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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.

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.

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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. 

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Tales From the Dark Side

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Thunderbolts*

by George Wolf

In the post-Avengers world, CIA Director Valentina is quick to tell America that there is no one to protect us.

Well, make way for the Thunderbolts* (named for a peewee soccer team!)

Valentina (Julie Louis-Dreyfus, a treasure as always) makes her declaration while testifying at her own impeachment hearing. It seems she’s after unchecked power to alone decide who the criminals are (can you imagine such a thing?), and the details of Valentina’s attempts to develop her own brand of super-soldiers are about to come to light.

She has a plan to stop that, but it only ends up uniting now-Congressman Bucky Barnes (Sebastian Stan), Yelena Belova (Florence Pugh), Alexei “Red Guardian” Shostakov (David Harbour) “Ghost” Ava Starr (Hanna John-Kamen) JV Captain America John Walker (Wyatt Russell) and a mysterious guy named Bob (Lewis Pullman).

Red Guardian has been biding time operating a limo service (“we protect you from a boring evening!”) so he’s only too happy to get back in game, but the others aren’t so sure. And they have no idea what Bob’s deal is.

It turns out to be pretty dark and interesting, just like this new superteam origin story. Director Jake Shreier (Robot & Frank, Beef) and the writing team do a solid job balancing the required backstory exposition with superhero action and character driven humor (mainly via Harbor’s can’t-miss timing and some delicious deadpans from Louis-Dreyfus.)

And speaking of character driven, Pugh is just so good. As a new, all-powerful villain emerges, she and Yelena carry the film to some dark, psychological places in the third act. Thunderbolts* isn’t just interested in how this team assembles, it wants us to feel comfortable talking about why we all need a good support system, especially in the age of gaslighting, disinformation and power grabs.

A crowd-pleasing glimpse at what’s next comes in the post credits scene, and after the messy misstep of Brave New World, Thunderbolts* puts one back the MCU win column.

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Unwelcome Back

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The Surfer

by George Wolf

Have you seen Wake in Fright, the 1971 Australian nightmare with Donald Pleasence? How about The Swimmer from ’68, where Burt Lancaster’s delusions of greatness are slowly punctured by the reality of his past?

The Surfer will hit harder if you can appreciate how it blends the two for its own deranged tale, as Nicolas Cage takes full advantage of another chance to come unglued before our eyes.

Cage stars as the titular surfer, who has come back to Australia’s Luna Bay in hopes of buying his childhood home. He brings his son along to surprise him with the news, but quickly finds the locals most unwelcoming.

“Don’t live here, don’t surf here!”

The “Bay Boys” rule the beach, and their guru Scally (Julian McMahon) takes the surfer and son aside to give them one polite warning: best move along.

They oblige, but the surfer won’t give up his dream so easily. He returns solo and things quickly escalate with the Bay Boys until the surfer is bloody and barefoot, without money, phone, car, or friends.

The font of the opening credits sets the perfect retro vibe, and director Lorcan Finnegan (Vivarium) leans into it from there. The minimalistic score, wide frames and dramatic punch-ins cast a spell of 70s Ozploitation that makes a fine launching pad for Cage’s slide into lunacy.

Australian accent? You think Cage needs one to sell this quest for survival? He doesn’t, and writer Thomas Martin weaves his lack of dialect into the thread of wry humor that runs throughout the film. Like Wake in Fright, circumstances hold a stranger prisoner in a foreboding Australian town, where – like The Swimmer – the past comes calling.

The Surfer is often smart but can be less than subtle, with some “hey don’t miss this” camerawork – which, to be fair, aligns with the throwback feel – and a lesson about toxic masculinity that’s well-meaning but repetitive.

But there’s much to like here, starting with Cage. The surfer is the kind of role that’s in perfect sync with his legendary eccentricities. He’s a man on the verge for ninety minutes, and nearly all of those are too much fun to look away.

Outtakes

Simply Resistible

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Another Simple Favor

by George Wolf

Five years ago, A Simple Favor delivered a pretty delicious slice of satire for the angsty modern woman/wife/mother. Buoyed by the chemistry of stars Anna Kendrick and Blake Lively, it mixed B-movie trappings with in-the-moment irony for a fun, twisty tale of gaslighting, betrayal, murder, and mommy vlogs.

Amazon Prime brings the two stars back together for Another Simple Favor, along with director Paul Feig and screenwriter Jessica Sharzer (sharing screenplay credit this time with Laeta Kalogridis). And while the mischievous spark is still there, it struggles for air under narrative excess.

Since putting the conniving Emily (Lively) away, Stephanie (Kendrick) has become a successful author still milking her role in the tabloid-ready murder mystery. So imagine everyone’s surprise when, who comes vamping in to Stephanie’s latest book reading but Emily herself, out on appeal with an appeal of her own.

She’s headed overseas to marry the dashing Dante Versano (Michele Morrone)! And Stephanie simply must come to Capri and be her Maid of Honor!

Why not? They’ll be gorgeous locales, incredible food, beautiful people, and there’s no way Emily could have cooked up some elaborate plan for revenge, right? Right?

It gets elaborate, all right, and not always in a fun way. Emily’s ex (Henry Golding) and Stephanie’s agent (Alex Newell) both come along for some arguably necessary reasons, and the introductions of Aunt Linda (Allison Janney) and Mom Margaret (Elizabeth Perkins) seem overly convoluted.

Much like Golding when his character is drunk, most everything about this sequel just screams “trying too hard.” If some secrets are good, more secrets must be better! And the mafia, yeah, throw some mafia family feuding in there, too! The longer we’re away from Steph and Emily, the more it drags.

But Lively and Kendrick always keep it watchable. They’ve got these roles down cold, and their snappy interplay remains frisky and fabulous. Together, they’re still simply irresistible. It’s the rest of Another Simple Favor that makes it easier to resist.

Outtakes

Ballet of Bullets

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Havoc

by George Wolf

If you’ve seen The Raid or The Raid 2, you’re plenty familiar with the Gareth Evans brand of Gun Fu. With Havoc, he brings the same breakneck blood sport to Netflix. And by the time he’s done, you’ll be amazed none of that splatter got on your sofa.

Expect violence, turned up to eleven.

Tom Hardy takes the lead as Walker, a hardened detective in a seedy, unnamed metropolis. It’s clear Walker has taken part in his share of dirty dealings, and he’s looking for a way to finally get clear of owing local politician Lawrence Beaumont (Forest Whitaker) anything at all.

Walker gets his chance when Beaumont’s estranged son Charlie (Justin Cornwell) is part of a drug deal gone way wrong, and quickly earns a death sentence from a vengeful crime lord.

If Walker can get Charlie out of the city alive, all debts to Daddy Beaumont will be settled.

His forthright partner Ellie (Jessie Mei Li) brings the integrity Walker gave up long ago, and together they sort through increasing levels of goons, guns and corruption to complete the mission.

Yes, levels. Yes, like a video game. Writer/director Evans is careful to craft the setting as a familiar but ambiguous cesspool where escape will only be possible via wave upon wave of martial arts homages, frenetic camerawork and relentless bloodletting.

When it doubt, keep shooting.

Does it get ridiculous? Damn right it does, but Hardy keeps it grounded in anti-hero righteousness, a game supporting cast (including the always welcome Timothy Olyphant and Obstacle Corpse standout Gareth Tidball) fleshes out all the edges, and Evans brings the visual calling cards that anchor a savage ballet of bullets.

Is Havoc deep? Not at all. But does it hit the target? Yes it does, and anything else that might be in the vicinity.

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Rock in the Ruins

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Pink Floyd at Pompeii

by Hope Madden and George Wolf

The gorgeous new restoration of 1972’s Pink Floyd at Pompeii delivers a beautifully discordant glimpse of a transitional period for one of music’s most important rock bands. Gorgeously restored image and sound immerse you in Floyd’s music. 

Adrian Maben’s doc focuses primarily on Floyd’s 1971 trip to Italy, with performances recorded live in the ruins of the Pompeii Amphitheatre to an audience of only crew . The setlist (including selections recorded later in Paris) consists of some of Floyd’s more loosely constructed symphonic jams—Careful with that Axe Eugene, Echoes, Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun, One of These Days—which frees Maben visually from the need to capture a singer. Rather, he lets Floyd’s trippier melodic concoctions provide a soundscape for various images. Sometimes eerily beautiful landscapes and vistas populate the screen, while elsewhere the filmmaker turns the camera to period artwork.

Maben punctuates the live cuts with bits of interviews and fly-on-the-wall footage as the band shares a meal. David Gilmour seems forever in need of a glass of milk, while drummer Nick Mason’s request for apple pie goes unanswered. These brief snippets, though borderline Spinal Tap, balance the live performance’s grandiosity with a sweet bit of banality.

Yes, both Gilmour and Roger Waters get their screen time, but late keyboardist Richard Wright also finds his time in the spotlight while Mason often draws most of Maben’s interest. His manic drumming and respectful requests for “no crust” are a delight, and the interplay between all the band members is a bittersweet counter to the rancor that erupted in years to come.

Wisely, the restoration includes material that had made its way into an earlier director’s cut. We spend time in Abby Road studios with the band as they work through tracks for their as-yet-unreleased masterwork Dark Side of the Moon album.

It’s the perfect balance. The live, undiluted imagination and experimentation that marked Pink Floyd’s early career gives way to the masterful, controlled artistry of the album that would redefine the band (and music history).  

Even for Floyd fans who have seen much of this before, the new restoration – especially the IMAX version hitting select theaters – is a must. It not only gives some classic early jams due respect, it provides a fascinating glimpse at the days just before a legendary rock band stepped into its future.