SYNOPSIS: “Transformers One” is the origin story of the two Transformers titans, Optimus Prime and Megatron, and how they altered the fate of Cybertron forever.
CAST: Chris Hemsworth, Brian Tyree Henry, Scarlett Johansson, Keegan-Michael Key, Steve Buscemi, Laurence Fishburne, Jon Hamm. Directed by Josh Cooley.
REVIEW: “Transformers One” is the story of an ideological split that drives a wedge between two lifelong friends. Nope, it’s not the story of you and your college pal who has decided to vote for Trump, it’s the animated origin story of the leaders of the Autobots and the Decepticons, the twins towers of the “Transformers” series.
When we first meet them, Orion Pax (Chris Hemsworth) and D-16 (Brian Tyree Henry) are
Cybertronian workers who can’t shapeshift into cars, guns or anything else. They are designed for work, nothing more. Under the rule of Sentinel Prime (Jon Hamm), who they view as a kind and benevolent leader, the pair work in the mines harvesting valuable commodities.
Before they become frenemies they have a great vibe, and the film is a fast-paced blast, filled with humor and heart. It’s a buddy movie, complete with good natured ribbing between the two, some slapstick shenanigans and a bit of playful competition before D-16 allows feelings of betrayal to colour his view of the world.
As their relationship sours, the film becomes darker, but that transformation brings with it an emotional element that while inevitable, also feels bittersweet.
Hemsworth, alongside Keegan-Michael Key as B-127 (ie: Bumblebee) and Scarlett Johansson as Elita-1, deliver solid voicework, but Henry is the MVP. On his way to becoming antagonist Megatron, D-16 has the biggest character arc, and Henry gives this bucket of bolts real personality and effectively conveys the sense of disillusionment that was the catalyst for his trip to the dark side.
The animation is slick and imaginative, although the battle scenes are often so frenetic it’s hard to discern who is fighting who. Still, the visuals sparkle, especially the inventive sci fi landscapes in the background of the above ground scenes.
“Transformers One” is a standalone movie, one that offers up copious Easter Eggs for longtime fans, and a top-notch, entertaining entryway for new fans.
Almost forty years after Chevy Chase portrayed the smarty-pants investigative reporter Irwin M. Fletcher, aka Fletch, on the big screen, the character is back in action. The gum shoe, who, ironically, doesn’t like to wear shoes, is now played by John Hamm in “Confess, Fletch,” a murder mystery now playing in theatres and on VOD, that aims to reboot the franchise.
Based on Gregory Mcdonald’s 1976 book of the same name but set in the present day, the story begins as Fletch, who now lives in Italy with his wealthy girlfriend Angela (Lorenza Izzo), visits Boston to track down stolen paintings worth millions of dollars. On his first night in town, he returns to his swanky rented townhouse to find a dead woman in the living room.
He calls it in and immediately becomes a suspect, but being his usual unflappable self, he cracks a few jokes, and continues his search for the art, while also trying to clear his name. Complicating his investigation are the slow-and-steady-wins-the-race Detective Monroe (Roy Wood Jr.), germophobe art dealer Horan (Kyle MacLachlan) and a randy Countess (Marcia Gay Harden) who pronounces Fletch’s name as “Flesh.”
This is not your father’s cinematic “Fletch.” Gone are Chevy Chase’s disguises, slapstick and doubletakes. They’ve been replaced with a more sardonic, dead pan, smart-alecky delivery that more closely resembles the tone of Mcdonald’s popular novels. In the back of a police car, for instance, murder suspect Fletch asks if they could go on a coffee run. “I’d kill for a macchiato,” he says, “not literally!” That is the movie’s mood; it’s a flippant crime story that could have used a splash or two of Chase’s heightened irreverence.
Hamm’s slick performance feels like neither fish nor fowl. His, “I have a line for everything,” glibness wears thin early on. The film does have some funny moments—a conversation with a designer about the meaning of the word “bespoke” is laugh out loud—and it is a hoot to see Hamm and his old “Mad Men” co-star John Slattery, who plays a Boston newspaper editor, together again in their foul-mouthed and funny scenes, but Hamm doesn’t register as either serious or comedic. It is a bland performance from an award-winning dramatic actor and one whose comedic work on “30 Rock” was raucous and really funny.
Part of it is the script. “We obtained surveillance footage from a store around the corner,” says Slo-mo Monroe. “Where the fudge is made?” is Fletch’s comeback.
And part of it is the TV-movie-of-the-week feel. The murder mystery is less important than the characters, who are very broadly sketched, and that leaves the film stuck somewhere between first and second gear.
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.
Richard joins Ryan Doyle and guest host Tamara Cherry of the NewsTalk 1010 afternoon show to talk about Squirt soda and the origin of the tequila-based cocktail the Paloma, and some movies to watch on the weekend, including “Black Widow” and “No Sudden Move.”
“No Sudden Move,” a new Steven Soderbergh film starring Don Cheadle and Benicio del Toro and now playing on Crave, is a film noir that gets lost in its knotty plot, but is kept on track by a top-notch cast.
Set in 1954 Detroit, the action begins with Jones, a shady character played by Brendan Fraser, recruiting three low level criminals, Curt (Cheadle), Ronald (del Toro) and Charley (Kieran Culkin), for a job that pays too much to be as easy as he says it will be. They all agree, just so long as someone named Frank (Ray Liotta) won’t be involved.
Their job is to invade General Motors accountant Matt Wertz’s (David Harbour) home, keep his family quiet for an hour while he retrieves a document from his boss’s safe.
Sounds simple, but this is Detroit in 1954. Industrial espionage between the Big Three car companies is a dangerous game, and, of course, Frank is involved. “Everybody has a problem with Frank these days.”
As things spin out of control, greed kicks in and the fast cash the small-time criminals hoped to make causes big time problems.
Soderbergh immerses his characters and the viewer in a world that where secrets propel the action. No one is who they seem and motives are even murkier. It makes for a twisty-turny story that is part crime story, part social history of the spark that ignited the slow decline of Detroit.
To add to the disorientation, Soderbergh shoots the action through a fish eye lens that blurs the edges of the screen, mimicking the script’s moral fog.
“No Sudden Move” almost bites off more than it can chew. It’s occasionally clunky, with too many double-crosses and characters vying for screen time, but the star-studded cast cuts through the script’s noise with ease. The result is a caper that flier by, buoyed by surprises (including a big-name uncredited cameo), snappy dialogue and a great debt to Elmore Leonard.
On hopes that there was a national strike of Irish Accent Coaches during the production of “Wild Mountain Thyme,” a new romance starring Emily Blunt and Jamie Dornan and now on premium digital and on-demand. It’s the only explanation why a movie, set in Ireland’s County Mayo and starring an actual Irish movie star—Dornan was born in Belfast, about 200 kilometres from where the movie takes place—could feature some of the un-ear-friendly Irish accents this side of St. Patrick’s Day party at your local Applebee’s.
Blunt plays the headstrong Rosemary Muldoon, a farmer who has been in love with the eccentric Anthony (Jamie Dornan) since they were kids. Their family farms are side-by-side, and all is harmonious, except for one thing. Rosemary’s family owns a thin ribbon of land between the road and Anthony’s farm. Every time he goes in or out, he has to unlatch and latch two sets of gates. It’s a little thing, but it’s the small stuff that grates.
Anthony’s father, Tony Reilly (Christopher Walken)—who blows a story point in his opening, “Welcome to Ireland. My name’s Tony Reilly. I’m dead,” narration—is considering selling the farm to his American money-manager nephew Adam (Jon Hamm). Not only does Anthony not want dear old dad to sell the farm but he’d also prefer Adam to keep his eyes, and hands, off Rosemary.
“Wild Mountain Thyme” is a kind-hearted movie about love will finding its way no matter how long and twisty the road. Unfortunately, a kind heart doesn’t mean it’s a good movie. I love a good misfit love story as much as the next guy but director John Patrick Shanley spends so much time creating a quirky atmosphere for his characters to inhabit, he misses the chance to make us really care about them.
Blunt, Dornan and Walken are all engaging actors and make the most of the material, but they’re stymied by a story in search of a dash of magic to make it work. And not even Dornan can make proposing to a donkey seem authentic.
Then there’s the accents. Irish accents worldwide should take out a restraining order on Walken. No question. Blunt fairs better, but only by a diphthong.
Accents aside, the movie works best in an extended two-handed scene between the leads. Shanley based the screenplay on his 2014 Broadway play “Outside Mullingar,” and a long exchange between Rosemary and Anthony as they play cat and mouse over a half bottle of Guinness, reveals the film’s theatrical roots. It’s not cinematic, but it bristles with energy and humour and emits the passion the rest of the movie lacks.
Unfortunately, it leads up to one of the most wackadoodle twists in rom com history. It’s so odd, you may forget Walken’s massacre of the accent.
“Wild Mountain Thyme” has wonderful messages about acceptance and the love of rural life—and photography that must surely have the Irish Tourist Board’s Stamp of Approval—but it is undone by its own blarney.
What to watch when you’ve already watched everything Part Eight! Binge worthy, not cringe worthy recommendations from Isolation Studios in the eerily quiet downtown Toronto. Three movies to stream, rent or buy from the comfort of home isolation. Today, a strange biography, lovestruck bank robbers and a cabin in the woods. #ALiarsBiographyTheUntrueStoryofMontyPythonsGrahamChapman #TheTown #ACabinInTheWoods
For a short time Richard Jewell was a household name, first for being a hero, then a villain, then a curiosity, a man who was railroaded by the press and the very people he revered, law enforcement. “Richard Jewell,” a new film from director Clint Eastwood looks at the man behind the headlines.
Based on the 1997 Vanity Fair article “American Nightmare: The Ballad of Richard Jewell” by Marie Brenner the film stars Paul Walter Hauser as Jewell, a law and order man, who believes in rules and dreams of being a police officer. When he isn’t studying the penal code in the bedroom of the house he shares with his mother (Kathy Bates) he works security gigs, like patrolling the grounds at Centennial Park in Atlanta during the 1996 Summer Olympics.
When he spots a suspicious package the on-duty cops say, “It’s probably someone who run off drunk,” but Jewell insists they investigate. What happens next few minutes came to define his life.
The abandoned backpack contains three pipe bombs. “The biggest I’ve ever seen,” says a bomb expert.
Jewell’s suspicious nature saves lives and at first he is treated like a hero. Book deals are offered and he’s on every news broadcast in the country. “Tom Brokaw was even talking about you,” says his mother. But soon the story changes. His socially awkward nature and law enforcement aspirations make him the target of an FBI investigation. They wonder if he manufactured the crisis so he could be a hero.
After a loose-lipped FBI agent (Jon Hamm) spills the story to seductive reporter Kathy Scruggs (Olivia Wilde) Jewell becomes front page news as a false hero with only lawyer Watson Bryant (Sam Rockwell) to help navigate the firestorm of controversy that follows.
Eastwood and screenwriter Billy Ray paint in rather broad strokes. The villains of the piece—the FBI agents who think Jewell is “guilty as hell.” and Wilde’s reporter, not the real-life bomber who is barely mentioned—twirl their metaphorical moustaches as they work in tandem to prove Jewell’s guilt, both offering up a cartoonish but entertaining take on their characters.
The heart of the film is closer to the Jewell home. Bates brings some real emotion to the role of a loving mother whose life is turned upside down but, by the time the end credits roll, this show belongs to Hauser and Rockwell. The chemistry, obvious affection and occasional exasperation between the two is winning and authentic. Rockwell brings his usual offbeat charm to the role of the dogged attorney but it is Hauser who leaves the lasting impression. In what should be his breakout film, the actor, best known for a supporting role in “I, Tonya,” gives an indelible performance. Jewell is an underdog, a Paul Blart with a heart of gold nearly crushed under the weight of powers far more powerful than him. His growing sense of frustration at his treatment by the FBI comes to a crescendo in a scene that allows him to win back some of the dignity that has been stripped away from him. In Hauser’s hands a character that could have been played as a bewildered screw-up becomes a likeable man with both pride and a sense of purpose.
“Richard Jewell” is the best film of 2019 to include a Macarena dance scene. It’s also a timely and searing indictment of the abuse of trial by media; of how an everyman’s life was almost ruined at the hands of people who traded on misinformation. Eastwood gives Jewell his due, humanizing a man who was treated like a story and not a person. Unfortunately, Eastwood also takes liberties in the way he portrays the reporter Scruggs, who died in 2001. Playing fast and loose with the unproven accusation that she traded sex for information, he does exactly what the media did to Jewell, point a jaundiced finger at someone who did nothing wrong.
SYNOPSIS: “Transformers One” is the origin story of the two Transformers titans, Optimus Prime and Megatron, and how they altered the fate of Cybertron forever.
