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Science, Fiction

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Fly Me to the Moon

by George Wolf

Apologies to the Seinfeld/Maher committee, but the biggest problem in comedy isn’t woke madness, it’s people not even realizing when their leg is being pulled.

Remember “Birds Aren’t Real?” It gained real believers. Q Anon? There’s good reason to think it started as gag, just to see just what type of wacked-out conspiracies some folks would buy into.

Then there’s 2002’s Opération lune, a MOCKumentary about the conspiracy theory that the Apollo XI moon landing footage was faked by Stanley Kubrick. The mocking even included much laughing and fessing up at the end of the film, but to this day conspiracy fans cite it as proof of the NASA/Kubrick hoax.

Fly Me to the Moon adds more historical fiction to that Opération lune idea, wraps it an impressive throwback sheen, and then leans on the playful chemistry between Scarlett Johansson and Woody Harrelson for some winning rom-com moments.

Trouble is, they aren’t playing romantic partners.

Scarlett is Kelly Jones, a born saleswoman who’s hired by NASA to get the public back behind the Apollo program. Channing Tatum is launch director Cole Davis (loosely based on Mercury astronaut Deke Slayton), a committed leader who has little use for Kelly’s marketing ploys, even if he can’t deny her beauty and charm.

Kelly’s campaign works so well that President Nixon decides the moon landing is now “too big to fail,” and sends Moe Berkus (Woody) in to charge Kelly with filming a fake landing that can be used for backup.

And Kelly better agree to the ruse no matter what Cole thinks, or else some embarrassing facts about her past might come to light.

Director Greg Berlanti (Love, Simon) weaves some snappy production design into a zesty 60s aesthetic. There is style aplenty, which always props up a debut screenplay from Keenan Flynn, Rose Gilroy and Bill Kirstein that throws a drive-by bone to the science vs. religion debate while it delivers more amusement than outright comedy.

Nice supporting turns from Ray Romano and Jim Rash add to the list of likable elements, but as Kelly and Cole finally get romantic, you can’t be blamed for wanting a little more Woody. No doubt, Tatum has proven to be a solid comedic talent, but here he’s tasked instead with delivering Cole’s tortured backstory as well as his conflicted torch for Kelly, and neither is convincing.

Johansson carries the film by crafting Kelly as a delightful blend of con artist and seductive vamp. Harrelson is a natural as the winking rogue with a talent for intimidation. It’s no surprise, then, that the entire film steps more lively when those two are trying to outfox one another.

Enjoy their mischief, even if none of this really happened, a fact which makes the two-hour-plus running time seen a little more bloated. Still, Fly Me to the Moon has just enough stylish star power to make it a satisfying flight about something that never really happened.

And remember, birds are real.

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Grief’s Familiar Burden

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Cottontail

by Christie Robb

A spare, competent take on the isolating toll of caregiving and grief from first-time feature writer/director Patrick Dickinson, Cottontail explores the beauty in human connection and the ability to find that connection though emotional vulnerability and honesty.

When Japanese widower Kenzaburo (Lily Franky, Shoplifters) receives a last request from his late wife, he embarks on a journey to Lake Windemere in England’s Lake District. He’s been drained by trying to care for Akiko (Tae Kimura, House of Ninjas) alone as she struggled with dementia, attempting to shield his adult son, Toshi, from the more unpleasant (and literally shitty) parts of this work. This only drove the two men apart.

But it’s clear that their estrangement started  years earlier. Akiko was the glue that held the family together. Kenzaburo was too focused on his own work to let Toshi into his life. And now, he wants to take this last journey alone, as if he is the only one who lost someone.

Weaving together the main narrative with key flashbacks, Kenzaburo wanders lost—metaphorically, in his own grief and shame, and literally, as he attempts to find Lake Windemere on foot, having gotten on the wrong train.

There’s a brief interlude where Kenzabro asks for help at an English cottage door and finds fellowship with another widower (an underutilized Ciarán Hinds), but otherwise the film keeps its focus on the main family and the drama that pulls them together even as they drift apart.

Simple and straightforward, like the beautifully prepared plate of sushi that appears in the first act of the film, Cottontail lets Franky carry the movie with the strength and confidence of an emotionally nuanced performer.

Is the film predictable? Yes. But so, sadly, is loss and grief and the struggle to stay emotionally available when adulthood means growing old and falling apart.

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The Eyes of Maxine Minx

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MaXXXine

by Hope Madden and George Wolf

Mia Goth and Ti West had both existed successfully separately in moviedom for years, West having become an indie horror filmmaking darling with his third feature, 2009’s The House of the Devil. Goth’s unique beauty and malleable ennui made her a showstopper as early as her 2013 feature debut, Nymphomaniac: Vol. II.

But, appropriately enough, it was with their collaboration that they both became stars.

Their 2022 feature X delivered a magnificent mashup of Boogie Nights and A Texas Chain Saw Massacre, a late Seventies grindhouse ode with style for miles. Easily the best film of West’s career, it was followed quickly with a prequel, the absolute lunatic genius of 2023’s Pearl.

If X articulated just how much skill West brought to a feature, Pearl declared Goth a talent to be reckoned with. She deserved an Oscar nomination. She was breathtaking.

And so, obviously, horror fans have been giddy since the trailer for the third film in the trilogy, Maxxxine, dropped. We circle back to Goth’s X character some years since the incident in Texas. A popular porn star, Maxine Minx is about to make the leap to legit films with a starring turn in a horror sequel.

The popularity of West’s series means a boost in both budget and cast. Elizabeth Debicki, Kevin Bacon, Giancarlo Esposito, Halsey, Michelle Monaghan and Bobby Cannavale class up the ensemble this go-round in a film that feels more apiece with late 70s/early 80s urban thrillers a la Eyes Of Laura Mars.

As warnings about California’s “Night Stalker” plead with women to be careful, Maxine asserts her ability to take care of herself, even as it becomes clear that she is being stalked. Maxine’s director (Debicki) warns her to eliminate the distractions in life, and Maxine makes a promise to do just that.

Okay, then, here we go!

But though blood does flow around West’s pastiche of 80s pop and fashion, nothing here pops like the uniquely stylized timestamps that helped make the first two horrors so memorable. Much of the film begins to feel like a series of setups in search of that elusive, satisfying payoff.

There’s no doubt Goth still commands attention, but West’s foray into the 80s seems less edgy, less ambitious, and just less horrific. The comments on fame and excess become broadly generic, and somehow Maxine herself becomes a little less interesting.

On its own, the film fits nicely into the role of a competent urban thriller. But when cast as the final piece of a potentially iconic horror trilogy, MaXXXine ends up limping to the finish.

Rated R for gratuitous use of shoulder pads.

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Despicable Descendent

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Despicable Me 4

by Hope Madden

Despicable Me is a nice franchise—harmless and colorful, filled with engaging personalities. And perhaps what has made it as endearing as it has been for all these years and episodes is that Gru (Steve Carell) is actually, almost effortlessly, a good dad.

He’s had practice. For 14 years he’s been caring for the non-aging sisters Edith, Margo and Agnes, the orphans he took in so long ago to better pull off his greatest (to date) heist! Only to find out that he preferred fatherhood.

It helps—both in practicing paternal instincts and in entertaining movie theaters brimming with highly sugared tots—that he also cares for an army of oblong yellow goofballs.

So, 14 years, many capers, one wife and new son later, Despicable Me 4 finds Gru and his family hiding from his first arch-nemesis, high school bully Maxime (Will Ferrell), who swears vengeance from a class reunion slight with a plan to steal Gru’s infant son.

That is villainy.

Plus, there’s a counterattack operation involving superpowered minions. And there’s a wealthy neighbor family (Stephen Colbert and Chloe Fineman ably voice the upper-crusty parents) whose precocious teen Poppy (Joey King) hatches her own villainous schemes.

With all the crisscrossing, Easter egg bedecked, vibrant plot threads, it’s the one between Gru and Poppy that most satisfies as it reminds us again what a great girl dad Gru makes.

Kristin Wiig is underutilized (again) as Gru’s wife, Lucy and Sofia Vergara deserves more than what her character, Valentina, offers. Some of the secondary plot sequences feel like filler, but some bits of outright filler (a Dance Dance Revolution bit and everything with a vending machine) are highlights.

Ken Daurio’s been part of the DM writing team since the start, but Episode 4 marks the first collaboration with Mike White, whose previous work includes real highs (School of Rock, Beatriz at Dinner) and real lows (The Emoji Movie). Together the writers find a nice balance of nuttiness for characters—legacy and new—to continue to make this franchise a fun one.

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We Love the 80s!

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Beverly Hills Cop: Axel F

by George Wolf

Within the first ten minutes of Netflix’s Axel F, we hear the big hit songs from both Beverly Hills Cop 1 (“The Heat Is On”) and 2 (“Shakedown”). So the promise of 80s nostalgia is made early, and then part 4 in the franchise makes good on that promise for nearly two hours.

Thirty years after the dreadful BHC III, Axel Foley (Eddie Murphy) still has the same Detroit Lions jacket, and the same penchant for stirring up trouble.

He also has an estranged daughter named Jane Saunders (Taylor Paige, classing up the joint) who’s a successful defense lawyer in…anyone?…Beverly Hills. And Jane sometimes works with now P.I. Billy Rosewood (Judge Reinhold), who left the Beverly Hills police force after now Chief Taggart (John Ashton) didn’t have his back on a complicated case.

Jane is defending an accused cop killer that Billy thinks might have been framed. Their work doesn’t sit well with Taggart, or with the Rolex-wearing Captain Grant (Kevin Bacon), head of the new narcotics task force. So when some goons try to scare Jane off the case, Billy feels responsible and….anyone?…calls Axel.

First-time feature director Mark Molloy dutifully rolls out a workmanlike series of recognizable franchise faces (Bronson Pinchot, Paul Reiser) and situations (Axel crashes an exclusive club, Axel startles cops by jumping in the back seat of their cruiser). And while it’s nice to see the addition of Joseph Gordon-Levitt as a well meaning cop/ex boyfriend of Jane, little of the script from Will Beall, Tom Gormican and Kevin Etten deviates from the convenient and the predictable.

But is it fun? Yeah, it kinda is.

Murphy seems engaged about the character again (especially during a surprisingly relevant exchange with a parking valet), and the film is perfectly happy to remind you of happier times and take your mind off of Supreme Court decisions.

Come back in the room after feeding the cat: oh, look it’s Serge! Check your phone for minute: there’s a shoot-em-up car crash! You know who the bad guys are, you know fences will be mended, and you know you love the 80s.

Axel F knows you know, and this time, that’s just enough.

You know?

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Baby Teeth

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Humanist Vampire Seeking Consenting Suicidal Person

by Hope Madden

Late bloomers, right? Every family has one. One parent thinks they’re going too easy on their child, the other says they’re being too hard. Is the kid spoiled? Soft? Sensitive?

Ariane Luis-Seize’s Humanist Vampire Seeking Consenting Suicidal Person understands this feeling and empathizes with both perspectives, parent and child. It’s just that, in tender young Sasha’s case, it’s a family of vampires and the trauma of the whole “clown situation” at her 10th birthday might have something to do with her delayed adulthood.

This darkly comedic take – almost sitcomesque – on vampire family matters rings of Vincent Lannoo’s 2010 Belgian mockumentary, Vampires. But here, the cynicism is offset by genuine tenderness. I mean, there’s meanness and bloodshed. But there’s also a lot of sweetness afoot.

Sasha (Sara Montpetit, Falcon Lake) can’t bring herself to kill. Can she drink a Capri Sun style blood bag left in the fridge for her? She can. But cause the actual suffering? Nope. And then she spies Paul (Félix-Antoine Bénard) on the roof of a bowling alley, contemplating a jump.

Sasha is intrigued, though she may not be entirely clear as to why. But Paul might be the solution to her problem.

The pathos in Luis-Seize’s film benefits from both a widespread undercurrent of suicidal thought—both as a parent’s nightmare and a child’s misguided salvation—and an understated theme of neurodivergent love.

Montpetit and Bénard share a charming chemistry, their pairing buoyed by the harsher comedic stylings of Sasha’s cousin Denise (Noémie O’Farrell), and her douchebro sidekick (Gabriel-Antoine Roy). Sasha’s parents (Sophie Cadieux and Steve Lapiante) and her saucy aunt (Marie Brassard) help the angsty romance maintain a healthy comedic balance.

The resolution may be too tidy, but Louis-Seize draws real anxiety from the empathy her leads create. She also injects admirably dark (dare I say biting?) humor throughout, guaranteeing that good hearted sentiment never undoes the brilliant nastiness we witness in those early moments with Rico the Clown.

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Surface Level Scares

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Cold Blows the Wind

by Eva Fraser

Husband and wife hit man with car. They think he is dead. He is not. Chaos ensues. 

Cold Blows the Wind, written and directed by Eric Williford, is a zombie movie with notes of possession that does have an interesting premise, but gets overshadowed by lackluster performances. 

The film starts off rather cryptically, with a woman covered in blood singing a song. This chilling excerpt is immediately broken by the main couple, Dean (Danell Leyva) and Tasha (Victoria Vertuga), whose chemistry is nonexistent and whose acting feels robotic. They open the trunk of their car, where a pointedly undead jogger (Brandon Tyler Jones) cowers. From this moment on, the couple immerses themselves in a dangerous world of murder and what comes next when their efforts fail. 

Everything about the film is visually stunning— the lighting, with its cool and warm tones; the sound, with its exacting and disturbing realism; the special effects; the fight scenes; and the cinematography by Marc Martinez, which diversifies the slasher label with complex shots. The main issue is that the tech does all the work.

Cold Blows the Wind loses the plot in its dedication to shock factor and gore above all else. Once the film moves past the exposition and starts living up to its horror label, the acting improves—or maybe the phenomenal tech distracts from it. That being said, Briar (Jamie Bernadette) and Uncle Stevie (Torrey B. Lawrence) play convincing and thrilling roles that hold the film up in its weakest moments. 

Cold Blows the Wind commits to disturbing viewers, but in the process, discards its originality. If a good thrill and some gore are what you’re looking for, this film may be for you. If you want an enticing film whose plot is strengthened by its lead performances, look elsewhere. 

Fright Club

Fright Club: Best Horror Threequel

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Horror sequels—absolutely no genre turns out more of them. There are twelve Friday the 13ths, eleven Hellraisers, nine Texas Chainsaw Massacres Hell, there are eight Leprechaun movies! Usually the first one’s great and each successive sequel is weaker than the last. But are there any series where the third installment really stands out? There are! And we are here to count those lucky numbers three down in podcast form.

6. A Quiet Place: Day One

Recency bias? Maybe. Writer/director Michael Sarnoski has more than inventive scares to live up to as he helms A Quiet Place: Day One. The third installment of John Krasinski’s alien invasion series may boast breathless tension, sudden gore, and the most silent theaters you’re likely to visit. Beyond all those things, Krasinski shows no mercy at all when it comes to ripping your heart out. In that area, he does more damage than aliens. Sarnoski is ready for it—all of it—so you should bring some tissues.

Lupita Nyong’o leads a stellar cast as Sam, an unhappy woman on a day trip with her cat to NYC. Her plans are upended when giant ear-head monsters begin dropping from the sky, smack into the noisiest city in the nation. Any time you can watch a film with giant extra-terrestrials bearing ear drums where a face should be and you find yourself fully believing anything, you’re watching a pretty good movie. A Quiet Place: Day One is a pretty good movie.

5. Annabelle Comes Home (2019)

Easily the best in the outright Annabelle series (not specifically ranking the rest of the Conjuring universe in which she’s also situated). Annabelle Comes Home delivers a blast of fun, and a remarkable tonal shift from its precedessors.

Mckenna Grace is Judy Warren, daughter of Ed (Patrick Wilson) and Lorraine (Vera Farmiga, both in cameo). Folks go out of town to save some souls or buy more polyesther, whichever, and leave Judy with reliable babysitter, who invites an unreliable buddy, who touches every object in the Warrens’ “do not touch by reason of demonic possession” room and all hell breaks loose.

It’s fun—mindless PG13 fun, but definitely fun.

4. Son of Frankenstein (1939)

Basil Rathbone plays the estranged son of the wacky Dr. Frankenstein. He’s spent his life abroad, but now that his father’s dead, he’s decided to look into that old property left to him. His lovely wife and precocious son accompany him, but they find nothing but ill will in the village.

Which does nothing to dissuade the young Dr. Frankenstein from reviving his father’s monster the first chance he gets. Boris Karloff is back, this time taking orders from Ygor (Bela Lugosi), a vindictive little villager who helps out in the laboratory. It’s a tense, sad and often funny film littered with some of the biggest stars of the age, and though it never comes near the heights of the James Whale films, it’s rock solid.

3. Day of the Dead (1985)

The third and in George Romero’s original Dead series, Day of the Dead delivers a cynical look at humanity. The filmmaker turns his eye toward what happens to civilization long after the zombiepocalypse ravages humanity.

It’s clear that this is the episode where Romero began to really identify with the zombies, a thread he pulls more clearly through later installments – Land of the Dead in particular. But if you compare Bub with any of the civilians, even Sarah Bowman, it’s clear who’s the favorite character. Not that anyone blames Romero for that.

2. Army of Darkness (1992)

Yes, all of Sam Raimi’s Evil Dead films are a laugh riot, a visceral delight, a spew-happy celebration. But the Ashley J. Williams of the first two episodes gets a big makeover for Part 3.

Bruce Campbell loses the unibrow, gains some pecs, biceps and abs, and turns the attitude up to 11. The result is a medieval fantasy spilling over with one liners, bravado, idiocy of the best kind, and angry dooting. That’s right, angry dooting!

1. Exorcist III

Hands down the best third installment of any horror franchise, William Peter Blatty wrote and directed this dialogue-dense sequel to the 1973 phenomenon William Friedken had made of his novel. Blatty starts strong enough, garnishing shots with vivid, elegantly creepy images. He enlists George C. Scott to anchor the tale of a cop drawn back into a supernatural case. In other inspired casting, New York Nicks great Patrick Ewing plays the angel of death in one of Kinderman’s freaky dream sequences, joined by romance novel coverboy Fabio as another angel. Also, the always great character actress Nancy Fish plays the bitchy but reluctantly helpful Nurse Allerton.

There are also two of the scariest scenes in cinema. Eventually the story moves into a hospital and stays there, but just before that move, there’s a terrific confessional scare – crazy spooky voice, effective cackle, blood – that elevates the entire project.

And then there’s that insane flash of terror as one nurse crosses the narrow hallway in front of the camera, quickly followed by some gauze-draped figure, arms outstretched. Eep!