Just in time for Mother’s Day comes the new Jennifer Lopez Netflix movie “The Mother.” A twist on the 1994 thriller “The Professional,” it is the story of a cold-blooded assassin whose heart is warmed by a young innocent caught up in a dangerous situation.
When we first meet The Mother (Lopez) she is a pregnant ex-assassin making a deal with the FBI to turn on her former crime partners, gun runners Adrian Lovell (Joseph Fiennes) and Hector Álvarez (Gael García Bernal). Their business began when she was stationed at Guantanamo Bay, but soon spun out-of-control and now, even the morally compromised Mother wants out.
Trouble is, Lovell and Álvarez will do almost anything to keep her quiet. “You burned down our entire world,” says Lovell.
One barrage of bullets later, Mother is hospitalized. In recovery, she has the baby, but is told by a stern FBI agent (Edie Falco) that not only is she in danger, but the threat from Lovell and Álvarez extends to the newborn. “What you are to that child is a death sentence.”
Mother reluctantly agrees to put the child in foster care while she goes into hiding in the Alaskan wilderness. “You put her with good people,” she says. “Keep her safe. If there’s trouble, let me know.”
Cut to twelve years later. Mother gets word that her daughter Zoe (Lucy Paez), who has grown up in a quiet, leafy suburb unaffected and unaware of her biological mother’s past, is once again in danger. “They’re using her to get to me,” Mother says. Working with FBI agent William Cruise (Omari Hardwick), Mother comes out of hiding to protect the daughter she has never met. “I’m a killer,” she says, “but I’m also a mother and I will die protecting her.”
Hiding out in the wilderness, Mother homeschools Zoe in the ways of tough love and warfare. “Do you hate me?” Mother asks. “Good. Use it. You’re going to work harder than you ever thought you could work. Then you are going to run out your reserve tank and find out you have more. And then you’ll run that out too.”
“The Mother” has echoes of “The Professional” and “Hannah,” but pales by comparison.
New Zealand director Niki Caro kicks things off with a far-fetched, but promising set-up, only to allow it to flounder as the running time increases. A compelling twist on a mother – daughter relationship is wasted by a script with paper thin characterizations, a pair of lackluster villains and no real twists after the first fifteen minutes.
Lopez brings a steely, studied deep freeze to the deadly character, punctuated by moments of familial concern. Lopez is no stranger to action or intrigue, and the “Bourne” style -up-close-and-personal fight scenes have some punch to them, but the clichéd dialogue feels left over from a 1990s direct-to-DVD flick. “I’m whatever I need to be to keep her safe,” could have been said by any number of b-movie heroes, and here, as the words spill out of her mouth, it feels like an echo from another, better movie.
Big points, though, to costume designers Bina Daigeler and Jeriana San Juan, whose fur-trimmed looks for the on-the-run Mother, are runway ready.
Even worse is Fiennes as the blandest bad guy to come down the pike since the forgettable Max Lord in “Wonder Woman 1984.” We know Lovell is evil because he does terrible things, but Fiennes plays him as a vessel for some heavy prosthetic make-up and nothing more.
“The Mother” is serviceable, a big action movie that fits the small screen.
It’s been thirty-six years, but movie goers can once again ride into the danger zone.
Kind of.
Hotheaded test pilot Pete “Maverick” Mitchell (Tom Cruise) returns to the screen and sky in the high-flying sequel “Top Gun: Maverick,” which, despite the main character’s feats of daring do, plays it mostly by-the-book.
When we first get reacquainted with Captain Maverick, he’s still the hotshot, risky pilot we remember from the first film. His cocky attitude and bad boy behavior has kept him from being promoted. “I’m where I belong,” he says when asked why he’s not an Admiral after decades of distinguished service. He’s popular with his peers but not with the brass, save for his old friend and guardian angel, Admiral Tom “Iceman” Kazansky (Val Kilmer in an extended cameo).
“Your reputation precedes you,” says Vice Admiral Beau “Cyclone” Simpson (Jon Hamm). “That’s not a compliment.”
Called back to Top Gun, the United States Navy training program where he learned fighter and strike tactics and technique, Maverick is presented with a last chance for glory. “You fly for Top Gun or you don’t ever fly for the Navy again.”
Cyclone is obviously disdainful of the arrogant Maverick, but acknowledges he is the best person to train twelve of the brightest and best recent Top Gun graduates for a dangerous mission to locate and destroy an underground uranium enrichment site.
For Maverick, the job comes with baggage. It places him in the vicinity of on-again, off-again girlfriend Penny (Jennifer Connelly), a new character, referenced in the first film as the daughter of an admiral. Most dramatically, one of his students is Lieutenant Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw (Miles Teller), the son of Maverick’s late best friend, “Goose,” played by Anthony Edwards in the first film. Rooster holds Maverick responsible for his father’s death and is resistant to Maverick’s training. “My dad believed in you,” he says. “I’m not going to make the same mistake.”
Of the twelve recruits, half will make the cut, one will be the leader, if Maverick can teach them the precision and “Don’t think, just do” attitude needed to come home alive.
“Top Gun: Maverick” screenwriters Ehren Kruger, Eric Warren Singer and Christopher McQuarrie keep the story simple; a splash of romance, a dash of remorse, some shirtless volleyball and a mountain of eye-popping aerial action. It’s a recipe that echoes the events of the first film to the point of déjà vu. Still, as an exercise in nostalgia, complete with callbacks to the original, and an emotional appearance by Kilmer, “Maverick” works because it blends old and new in a crowd-pleasing way. Unlike other recent 1980s and 1990s reboots, it salutes the original in tribute. Loud and proud, it wears its superficiality on its sleeve in an old fashioned, last century style that is unabashed fan service.
But what really sets the new and old films apart is Cruise. He was a movie star then, and he’s a movie star now, but with age, the stakes for his character are higher. Maverick has a lot to prove, regrets to be dealt with and while the actor doesn’t appear to have aged at all, that trademarked Tom Cruise Run can’t be as easy as it once was. Maverick is a still a hotshot, but here the character is tempered by the sins of the past and a real concern for the future. Cruise’s work shaves some of the hypermasculine edges off Maverick to reveal a more human and humane character than the first time around. It centers the movie with some earthbound emotion to counter the sky-high action.
“Top Gun: Maverick” is a sequel that plays it safe with the story, but lets it rip in the blockbuster action sequences, giving the audience the expected need for speed.
Imagine learning that the plane crash that claimed your family wasn’t an accident but a covered-up terrorist attack. You would be angry and perhaps hungry for revenge but few would go to the lengths as “The Rhythm Section’s” Stephanie Patrick (Blake Lively) in her search for justice. “I’ll find the people who did this,” she says. “I’ll kill every last one of them.”
Like so many people touched by unimaginable tragedy Patrick turns to drugs and alcohol to blunt the simmering wellspring of emotion that always seems ready to bubble over. In the three years since her family perished in a plane crash she has been pushed to the edge, despondent, leading a life of survivor guilt—she was supposed to be on the plane—and rage. “I have nothing left,” she says.
When a journalist tells her the crash was actually a case of terrorism and not mechanical failure or an act of God she springs into action, morphing from down ‘n out to knock ‘em out; part La Femme Nikita, part Lisbeth Salander. “I’ve been dying for three years,” she says to one of her victims. “For you it will only be a few minutes.”
Revenge dramas should be snappy. They should bring the viewer into the story, give them a reason to care about the vengeance but most of all they should be satisfying. Each act of retribution should give our dark sides an electrifying jolt. Unfortunately, “The Rhythm Section” misses each and everyone of these beats. The boilerplate script combined with slack pacing and predictable twists and turns are prettied up with an indie movie sheen but there’s not much here beyond some hand held theatrics and exotic locations.
Lively throws vanity out the window, making the most of an underwritten character. Unlike many other movies in this genre, she isn’t an instant super-spy. She’s jittery, struggling with the job of revenge, which, if we cared about what was happening on screen, might have been a nice twist on the usual insta-spy genre.
For all its style “The Rhythm Section” feels like the victim of a ruthless paring down. The story is truncated without enough information to get invested in the characters. A glimpse or two of Stephanie’s life before the plane crash—the o-so-brief flashbacks don’t count—would have deepened our connection to her and her pain so later, when the going gets rough, we would still be paying attention.
