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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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Wolfs

by George Wolf (no relation)

Watch the trailer for Wolfs, and you hear Sinatra front and center.

But watch the movie, and it’s Sade time, baby.

I get that the Apple marketing department wants you to remember the fun of Clooney and Pitt’s Ocean’s Eleven franchise, but this new venture crafts its effective charm from a more seedy vibe.

New York D.A. Margaret (Amy Ryan) has a problem. She’s covered with blood in a swanky hotel with a much younger man (Austin Abrams), and he’s half naked on the floor with no pulse.

Plus, that’s a lot of drugs.

Margaret calls a fixer (Clooney), who promises to make it all go away. But it’s Pam (Frances McDormand) running the hotel and she has her own man (Pitt), who shows up with identical claims of problem solving.

The rival lone wolves have no intention of teaming up, but fate has other ideas. So it’s going to be a long and bumpy night.

Years before Reynolds and Jackman started their good natured ribbing, Clooney and Pitt owned the “fun frenemy” schtick, and writer/director Jon Watts reminds us that their charisma still has plenty of life.

The deadpan sparring is a mischievous hoot, as Margaret’s Man and Pam’s Man each strive to be too cool for competition while secretly pining for the other’s respect. Watts (Cop Car, the Spider-Man “Home” franchise, TV’s The Old Man) creates a nice counterbalance via the uncool “Kid” (Abrams is terrific) and backs up the snappy dialog with understated visual gags (one Man slowly peering around the corner at embarrassing moments) and some pieces of stylish, well-staged action.

There’s a winning air of confidence to the film, and it’s not just from two A-listers secure in their movie star status. Wolfs isn’t trying to re-invent any genres, but Watts displays plenty of skill with plot twisty intrigue.

These fixers aren’t leading a team of good-hearted thieves, robbing people who probably deserve it and righting old wrongs. Yes, they’re still unreasonably handsome, but they are shady characters with bloody pasts and clearly compromised moral codes. They are interesting, in a Tarantino sort of way.

And they are in one helluva mess. How dirty will they have to get to clean it up?

You may be surprised. Just don’t expect Vegas, and you’ll be entertained.

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Spider-Man: Far From Home

by Hope Madden and George Wolf

Spider-Man: Far From Home has more than a webshooter up its sleeve.

One part reflection on the state of MCU, one part statement on our cartoonishly ridiculous world today, one part charming coming-of-age tale, the latest Spidey episode almost takes on more than it can carry. But return writers Chris McKenna and Erik Sommers embrace franchise strengths while betting director Jon Watts, also back from Homecoming, can maneuver slick surprises.

The wager pays off, and Far From Home winds up being a film that feels a bit campy for a while, but in retrospect succeeds precisely because of those early over-the-top moments.

Peter Parker (the immeasurably charming Tom Holland), having returned from oblivion (Infinity War), then universal salvation and personal loss (Endgame), would like a vacation. The poor kid just wants to take a trip abroad with his class and get a little closer to his crush MJ (Zendaya).

But that is not to be, is it?

Not with Nick Fury (Samuel L. Jackson) following him across the globe, or the surprise appearance of Quentin Beck aka Mysterio (Jake Gyllenhaal), a new monster-slayer from another Earthly dimension.

“You mean there really is a multi-verse?”

That’s a nice nod to the stellar animated Spidey adventure from last year, and a big clue about how self-aware this chapter is determined to be. The front and center ponderings about what Peter (and by extension, Marvel) is going to do now threaten to collapse the film from self-absorption.

To the rescue: a jarring and unexpected pivot, and that wonderfully youthful vibe that now has one eye on growing up.

Interestingly, Tony Stark fills in for the guilt-inducing father figure that’s always been missing from this iteration of Peter Parker’s tale. Without Uncle Ben, Stark becomes that hallowed hero whose shadow threatens to obliterate the fledgling Avenger.

Peter’s still a teenager, after all, and Homecoming soared from embracing that fact, and from Holland’s ability to sell it in all its wide-eyed and awkward glory.

He still does, but now our hero’s naiveté is shaken by some mighty timely lessons. Number one: “It’s easy to fool people when they’re already fooling themselves.”

Not exactly subtle, but fitting for the world of a distracted teen. And for kids of all ages, there’s no denying how cathartic it is to see world leaders, their media lapdogs and widespread buffoonery on blast and blasted across the largest screens, where good will inevitably conquer.

As fun and funny as this keep-you-guessing Eurotrip is, its core is driven by a simple search for truth. And don’t leave early, because that search doesn’t stop until Far From Home plays its second post-credits hand, and you walk out re-thinking everything you just saw.

Tangled webs, indeed.

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Clown

by Hope Madden

Sympathetic, surprising, and often very uncomfortable, Jon Watts’s horror flick, though far from perfect, does an excellent job of morphing that lovable party favorite into the red-nosed freak from your nightmares.

Because clowns are terrifying.

Kent (a pitiful Andy Powers) stumbles across a vintage clown outfit in an estate property he’s fitting for resale. Perfect timing – his son’s birthday party is in an hour. What a surprise this will be, unless the suit is cursed in some way and will slowly turn Kent into a child-eating demon.

It does! Hooray!!!

Watts, who co-wrote with the talented Christopher Ford, weaves a fantasy of Nordic folklore turned modern nightmare. There are moments of grotesque brilliance and edgy horror as poor Andy slowly, painfully morphs into a monster who feeds on children.

Because of the victim pool, the film is likely to upset a lot of people, so keep that in mind as you going in. For those who are prepared for this, though, there is a Chuck E. Cheese scene that is pretty vintage.

Most of the balance of the cast is comparatively weak, but a weird-as-ever supporting turn from Peter Stormare helps the film overcome other acting let-downs.

Watts fails to maintain consistent tension or momentum, but gets credit for taking the horror places you might not expect, and for squeezing as much sympathy as possible before that last swing of the ax.

Verdict-3-0-Stars