“Deep Water,” the new movie from Ben Affleck and Ana de Armas, now streaming on Prime Video, is an erotic thriller in name only.
Neither erotic or thrilling, it lacks the smoldering energy of director Adrian Lyne’s previous work. Movies like “9 ½ Weeks” and “Unfaithful” established him as a steamer of screens, but that was then.
This is now. A better title for “Deep Water” may have been “Cold Water.”
Affleck plays Vic, a retired software developer who made a fortune designing a chip that helps drones locate and destroy targets. He spends his days with his daughter while his wild wife Melinda (de Armas), having grown bored of their routine, entertains herself with a series of very public affairs. For the most part Vic bites his lip but when one of Melinda’s flings winds up dead, face down in their pool, cuckold Vic becomes a suspect and their already tenuous situation comes closer to the breaking point.
Lyne, in his first film in twenty years, seems unable to tease out the tension from the love-hate story, sexual or otherwise. The repeated affair/disappearance cycle gets old fast and Lyne does little to make us care about any of them, Vic, Melinda or her unfortunate boyfriends.
I can say that Affleck has one of the best scowls in movies, but that’s not enough to hang an entire performance on. A Sad Affleck meme come to life, for much of the movie it appears he’s given up, Ben, not Vic. It’s as though he stopped caring after the first reel. Vic should display hidden reserves of resolve but Affleck’s performance is as inert as the film.
De Armas, so wonderful in “Knives Out” and “No Time to Die,” is reduced to an eye-batting subject for Lyne’s male gaze.
A tepid psychosexual cuckold tale with a side of murder and loose ends galore, “Deep Water” wastes its stars in a movie that does not rise to the challenge of exploring the story’s themes of morality, murder and marriage.
Nearly fifty years after the original “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre” made power tools a staple in grisly horror films, an attempted Netflix reboot upped the gore but missed the mark completely. The scariest thing about that movie is its “rotten” Tomatometer Score of 34%.
There isn’t a chainsaw in sight in “X,” a new horror film, now playing in theatres, but it breathes the same fetid air as Tobe Hooper’s 1974 horror classic.
Set in 1979, the film stars Mia Goth as Maxine, an adult entertainer who believes she is destined for a bigger and better life outside the strip club run by her boyfriend Wayne (Martin Henderson doing a spot- on Matthew McConaughey impression). “I will not accept a life I do not deserve,” she says. Her first step to fame and fortune is “The Farmer’s Daughter,” a low budget porno Wayne hopes could blow up and be as popular as “Debbie Does Dallas.” As the film’s executive producer Wayne hires RJ (Owen Campbell), a film student with delusions of arthouse grandeur, his quiet sound technician girlfriend Lorraine (Jenna Ortega) and porn stars Bobby-Lynne (Brittany Snow) and Jackson Hole (Scott Mescudi).
They pile into a van headed for rural Texas and a remote farm where they will live and shoot their film. “It’s perfect,” gushes RJ as they arrive at the farm a.k.a. Wayne’s ”studio backlot.” “It’s going to have lots of production value.”
But that’s not all it has. There is a creepy old couple who live in the main house. Wayne neglected to tell farmer Howard (Stephen Ure) why they rented the property. “He doesn’t know what we’re doing, and I intend to keep it that way.”
Despite Wayne’s promise of discretion, Howard and wife Pearl soon find out what’s happening on the sheets, under their roof.
Cue the hillybilly horror.
On the surface “X” is another riff on the “Chainsaw” hapless-city-slickers-vs.-evil-country-folk vibe, but it’s not all blood and guts (though the plasma flows). Howard and Pearl fight against their decaying bodies, resentful of the good-looking folks flaunting their youth and skin on their property. They may be God fearing folks, but that doesn’t stop them from acting on their basest desires. Writer, director and editor Ti West weaves in the primal fears of aging and sexual repression plus a dollop of religious fervor that all add depth to the horror.
The rural setting, the eerie quiet and darkness of the location, takes on a sinister feel as West peppers his sequences with the odd jump scare or anxiety inducing overhead shot.
By the time we get to the really gross stuff, West has already established “X’s” slow burn atmosphere, adding layer upon layer of tension and subtext as amuse-bouches for the bursts of violence that come in the third act. West stages some truly unpleasant kill sequences, perfect for slasher fans but may cause uncontrolable shudders in others.
“X” is a throwback to the horror of Tobe Hooper and Wes Craven, but with a sensibility that simultaneously feels like a tribute and an update.
Mark Rylance is tailor made to play the lead role in “The Outfit,” a new gangster film set entirely inside a bespoke suit maker’s shop. I own up to the stupid joke in the first sentence of this review, but it is true. Rylance astounds as the “cutter”—tailors are best at sewing on buttons and not much else he says—at the center of the action in this twisty-turny chamber piece.
Set in the mid-1950s, the movie revolves around Leonard Burling (Rylance), a former Savile Row cutter who lovingly details the process of making a suit from scratch in the film’s opening voiceover. “This isn’t art,” he says proudly, “it’s a craft.”
Working the front desk is his assistant Mabel Sean (Zoey Deutch), a young woman who has her sights set on a horizon far beyond the tailor shop.
Discreet and meticulous, Burling makes beautiful clothes for his Chicago clients, including members of the Boyle Gang, the heavies who run the neighborhood. “If we only allowed angels in here,” he says, “we’d have no customers.” His services to the gangsters extend beyond making them look good. His store also doubles as a drop spot for the Boyles, a safe place for Richie (Dylan O’Brien), son of the Boyle Gang boss, and the ambitious mobster Francis (Johnny Flynn), to pass messages back and forth.
Burling stays out of the way, rarely makes eye contact with the tough guys and is unfailingly polite. “I don’t judge,” he tells Richie. “I just don’t want to be involved in whatever it is you do.”
Unfortunately, when it becomes clear there’s a rat in the Boyle Gang who may, or may not, be making surreptitious tapes of their criminal activities for the FBI, Burling is drawn into their nasty business.
What unfolds from this point is a whip-lash inducing game of twister as the character’s motivations tie the story in knots. Manipulation, deceit, double dealings and death are the name of the game in this literate, adult thriller. Although “The Outfit” was written for the screen by director Graham Moore, who took home an Oscar for writing “The Imitation Game,” it feels like a stage play. From the minimal sets—the whole thing takes place in two rooms—to the intimate performances and the intricate, wordy script, it is unabashedly and wonderfully theatrical.
An understated performance from Rylance sets the tone for the ensemble cast. His enigmatic character is a sounding board for everyone from the gangsters who cause all the trouble to Mabel, the neighborhood woman who just wants to see the world. The characters fit together like puzzle pieces to really bring this story alive.
“The Outfit” is a small film that is unafraid to rely on the characters and the words and not elaborate set pieces to make an impact. Writer, director Moore has made a film that, unlike how Burling feels about his life’s work, emphasizes both craft and art.
You can tell Pixar’s “Turning Red,” a charming new animated film now streaming on Disney+, was directed by someone who grew up in Toronto. Academy Award® winning director Domee Shi includes such staples of city life as a TTC pass and the CN Tower, but it is her reference to the Skydome, the original and only proper name, of the arena now known as the Rogers Center, that cements her Hogtown bona fides.
Meilin Lee (voice of Rosalie Chiang), the movie’s main character, is a free spirit in a traditional family. She likes to dance, hangout with her friends and she especially loves the boy band 4*Town. “Ever since I turned thirteen,” she says, “I’ve been doing my own thing.”
She is navigating the line between dutiful daughter to mother Ming (voice of Sandra Oh) and nonconformist. “Number one rule in my family is honor your parents,” she says, “but, if you take it too far you might forget to honor yourself.”
Everything changes for Meilin one morning after she has a nightmare and before you can say, “Poof!,” she changes into a giant red panda. Hearing a commotion upstairs, Ming investigates. “You are a woman now and your body is starting to change,” she says through the door to her obviously upset daughter.
When the truth of the situation is revealed, Ming is not surprised. Turns out the panda transformation runs in the family, usually following some kind of emotional episode. Unless Meilin wants to be a shapeshifter for the rest of her life, she has to listen to her parents. “There is a darkness to the panda,” says Mei’s father Jin Lee (Orion Lee). “You only have one chance to banish it. And you cannot fail, otherwise you’ll never be free.”
A special ceremony can cure her of the plight, but it must be performed under the red moon, which is one month away, the same night as the big 4*Town show at the Skydome.
“Turning Red” is an imaginatively animated movie that will make your eyeballs dance. Toronto is lovingly recreated and the characters have personality to burn. Mei’s alter ego, the giant red panda, is equal parts terrifying and adorable, a metaphor for puberty come to life, writ large. Topped off with great voice work from Chiang and Oh, it’s a Pixar worthy effort that can sit on the shelf next to the classics like “Up,” “WALL-E’ and “Toy Story.”
The coming-of-age story is equally well handled. The importance of family is a key message, like it is in many kid’s movies, but it is Shi’s sensitive (and very funny) lessons of asserting and being true to yourself that set it apart. Mei feels smothered by the overprotective Ming, but she sticks up for herself, even if it is scary. “I’m changing mom,” she says. “I’m afraid it will take me away from you.”
“Don’t hold back, for anyone,” replies Ming. ”The farther you go, the prouder I’ll be.”
It’s more touching and more nuanced than you might expect from a film about a young girl who changes into a panda, but “Turning Red” is that movie. It is unafraid to be silly, serious and heartfelt, often at the same time. It’s a lovely, insightful portrait of the chaos of being a kid and how respect, family and friends (and a little boy band music) can help smooth out the wild ride. Oh, and Toronto has rarely looked better on screen!
Ryan Reynolds has carved out a unique and profitable niche for himself on screen. The current king of the non-IP action comedy, he recently scored big hits with “Red Notice” and “Free Guy,” original movies not based on a comic book or existing videogame premise. This week, add to that list “The Adam Project,” a sci fi adventure flick now streaming on Netflix co-starring Mark Ruffalo and Jennifer Garner.
Adam Reed (Walker Scobell), a precocious thirteen-year-old living with his mother Ellie (Garner), is still stinging from the death of his father a year earlier. “Son, you need to think about your future,” Ellie says, “because it’s coming. Sooner than you think.”
In fact, it may have already arrived.
One day Adam finds a wounded fighter pilot hiding in his family’s garage. Turns out the stranger isn’t a stranger after all. He’s Adam (Reynolds) from the future; the grown-up version with a bullet hole in his side and a mission. “You’re me,” says the awestruck youngster. “That’s classified,” says older Adam, “but yes, I once was.”
The time traveller jumped back to 2022 to save the world, using information created by his late scientist father Louis (Ruffalo). To do complete the mission, he’ll need to jump back in time further, this time with young Adam at his side. First though, there is a time travelling villain (Catherine Keener) and the question of how to come to grips with the past while saving the future.
Time travel movies rarely ever make perfect sense, and “The Adam Project” is no different. Time may be a flat circle, and destined to repeat itself, but the cinematic machinations of jumping from year to year, of changing the past from the future, often make my head hurt and take me out of the story.
“The Adam Project” sneaks by, not because of its grasp of the paradox of theoretical physics, but because if the chemistry between Reynolds and his young co-star Scobell.
Reynolds, reunites with his “Free Guy” director Shawn Levy, brings his trademarked charisma and way with a joke, while Scobell, making his acting debut, is a natural foil. He is funny, charming and holds his own against Reynolds, arguably one of the best scene stealers in movies today.
They click and because they do, the movie works. The sci fi aspects of the story, the Stormtrooper-looking soldiers from the future or the noisy CGI climax, don’t make as much of an impression as the film’s heart and soul, the relations ship between the Adams and their father as they heal the wounds caused by their dad’s death.
“The Adam Project” threatens to allow the special effect fireworks to overshadow its story, but contains just enough heartwarming material to earn comparisons to the 1980s Amblin movies that were clearly an inspiration.
On some level Batman has always been escapist entertainment. The comics, TV shows and movies have always tackled big topics like morality, vengeance and the razor’s edge between anarchy and order but between Adam West’s grin, Michael Keaton’s gadgets and Christian Bale’s colorful foes, escapism is always part of the mix.
“The Batman,” starring Robert Pattison as the Caped Crusader, and now playing in theatres, is three hours of entertaining Bataction but the real-world themes of distrust in elected officials, our constitutions and each other, provide anything but escapism.
The story begins on Halloween night, as costumed criminals swarm Gotham City. As chaos reigns on the streets, the Bat-Signal illuminates the sky. “When the light hits the sky it’s not just a beacon,” says Batman (Pattison), “it’s a warning… to them. Fear is a tool.”
It’s a tool Batman uses effectively. His masked presence, his fists of fury and habit of snarling, “I’m vengeance,” have made him a fearsome presence in Gotham City. The rank-and-file police don’t know what to make of the Caped Crusader, but Detective James Gordon (Jeffrey Wright) sees him as an asset, particularly when high ranking city officials begin dying at the hands of The Riddler (Paul Dano), a psychopath whose costume suggests he is a fan of the Gimp from “Pulp Fiction.”
At each grisly murder the Riddler leaves behind a cutesy card for Batman, inscribed with a riddle, like “What does a liar do when he dies?” that could serve as a clue to solve the crime.
As the evidence, and the bodies, pile up, Batman’s investigation leads him to a wide-ranging conspiracy involving a local crime boss (John Turturro), his minion Oswald Cobblepot a.k.a. The Penguin (Colin Farrell doing a pretty good impression of James Gandolfini), a long-held Wayne family secret and nightclub worker and cat burglar Selina Kyle a.k.a. Catwoman (Zoë Kravitz).
“The Batman’s” almost three-hour running time may seem daunting, particularly in the wake of several overly long superhero movies that haven’t delivered the goods. I’m happy to report that director Matt Reeves has crafted a movie that flies by in the bat of an eye.
This is not an origin story, that tale has been told over and over. It is more of a coming-of-age tale. As played by Pattison, Bruce Wayne is a dour and sour hero who, when asked, “Are you hideously scarred?” replies “Yeah.” His scars, however, are all on the inside.
He is driven by a sense of vengeance to clean up the streets of the kind of people who killed his parents. That, he says, is his legacy, not the fabulously wealth of Wayne Enterprises. As the story progresses his mood doesn’t change—it’s as if Pattison’s perfect cheekbones would shatter if he ever cracks a smile—but his outlook does. Batman may be the face of vengeance, but by the time the end credits roll, he realizes hope trumps vengeance. “People need hope,” he says. “To know someone is out there for them. The city is angry. The city won’t change, but I have to try.”
After five “Twilight” movies Pattison understands how to brood on screen. He is comfortable with the stillness the character requires, which works well to emphasize the Batman’s loner status. The stillness of the character, when he isn’t running, jumping or jackhammering a bad guy, suggests a calm but that sense is betrayed by the simmering rage behind Pattison’s eyes. It is that anger that gives him an unspoken reason to exist.
This is a Batman who is still figuring things out, who is fueled by his single-minded need for revenge, but working to funnel his energies in a way that will benefit him, the people he loves and Gotham City. He doesn’t have superpowers, just a powerful drive and a handful of gadgets. He’s a one-man army, and Pattison does a good job of showing us, not telling us, the complexity of the character.
Director Reeves has stripped away much of the slickness of the Christopher Nolan and Zack Snyder films in favor of a grittier vision. Think 1970s movies like “Chinatown,” “The French Connection” or “Taxi Driver.” Reeves has made a boiled down detective noir that scales back the theatrics of previous versions to concentrate on the personal stuff.
But that doesn’t mean there isn’t action to spare. The new Batmobile, now a muscle car, makes its debut in a wild car chase and Pattison’s Batman doesn’t kill people, unlike Affleck’s take on the character, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t willing to pummel the heck out of his adversaries.
“The Batman” is an interesting new direction for the Caped Crusader movies. There have been better villains in other films and the sins of the father angle has been explored before, but this movie captures the zeitgeist in a very interesting way. It confronts hot button topics like the alt right, agents of chaos and lying politicians, issues ripped from the headlines, but is tempered with a message of hope, of rebuilding belief in the world around us.
I suppose every generation gets the Batman they deserve. Our hard knock world has delivered us a Batman with an edge; a troubled hero who almost succumbs to his worst tendencies, but, in the end, looks toward a horizon of hope. It’s a powerful message for our world gone mad, particularly when it comes from a guy in a mask.
“Fresh,” a twisted new horror satire starring Sebastian Stan and Daisy Edgar-Jones and now streaming on Disney+, plays like a rom com as imagined by Hannibal Lecter.
Even after a particularly bad Tinder date, twenty-something singleton Noa (Edgar-Jones) is not willing to listen to her best friend Mollie (Jojo T. Jones) when she says, “You do not need a man.” She’s looking for love, and seems to have found it, in, of all places, in the produce-section of the local supermarket.
She meets cute with Steve (Stan), a handsome, funny cosmetic surgeon, who charms her into giving her his phone number, and then says, “I’m not going to text you… but I’ll really want to.”
Nonetheless, they arrange a date, and things get hot ‘n heavy “somewhere between the second and third drink.” They spark and wind up back at her place. The next day, after a meal and a dance, he says, “We should go somewhere. Somewhere nice. Maybe it will be a surprise.”
Noa, hungry for love, agrees to the weekend getaway, only to learn of her new boyfriend’s sick, deadly secret.
“Fresh” is darkly comedic and stomach churningly grim. It’s a Midnight Movie unafraid to take its deadly dating metaphor to bloody extremes. The first thirty minutes play out as a romance but when the title credit pops up on screen it brings with it a dark tone—and an unpleasant interpretation of what the name actually means—that lingers until the intense final scene. It breathes the same air as “Promising Young Woman” in its mix of modern allegory and horror, but when the going gets gruesome, it stands on its own.
Director Mimi Cave, working from a script by Lauryn Kahn, weaves social commentary about the commodification of women and modern-day dating into the story. It’s bold storytelling bolstered by a relatable performance from Edgar-Jones that fits like a puzzle piece with Stan’s weirdly chipper oddball character. As Steve, he is suave and sadistic, in what may be his meatiest role to date. In an odd way, given the machinations of the story, they have great chemistry.
“Fresh” is stylishly directed, with strong performances, but feels too leisurely in its approach. Cave spends time setting up the romance (and what comes after BUT NO SPOILERS HERE) but doesn’t afford the same luxury to the characters. If we knew more about Noa, Steve and Mollie the stakes, already high, would be much higher. Still, even though “Fresh” goes on too long, it manages to find a satisfyingly squeamish and memorable way to put a period on the story for patient viewers.
Is there a band who enjoys rock stardom more than Foo Fighters? They fill stadiums, record disco songs and death metal tunes. Leader Dave Grohl does drum-offs with teenaged musicians on YouTube and they trolled a Westboro Baptist Church protest with a loud ‘n lengthy version of the Bee Gees’ “You Should Be Dancing” from the back of a flatbed truck.
Foo Fighters let the good times roll into theatres this week with the release of “Studio 666,” a rock ‘n roll horror comedy now playing in theatres.
Following in the footsteps of their ancestors—KISS and the Monkees—they play themselves in a big screen schlock fest with some guts, glory and great tunes.
The movie begins with a flashback to 1993 and a horrific murder scene in an Encino mansion. The band Dream Widow has been recording an album there, but are interrupted by a nasty guy swinging a hammer. The dull thwacks of the hammer hitting the final victim are even captured on tape.
Cut to present day. Grohl, Taylor Hawkins, Nate Mendel, Pat Smear, Chris Shiflett and Rami Jaffee of Foo Fighters owe a new record to their label. “It’s our tenth album,” Dave says, “we can’t do the same old ****. We have to break the mold on this one.”
The label boss (Jeff Garland) knows how to make that happen. He suggests an old, abandoned mansion in Encino (see above). The place is rundown, and even the flirty neighbor (Whitney Cummings) gives off a strange vibe. “It definitely has a weird energy,” Dave says. “Do you guys get an overwhelming sense of death and doom?”
They do, but Dave hears something no one else does. “The sound of this house is the sound of album ten,” he says. “No songs yet, but we’ve got the sound.”
Reluctantly, the band moves in but despite Dave’s enthusiasm, the songs don’t flow. All he can come up with are retreads of his old tunes or plagiarized versions of other people’s songs, which leads to a Lionel Ritchie cameo that makes you wonder why he doesn’t do more comedy.
The writer’s block breaks one night after Dave is tormented by a dream—or is it?—of strange creatures who lure him into the mansion’s basement, where he finds a dusty old reel to reel machine, loaded up with hard driving songs left behind by Dream Widow.
Dave emerges with some killer riffs and a plan to record a devilish epic that could be a double or even triple album. “It’s going to be like “2112” times 2112,” he says.
Question is, what exactly has possessed Dave to record this song and what, exactly, will the band have to sacrifice to finish the album?
“Studio 666” is a satire on the whole “Devil made me do it” heavy metal lore with old school splatter effects, spurting blood and headbanging, literally and figuratively.
It’s unlikely we’ll be seeing any of the Foo Fighters on next year’s Best Actor list, but that isn’t the point here. This is a loving tribute to the kinds of movies Blockbuster kept on a shelf near the back of the store. Devil possession movies with low fi effects and some fun thrills and chills. Add to that some pretty good in-jokes, some funny/gross killings and you have a Faustian tale about selling one’s soul for rock ‘n roll.
“Studio 666” feels a bit long, but Foo Fighters, as usual, bring the good times, by poking fun at themselves and the devil movie genre.
The story of French army soldiers Cyrano de Bergerac and Christian and the beautiful Roxanne is probably the history’s most case of catfishing. Written as a play in 1897 by Edmond Rostand, the love story of “Cyrano” has been reimagined as a musical by director Joe Wright.
When we first meet Roxanne (Haley Bennett), she is prepping for a date with Duke De Guiche (Ben Mendelsohn). She’s not enthusiastic; she’s holding out for real love, but the family is broke, and as her nanny says, “Children need love. Adults need money.”
What she doesn’t know is that her lifelong friend, King’s Guard swordsman Cyrano (Peter Dinklage), a little person with a larger-than-life personality, has been in love with her since the first time he laid eyes on her. “Even her imperfections are perfect,” he says to his best friend Le Bret (Bashir Salahuddin).
He has never told her—“My fate is to love her from afar,” he says—and may not get the chance to once she gets an eyeful of King’s Guard recruit Christian (Kelvin Harrison Jr) and falls instantly in love.
Trouble is, Christian has no idea how to speak to her. For that, he turns to the brilliant and eloquent Cyrano to be his voice. Cyrano provides the words of love for Christian to woo Roxanne. He pens letters, provides lists of conversational witticisms and even literally provides Christian’s voice in the story’s famous balcony scene. Roxanne is utterly smitten with Christian, thinking he has the body of a warrior and the soul of a poet. “Every day I think can’t love him more,” she says, “then another letter arrives and my heart expands to love him more.”
It’s a bizarre love triangle, one that seems destined to leave Cyrano heartsick and alone.
“Cyrano” is an adaptation of the original Rostand play and the Off-Broadway musical by Bryce and Aaron Dessner of The National, with lyrics by Matt Berninger and Carin Besser. Director Wright dovetails the two expertly, creating a film that pays tribute to its 124-year-old roots and the modern adaptation.
The bones of the story are intact but the presentation feels fresh. Wright is a stylist, creating the 17th century setting in a swirl of camera movement, interesting settings and sumptuous costumes. His trademarked baroque style has been dialed back from the (admitted beautiful) excesses of “Anna Karenina” and “Pan,” but his visions are as memorable as ever. One sequence, where Cyrano dispatches ten adversaries, is a startling bit of uncut camera choreography that will make your eyeballs dance.
The director weaves the music into the dialogue sequences seamlessly, avoiding the abrupt song-and-dance reality-breakers of so many musicals. The actors don’t suddenly start high-stepping either. It’s a more naturalistic approach that focusses attention, for better and for worse, on the emotion of the songs. As much as I liked many of the tunes, the lyrical quality varies, from the eloquent to the elementary.
Dinklage stretches his wings here as the romantic lead, the comedian and warrior. Cyrano is an outsider with a big heart who has resigned himself to being a background player in love. It’s a wonderful performance, made all the more poignant in the film’s closing minutes (NO SPOILERS HERE!).
“Cyrano” is a deeply romantic movie, a musical and a testament to the importance of real human connections, rendered in high style but always with a real, beating heart.
