piece of the action in Silent Night becomes how much louder its speaking.

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Did Nazi That Coming

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Sisu

by Hope Madden and George Wolf

Is there anything in all the world more satisfying than watching Nazis die? Perhaps not.

Jalmari Helander, the genius behind 2010’s exceptional holiday horror Rare Exports, squeezes a lovechild from Leone and Peckinpah by way of Tarantino (natch). The result, Sisu, a kind of WWII-era Scandinavian John Wick.

That sounds borrowed, but it doesn’t feel borrowed. It feels stylized but never derivative.

Rare Exports star Jorma Tommila plays Aatami Korpi. Korpi used to be a soldier. He left that – and his reputation as a “one man death squad” – behind, instead roaming Lapland with his dog and his horse in search of peace and gold.

After finding one, the other becomes even more elusive.

The Nazis, their loss imminent, are leaving scorched earth behind as they move across Lapland. Their paths cross Korpi’s. It doesn’t go well for the Nazis.

Helander’s confident vision meshes majestically with the cinematography of Kjell Lagerroos, capturing the lonesome beauty of Lapland in one minute, the next minute bursting with the frenetic energy and viscera of action. The stunt choreography and editing in the dizzying array of carnage-laden set pieces are breathtaking. Knives, guns, fisticuffs, tank fire, regular fire, land mines, a hanging, airplanes – a seemingly endless string of magnificently crafted violent action keeps the pace breathless.

Speaking of breath, there’s an underwater sequence that’s a real gem. And a great deal of Sisu’s success is in the novelty of its action. We’ve seen about 11 hours of John Wick by now. It’s hard to do something new.

But Helander manages. Composers Juri Seppä and Tuomas Wäinölä also assist in lifting the heights of this spectacle, and it becomes as beautiful a celebration of bloodletting as we’ve seen for some time.

And though a final confrontation between Korpi and the ruthless SS Commander tracking him (Aksel Hennie) is never in doubt, it takes on a greater significance thanks to Helander’s clearly-drawn stakes. The Nazi is looking to buy his redemption, while Korpi sees the chance to finally escape his past.

Vengeance? Oh, that’s here, too, for both Korpi and some POWs who smugly warn their German captors of what is coming. They say the Finnish word for what the wandering stranger is does not translate, but that he is no ordinary traveler.

And the film is no ordinary travelogue. Clocking in at just 91 minutes, Sisu is perfectly lean, relentlessly mean, and consistently satisfying at every blood-soaked turn.

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Women of the World

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The 355

by George Wolf

Apparently, Jessica Chastain pitched the idea of an all-female Bond/Bourne hybrid to director Simon Kinberg while they were making Dark Phoenix together.

Now three years later The 355 is here, and while it’s more memorable than their X-Men installment, the project can never give the duo’s ambitious vision its own identity.

Chastain is “Mace,” a CIA agent sent to Paris with her partner (and maybe more?) Nick (Sebastian Stan). The job is to get their hands on a new cyber weapon that serves as an untraceable master key – and instant entry into any closed system on the planet.

But surprise, Mace and Nick aren’t the only agents hot for that drive, so after 45 minutes of chases and exposition, Germany’s Maria (Diane Kruger), MI6’s Khadijah (Lupita Nyong’o) and Columbia’s Graciela (Penelope Cruz) agree to team up and fight for the future. Then after another 15 minutes or so, China’s Lin Mi Sheng (Bingbing Fan) joins the world party.

Actually, Gracie’s a reluctant guest, as she’s really a psychologist and not trained for combat. So while her secret agent sisters do get to be the impressive badasses, it’s Cruz who brings the film some welcome fish-out-of-water levity.

Kinberg, who also co-wrote the script, pushes all the buttons you’d expect from a mixtape full of Bond’s high-style sexy, Bourne’s lethal brooding, and some Danny Ocean misdirection. And most of it – from Chastain in this role to the cybercrime stakes to the moments of telegraphed action and even the girl power makeover – feels pretty familiar, and that familiarity breeds discontent with the two-hour run time.

Events finally escalate in the third act, and as the globe-trotting and the double-crosses mount, Kinberg does deliver one nicely orchestrated set-piece that truly grabs your attention with tension and bloodshed.

Is it enough to merit that next adventure the finale hints at? Not really, but it’s just enough to make one three-year-old conversation worthwhile.

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Jailhouse Glock

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Copshop

by George Wolf

Man, did I hear about it last week when I argued that the first two acts of Malignant weren’t nearly strong enough to support the all out lunacy of the finale. I stand by that, but moving on…

Copshop also delivers a balls-out third act, but the self-aware setup by director/co-writer Joe Carnahan ensures we’re plenty ready to surrender to the shoot-em-up fun.

Mob “fixer” Teddy Murretto (Frank Grillo) punches Nevada rookie cop Valerie Young (Alexis Louder) on purpose, looking for the safety of a jail cell. He gets one, but he’s soon followed by hitman Bob Viddick (Gerard Butler, also a producer), who wants to get close enough to Teddy to take him out.

Plenty more bad guys get involved – including a scene-stealing Toby Huss (Seinfeld‘s “The Wiz”) as a psycho who likes to spray bullets and sing soul classics – and before long it seems Val’s only chance of getting out of work alive is deciding which one of these locked up bad guys is worth trusting.

Grillo and Butler are both on tough-guy autopilot, charismatic and menacing with a smidge of possible empathy. But Louder (TV’s Watchmen) is the standout, finding the layers of a character that’s real, smart and savvy enough to holster this movie and claim it for her own.

The dialog often snaps with wit, the banter touching on everything from Chris Hemsworth’s beach getaway to the benefits of cole slaw. But this is an action flick first, and Carnahan (Boss Level, The Grey, Smokin’ Aces) rolls out well-staged and satisfying set pieces that strike a nice balance between tense and preposterous.

The grindhouse Western opening not only introduces us to the setting of Gun Creek, Nevada (subtle!), but also a playful and purposeful tone that Carnahan steers with impressive craftsmanship.

Are you gonna remember Copshop much past closing time? Probably not, but you’re gonna have a bloody good time before you clock out.

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He Is Wrath

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Wrath of Man

by Hope Madden

I’m not saying Jason Statham is unconvincing with a gun. Nor am I saying that Guy Ritchie is ill-suited to direct a humorless vengeance drama.

I’m just saying that these are not their strong suits.

Wrath of Man shadows a very dour Statham—just call him H, like the bomb—as he begins training for his new gig with a cash truck crew.

Something’s up, obviously, and the only fun to be had in the film is trying to figure out what it is, so do not watch the trailer.

At The Depot, where all the trucks come and go and all the crew mock and belittle one another, we meet the assortment of characters you will not come to know or care about: Boy Sweat Dave (Josh Hartnett – where have you been?), Dana (Niamh Algar), Bullet (Holt McCallany). All of them choking on ludicrously overwritten banter, none of them drawing even a single compelling character.

Which is fine because there are at least 16 more people you won’t get to know, won’t care if they’re killed, won’t be invested in their conflicts.

Ritchie is usually much better than this at scattershot introductions of oddball lowlife clusters, each pod with its own story, each story intersection every other story at one turn or another. Maybe he’s just too out of his element setting the action in LA rather than his beloved London, but the lived-in feel of a reprobate world that’s usually a high point to a Ritchie flick is sorely missing here.

And what is the deal with these accents? By now, we know better than to expect Statham to attempt a yank accent, but what exactly is Eddie Marsan’s nationality supposed to be? Or Andy Garcia’s, for that matter?

Hell if I know. I do know that casting Statham generally guarantees some nifty fisticuffs.

Not today!

He shoots a bunch of people, sure, but there’s no panache to anything. It’s a heist movie without the meticulous execution, a vengeance thriller with no emotional connection to the villain, a Statham movie with no ass kicking, and a Ritchie movie with no humor, no flash, no style.

No thank you.   

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Don’t Say Super

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Archenemy

by Hope Madden

In a seedy underworld ripe for the comic book taking, a teen crime journalist named Hamster just wants a shot to tell the real stories of these streets. He stumbles across a homeless man who claims to be a hero from another dimension. The thing is, Hamster believes him.

Hokey, right? It is, but co-writer/director Adam Egypt Mortimer hits an interesting tone with Archenemy. He creates the space needed to develop some ideas before logic and cynicism close them down.

Mortimer combines animation with live action, sometimes bleeding whispery voiceover into the mix to heighten the sense that nothing is as it seems. Is Max Fist (that is a name!) really from a parallel dimension, or is he an alcoholic schizophrenic homeless guy living under the bridge?

Mortimer mainly works from young Hamster’s point of view, occasionally veering into Max’s. By limiting the logic of the tale to the perspective of either a naïve optimist or the likely victim of mental illness and addiction, the filmmaker ensures that you’re never truly able to differentiate reality from unreality.

It’s a tough tone to maintain, but Mortimer manages, thanks in large part to the commitment of his lead. As Max Fist (seriously, that name!), Joe Manganiello carries Archenemy on his shoulders. The performance is simultaneously lucid and muddled, with a physical edge that makes the character feel like a threat even at his most vulnerable.

Around him, characters are sometimes cartoonish (Glenn Howerton as The Manager or Paul Scheer as Kreig), but Manganiello keeps the film from dipping into camp with a turn that’s gritty and believable.

Skylan Brooks does a fine job of elevating the least realistic role—a character that benefits from endless contrivances. The writing around Hamster is easily the weakest part of the film, but Brooks does what he can to keep you engaged.

As Hamster’s sister Indigo, Zolee Griggs walks an interesting line as well, the good guy and bad guy in the same breath. It’s an understated performance that impresses. And Amy Seimetz—always a welcome sight—delivers a resigned villainy that perfectly suits the picture.

Archenemy has plenty of faults, but more than enough inspiration and grit to make you want to overlook them.