The artefact at the heart of the action in “Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny” is a time shifting device called the Antikythera. This ancient, analogue computer with the power to find fissures in time, however, isn’t the only thing about the movie that revisits the past.
Everything old is new again in director James Mangold’s vision of the classic action-adventure. There’s the much talked about de-aging of Ford, the grand old man of action-adventure which effectively brings backs the classic Indy of the original film, and the reappearance of much-loved characters like John Rhys-Davies as Sallah. Even the new characters, like Helena, played by “Fleabag’s” Phoebe Waller-Bridge, feels like a throwback to the characters invented by Steven Spielberg and George Lucas when Ronald Reagan was still in office.
The action begins in 1944. Indy (the de-aged Ford) risks everything to help his colleague Basil Shaw (Toby Jones) keep Nazi scientist Jürgen Voller (Mads Mikkelsen) from getting his hands on
a mysterious dial known as the Antikythera. Used properly, the dial has the ability to manipulate time, and say, change the outcome of a certain war. “Hitler made mistakes,” says Voller. “And with this, I will correct them all.”
Cut to twenty-five years later. America has just landed on the moon, and the nation is jubilant but it is a jubilation the weathered Indy does not share. In the wake of his separation from
Marion Ravenwood (Karen Allen) and the death of his son, he starts each day with a shot of booze and a bad attitude.
On the eve of his retirement from teaching, a face from the past shows up. Helena Shaw (Waller-Bridge) is Basil Shaw’s daughter, Indy’s estranged goddaughter, an archeologist and a thief. Her interest in the Antikythera lures Indy back into a world of international adventure, former Nazis and the echoes of history come to life. “You’ve taken your chances, made your mistakes,” Helena says to Indy, “and now, a final triumph!”
Nothing is likely to ever live up to the adrenaline rush of seeing “Raiders of the Lost Ark” for the first time. The expert balance of action, comedy, suspense and mysticism is a cut above and nearly impossible to duplicate. The retro newness of “Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny” is an attempt to recapture the magic, and it does deliver a hefty dose of whip-crackin’ thrills, but like the de-aged Ford in the film’s opening twenty minutes, it doesn’t exactly feel like the real thing.
It is, however, respectful of what came before. Mangold transcends the film’s recycled nature with some exciting action set pieces, and even if the stunts don’t feel as organic as they did the first time around, they deliver a welcome blast of vintage Indy action. There’s even a callback to Indy’s well-known fear of snakes. A highlight is a wild chase through the streets and alleyways of Tangier that mixes humor, action and peril in equal measure.
Cinematographer Phedon Papamichael captures the classic Indy look, an aesthetic and color palette that disappeared sometime around “Crystal Skull.” Visually, it’s like a warm hug that spans back decades.
Of course, the crucial element is Ford. He may need more CGI to hopscotch around on the top of trains and through sunken caves these days, but he brings the OG 70s movie star mojo and a Traveller’s hat full of charisma that has not diminished over the years. There is a poignancy to Ford’s lion-in-winter portrayal of the character, and, as a result, (NO SPOILERS HERE) there is an emotional component to the film’s final reel, as Indy confronts the anguish he feels, that may be the most touching moment in the entire series.
He’s ably assisted by the wisecracking Waller-Bridge and stoically evil Mikkelsen.
The story and action in “Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny” gets slowed down from time-to-time by too much talk of the Lance of Longinus, Polybius Squares and the Ear of Dionysius. Mangold makes up for those moments with John Williams’s rousing, signature score and a wild, and unexpected third reel payoff. The movie may not turn back the clock to have the cultural impact of the original, but it is a lot of fun.
“Ruby Gillman, Teenage Kraken,” a new animated coming-of-age story from Dreamworks, now playing in theatres, flips the usual idea of the tentacled sea creature from fearsome to heroic.
The Kraken-out-of-water tale isn’t a franchise—although it may be the beginning of one—but it does owe a debt to recent Pixar films “Turning Red” and “Luca,” movies about the transformation of body and expectations.
Years after leaving the sea to live on land and raise their family, ocean creatures Agatha (Toni Collette) and Peter Gillman (Colman Domingo) are secretive about their past. “We’re from Canada,” they say to explain away their blue skin, gills and lack of spines.
Fifteen-year-old daughter Ruby (Lana Condor) goes along with the lie, and admits to “barely pulling off this human thing.” At school, she feels different and has a hard time fitting in outside of her squad, a small group of BFFs.
“I just want to be Ruby Gillman, normal teenager,” she says.
Despite her mother’s strict rule of never going near the water, days before the prom, when her high school, skater-boy crush Connor (Jaboukie Young-White) almost drowns, Ruby dives into the ocean to rescue him. Contact with salt water releases out her true self, a giant luminescent, kraken. “I’m already a little weird,” she says, “but I can’t hide this.”
In short order Ruby learns of her heritage, and that her grandmother, Grandmahmah (Jane Fonda) is a warrior queen, the Ultimate Lordess of and ruler of the Seven Seas, and charged with keeping the undersea world safe from the main maritime threat—evil mermaids.
“But people love mermaids,” says Ruby.
“Of course they do,” says Grandmahmah. “People are stupid.”
Grandmahmah wants Ruby to become her successor and possibly settle an age-old score.
Themes of self-acceptance, family love and overcoming insecurity are common in films for kids and young adults, and “Ruby Gillman, Teenage Kraken” is no different. But what it lacks in originality—“Turning Red” got to the transformation as a metaphor for coming out of your shell first—it makes up for with good humor, fun voice work, particularly from Jane Fonda and Annie Murphy as a mermaid, and an engaging lead character.
Ruby is a sweet-natured math nerd wrapped up in a blanket of insecurity. As she attempts to navigate high school and her newfound kraken alter-ego, she never loses the teen aura that makes her so relatable. She may be able to morph into a giant, but the biggest things in her life remain her family and friends. It’s heartfelt, and somehow, not as sappy as it sounds.
“Ruby Gillman, Teenage Kraken” may not break new ground, or part the oceans, but it tells its story with panache, finding a way to merge a kid-friendly story with some decidedly adult jokes.
“Nimona,” a new sci-fi, young adult animated action-adventure now streaming on Netflix, sets its story of outsiders, identity and acceptance in a futuristic medieval kingdom where knights, on flying horse-shaped motorcycles, use old-school crossbows and high-tech gear to fight monsters.
Adapted from the webcomic by N.D. Stevenson, the story is set in a techo-medieval kingdom where the defenders of the realm, called the Institution, are knights descended from noble backgrounds dating back 1000 years. The sole exception is Ballister Boldheart (Riz Ahmed), a man of humble origins who earned his way into the Institute by relentless hard work and self-training in the art of killing monsters. His induction to the group, by Queen Valerin (Lorraine Toussaint), is turned upside down when a terrible event occurs and Boldheart is framed for the Queen’s murder.
In an effort to clear his name, Boldheart is forced to team with a shapeshifting creature named Nimona (Chloë Grace Moretz), the very trouble-making monster he had sworn to hunt and kill. She can change into almost anything—a rhino, gorilla or whale—but she sees a kindred spirit in Boldheart, and insists on being his sidekick.
“Your sidekick has arrived,” she announces. “Every villain needs a sidekick.”
“I’m not a villain,” insists Boldheart. “The real villain is still out there and I do need help.”
As Boldheart and Nimona create chaos within the kingdom and without, Ambrosious Goldenloin (Eugene Lee Yang), the realm’s champion knight and Boldheart’s love interest, is also searching for answers that will exonerate the Institution from wrongdoing. “If anyone can find them,” he says. “It’s me.”
“Nimona” bursts with imagination. The nouveau medieval, fairy tale world is wonderfully imagined, part “Henry V,” part “Bladerunner.” It’s something original, a blend of old and new, with armor-clad knights using swords that shoot lasers and other nifty artifacts with high-tech twists. The world is brought to life with visual pageantry and panache that sets the tone for the actual story.
Inhabiting this animated fantasy are characters battling very human issues. Nimona is someone who struggles with loneliness and finding a place in the world. She is an agent of chaos, a person with an appetite for destruction, but as the film’s runtime increases, so does our understanding of why she behaves the way she does. She, like Boldheart, are allegories of outsiders, characters who, within the context of the story, battle with their perception of their place in the world.
As an exploration of queerness, the film’s message of being true to yourself arises organically.
Boldheart asks her, “What would happen if you held it in?”
“I’d die,” she replies. It’s a powerful metaphoric message about being one’s self and just one of many that emphasize the movie’s LGBTQ+ themes.
“Nimona” tackles big topics, and isn’t afraid to dig deep. Sitting alongside the LGBTQ+ topics, are themes of standing up to power and how to be an ally, but it never allows the messages to overtake the story. Co-directors Nick Bruno and Troy Quane ensure that amid the messages of benevolence and self-acceptance, are plenty of emotional moments and exciting, large scale action scenes that will make your eyeballs dance.
In recent years the R-rated comedy has fallen out of favor, pushed out of movie theatres by hunky but fully clothed, spandex-clad superheroes. In her new movie, Oscar winner Jennifer Lawrence attempts to bring soft-core comedy and innuendo back to the big screen with “No Hard Feelings,” a throwback to a time before #MeToo when raunchy romps like “American Pie” and “Not Another Teen Movie” bridged the gap between mainstream movies and stag films.
Lawrence plays Montauk, Long Island Uber driver Maddie, a young woman with only a few dollars in her bank account and even fewer options to earn more after her vehicle gets repossessed. “I’m an Uber driver and I don’t have a car,” she says. “I’m going to lose my house.”
With no job and no prospects, she answers a Craigslist ad posted by Laird (Matthew Broderick) and Allison (Laura Benanti), the wealthy, eccentric helicopter parents of withdrawn nineteen-year-old Percy (Andrew Barth Feldman). The overbearing couple, who keep track of their kid via GPS on his phone, fear he is too withdrawn and ready to attend Princeton University in the fall. “He doesn’t come out of his room,” says Laird. “He doesn’t talk to girls. He doesn’t drink.”
The deal is simple: If Maddie will date Percy, and bring him out of his shell, they’ll give her an old Buick they haven’t driven in years.
“So, when you say ‘date him,’” Maddie asks, “do you mean ‘date him’ or ‘date him’?”
“Date him,” Laird says, “date him hard.”
“I’ll date his brains out,” she promises.
The plan doesn’t get off to a promising start after Percy, fearing that Maddie’s advances are actually a kidnapping attempt, pepper sprays her. As time passes, however, Maddie and Percy’s friendship goes beyond contractual.
“No Hard Feelings” aims to find a sweet spot between racy comedy and heartfelt friendship story and misses the mark on both counts. The silly premise dampens whatever authentic moments Lawrence teases out of the bland script, and the metaphors—i.e.: the old Buick may be broken down, but there’s nothing wrong with it, or Maddie, that a bit of love and tenderness can’t fix—are so heavy handed, they flatten out whatever sincerity is lurking in the shadows.
Lawrence and Feldman are both better than the material, and what success, and laughs, the film has are owed to their performances. As the movie struggles to create a feel-good vibe in the last reel, Lawrence’s considerable charisma comes in handy, but the predictable and ultimately contrived story feels outdated and overdone.
“Blue Jean” is a new British period drama, set in 1988 at the time of Margaret Thatcher’s Section 28, that feels unsettling in its timeliness.
Set in working class Newcastle, and told against a backdrop of news reports detailing Prime Minister Thatcher’s Section 28, a new law which would “prohibit the promotion of homosexuality,” the movie stars Rosy McEwen as Jean Newman. She is a gay high school physical education teacher who is out in her day-to-day life, but closeted at work. “You have to create boundaries as teachers,” she says. “it’s part of the job. If anyone found out, I‘d never work again.”
Her off hours are spent at home or at the local gay/lesbian bar, a smoky pool hall where she can be open with girlfriend Viv (Kerrie Hayes).
The line between her personal and profession life begins to fade when a new student Lois (Lucy Halliday) joins Jean’s class. As Lois navigates her way in unfamiliar surroundings, Jean encourages her to play basketball, but the newcomer is bullied before, during and after every game. Jean suspects Lois is a lesbian, but, despite Viv’s disappointment, doesn’t confide in her.
“What kind of example are you setting for her?” asks Viv. “How is that girl going to learn if she has a place in this world?”
When the underage Lois shows up at the local gay bar, Jean feels exposed; afraid that her secret will be revealed.
In an early scene in “Blue Jean” Jean asks her class if they know what “fight or flight means.” It is, she says, how the body responds before the brain has even thought about it. It is that flight response to Lois that informs jean’s initial reaction to being outed, before a wave of self-reckoning sweeps over her.
Vividly brought to life by McEwen, who makes her big screen debut here, Jean’s instinctual need to preserve her job conflicts with her heart. McEwan’s star-making performance guides the character through the self-recrimination, heartache and ultimately relief necessary to bring this low-key story to vibrant life.
“Blue Jean” is a harrowing but tender study in identity, that blends a personal story with a political and societal one. Set decades ago, it is unfortunately timely, given recent events, in its portrayal of oppression of rights and casual homophobia, but still, a quiet heartbeat of rebellion pulses within as Jean marches toward self-actualization.
For better and for worse, there is nothing quite like a Wes Anderson film. The director’s unique production design is all over his new sci fi comedy “Asteroid City,” but with this film it is clear that whimsy has finally replaced storytelling on his to do list.
This is a twisty-turny one. Like a set of nesting dolls, it’s a film, within a play, within a show hosted by a Rod Sterling-esque talking head (Bryan Cranston), within a teleplay written by playwright Conrad Earp (Edward Norton).
The bulk of the “action” takes place in Asteroid City, a remote New Mexico desert town—population 87—where Steve Carell’s motel manager hosts a Junior Stargazer convention. Gifted kids and their parents from all over the state convene to showcase their incredible, and often outlandish, inventions.
It’s an interesting group that includes recently widowed war photographer Augie Steenbeck (Jason Schwartzman), father to “brainiac” Woodrow (Jake Ryan) and son-in-law to Stanley (Tom Hanks), movie star Midge Campbell (Scarlett Johansson) and the rough-n-tumble J.J. Kellogg (Liev Schreiber). Along for the ride are singing cowboy Montana (Rupert Friend), teacher June (Maya Hawke), Dr. Hickenlooper (Tilda Swinton) a scientist from the local observatory and the fast-talking Junior Stargazer awards judge, General Grif Gibson (Jeffrey Wright).
When the convention is interrupted by a visiting alien, the whole thing is locked down for a mandatory government quarantine.
Despite the quirky tone and Anderson’s trademarked stylistic choices, “Asteroid City” is a serious film, albeit one laced with a healthy dose of absurdism. A study in how people deal with grief, and the true nature of love, Anderson’s characters experience existential dilemmas, angst born of loss and dissatisfaction. Threats are posed by nuclear bombs and life from other planets unexpectedly dropping by to say hello and children wonder aloud what happens when we die. A shroud of melancholic anxiety hangs over the film, like a shroud, but Anderson’s staging of the film, the meta story within a story structure, obscures the movie’s deeper meanings under layers of style.
The cast, particularly Johansson and Hanks, bring focus to Anderson’s unfocussed story, and Carell, Cranston and briefly Goldblum are having fun, but it sometimes feels the surfeit of characters are there more to decorate the screen than to forward the story.
“Asteroid City” may delight long-time fans, but casual moviegoers or newcomers to the director’s oeuvre may find the film’s mannered obtuseness off kilter and off putting.
“Elemental,” the new Pixar picture now playing in theatres, takes an old-fashioned love story and gives it a high-concept spin.
The setting is Element City, a metropolis divided into four distinct districts, one for every kind of the city’s anthropomorphized element residents. The fire people live in the Fire Land, there’s the Splash District for water people, the Terra District for land people, and the Breeze District for air people.
“Elemental” focusses on the Lumen family and their fiery daughter Ember (voice of Leah Lewis) who immigrated to Element City looking for a better life. The young flame is poised to take over the family’s Fire Land shop, a small convenience store with the slogan “We Flame to Please!”
“This shop is the dream of our family,” says patriarch Bernie Lumen (voice of Ronnie Del Carmen). “Someday it’ll all be yours!” Eager to please her parents, Ember feigns excitement at the prospect of running the shop, the family’s pride and joy.
“I’ve been trying to fill my father’s shoes,” she says, “but I was never asked what I want to do.”
As her hidden resentment grows, Ember becomes sullen and begins lashing out until she meets
Water person Wade Ripple (voice of Mamoudou Athie), who, as a youngster, was once stuck inside a sponge. Despite that trauma, he grew up to be a kind, laid-back guy who cries at the drop of a hat.
Ember has always thought that “elements don’t mix,” but when Wade comes into her life she learns that sometimes opposites do attract and that she can make her own decisions. “Why does anyone get to tell you what you can do in your life?” asks Wade.
“Elemental” has a big heart, but not big enough to justify the film’s feature length. A new spin on the star-crossed lovers genre, à la “Romeo and Juliet,” it is a simple tale of the heart wanting what the heart wants despite differences. Then there’s the “Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner” vibe between Wade and Bernie, which is clever but never quite ignites.
The vivid artwork is often spectacular, and provides many beautiful images, but the watered-down story does not equal the film’s visual impact.
Director Peter Sohn, who also helmed “The Good Dinosaur,” builds a new world and introduces other story elements, including immigration metaphors, references to racism and intolerance, but these aspects often feel tentative, more well-intentioned than effective.
Better is the relationship between Ember and her father. Sohn used personal experience to shape the story of a father’s expectation and deference to tradition, and how the weight of that affects Ember. Their connection feels authentic and grounds the action of the rest of the film.
Opening the show in theatres is “Carl’s Date,” a sweet natured short film featuring Carl Fredricksen (voice of Ed Asner) and his adorable talking dog, Dug (voice of Bob Peterson) of the much-loved film “Up.” It’s a funny, tightly scripted look at companionship that made me think, by the time the main feature was over, that “Elemental,” given its slight narrative, might have had more punch, and seemed less stretched, as a short.
“Elemental” is wonderfully crafted, but the formulaic story prevents it from sitting on the shelf alongside other Pixar greats like “Up,” WALL-E” or “Toy Story.”
“The Flash,” the long-awaited DC origin story of Barry Allen (Ezra Miller) a.k.a. The Flash, echoes all the all the stuff we expect from a big superhero tentpole movie. There are multiple universes, multiple superheroes and, once again, the world is in danger but it is the title character’s emotional life that sets this movie apart from the pack.
Loosely based on the “Flashpoint” comics, the movie sees Barry still grieving the death of his mother (Maribel Verdú) and his father’s (Ron Livingston) wrongful incarceration for her murder. Fueled by pain and rage, he finds a way to potentially ease his anguish when he discovers his superspeed gives him the ability to create a “chronobowl” and travel back to the day his mother was killed.
“I could save people,” he says. “I could save my mom.”
Before setting off to right the wrongs of the past, he consults with Bruce Wayne (Ben Affleck) who warns him against messing with the fabric of time. “You could destroy everything.”
Ignoring Batman’s advice, Barry travels to the past and soon pays the price for his impulsive actions. Caught in an alternate universe where a younger version of himself doesn’t yet have superpowers—“This is my face,” his doppelganger says. “You stole my face.”—Barry soon realizes he is in uncharted territory. “This can’t be happening,” he says. “I completely broke the universe.”
Things go from bad to worse when Kryptonian supervillain General Zod (Michael Shannon) makes the scene, loaded with ill will for all of humanity. “This world must die,” he says.
Having changed the past and potentially the future, Barry teams with alternate universe Batman (Michael Keaton) and Kara Zor-El, a.k.a. Supergirl (Sasha Calle) to restore order. “If I can’t undo what I did, if I can’t get back” he says, “there may not be a future.”
“The Flash” finds a balance between fan service and a story for general audiences. Origin stories can be nightmares, filled with endless exposition and scene setting, but, for the most part, director Andy Muschietti keeps things moving along. Perhaps not with his star’s superspeed, but at a good clip. You don’t need a roadmap to follow the multiverse aspect, so ever-present in superhero movies nowadays, and Barry’s personal story is both entertaining and emotional.
Part of that is the casting. Miller is wonderfully cast as the title character. He brings both a well-defined silliness and deep inner life to his dual portrayal of Barry as both an adult and a teenager. I can’t tell whether a crack he delivers early on to a victim of a large scale disaster—”You should seek the help of a mental professional,” he says. “The Justice League is not very good at that… trust me.”—is meta, given Miller’s recent, very public issues, or if it is wildly inappropriate. Either way, it is the film’s only reference to Miller’s well-reported off-screen behavior, and a rare misstep in the film’s carefully crafted first half.
It’s when the movie becomes larger and louder that it loses some of its charm. The appearance of Zod, complete with some dodgy CGI, raises the stakes but shifts focus from the film’s heart and soul, which is Barry’s quest to save his mother. The big showdown is a staple in superhero movies, but “The Flash” works best when it is character driven. In this case, bigger is not always better.
Oversized or not, “The Flash” is entertaining with nice little details, like how Barry has to eat high calorie food to fuel his superspeed and a wild baby shower. Literally, a shower of babies falling from the sky. As a buddy movie—Barry and Barry are an odd couple of a sort—it gets dark without surrendering to the ennui that has cast its shade over so many of the other DC movies.
The result is a film that provides action, warmth and nostalgia—It’s worth the price of admission to hear Keaton say, “Yup. I’m Batman.”—and a few genuine surprises (NO SPOILERS HERE!).
“The Blackening,” a new horror satire now playing in theatres, answers a question never before addressed in a horror film. In the world of modern slasher films, the Black characters are always the first to die, so this new film asks, “How would that change if the entire cast is Black?
Set on a Juneteenth weekend at a remote Airbnb in the middle of nowhere, the story begins with party hosts Morgan (Yvonne Orji) and Shawn (Jay Pharoah) prepping the house in advance of their guest’s arrivals. In the Game Room they find a game called The Blackening, with a Monopoly-style design around a racist blackface caricature in the center of the board.
Shocked by the game’s iconography, they are even more shocked when the game demands they answer a series of questions, or they will be killed. They play along until Shawn gets a question wrong, and things quickly go south.
Cut to the others as they make their way to the cabin for a weekend of “reckless, unadulterated fun.” Lawyer Lisa (Antoinette Robertson), her BFF Dewayne (Dewayne Perkins, who co-wrote the script), Allison (Grace Byers) and former gang member King (Melvin Gregg) are in one car. Arriving separately are the boozy Shanika (X Mayo), Lisa’s on-and-off boyfriend Nnamdi (Sinqua Walls) and Clifton (Jermaine Fowler), an oddball who says he was invited by Morgan, but no one seems to know him.
As the night wears on weird things start to happen. Doors open by themselves and strange characters appear in the shadows. Not that anyone notices… at first. Dewayne is high on MDMA while everyone else, save for Clifton, plays the card game Spades.
The drinks flow as the old friends gets caught up, and soon the attention turns to the Game Room and the unusual game Morgan and Shawn played hours earlier before their disappearance. With the remaining guests crowded around the board, the game begins to talk and taunt. “If you answer my questions correctly you will live,” the game says, “and Morgan will be released. Get one wrong and you will die.”
As the game asks questions like “Name five Black actors who appeared on ‘Friends,’” it becomes clear the danger is real, and there are consequences for their answers. This is not just a board game, it is a game of survival. As panic sets in, the group has to make a crucial decision. Do we stay together or split up and try and get help?
“The Blackening” borrows tropes from familiar slasher movies. The remote cabin in the woods is a classic location, we meet a couple redneck hillbillies at a gas station and there’s more than a hint of “Saw” on display. But what the movie does is take those elements and use them through a lens to explore Blackness, racism and popular culture. It’s a movie loaded with subtext, one that uses the genre to speak to issues that confront Black people every day.
In its examination of stereotypes and prejudice, from within and outside of their group, the movie tackles big topics but does so with a great deal of humor and some real suspense. The allegories may be more effective than the actual gore, but despite the light touch with the bloody violence, “The Blackening” achieves something special and interesting within its genre.
