Hello friends,
I'm excited to announce that we have moved our operation to a brand-new blog:
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Please check it out at: https://thomoviereviews.wordpress.com/
To all of those reading, your attention and loyalty means everything. I hope you will follow us to our new home and enjoy more great reviews than ever before.
Yours very truly,
Bennett Campbell Ferguson, editor in chief
The Healthy Orange Movie Reviews
With a team of savvy film enthusiasts, The Healthy Orange Movie Reviews strives to provide film critcism that's smart, fun, and guaranteed to get people talking.
Sunday, May 8, 2016
Sunday, April 10, 2016
Movie Review: "Eye in the Sky" (Gavin Hood, 2016)
WAR
IS (DIGITAL) HELL by Bennett Campbell Ferguson
Above:
the late Alan Rickman in a scene from Mr. Hood’s new movie. Photo ©Bleecker Street.
“Eye in the Sky,” the latest movie
from Oscar-winning director Gavin Hood (“Tsotsi,” “Ender’s Game”) is a film
about drone warfare. In fact, the story
is so steeped in the icky intricacies of technologically-enhanced combat that you
could be forgiven for mistaking its superb English cast for an army of mechanized
creatures with exceptional actorly finesse.
The
leader of the charge is Colonel Katherine Powell (Helen Mirren), a terrorist
hunter whose single-minded ferocity makes Arnold Schwarzenegger’s Terminator look
like a Teletubby. Her superior, Frank
Benson (Alan Rickman), is equally icy; he seamlessly segues from shopping for a
toy baby doll to suavely explaining to a tableful of politicians why they
should authorize Powell to fire a missile at a terrorist stronghold in
Kenya—even though a young girl is selling loaves of bread just outside the
targeted building.
With
so many sharp fragments of plot grinding against each other, “Eye in the Sky”
could have easily impaled itself upon its vast scope. Yet that doesn’t happen, mainly because the
whole operation is masterminded by Mr. Hood.
Powered by sleek Hollywood suspense, thorny ethics, and a sorrowful,
knowing attitude towards violence, “Eye in the Sky” reflects not only Mr.
Hood’s maturation as a filmmaker, but his stint in law school and his time in
the South African military. It’s the
work of a man who’s seen it all.
What
the soldiers of “Eye in the Sky” see, they glimpse only through pixilated
surveillance footage; it’s Steve Watts (Aaron Paul), a Vegas drone pilot
serving under Colonel Powell, who first spots Alia (Aisha Tokow), the bread
seller. Over the phone, Powell insists
that Watts take the shot; he doesn’t want to, though neither do Powell’s military
and political superiors. Like children
playing a murderous round of Duck, Duck, Goose, they keep crying, “Not it!” and
begging anyone else to choose between the life of Alia and the lives of the
people who may (or may not) be killed in a potentially imminent terrorist
attack.
These seething
boardroom debates mark a moment of scaling down for Mr. Hood, who spent roughly
half a decade milking his operatic science-fiction epics, “X-Men Origins:
Wolverine” and “Ender’s Game,” for apocalyptic pathos. By comparison, “Eye in the Sky” unfolds on a
more diminutive canvas, though it gushes with the qualities that defined Mr.
Hood’s tenure as a sci-fi auteur—his vicious contempt for militaristic violence
and his nakedly heartfelt passion for honorability, truthfulness, and kindness.
Better
yet are the scenes on the dusty streets of Kenya, where a tough, wily agent
named Jama Farah (Barkhad Abdi, as razor-thin as he was in “Captain Phillips”) spies
on the terrorists per Powell’s orders. While
it’s stirring and chilling to watch Powell and Benson rage about the ethics of
preemptive strikes, the sight of Farah flailing over ramshackle fences and racing
through cramped alleys is more compelling because he’s not just raging.
He’s
fighting for his life.
Thursday, April 7, 2016
"Batman: Bad Blood" (Jay Oliva, 2016)
A BETTER BATMAN by Mo Shaunette
Above: a scene from “Batman:
Bad Blood.” Photo ©Warner Home Video.
It's an unfortunate fact that at some point, every comic book
fan faces some moment of disillusionment as they age and grow. For me,
one arrived when I realized just how boring Batman actually is.
Don’t get me wrong; there are Batman stories that I love.
But those stories are made memorable by situations, strong supporting
characters, and iconic villains. Batman himself is so arch and
straightforward that he borders on being one-dimensional—a premier “human”
character in DC Comics with relatively little humanity.
“Batman: Bad Blood,” the latest of the DC animated features,
wisely responds to its hero’s limitations by shifting its focus away from the
Caped Crusader and onto various sidekicks and supporting players. That’s
part of why the film is one of the stronger outputs from Warner Home Media’s
recent uneven streak.
“Bad Blood” begins as a new gang takes hold in Gotham City: a
crew of lesser-known villains led by the mysterious Heretic (Travis
Willingham). When it appears that the Heretic has succeeded in killing
Batman (Jason O’Mara), Dick Grayson, a.k.a. Nightwing (Sean Maher), takes up
the Bat-mantle, donning his former mentor’s cape and cowl to fight the Heretic,
with Bruce Wayne’s son Damian (Stuart Allen) tagging along to make sure he does
it right.
Along the way, the new Dynamic Duo get help from Kate Kane,
a.k.a. Batwoman (Yvonne Strahovski)—a distant cousin of Bruce Wayne—and Luke
Fox, a.k.a. Batwing (Gaius Charles), who is the son of Batman’s gadget supplier
Lucius Fox (my favorite Ghostbuster, Ernie Hudson). These compelling
characters help set “Bad Blood” apart from the DC animation pack.
The film also succeeds because of thematic concentration.
As the title implies, the idea of family and familial bonds is central to the
story. Dick remarks that it was Bruce’s ability to empathize with him and
Damian as sons, not soldiers, that inspired them to a higher calling.
Similarly, both Kate and Luke are kept at a distance by Bruce
because they aren’t part of his “family”—but they are welcomed by Dick, who
sees them not only as capable fighters, but as kindred spirits, scarred by
trauma and spurned forward by duty to make their city a better place.
“Bad Blood” also stands apart because of the fact that Dick
Grayson is at the center of the story. His personal arc brings
much-needed humanity to the movie (as does his sense of humor) and both Kate
and Luke have similarly compelling hero’s journeys, especially since they are
former soldiers looking for new purpose (Luke is mentioned as having returned
from a tour in Afghanistan; Kate was at West Point Academy before being
expelled for violating Don’t Ask Don’t Tell).
If there’s any element of the film that falters, it’s the
script, which is clunky and uneven at times. The film’s action scenes and
character beats don’t always connect and the climax runs through events in such
rapid succession that there’s little time to breathe, especially when the
Heretic’s gang members start dropping like flies.
I get that in a story with more characters than normal, you have
to budget your screen time strategically, but I still think that DC missed an
opportunity to enrich their film by at least making it longer than eighty
minutes.
Still, “Bad Blood” ultimately works. The cast brings it
(especially Sean Maher, who shines in the lead role, and Travis Willingham, who
effectively sells the Heretic’s madness and internal turmoil); many of the
action sequences are fluid, well-choreographed, brutal and highlight each
character’s particular style; and Phil Bourassa’s character designs still look
fantastic, with his villain redesigns being especially distinct (although I
can’t decide if the Heretic’s sleeveless trench coat looks cool or just silly).
In the end, it all comes together to make one of the better
Batman movies I’ve seen in some time. If you’re interested in exploring
the world of the Dark Knight from outside his head, give it a watch.
Wednesday, March 30, 2016
Movie Review: "Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice" (Zack Snyder, 2016)
CIVIL BORE by Mo
Shaunette
Above: Ben
Affleck stars in Mr. Snyder’s new movie.
Photo ©Warner Bros. Pictures.
Partway through “Batman v Superman: Dawn of
Justice,” there is a montage where news pundits, experts, and other talking
heads debate the merits of the Man of Steel, pondering whether he’s man or god,
hero or villain. Into this discussion comes the voice of astrophysicist
Neil deGrasse Tyson, whose contribution, despite being eloquent and sounding
like something he’d actually say, basically just means, “Superman proves that
aliens exist. Ain’t that a kick in the pants?”
That shallow
insight sits at the base of a mountain of evidence that “B v S” is a movie that
broaches philosophical questions about the ethics and implications of
superheroes, but cares little for concrete answers or coherent ideological
stances. At the end of the day, it’s just a nothing movie and a
half-assed tribute to Frank Miller’s Batman graphic novel “The Dark Knight
Returns” (and also a 150-minute teaser for the upcoming “Justice League”
double-feature).
No, “B v S” is not a good film. It may go down in history
as the "The Room" of comic book movies: a film committed to bad
creative decisions with such intense self-seriousness and pretension that it's
gobsmacking, bordering on outright hilarious.
If that fact surprises you, than you haven’t been paying attention.
Let’s start the beginning. “B v S” is a sequel to “Man of
Steel,” which itself was a miserable movie. Yes, the film showcased some
fine elements (a solid cast, cool effects, and decent cinematography).
But it was also sabotaged by a needlessly convoluted script and the direction
of Zack Snyder (who displayed all the intellectual and emotional nuance of a
13-year-old who had just discovered symbolism). Worse, the film framed
Superman not as an icon of American pop culture, but as a problem to be solved
through gritty “modernization.”
Attempting to overshadow these creative blunders, Warner Bros.
announced a sequel with trumpeting cries of, “Batman’s in the next one!
They’re gonna fight!” However, Batman and Superman fighting does not a
movie make (in fact, it’s just one scene in the movie). That’s partly
why, lo and behold, “B v S” (which Mr. Snyder directed) is just as protracted
and dull as you’d expect.
This becomes apparent during the seemingly endless first and
second acts of the film, which are devoted to the escalating tensions between
Clark Kent/Superman (Henry Cavill, lifeless and stone-faced) and Bruce
Wayne/Batman (an equally sedate Ben Affleck). These men clash over their
differing attitudes toward crime fighting (Superman condemns the Dark Knight's
practice of branding criminals; Batman blames the destruction of Metropolis in
the last movie on the Man of Steel's carelessness) and are prodded forward into
conflict by the sinister machinations of tech mogul Lex Luthor (Jesse
Eisenberg).
There’s also a subplot involving Diana Prince/Wonder Woman (Gal
Gadot), who shows up during the climax of the movie and is easily the best part
of “B v S”—chiefly because she has little connection to the film’s rather
pathetic plot.
And it is pathetic. To solve the dilemma of how to pit two
heroes against each other, “B v S” saps away the heroism of both Batman and
Superman. Here, Superman bashes a terrorist through a wall to save Lois
Lane (Amy Adams), bullies Batman into quitting vigilantism, and shuffles off
his own cape when the going gets too tough. Batman, meanwhile, is painted
as a gun-wielding, paranoid alcoholic who believes Superman is destined to become
a fascist dictator—yet the Caped Crusader has just as little regard for human
life (and human property) as the Last Son of Krypton.
Surprisingly, the highlight of this mess is Lex Luthor.
Yes, Mr. Eisenberg’s shtick might rub some people the wrong way (he acts like
he’s at an improv show, blabbering nonsense in his quest for laughs) and his
motivations seem to change from scene to scene, but he’s got more life and
personality than either of the title characters. Beneath the mumbles and
jokes and philosophical nothings about God and angels and his abusive daddy,
there's a man on the verge of a nervous breakdown—Lex can’t accept that
Superman’s mere existence as a godlike being makes his intelligence and hard
work futile and obsolete.
In a better movie, Lex might have stood out as a failure of a
character, but in “B v S,” where the heroes are hypocritical, violent dullards,
I found myself invested in the one person who seemed happy to be there.
Like Mr. Eisenberg’s jittery performance, the film’s final fight
has some verve. While the climax of “Man of Steel” leaned heavy on
9/11-echoing images of falling skyscrapers and urban destruction, “B v S”
features its heroes taking on a towering, bony troll monster (on a battleground
that the movie carefully specifies is unpopulated). I appreciated Mr.
Snyder’s entertaining, high-fantasy approach to this showdown; it’s the one
scene where “B v S” actually feels like a superhero movie.
In the end, of course, there is little else in the film that
earns anything better than a bitter complaint. “B v S,” after all, is a
movie where female characters only exist to die, get captured, be rescued, or
make stupid mistakes (Wonder Woman notwithstanding); a movie whose editing and
pacing are noticeably bad (there’s barely a hint of drama, suspense, or
narrative momentum); and a movie whose creators don’t even seem to enjoy
superheroes.
There are so many more absurdities I could go into—Bruce Wayne's
psychic dream sequences; Lex Luthor sending a threat via a jar of piss; the
fact that a major character evolution occurs because someone finds out that
Bruce Wayne's and Clark Kent's mothers share the same first name.
But at the end of the day, one criticism stands above all else:
Zack Snyder and screenwriters Chris Terrio and David S. Goyer just don’t
understand (or care to understand) the humanity, complexity, and wit that made
the heroes of this film compelling on their comic book turf. Superman,
Batman, and Wonder Woman deserve better a movie. And while most audiences
probably won’t skip “Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice,” they absolutely
should.
Monday, March 21, 2016
Movie Review: "Knight of Cups" (Terrence Malick, 2016)
SALVATION by
Bennett Campbell Ferguson
Above:
Christian Bale stars in Mr. Malick’s new movie.
Photo ©Broad Green Pictures.
At the start of Terrence
Malick’s “Knight of Cups,” a man stands on a beach. It’s a crusty, rocky shoreline, and for a
long moment, the man simply stares at it.
Yet his gaze is anything but vacant.
His searching eyes seem to probe everything he stares at, as if he’s
hoping to find some greater truth in hidden in a craggy cliff face, or a speck
of sand.
The man’s name is Rick and he’s played to a stoic hilt by
a bearded, shaggy-haired Christian Bale.
Rick works in Hollywood, though it’s not clear what his job entails (he
might be a screenwriter). Mainly, he
just lumbers glumly through lavish parties and strolls along graying streets,
drifting aimlessly in the fashion of prior Malick heroes.
Mr. Malick’s movies are very much about men—their vanity,
their fickleness, their outsized passion.
Yet he’s more entranced by women.
In “Knight of Cups,” the camera rarely lingers on Mr. Bale’s gently
troubled face; like a heat-seeking missile, it’s drawn to Rick’s many lovers,
who angelically twist, twirl, and dance their way through the movie.
Played
by Imogen Poots, Cate Blanchett, Freida Pinto, Teresa Palmer, and Natalie
Portman, these women come and go—Rick is not visibly cruel, but he loses
interest quickly, often allowing romances to fade as he tumbles deeper into
depression. He certainly gives Johnny
Martin (the movie star protagonist of Sofia Coppola’s “Somwhere”) a run for his
money in the dreary ennui department.
Does this guy, you wonder, have nothing better to do than wander in the
shadows of Los Angeles’ monstrous skyscrapers, moping about the meaninglessness
of his life? Apparently not.
You
can practically feel Mr. Malick seething at Rick’s surroundings—the garish billboards,
the fashion models demeaned via vulgar catchphrases, the strip club drenched in
icy blue lighting. This stuff is like
poison to Mr. Malick, a man whose movies often deify the beauty of rural
landscapes and insist that salvation is found not in glassy urban towers, but
beneath arching cathedral roofs and outstretched tree branches.
Maybe Mr.
Malick’s contempt for the modern and the urban (and the risqué) explains why
“Knight of Cups” feels less emotionally transcendent than his last film, 2013’s
“To the Wonder” (which unfurled on the outskirts of a sun-kissed Midwestern
suburb). But that doesn’t diminish the
fact that, like everything Mr. Malick lays his gentle touch upon, “Knight of Cups”
hypnotizes you with its visual grace.
Joyous
frolics on cloudy beaches. A leap into
deep ocean waters. Long stares at cliffs,
open skies. All of those ordinary things
catch Mr. Malick’s eye in “Knight of Cups,” and he makes sure that you too feel
their sweet, simple allure. “How do I
begin?” Rick wonders. By doing what Mr.
Malick does, the film says: seeing the beauty of everything around us.
Or, to
quote a character in Mr. Malick’s groundbreaking 2011 cosmic opus “The Tree of
Life”: “Love…every leaf, every ray of light.”
Wednesday, March 16, 2016
Movie Review: "Zootopia" (Byron Howard and Rich Moore, 2016)
A RABBIT, A FOX, AND A CITY by Mo Shaunette
Above:
a scene from “Zootopia.” Photo ©Walt
Disney Studios Motion Pictures.
In 1988, the Walt Disney Company
released “Who Framed Roger Rabbit?,” a decidedly off-beat kids feature that cast
the Disney brand in an unusual light. It was hit with audiences and
critics and helped kick start what is today known as the Disney Renaissance: a
period lasting through the 1900s, during which the House of Mouse turned their
animated film production into a finely-tuned machine, cranking out blockbusters
annually and pulling from unusual sources like Arabic folktales, Chinese
history, and Greek mythology.
Today, audiences find themselves
in a resurgence of the Disney Renaissance. Not only does Disney now own
two of the biggest movie franchises of our time (“Star Wars” and the ongoing
Marvel superhero saga), but it is also creating strong animated features
again—award-winning hits like “Wreck-It Ralph,” “Frozen,” and “Big Hero 6.”
Their latest, “Zootopia,” continues the trend with a funny, poignant, and
decidedly modern take on anthropomorphic animals.
The world of “Zootopia” is less
an animal kingdom than an animal democracy, where mammals of all shapes and
sizes have evolved to match modern humans in intelligence. Their crowning
achievement is the titular city: a teaming, technologically-advanced metropolis
that’s equal parts New York, Los Angeles, Dubai, and Disneyland. There,
eager young bunny Judy Hopps (Ginnifer Goodwin) becomes the first rabbit to
join Zootopia’s Police Department, but soon finds that she’s underestimated by
her more physically powerful colleagues, who don’t think a bunny can make it as
a cop.
Their adventure molds “Zootopia”
into a mishmash of several different film styles. The film certainly has
roots in earlier Disney hits (it’s inspired by talking animal features like
1973’s “Robin Hood”). Yet it also features “Shrek”-style pop culture
shout outs and clever moral lessons that echo the films of Laika (“Coraline,”
ParaNorman,” etc.).
Still, “Zootopia” has a
conceptual audacity all its own. Halfway through the movie, the film’s
extended tour of the city ends and the plot shifts to the missing animals
mystery. It’s here that “Zootopia” truly defines itself. The film’s
theme of characters overcoming prejudice and stereotypes takes center stage
here, as the distrust between animals who were historically predators and their
former prey takes center stage.
While Judy herself fights
against the expectations of her peers, Nick also reveals that he took up the life
of a shyster because that’s what everyone expected of him. It’s a surprisingly
poignant revelation because it forces the characters not only to overcome
others' prejudices against them, but to acknowledge and own up to their own
flawed beliefs (e.g. despite Judy's progressive idealism, upon meeting Nick she
compliments him by calling him “articulate”).
Unfortunately, not all of the
movie’s elements mesh well—viewers may find themselves getting whiplash as the
film goes from playful animal jokes to “kid’s first noir” and lessons about
racism. This may be evidence of changes to plot and story that occurred
partway through production (early press releases and trailers highlighted Nick
as our main character, while the finished product has Judy front and center).
Yet “Zootopia” is still a
triumph: fast-paced, energetic, glorious to look at, funny, sharp, and
timely. Its message of setting asides prejudices to create a better world
may seem obvious or schmaltzy to some. But
since certain presidential candidates I could name haven’t internalized that
message, it’s vital that we remind ourselves that at the end of the day, we’re
all animals who have to share this world with each other.
Thursday, March 10, 2016
Movie Review: "Deadpool" (Tim Miller, 2016)
X-MEN
GON’ GIVE IT TO YA by Mo Shaunette
Above: Ryan Reynolds stars in Mr. Miller’s
film. Photo ©20TH Century Fox.
Unlike
many of my fellow comic book nerds, I initially had reservations about the idea
of a “Deadpool” movie. Why? Partially because the character is
a piece of ‘90’s trash that became a cult favorite only when written by someone
other than his creators; partially because the “X-Men” movies are an uneven
bunch with a few too many misses (including the “Origins: Wolverine” movie
where Deadpool made his big screen debut).
However,
the biggest thing hampering my excitement for “Deadpool” was a simple question:
could a superhero movie sustain itself for 100 minutes on dick and fart jokes
and pop-culture shout-outs? And would the film’s R-rating be just an
excuse to pander to older comic fans? Could a “Deadpool” movie
actually work?
To
my surprise, yes, it could. “Deadpool” isn’t the game-changing smack
down against more conventional superhero flicks that fans may have hoped for,
but it’s a fun diversion and a decidedly different entry in the superhero
genre.
Ryan
Reynolds stars in the film as Wade Wilson, a former Special Forces soldier
turned mercenary who, after proposing to his girlfriend Vanessa (Morena
Baccarin) is diagnosed with terminal cancer. Desperate not to abandon his
fiancée, Wade agrees to undergo an experimental treatment that will not only
rid him of his cancer, but make him a superhero.
This,
of course, is too good to be true, as it turns out that evil scientists Ajax
(Ed Skrein) and Angel Dust (Gina Carano) are attempting to transform Wade into
a mind-controlled super soldier to be sold to the highest bidder. Their
experiment grants Wade healing powers, mutilates his body, and drives him
partially insane. Yet Wade escapes to seek vengeance, donning a
crimson spandex bodysuit and taking up the moniker “Deadpool.”
It’s
a shame that this saga is beset with such an uneven script. A little
bit of Deadpool goes a long way, a fact that screenwriters Rhett Reese and Paul
Wernick (“Zombieland,” “G.I. Joe: Retaliation”) attempt to compensate for by
giving us surprisingly little Deadpool. After
kicking off the film with an admittedly well-choreographed extended fight scene,
they wallow in awkward flashbacks to Wade’s pre-Deadpool life.
The
result? A film whose first act swallows half the movie and whose
second act blows by almost imperceptibly. This flaw could be a clever
gambit; if “Deadpool” is meant to be a takedown of the juggernaut that is
Marvel Studios, then it only stands to reason that the middle of the movie
would be a dead zone.
But
that theory gives “Deadpool” filmmaker Tim Miller (a special effects artist making
his directing debut) too much credit. Mr. Miller doesn’t raise a
middle finger to superhero movies (despite the title character literally doing
just that at one point); his film is simply designed as a vehicle for
entertainment and a showcase for a beloved character. By that count
at least, it mostly succeeds.
Mr.
Reynolds certainly has a ball. He has a gift for comedy that most
movies don’t tap into. Yet in “Deadpool,” he shines, infusing the jokes with
genuine emotion and sadness. He also capably shares the screen with
actual X-Men Colossus (Stefan Kapičić) and Negasonic Teenage Warhead (Brianna
Hildebrand). The three characters plays off each other well, with
Colossus acting as an idealistic papa bear hoping to bring Deadpool onto the
side of the angels and Negasonic—a jaded millennial—dismissing Deadpool’s
antics and calling him out on his B.S. I'd
love to see more of these characters in future "X-Men" movies.
It’s
worth noting that “Deadpool” is not an incisive satire, but a broad parody full
of hit-or-miss jokes; the film’s quips (including an out-of-place joke about
the “Taken” movies) can sometimes be pointless, and all too eager to pander
with cheaply entertaining gags about Mr. Reynolds’ rocky acting career (seriously,
the rest of the world is willing to forget “Green Lantern” happened; why can’t
Mr. Miller?).
That
said, “Deadpool” has enough laughs, action beats, strong performances, and—shockingly—genuine
heart unmarred by snark to make it worth your time. If you’re in the
market for a silly, adult-oriented alternative to another “Wolverine” or “Iron
Man” feature, check it out.
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