I join “CTV News Toronto at Five” with anchor Zuraigah Alman to talk about the playful “Toy Story 5,” the grim historical drama “The Death of Robin Hood” and the supernatural horrors of “Leviticus.”
Watch the whole thing HERE! (Starts at 14:42)
I join CTV Atlantic’s Bruce Frisco to talk about the playful “Toy Story 5,” the grim historical drama “The Death of Robin Hood” and the supernatural horrors of “Leviticus.”
Watch the whole thing HERE!
I join “CP24 Breakfast” hosts Nick Dixon and Jennifer Hsiung to talk about the playful “Toy Story 5” and the grim historical drama “The Death of Robin Hood.”
Watch the whole thing HERE!
Fast reviews for busy people! Watch as I review three movies in less time than it takes to brush your teeth. Have a look as I race against the clock to tell you about the playful “Toy Story 5,” the grim historical drama “The Death of Robin Hood” and the supernatural horrors of “Leviticus.”
Watch the whole thing HERE!
SYNOPSIS: In “The Death of Robin Hood,” a new historical drama now playing in theatres, Hugh Jackman stars as the legendary thief as he reckons with his past and searches for a chance at redemption. “People speak of Robin Hood,” he says. “Tell his stories. They’re all lies. He was not a hero. He were a murderous brigand.”
CAST: Hugh Jackman, Jodie Comer, Bill Skarsgård, Murray Bartlett, Noah Jupe. Written and directed by Michael Sarnoski.
REVIEW: Taking its story from the 17th-century ballad “Robin Hood’s Death,” “The Death of Robin Hood” focusses on the murderous, not merry, legacy of the storied thief and killer. This retelling of the story has more to do with Hugh Jackman’s “Logan” than the traditional take. “He was not a hero. He robbed and killed for the joy of it.”
Grim and uncompromising, the movie begins with an aged Robin Hood (Jackman), outlaw archer and equal opportunity killer contemplating his life and the deaths of his victims. He’s murdered so many men, women and children he has lost count, and now finds himself haunted by generations of those who fell at the end of his arrows and blades.
That doesn’t mean he’s going to stop the mayhem, but he’s had a reckoning and now longer finds the joy in taking lives.
Weary, he’s prepared for death when he is grievously wounded in battle. But instead of letting his die, sidekick Little John (Bill Skarsgård) transports him to a remote island and the medical attention of The Prioress (Jodie Comer).
As she nurses him back to health Robin is torn between salvation and the deadly instincts that brought him to The Prioress’s care.
A brutal act of violence in its opening moments immediately differentiates “The Death of Robin Hood” from the romanticized version of the steal-from-the-rich-to-give-to-the-poor character from medieval poems, folk songs and recent movies and television.
Gone is the dashing Douglas Fairbanks style hero, replaced by Jackman’s deeply flawed rogue, a heartless killer who says things like, “I’ll slit your throat and never think of you again.”
Cursed by a gift for violence, he now contemplates if salvation is even available to a man like him.
Director Michael Sarnoski sets the scene for Hood’s reckoning with a series of startling images of brutality. Raw, mano-a-mano-rip-your-foe’s-jaw-off-with-your-bare-hands violence characterizes the film’s first half. It’s unpleasant, raw savagery; all cracking bones, agonized screams and ripping flesh. To paraphrase Marsellus Wallace, Hood and Little John get “medieval on their enemies’ asses.” Shot in low light, these scenes work because of what you don’t see as much as what you do. They are primal, unadorned and brutally effective in showcasing Hood’s special set of skills.
The cloud of unremitting grimness lifts in the film’s second half as Hood becomes introspective, but even then, this film is no barrel of laughs. It is a serious, some might say dire, look at a half-hearted search for redemption.
Jackman does interesting work as the conflicted Hood, but the script’s flowery language doesn’t do him any favors. He’s looking inward, but it feels like there is a barrier between the character and the audience. We never really feel his pain, other than to witness the winces during the blood lettings The Prioress administers to him throughout.
For all its sturm and drang it’s not the introspection that lingers after “The Death of Robin Hood,” it’s the violence, which blunts the potency of the redemption arc, and any ideas of tenderness and morality that may have been on writer/director Sarnoski’s mind.
SYNOPSIS: Based on a true story, “Dead Man’s Wire” stars Bill Skarsgård as a man who takes matters into his own hands when he becomes convinced his bank schemed to financially ruin his life. “This loan company’s done me wrong,” he says.
CAST: Bill Skarsgård, Dacre Montgomery, Cary Elwes, Myha’la, Colman Domingo, and Al Pacino. Directed by Gus Van Sant.
REVIEW: Echoes of gritty 1970s cinema flow through “Dead Man’s Wire,” bringing back memories of classic character driven crime dramas like “Dog Day Afternoon.”
Set in 1977 Indianapolis, the story unfolds as Tony Kiritsis (Bill Skarsgård) shows up at the Meridian Mortgage Company demanding a meeting with its president M.L. Hall (Al Pacino). A regular visitor, he’s welcomed in by Hall’s son, mortgage broker Richard (Dacre Montgomery), who agrees to the meeting in his father’s absence.
In Hall’s office Kiritsis reveals the real reason for his visit. “This loan company’s done me wrong,” he says. “They set me up and schemed to ruin my life.” Kiritsis claimed his plan to develop a 17-acre piece of land into a shopping center was sabotaged by M.L. Hall, leaving him unable to pay back a $130,000 loan. Now, he’s demanding restitution in the amount of $5 million and an apology.
Rasing the stakes, Kiritsis takes Richard hostage, with a sawed-off shotgun wired with a “dead man’s wire” from the trigger, a booby-trap designed to fire and kill the hostage if Kiritsis is shot or released pressure.
A mix of social commentary and crime, “Dead Man’s Wire” is an urgent, tautly told story of desperation and anti-capitalism. Although set in 1977, in the post Luigi Mangione world the distrust of institutions feels timely. Strip away the wide collars and bell-bottomed jeans and replace with contemporary fashion, the story would feel very much of the moment.
The no-frills pleasure of this retelling of the tale allows Skarsgård to pull focus as the jittery Kiritsis. He manages something remarkable within the performance, lacing unlikely humor into his portrayal of a desperate man making unreasonable demands, but more than that, he makes Kiritsis sympathetic. That’s tough to do when the person he shares most of his scenes with has a shotgun strapped to his head, but Skarsgård plays him not as a bad man, but a man who has run out of options. A guy who just wants respect and is willing to go to extremes to earn it. He’s part everyman, part goofy anti-hero and part folk hero to anyone who has ever felt like they’ve received unfair treatment from any large entity.
It’s no coincidence that Al Pacino, star of “Dog Day Afternoon,” is in the cast of “Dead Man’s Wire” as echoes of Sonny Wortzik, the character he played in that film, reverberate throughout Skarsgård’s performance.
“Dead Man’s Wire” is an entertaining film, with a charismatic lead performance and a stranger-than-fiction story that moves like a rocket, stopping only to showcase the desperation and heartache that inspired Kiritsis’s outrageous actions.
I join CTV NewsChannel anchor Scott Hirsch to talk about the Bob Dylan biopic “A Complete Unknown” and the vampire drama “Nosferatu.”
Watch the whole thing HERE!
SYNOPSIS: A gothic tale of an ancient vampire’s infatuation with an innocent young woman, Robert Egger’s “Nosferatu” is a reimaging of F. W. Murnau’s 1922 expressionist horror masterpiece “Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror.”
CAST: Bill Skarsgård, Nicholas Hoult, Lily-Rose Depp, Aaron Taylor-Johnson, Emma Corrin, Ralph Ineson, Simon McBurney, and Willem Dafoe. Directed by Robert Eggers.
REVIEW: In a showstopper of an opening, the story of “Nosferatu” begins as Ellen (Lily-Rose Depp) telepathically awakens an ancient evil in the form of Count Orlock, a.k.a. Nosferatu from the dead.
Years later this story of evil and sacrifice continues in 1838 Germany with Ellen, now newly wed to real estate agent Thomas Hutter (Nicholas Hoult).
Recently, Ellen’s nights have been flooded with terrifying dreams she doesn’t understand. Thomas dismisses them as “enchanted memories,” but she thinks her visions portend something terrible for the couple.
When Thomas’s boss Herr Knock (Simon McBurney) asks him to travel to the Carpathian Mountains to meet with an elderly new client named Count Orlock (Bill Skarsgård)—“He has one foot in the grave,” jokes Herr Knock—Ellen doesn’t want him to go, but the job offers the kind of money they need to start a family and soon Thomas is off.
Weeks pass. Ellen’s dreams become so intense her doctor calls in Prof. Albin Eberhart Von Franz (Willem Dafoe), a metaphysician and occult scientist who declares, “I have seen things in this world that would make Isaac Newton crawl back into the womb!”
Meanwhile, at Orlock’s creepy castle, the arduous journey and sleep deprivation caused by strange dreams has left Thomas weakened and afraid. Are his dreams morbid fairy tales, as Orlock suggests, or has the Count, a.k.a. Nosferatu, placed a spell on him, as it appears he has on Ellen?
In Germany, as Orlock’s ship heads for their shores, Ellen and others are held in his telepathic sway. “There is,” Von Franz says, “a dread storm rising.”
Director Robert Eggers breathes new life into “Nosferatu’s” withered lungs, staying true to his gorgeously gothic aesthetic while at the same time paying tribute to F. W. Murnau’s classic 1922 film. Immaculately crafted, unsettling images of scurrying rats, crumbling castles and ominous shadows projected by flickering candlelight create a nightmarish canvas onto which this story of dark obsession and sacrifice is projected.
It will be categorized as a horror film, and there are elements of gore, death and the unnerving auditory experience of hearing Count Orlock drain his victims, but it is an old-school horror movie that aims to unnerve its audience with just a few jump scares and no vats of fake blood. Eggers conveys terror with the film’s atmosphere of dread and depiction of madness, decay and unrelenting, elemental evil.
As the film’s tragic heroine Ellen, Depp carries much of the story’s emotional darkness. Ellen is tormented by visions she doesn’t understand, but Depp doesn’t play her as a victim. It’s more like she’s trapped in a toxic relationship and, as such, carries a complex panoply of feelings. Fear and lust top the list, but ultimately it is the steeliness Depp gives her that makes Ellen a compelling but helplessness and hunted character.
The beating—or, in this case, non-beating—heart of the story is Bill Skarsgård as the vampiric Count Orlock. The Dracula stereotype of the vampire with a cape is out of the window. Instead, Orlock is a long-dead Transylvanian noble man, a figure from some folk tale mythology, complete with a bushy moustache and opulent clothing befitting his aristocratic status. But whatever he was when he was alive, he has transformed into a sinister being, a partially decomposed primordial vision of terror. Unseen for most of the film, save for some stunning shadow play early on, Orlock is an avatar of evil and entitlement.
From Orlock’s slow, deliberate speech to his ferocity, Skarsgård, unrecognizable under an inch of make-up, plays him as though he’s just stepped out of a nightmare.
As Thomas, Hoult is a sturdy leading man, and Dafoe, continuing his exploration of off kilter old timey doctors, is obviously having fun, and brings a hint of lightness to this very dark tale.
“Nosferatu” is a story of shadows and light, both thematically and in its visual style.
In one creepy flourish Eggers utilizes shadows to represent the spread of Orlock’s influence. The image of his hand slowly casting shade over Thomas and Ellen’s hometown of Wisborg is eye popping, both visually and metaphorically. As a stylist Eggers creates an atmosphere of evil that emerges from the darkness, painstakingly enveloping all in its path. There is a terrible beauty in these images, one that plumbs the depths of Orlock’s depravity in ways that is both spellbinding and repulsive.
By the time the end credits roll “Nosferatu” is both a compelling homage to, and a reimaging of, Murnau’s original film. The atmosphere of dread remains, given new life with impressive visuals, but it is in Egger’s revision of the core story of obsession and sacrifice that the film becomes truly horrific.
SYNOPSIS: “The Crow,” a re-imagining of the classic gothic superhero series of the same name, sees troubled souls Eric Draven (Bill Skarsgård,) and Shelly Webster (FKA Twigs) become soulmates after escaping from a rehab center. On the run from bad man Vincent Roeg’s (Danny Huston) violent thugs, the pair form an unbreakable bond, even in death. Given the chance to save his true love by sacrificing himself, Draven navigates the worlds of the living and the dead to seek vengeance against her killers. “Kill the ones who killed you, and you will get her back.”
CAST: Bill Skarsgård, FKA Twigs, Danny Huston, Josette Simon, Laura Birn, Sami Bouajila, Isabella Wei, Jordan Bolger. Directed by Rupert Sanders.
REVIEW: “The Crow” is back, but, unfortunately, never really takes flight. Director Rupert Sanders and cinematographer Steve Annis create a beautiful, neo-noir gothic canvas as a backdrop to the story of the power of love as a tool for revenge, but no amount of atmosphere can make up for spotty storytelling and murky mythology.
The film’s first forty minutes, the story of star-crossed lovers Eric and Shelly, drags as the two meet, flirt and get to know one another. Trouble is, sparks don’t exactly fly. The basis of the story is immortal love, one that cannot be broken by anything, even death, and yet their courtship feels impetuous, not particularly romantic. That lack of chemistry blunts the effectiveness of the movie’s emotional foundation and delays the start of The Crow ‘s story until midway through the film.
As for the action, it does deliver some OTT John Wick style violence, but I wouldn’t call this an action movie. The action is used sparingly, relegated to two big set pieces. Of those, it’s the opera house sequence that delivers the cathartic, nasty kills fans might want. It’s gross and gory as Draven gives new meaning to the question, “Why don’t you smile?” (You’ll know what I mean when you see the movie.) It goes for it, delivering the straightforward revenge vibe you expect, but it also makes you wonder why the rest of the movie doesn’t have the same energy or comic book sensibility.
Skarsgård is suitably angsty, and can handle himself in the action scenes, but despite his best efforts, the specter of Brandon Lee’s indelible performance in the original cult classic looms large over this version.
“The Crow” suffers from a lackluster villain (the usually reliable Danny Huston) and slow pacing, but its worst crime is that for a movie about soulmates, with a baddie who dooms souls to hell, “The Crow” feels soulless.
