Sometimes truth is truly stranger than fact. “Gran Turismo: Based on a True Story,” a new anything-is-possible movie, now playing in theatres, is the unlikely, but true, story of Jann Mardenborough, a gamer who defied expectations in the real world. “Listen son,” says his father Steve. “You think you’re going to play your stupid video games about cars, and you’re going to become a race car driver?”
When we first meet Jann (Archie Madekwe) he’s a nineteen-year-old underwear salesperson, who, when he isn’t selling briefs, spends his time playing Gran Turismo, a racing simulation video game that emulates the experience of elite car racing. He dreams of getting behind the wheel for real, but will his thousands of hours on the simulation translate to the real world?
He gets a chance to find out the answer to that question when Nissan motorsport executive Danny Moore (Orlando Bloom) proposes a wild marketing idea. He wants to gather the best Gran Turismo players, train them at Nissan’s GT Academy, and, under the watchful eye of crusty trainer Jack Salter (David Harbour), enroll them in real life races. The winners of the competition will earn a spot on Team Nissan and a “place in history.” Jann’s high scores catch Moore’s attention, and after a qualifying simulation, Jann is off to the races. Literally.
Despite initial setbacks, the disdain of pit crews and the other drivers who consider him a novelty, a simulation driver playing in the big leagues, Jann excels and finds himself pitted against Europe’s finest drivers.
“Gran Turismo: Based on a True Story” is essentially a series of races with some family drama, a hint of romance, some twisted metal and flying tires and heaping loads of product placement and sports cliches wedged in between. It’s a crowd pleaser with some fist-in-the-air moments, but emotionally, it’s on cruise control.
Director Neill Blomkamp never strays from the traditional underdog sports movie formula.
Mardenborough’s story is remarkable. Unfortunately, the telling of it isn’t as remarkable. It goes pedal to the metal on sports cliches—“I’m going to push you harder than you’ve ever been pushed before,” roars Salter.— and follows the same path to the big race as many others have taken before.
But sports movies are never really only about the sport. They are about universal themes, like, in this case, an underdog following his dreams. On that score, “Gran Turismo” works well enough. The story itself is manipulative, but when the movie is speeding around a track at 200 miles an hour, it is an exciting manifestation of Mardenborough’s dreams coming true. When the characters are talking, it is more a cavalcade of cliches and easy exposition.
Of course, there are exceptions. For example, Mardenborough listens to soft rock to psyche himself for races, leading Salter to bellow, “You take all that Kenny G anger and you release it.” It’s a good, funny line and it ranks up there with my other favorite movie line, “I’m from Waterloo, where the vampires hang out,” from “Blackberry” earlier this year.
It’s hard to dislike a movie as relentlessly upbeat as “Gran Turismo: Based on a True Story.” As the cars whiz around the track it is all forward momentum in service of the inspiring story. It’s just a shame that the human parts of the tale aren’t as immersive as the racing scenes.
In 2019’s “Shazam!,” teenager Billy Batson’s (Asher Angel) life took a metaphysical turn when an ancient wizard Djimon Hounsou), protector of the realms from the Seven Deadly Sins and keeper of the Rock of Eternity, plucked him from obscurity to transform into superhero Shazam, the adult champion of the world.
In the new film, “Shazam!: Fury of the Gods,” set two years after the events of the first movie, Billy still grapples with his superhero alter ego (Zachary Levi). “I’m an idiot,” he says. “I don’t deserve these powers, if I’m being honest. Like, what am I even contributing? There’s already a superhero with a red suit with a lightening bolt on it. Aquaman is literally huge, and he’s so manly. And Batman, he’s so cool. I feel like a fraud.”
This new adventure sees Batson, and his foster siblings, who also transform into superheroes by saying the magic word “Shazam!,” pitted against their most ferocious foe yet, the Daughters of Atlas.
“We are at war,” says Hespera (Helen Mirren). “We will annihilate everything. The champions of this realm can do nothing to stop us.”
The Daughters of Atlas want to strip the Shazam gang of their powers but as they do that the fate of the world hangs in the balance. “You are very menacing,” Shazam says to Hespera. “I just want you to know that.”
At its heart “Shazam!: Fury of the Gods” is a coming-of-age story. Billy begins the movie insecure, a victim of imposter syndrome. Unfortunately, as his confidence grows, so does the movie’s tendency to clutter up the screen with busy CGI, heaping helpings of mythology and not-so-subtle product placement. (They even manage to find a way to work in the Skittles “taste the rainbow” slogan.)
The best elements of the first film are present. The focus on family—finding your logical, if not biological family—the humour and Levy’s manchild performance as the title character, provide the film’s heart but the effort to make the sequel bigger-and-better overshadow the more organic, pleasing parts of the story.
It is a blast to see Helen Mirren channel her inner Shakespearean villain as Hespera, and some of the Ray Harryhausen-inspired creatures have a cool, “Famous Monsters of Filmland” retro appeal but, in general, when it comes to “Shazam!: Fury of the Gods,” bigger is not better.
In the movies The Kingsmen are a secret spy organization whose members have manners that would make Henry Higgins proud and gadgets that James Bond would envy. They’ve been the subject of two movies, “Kingsman: The Secret Service” and “Kingsman: The Golden Circle,” and now, three movies into director Matthew Vaughn’s spy franchise comes an origin story that takes us back to the early part of the 20th century and the confusing beginnings of these modern-day knights.
“The King’s Man,” now playing in theatres, begins with a tragedy that makes the wealthy and powerful Duke of Oxford (Ralph Fiennes) reject the Colonialism and violence that is the bedrock of his family’s fortune. He questions why he was killing people who were trying to protect their own land. “With every man I killed,” he said, “I killed a piece of myself.”
Meanwhile, as World War I approaches, an assembly of the world’s most despicable tyrants and villains, working for an evil mastermind with plans for world domination, are hatching a plan that could lead to genocide.
With the lives of millions at stake, and his son Conrad (Harris Dickinson) off to war, the Duke realizes he can’t rely on politicians to do the right thing. In an effort to save the world, he abandons his pacifist ways. With the help of his most trusted colleagues, swordsman Shola (Djimon Hounsou) and sharp shooter Polly (Gemma Arterton), he goes into the fray and sews the seeds for the formation of The Kingsmen, an organization that uses violence to attain peace.
The first two Kingsmen movies were overstuffed, but had a certain lightness of touch. Unfortunately, “The King’s Man” lands with a thud. A mix of fact (well, almost true stuff) and fiction—real life characters like Rasputin, the mad Russian monk (Rhys Ifans) are woven into the fanciful story—the movie is all over the place. It’s a spy story, a tale of duty, a slapstick comedy, an action film, a fractured fairy tale of world events.
Some of the action scenes are quite fun and Ifans eats so much scenery it feels like he’ll never go hungry again, but the story takes far too long to get going.
“The King’s Man” feels as though it is splintering off in all directions, like it’s three movies spliced-and-diced into one, bloated, messy sequel-ready story.
Superhero films come in all shapes and sizes. In the recent renaissance of the do-gooder movie we’ve seen comedies, political thrillers, period pieces and all-out action films. Iron Man quips, Batman broods and Doctor Strange is simply surreal. “Shazam!,” the new Warner Bros. adaptation of a DC comic, adds new textures to the genre’s palette, sincere zaniness.
At just fourteen-years-old Billy (Asher Angel) has already been through the wringer. Passed from foster home to foster home he finally lands with Rosa and Victor Vasquez (Marta Milans and Cooper Andrews), a loving couple who open their house and heart to Billy, motor mouth Freddy (Dylan Grazer), cutie Darla (Faithe Herman), timid Pedro (Jovan Armand) and brainiac Eugene (Ian Chen). “They seem nice,” jokes Freddy, “but trust me it’s real Game of Thrones around here.”
Billy’s life takes a metaphysical twist when ancient wizard Shazam (Djimon Hounsou), protector of the realms from the Seven Deadly Sins and keeper of the Rock of Eternity, plucks him from obscurity to be the champion of the world. “Say my name so my powers may flow through you,” he instructs Billy. The wizard needs an heir to do battle against a malevolent army lead by Thaddeus Sivana (Mark Strong), a vengeful baddie once rejected by the ancient wizard because his heart was not pure enough, who threaten to “spread poison on everything they touch.”
It’s a big job that comes without much of a roadmap. Billy knows that when he says the word “Shazam!” he morphs into a grown man (Zachary Levi) complete with a red suit and extraordinary powers. “I applaud your choices today,” says a stranger on the subway. “Those shoes. That belt. And that cape. It shouldn’t work but it does.”
Trouble is, he doesn’t know how to harness his newfound abilities. “Superpowers? Dude, I don’t even know how to pee in this thing!” That’s where Freddy, a fan of the real-life superheroes who help keep his home city of Philadelphia safe, comes in handy. Together they navigate Billy’s life as a superhero in exactly the way most teenager boys would—in a series of ever escalating stunts à la “Jackass.”
Will that be enough to prepare the youngster do battle with Sivana and his band of Deadly Sins come-to-life bound-and-determined on destroying the planet?
“Shazam!” is a big-time superhero movie that feels more like an indie flick. The names of digital artists and special effects crews outnumber the cast by about 10,000 to 1 but the film still feels surprisingly intimate given the genre. Themes of the importance of community, of finding your logical, if not biological, family, help make this feel personal, more down to earth than some of the other recent high-flying caped do-gooder movies. Like many other superhero movies it’s a bit too in love with its CGI in the climatic action scenes but director David F. Sandberg remembers to include some humour and some heart into the carnage.
The appealing cast—including memorable turns from Angel and Herman as the sweeter-than-sweet Darla—is headed by Levy. As the grown-up superhero with the attitude of a teenager he retains the glee and awe of a young boy discovering his powers. It’s a classic comic book situation come to life and Levy pulls it off with charm.
“Shazam!” forgoes the dark tone of some of the other DC movies, opting for a kid-friendly feel. It’s more akin to the Christopher Reeves Superman movies than “Man of Steel,” filled with fun, humour and moral focus.
From CTV News Channel: Richard sits down with Lashana Lynch, who stars alongside Brie Larson as ace pilot and single mom Maria Rambeau in Captain Marvel.
The tagline for “Captain Marvel,” the latest Marvel origin story, is “Higher. Further. Faster.” but I would like to suggest another. “In Space, Everyone Can Hear You Scream Whee!” As Captain Marvel (Brie Larson) pierces our atmosphere, her banshee cry of sheer exhilaration pierces the soundtrack. “Whee!” She’s having fun and so should fans of the high-flying character.
There’s a bit of backstory. “Captain Marvel” begins, as all good superhero flicks do, on an alien planet. Hala is the home of the Kree, a race of powerful ETs ruled by an AI leader called the Supreme Intelligence (Annette Bening). Among the inhabitants of the planet are Yon-Rogg (Jude Law), mentor to Vers (Brie, not yet dubbed Captain Marvel). She is being trained as part of an elite band of space cops, who, shooting energy bolts from her wrists, tracks and hunts shapeshifting creatures called the Skrull. An insomniac, she is haunted by nightmares and mysterious images of another life.
To find context for her existence she travels to C-53—earth—during the Clinton years. There, while hunting down Skrulls who are searching for a weapon that would make them unstoppable in the universe, she meets Nick Fury, Agent of the espionage agency S.H.I.E.L.D. (Samuel L. Jackson), who becomes entangled in her hunt for the earthbound Skrulls—including the world-weary Talos (Ben Mendelsohn)—and her search for her true identity.
“Captain Marvel” begins with a trippy, time-warping introduction to Vers’s past. It’s an orgy of fast cuts and establishes the film’s spirited tone. There’s a lot going on here, maybe too much, but at least it rips along like a cheetah attacking its prey. Things slow down once the film lands in 1995 California and the “Terminator-esque” story of a benevolent alien with superpowers kicks in.
The high points are lofty.
Larson finds the right tone, playing someone grappling with two identities, otherworldly and stoic one moment, swaggering playfully the next. Vers is a total girl power hero, with no love interest, other than a female best friend, she kicks but while the soundtrack blares “I’m Just A Girl” and tell her male mentor, “I have nothing to prove to you.” Larson keeps her interesting even though through much of the film Vers isn’t quite sure who she is or where she belongs in the universe.
Further separating her from her superhero colleagues is a purpose driven mission not born out of revenge but by powerful emotions and a sense of loss. Those motivations alone give the film a slightly different feel from others in the Marvel family.
Visually Vers, harnessing all the hurt of all the times she was told she wasn’t good enough or that girls shouldn’t try to do boy stuff, is a powerful feminist statement that helps drive the story and define the character. That it’s visually stunning is a bonus.
Supporting actors Jackson (we finally learn the unlikely why Fury wears an eye patch) and Mendelsohn find a balance between the film’s dramatic, action and lighter scenes.
Co-directors Anna Boden and Ryan Fleck, handle the character work with aplomb. Their previous films, indies like “Half Nelson” and “Mississippi Grind,” are studies in nuance, a trait lost in “Captain Marvel’s” larger set pieces. The action—and there is plenty of it, tends to be of a generic frenetically edited style. The convoluted origin story mixed with the cluttered action sequences suck some of the air out of the theatre but their take on the superhero character as both an outsider and one of us is as refreshing as it is unusual. “Whee!”
People who complain trailers give away too much or that movies have become predictable may find something to keep them guessing in “Serenity,” the strange new Matthew McConaughey thriller. Or is it a metaphysical drama? Or should I call it a new age noir? I honestly don’t know what to file this under. However you classify it, this weird film will keep you guessing for better and for worse. Strange days indeed.
McConaughey is Baker Dill, the broke, headstrong owner of a boat for hire in the crystal clear waters surrounding the remote Plymouth Island. “In Plymouth everyone knows everything,” says Reid Miller (Jeremy Strong). “Except what’s going on,” drawls Dill.
He’s a Captain Ahab type, minus the prosthetic leg made out of whalebone, and obsessed with hooking and reeling in a giant tuna he calls Justice. Everyone on the tiny island knows of his obsession. Even the local radio announcer broadcasts, “It’s a perfect day to go out and catch that damn fish,“ during his weather update.
He’s a haunted man, troubled by the carnage he witnessed in Iraq and the family, wife Karen (Anne Hathaway) and son Patrick (Rafael Sayegh), he lost to divorce. When Karen reappears with a job offer it sends him into a tailspin. “I’m here to tell you that you were right and I was wrong about Frank,” she says about her new husband, a wealthy but abusive man played by Jason Clarke. Her deal is simple. “Take him out on your boat, let him get drunk and dump him in the ocean. Do it and I’ll give you $10 million.” Divorce is not an option she adds. “He’ll find a hole for me in one of his construction sites.“ Dill is conflicted until he hears that Frank has been violent with Patrick. Now all bets are off.
There’s more but you won’t read it here because this is about the time in “Serenity” where the story takes a left turn that would make M. Night” Shyamalan green with envy. Does it work? Not really but you have to give credit to writer-director Steven Knight for swinging for the fences. That it’s a foul ball is unfortunate because the gears shift from neo-noir to existential treatise on the fundamentals of life is the kind of risky move that we don’t see much of these days.
You don’t just see a movie like “Serenity,” you witness it.
It is one of the most baffling movies to come along in years. McConaughey is in full-blown “are-we-all-just-pawns-in-a-great-big-game?” mode while Hathaway convincing channels femme-fatale Veronica Lake. Both give heightened performances but the tone of the piece is so off kilter I can’t decide whether they are sleepwalking through this toward a paycheque or doing some edgy work.
If nothing else “Serenity” takes chances, not the kind of chances that are likely to please an audience but at least you can’t guess how it will end. Intrigued?
Guy Ritchie’s films have entertained me for years but I’m afraid he didn’t find me very interesting.
The incident happened during my press day with Ritchie and Charlie Hunnam, the director and star of King Arthur: Legend of the Sword. I first spoke with them for television. Hunnam answered my opening question about the film Excalibur, a precursor to their movie, enthusiastically. But I could feel Ritchie disengage. He sat back and went into autopilot, answering my questions by rote. The rest of the interview flew by in a flurry of quips and tossed off answers… READ THE WHOLE THING HERE!
Guy Ritchie’s films have entertained me for years but I’m afraid he didn’t find me very interesting.
The incident happened during my press day with Ritchie and Charlie Hunnam, the director and star of King Arthur: Legend of the Sword. I first spoke with them for television. Hunnam answered my opening question about the film Excalibur, a precursor to their movie, enthusiastically. But I could feel Ritchie disengage. He sat back and went into autopilot, answering my questions by rote. The rest of the interview flew by in a flurry of quips and tossed off answers.
Half-an-hour later I sat with them again to do a longer interview for print.
“I’m glad we can make amends,” said Hunnam as I came in the room. “It seemed like you wanted to have a proper conversation and we were having a bit of a jolly up.”
The whole experience was an example of the yin and yang of movie promotion. The yin was Ritchie, an intense man who refers to the walking a red carpet as “a dog and pony show” before adding that’s not what he’s here for.
The yang is Hunnam, an engaging actor who said, “We don’t make these things to live on in obscurity, we make them with the hope that people will see them and this is one of the ways we can help manifest that.”
The duo have been all over the world talking to media people with perfectly coiffed hair and big smiles, answering the same questions on repeat. By the time I get them there’s nothing new to ask about their update of the Arthurian legend. But there is an unspoken contract between my interview subjects and me.
Whether it’s for television or for the paper you hold in your hands, the deal is the same. They say something interesting and I report it. They get publicity and I get a story that my audience will hopefully enjoy.
As Ritchie sat with his arms folded across his chest, I thought about our “contract” and the difference between the two men.
Despite his tabloid appeal — for a time the British press made a sport of reporting on him — Ritchie strikes me as a private person. He’s more interested in what he’ll be working on next than the film he spent years making and has now signed off on. Or perhaps it’s that, as a director, he’s used to being in control and in these situations he has to cede power to the interviewer.
“We both know why we’re doing it,” Ritchie says, “but the red carpet last night, I’ll tell you, I felt soulless after that. After ten minutes get me off there because it takes me hours to recover.”
Hunnam, the performer, is immediately warm and open. When Ritchie talks about losing patience on press days Hunnam jokes, “Guy Ritchie leaves the room and Johnny Nasty shows up.”
Luckily, Johnny Nasty never showed. By the end of our time together the ice broke, Ritchie’s arms unfolded and he smiled. I’m not sure what happened other than he seemed to warm up to me when we talked generally about film and not specifically about King Arthur.
We traded stories, discussed King Arthur, an actor’s connection to their director and not being imprisoned by fear. Maybe it was just me but for a moment it felt like we were talking over a beer in a bar and not fulfilling our respective contractual duties. It was, in his words, a little less of a dog and pony show.
“I feel more satisfied now,’ said Hunnam as I left and another press person walked into the room to repeat the process. “I really felt bad after the [television] interview [with you]. I thought, ‘Man, that’s a serious cat and we really just f–ed around for four minutes.’ I’m glad we got into some of the nitty-gritty.”
