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Now You See Me, Now You Don’t

by Hope Madden

I remember so clearly, back in 2016 when Now You See Me 2 came out, thinking—hold the phone, Now You See Me made enough money to merit a sequel?

Imagine my surprise a decade on finding that apparently there’s interest enough for a third episode, Now You See Me, Now You Don’t.

Is there reason to hope the third Magician Robin Hood film will be at least a fun spectacle?

Ruben Fleischer directs, which seems fitting because it was on his zom-com masterstroke Zombieland that NYSM co-stars Jesse Eisenberg and Woody Harrelson first teamed up. Both actors return to their tricky ways as egotistical control freak Atlas (Eisenberg) and amiable mentalist Merritt (Harrelson), working this time from a script co-written by Zombieland (and Deadpool) scribe Rhett Reese.

That all looks promising, but magic is nothing if not sleight of hand.

A lot of familiar faces from NYSM 1 & 2, plus three scrappy new magicians—Bosco (Dominic Sessa), Charlie (Justice Smith), and June (Ariana Greenblatt)—join forces to defeat diabolical South African diamond heiress, Veronika Vanderberg (Rosamund Pike).

Pike is perfect, effortlessly cutting the ideal figure as the elegant, narcissistic, ultra-wealthy villain. Smith once again charms as a self-deprecating nerd. Eisenberg seems like he might be in literal pain delivering this dialog.

And there’s a lot! At least 25% of Eisenberg’s lines are delivered as voiceover, while his character explains everything the viewer may not know about the last two episodes, the characters in the current episode, missing characters, the plan for the heist, the mysterious details even he doesn’t understand. If magic or moviemaking is about show over tell, Fleischer doesn’t know it.

What is a Now You See Me movie, really? It’s a heist flick plus magic plus social justice. At least one of those three elements is likely to please any viewer. But Reese’s script, co-written with Seth Grahame-Smith and Michael Lesslie, is nothing but exposition. Worse, Fleischer’s direction (and all that dialog) drains the wonder from every scene.

The film plays more like a Super Friends episode from the 1970s: lots of very colorful, one-dimensional characters and over-the-top villainy lazily packaged for mass consumption. Maybe I’d have enjoyed it more with a big bowl of Sugar Corn Pops.

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War and Peace and Poltergeists

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Pride and Prejudice and Zombies

by Hope Madden

Pride and Prejudice and Zombies – there’s not a lot of grey area there. If this is your bag – if you’ve always wanted to see Lizzie Bennet (Lily James) prove her inner badassedness with a katana to an undead skull – you can’t go entirely wrong here.

You will find all the old familiars: Mr. and Mrs. Bennet, their many marriageable daughters, the scoundrel Wickham (Jack Huston), the dashing Bingley (Douglas Booth), the haughty but lovestruck Darcy (Sam Riley). The main difference is England, which has been overrun by “unmentionables” for some years, making that foul weather trip from the Bennets’ to the Bingleys’ dangerous for more reasons than a simple flu bug.

In 2009, writer Seth Grahame-Smith found himself with a surprise success in his novel, co-written by Jane Austen (whose original text is firmly in the public domain). Given that someone adapts her novel for the screen about every 25 minutes, it is no surprise that Grahame-Smith’s version has made its way to the cinema. And just in time for Valentine’s Day!

I don’t say that ironically. Like Shaun of the Dead, Pride and Prejudice and Zombies would make a fine date movie for a very specific crowd.

Director Burr Steers keeps the violence mostly off screen and the blood to a relative minimum, preferring to focus on the heaving post-fight-scene bosom. Which, let’s be honest, gets tiresome. He’s probably more intrigued by the image of gorgeously appointed young unmarrieds who hide daggers in their garters than he should be – these are the Bennet girls, for God’s sake – and herein lies the problem.

Burr seems unclear on the film’s audience. He’s unsure just how much action to pack into an Austen narrative, fuzzy on the amount of blood that’s appropriate to the tale, blurry on the balance of levity versus seriousness versus gore.

Lucky for him, this is a very proven story of delayed gratification and all the longing that accompanies it. Plus, zombies. It’s hard to go wrong here, and for the most part, PPZ doesn’t go too wrong. It’s an entertaining if uninspired retelling of a retelling of a tale you’ve heard, read, and seen a dozen times. But this time, Lizzy Bennet’s packing heat, which just seems right.

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