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Uneasy Money

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The Instigators

by George Wolf

Go ahead, Affleck, Damon and company. Say those words I like to hear.

“It’s a heist movie.”

Apple TV’s The Instigators is indeed a heist movie. There’s a plan, a snag, a hostage, a manhunt, and plenty of interesting characters well played by plenty of veteran talents. Director Doug Liman, coming off the rollicking good ride that was Road House, assembles all the parts with precision.

The sum just needs to be a little more fun.

Casey Affleck and Chuck MacLean provide a script that finds former Marine, Rory (Matt Damon), confiding in his therapist, Dr. Donna (Hong Chau), about his downward spiral and desperation for cash.

Rory finds an opportunity for acquiring exactly the $32, 400 he needs by teaming with alcoholic ex-con Cobby (Affleck) to pull a job for local goon Mr. Besegai (Michael Stuhlbarg). The guys simply need to rob the Boston mayor’s (Ron Perlman) big election night soiree at the yacht club, and they’ll get a slice of the take.

Not so fast, Massholes. Things go haywire, which sends the boys running from Besegai’s henchmen (Alfred Molina, Paul Walter Hauser), the cops and the mayor’s enforcer (Ving Rhames) while Rory reaches out to Dr. Donna for some affirmations.

Damon and Affleck create a nice pair of contrasting criminals. Damon’s forthright, note-taking approach to the heist often runs afoul of Affleck’s jaded pro, while Chau’s Dr. Donna won’t let any active felonies derail her from working on Rory’s emotional growth.

The stellar ensemble also gets plenty of room to sharpen the edges of their respective supporting characters. But even with witty dialog inside an ever-evolving fugitive journey, nothing ever becomes as outright funny as you’re hoping it would.

Like Rory, The Instigators seems most interested in getting the job done in a timely and competent manner. That’s fine, and you could find plenty of worse ways to spend 90 minutes. But if might have been nice to take Cobby’s approach and get a little reckless once in a while.

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Purple Haze

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Harold and the Purple Crayon

by Rachel Willis

Director Carlos Saldanha gets a lot of mileage from a children’s picture book about a boy whose drawings come to life. In his live-action adaptation of Harold and the Purple Crayon, a now-grown Harold becomes concerned when the narrator, also known as Old Man (Alfred Molina), suddenly disappears from his story.

Knowing that Old Man comes from the “real world,” Harold (Zachary Levi) draws a door which acts as a gateway into our world. His two best friends, Moose (Lil Rel Howery) and Porcupine (Tanya Reynolds), join him on his adventure.

Upon entering the real world, Moose and Porcupine become inexplicably human. Of course, logic is not necessary in a kid’s movie and it’s fun watching both characters learn to adjust to their new human forms.

Harold meets single mom Terry (Zooey Deschanel) and her son Mel (Benjamin Bottani), and finds in Mel a friend willing to help him in his search for Old Man. With an imagination just as big as Harold’s, Mel is the perfect companion for our creative hero.

The best part of Harold is the reminder that imagination is a doorway to an inspired, joyous life. Levi imbues Harold with a marvelous sweetness and naivety. Often, naïve characters feel clownish, but the film treats Harold more gently. His innocence is what opens him up to the pleasures of the “real world.” Though it has its challenges (such as the soul-sucking reality of working in retail). the world around Harold offers him plenty of possibilities.

That’s not to say the film doesn’t see a potential downside to unbridled creativity. The movie’s villain, Library Gary (played with wicked charm by Jemaine Clement), seeks to steal Harold’s magical crayon for selfish reasons. It’s a bit of a mixed message that may fly over the heads of many kids. Or perhaps, I’m just reading too much into it.

The movie has a few weaker moments. Certain scenes are a bit too long, dragging down the film’s overall fast pace. But on the whole, Saldanha captures the spirit of the original story. Creativity is a magical gift that should be embraced, nurtured, and enjoyed. A message worth repeating.

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Trust the Process

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Sing Sing

by George Wolf

Learn a bit about the genesis of A24’s Sing Sing, and you’d be tempted to view it as some sort of social experiment, a project where success is defined just by completing the assignment.

But to see the film is to witness a filmmaking vision brought to transcendent life by director/co-writer Greg Kwedar, and a tremendous ensemble cast that features many formerly incarcerated members of the Rehabilitation Through the Arts (RTA) program at Sing Sing maximum security prison.

Inspired by a 2005 article in Esquire magazine, the film brings us inside the RTA theatre troupe led by drama teacher Brent Buell (Paul Raci, Oscar nominee for Sound of Metal). Buell’s star pupil is John “Divine G” Whitfield (Colman Domingo), who is serving a 25 years-to-life sentence for manslaughter.

Via another endlessly sympathetic and award-worthy performance from Domingo, Whitfield comes to personify the soul-stirring effects of the RTA. As he meticulously prepares for one clemency hearing to the next, Whitfield throws himself into the work of the RTA troupe, and to mentoring a restless new member.

Clarence “Divine Eye” Maclin (Maclin, playing himself in a debut of undeniable power) has his violent guard up at all times, but Whitfield slowly starts chipping away at the anger that consumes him. He urges Maclin to commit, “trust the process,” and allow himself to feel human again.

Whitfield also counsels Maclin on his own quest for parole, creating a compelling dual B story that adds even more resonance to a deeply emotional journey. Colman, Maclin and the stellar supporting players (including former inmate Sean Dino Johnson and Domingo’s longtime creative partner Sean San Jose) fill every scene with a raw authenticity that can be as heartbreaking as it is hopeful.

The film’s surface-level message of healing through the arts is well-played and well-earned, but a more universal subtext is never far from the spotlight. Sing Sing soars from the way it invests in the need for expression and inspiration, and in the very souls who found a path to redemption by stepping onstage.

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Diver Down and Out

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The Last Breath

by George Wolf

You’ll notice some form of the word “shark” has not been worked in to the title, which is your first clue that The Last Breath wants to be taken more seriously than much of the sharksploitation fare.

It’s still a shark movie, just one that tries to be a little more based in reality.

Tries. A little.

Noah (Jack Parr) works at a dive shop in the Caribbean that’s owned by the deep-in-debt Levi (Julian Sands, in his last role). The two have recently discovered the wreck of the USS Charlotte, which went down thanks to an enemy torpedo during WWII.

So Noah has some exciting news to share with his college friends, who have just come in for a reunion party. One of the group, Brett (Alexander Arnold) is a rich douche, and he offers Noah and Levi big money to hold off reporting the find for one day, so they can all be the first to dive the Charlotte.

As a certified scuba diver who has gone on a few wreck dives, I can tell you that this is suicidal idiocy. But I get the lure of the premise for writers Andrew Prendergast and Nick Saltrese. It sets up a saltwater take on The Descent, where monsters are waiting in unexplored territory.

And of course, these divers must be equipped with full face diving masks and integrated microphones so that we can see more of the actors’ faces and the characters can speak to each other underwater. Yes, I’m again picking nits on these tourist dive shops offering such expensive equipment, but the bigger problem is the inane dialog and forced exposition that follows.

Director Joachim Hedén, a veteran of diving adventure films, does exhibit a fine command of underwater space and framing, creating a decent amount of tension with visual checks on remaining air supply or a frayed guideline. But while the footage of lurking great whites may integrate sufficiently, the shark attacks themselves offer less than thrilling CGI effects.

On the sharkin’ scale, this is indeed a step up from the ‘nados and the Megs. But if you’re waiting to hear The Last Breath belongs among the rare air of The Shallows or Open Water…

Don’t hold it.

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Timeline Bandits

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Deadpool & Wolverine

by George Wolf

The prospect of a new Deadpool & Wolverine teamup brings plenty of fan excitement, and one looming question.

What about Logan? They really gonna do him like that, and undo Wolverine’s deeply emotional sendoff with some dream sequence gag or something?

Don’t look away, you’re in a safe zone here. There’ll be no spoilers (and there’s plenty of surprises to spoil, so navigate your media carefully), but rest assured that the Deadpool franchise is built on self-awareness. And what this third installment cooks up is a foul-mouthed, carnage-laden and often hilarious blast of fan service and Friars Club roast that’s set to ludicrous speed.

It also has plenty to say about the new Honda Odyssey. See, Wade Wilson/Deadpool (Ryan Reynolds) is selling cars, sporting a “hair system” and pining for Vanessa (Morena Baccarin) when the mysterious Mr. Paradox (Matthew Macfadyen) gives Wade a chance to finally attain something he craves: to matter.

Remember, we’re in Marvel “multiverse” territory now, so while Paradox is keeping tabs on multiple timelines, all Deadpool needs to know is who can help him save the one holding people he really cares about.

Bet you can guess who can help, but doesn’t want to.

Director Shawn Levy, co-writing with Reynolds and Rhett Rheese, keeps up a nearly constant stream of bloodshed and banter, always staying one step ahead of us on the mockery scale. Disney and the MCU are frequent targets, but extended exposition, past films, previous spouses and more will all be skewered via precise timing from Reynolds and the muscle-flexing wrath of Hugh Jackman’s furious straight man.

This pair of timeline bandits is as much of an R-rated delight as you’re probably expecting, but Levy makes sure these two don’t just talk the talk. The action is stylishly well-staged, heavy on 80s needle drops (cha-ching Huey Lewis!) and often relentless, with D & W mostly battling each other until they come mask to face with the all-powerful Cassandra Nova (Emma Corin).

Nova rules “the Void,” a thrilling dystopian Hellscape that’s home to plenty of jokes about Mad Max and a priceless array of cameos. More and more famous faces drop in to join the fight, enough to leave the fanboys and girls cheering, laughing, and tipping their caps to pop culture callbacks and one very well-played superhero sleight of hand.

Yes, it’s overlong (but you will want to stay through the credits) and sometimes clearly impressed with its own cleverness, but Deadpool & Wolverine is also committed to its promise of adult, crowd-pleasing fun.

Make that overly committed, and over-delivered.

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Identity Crisis

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My Spy The Eternal City

by George Wolf

I said it four years ago and I still stand by it: My Spy is “the best huge-former-wrestler-stars-with-little-kid movie I have ever seen.”

Amazon Prime brings almost all the gang back for a trip abroad in The Eternal City, a sequel that unfortunately forgets to pack much of what made the original so charming.

CIA agent JJ (Dave Bautista) is still with Kate (now played by Lara Babalola), but she’s conveniently out of the country, which means JJ is guardian for Sophie (Chloe Coleman) just as she’s getting that teenage itch to test boundaries.

Happily domestic, JJ is still resisting offers from his boss David (Ken Jeong) and partner Bobbi (Kristen Schaal) to quit desk duty and return to the field. But like it or not, JJ is about to be forced back into action.

Chloe’s school choir has earned a trip to Italy, and JJ comes along as a chaperone under the demanding eye of Vice Principal Nancy (Anna Faris). David’s son Collin (Taeho K) is also part of the choir group, until he’s kidnapped by some evildoers so his dad will cough up the info needed to activate all those suitcase nukes hidden by the KGB.

And how do the bad guys know where all those suitcases are? Duh, they stole the thumb drive. It’s always the thumb drive!

Director Peter Segal again teams with co-writers Erich Hoeber and Jon Hoeber, but this time they seem much more interested in joining a genre they were winking at in part one.

My Spy would have used all this evil plan exposition for more charmingly self-aware humor. The Eternal City has lost much of that awareness, instead vying to launch some sort of hybrid stepdad/daughter action franchise that can also throw out teen hijinks and adult wisecracks.

Juggling is not in this CIA handbook. As likable as this ensemble is, only a few of the gags actually land, the running time starts to swell and the film spreads its tone so thin that no one gets out of The Eternal City feeling like they had a good time.

Especially those of us so pleasantly surprised with the first outing.

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Queen of the Waves

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Young Woman and the Sea

by George Wolf

She died in 2003 at the age of 98. And to this day, the New York parade that honored her in 1926 is the largest the city has ever given to a single athlete, man or woman.

Her name was Trudy Ederle, and that year she became the first woman to swim the 21 miles across the English Channel.

Disney’s Young Woman and the Sea brings Trudy’s story to streaming with broad strokes of sports inspiration, and a grounded lead turn from Daisy Ridley that consistently keeps engagement afloat.

Ridley brings intimacy to Trudy’s early struggles against health issues and sexism, crafting a quiet determination to conquer both through swimming the Channel.

Director Joachim Rønning (Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales, Maleficent: Mistress of Evil) and writer Jeff Nathanson (Catch Me If You Can) adapt Jeff Stout’s source biography with a familiar treatment of Trudy’s path to history. Solid supporting players (including Jeanette Hain, Kim Bodnia, Tilda Cobham-Hervey) create an Ederle family unit with an earned humanity. In contrast to forced underdog sports dramas such as the recent The Boys in the Boat, the family dynamics here feel earned, and that fuels the conflicts that come with the arrival of Bill Burgess (Stephen Graham).

Burgess – who swam the Channel himself years earlier – sees through the attempts by insecure males to sabotage Trudy’s quest, and commits himself to helping her succeed, even when the Ederle family wants to call it off. The period details are affecting, Rønning mines tension from an outcome we already know, and Ridley makes sure Trudy is inspirational without becoming a one note hero.

Young Woman and the Sea may never attempt to shake up the sports biography playbook, but it doesn’t feel like pandering, either. Disney obviously knows the game plan, and the film’s commitment to execution delivers a satisfying and overdue salute to a woman who earned it.

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Man in the Middle

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The Convert

by George Wolf

Director and co-writer Lee Tamahori lets us know that for 500 years, the Māori were “edged weapon” warriors. Then, the 1800s brought them muskets, and Christianity.

You can guess how that worked out.

In The Convert, Tamahori brings us into their world via Thomas Munro (Guy Pearce, solid), a lay minister who has accepted an assignment as Chaplain of Epworth, a British colony on New Zealand.

After years in the British army, Munro has a new commitment to mercy, and it almost immediately puts him squarely between two Māori warlords still committed to blood.

One Chief sends young Rangimai (Tioreore Ngatai-Melbourne) and Pahirua (Duane Evans Jr.) to live in Epworth and be mentored by Munro. While the opposing Chief plots an invasion to take back the land he feels is his, Munro quickly finds how deeply the bigotry grows in little Epworth.

New Zealander Tamahori (The Edge, Next, Die Another Day) shows a strong respect for authenticity in casting, language and customs of the Māori people. But as we learn more about why Munro “converted” from a soldier to a man of peace, a strong Dances With Wolves vibe clouds the more compelling history of these two rival tribes.

Some worthy (and timely) points are made about wars between “have-nots” only serving the “haves,” but while the film never goes full-on white savior, you wonder how it would have benefitted from a less pale point of view.

Munro’s arc isn’t frivolous, but neither is it fresh. The emotional pull here is clearly with the Māori, and it’s a shame The Convert is content to make them side players.

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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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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?