SYNOPSIS: In the new horror film “Weapons” a community is left reeling when all but one child from Justine Gandy’s elementary classroom mysteriously vanish from their homes. “Whatever took those kids isn’t something you can fight,” says police officer Paul Morgan (Alden Ehrenreich).
CAST: Josh Brolin, Julia Garner, Cary Christopher, Alden Ehrenreich, Austin Abrams, Benedict Wong, and Amy Madigan. Directed by Zach Cregger.
REVIEW: “Weapons” feels like the horror story Stephen King never wrote.
Like so many of King’s sinister novels, “Weapons” takes place in a tightly knit community, an ordinary place touched by supernatural terror. There’s dark humor, missing kids and the kind of unimaginable creeping dread that made King a millionaire.
But it’s not King, it’s Zach Cregger, one of the new kings of offbeat horror. His last film, 2002s “Barbarian,” was an audacious thriller about an evil Airbnb rental that delivered a heaping handful of solid scares and off-the-hook storytelling.
Creggar ups the ante with “Weapons.” As he did with “Barbarian,” he adds flourishes to a simple but effective premise to create textured, complex storytelling.
Like I said, the inciting incident is simple: One morning, at 2:17 am, seventeen children, all schoolmates, ran into the darkness and disappeared.
The question at the film’s heart—Where did they go, and why?—is the catalyst for an ambitious story that blends the points of view of six residents, teacher Miss Gandy (Julia Garner), Alex (Cary Christopher), the one student who stayed behind, school principal Marcus (Benedict Wong), police officer Paul (Alden Ehrenreich), drug addict James (Austin Abrams) and parent Archer Graff (Josh Brolin) who says, “If my boy’s out there, I’ll tear this town apart to find him.”
Cregger handles the material with a deft hand, effectively building a relatable, ordinary world where terrible things happen. The eerie disappearances are dealt with quickly before the movie commits to its study of grief and trauma via six interconnected vignettes that dig deep into the lives of the main characters. As such, for most of its runtime “Weapons” is more about the aftermath of the disappearances, and how the characters deal with tragedy, anger and the bizarre nature of the vanishings, than the disappearances themselves.
The film’s vignettes eventually dovetail, leaving behind a trail of jump scares, dark humor, introspection and tension that leads to a cathartic climax. A mix of gruesome horror, surreal farce and surprise, it is unexpected and unexpectedly funny. Cregger navigates the story’s tonal twists and turns like a pro, bending the film’s unusual structure to his will to deliver an exciting, entertaining movie that is as hilarious as it is horrifying.
SYNOPSIS: Set on the 1960s-inspired parallel Earth-828, “The Fantastic Four: First Steps,” the new Marvel movie now playing in theatres, sees Reed Richards/Mister Fantastic (Pedro Pascal), Sue Storm/Invisible Woman (Vanessa Kirby), Johnny Storm/Human Torch (Joseph Quinn), and Ben Grimm/The Thing (Ebon Moss-Bachrach) defend Earth from the gargantuan planet-devouring villain Galactus (Ralph Ineson) and his emissary, the cosmic surfboard riding Silver Surfer (Julia Garner).
CAST: Pedro Pascal, Vanessa Kirby, Ebon Moss-Bachrach, Joseph Quinn, Julia Garner, Natasha Lyonne, Paul Walter Hauser, and Ralph Ineson. Directed by Matt Shakman.
REVIEW: Like a lot of great speculative fiction, “The Fantastic Four: First Steps” isn’t really about the spectacle or the saving the world. Sure, there’s a humungous villain who makes the Statue of Liberty look like a Lego Minifig and the fate of mankind hangs is in the hands of the Four, but that stuff is there simply to act as a delivery system for a story about community, hope and family.
A standalone film—you won’t need to read the MCU wiki page to get up to speed—it dispenses with the origin story in a zippy newsreel that explains how scientists Reed Richards and Sue Storm, Johnny Storm and test pilot and astronaut Ben Grimm gained superpowers after exposure to radiation cosmically altered their DNA during a space mission, transforming them into Mr. Fantastic, Invisible Woman, Human Torch, and The Thing.
With that out of the way, director Matt Shankman gets to the world building.
Set in a retro-chic 1960s-inspired New York City, the film’s look is part “Mad Men,” part “Jetsons,” and reflects the Camelot style optimism of the era.
That it’s a tip of the hat to 1961, the year “The Fantastic Four” debuted, and visually sets the film apart from all other MCU movies, are nice thematic and visual bonuses.
More importantly, director Shakman and screenwriters Josh Friedman, Eric Pearson, Jeff Kaplan, and Ian Springer blend the existential threat of the end of the world (What’s a superhero movie without the threat of the end-of-the-world?) with a surprisingly intimate portrait of The Fantastic Four as a close-knit family.
Sue and Reed are expectant parents, managing the anxiety of having their first child who may, or may not, inherit their altered DNA. Sue’s brother, the hot-headed Johnny, who can burst into flame at will, and family friend Ben, who has permanently morphed into the gentle giant The Thing, are set up to be doting uncles when they aren’t goofing around or saving the world.
None of it would work if the cast didn’t click.
Pascal brings intelligence and emotional depth to Reed while Quinn plays Human Torch as an impulsive but warm-hearted character. The movie’s heart and soul, however, comes from Moss-Bachrach’s motion-capture performance and Kirby’s portrayal of a mother who will sacrifice everything to protect her child.
Even under a digital mountain of CGI, Moss-Bachrach finds pathos in Ben/The Thing’s situation. He’s a genial presence in the family unit, bringing warmth and humour, but it’s the truncated scenes with love interest Rachel Rozman (Natasha Lyonne) that humanizes the craggy, 500-pound character. They’re brief and under-written, but Moss-Bachrach makes the most of them.
Fierce yet vulnerable, compassionate yet steely, Kirby delivers a version of Sue Storm that has depth, as a maternal character and a superhero.
The emphasis on family, community and character are at the very heart of the film. There is spectacle, and the movie ultimately submits to a busy climax, but it’s not an all-out Action-A-Rama. The fireworks come from the characters, not the battle scenes, and while it may be a tad earnest and a bit straightforward for fans looking for loud ‘n proud battle scenes, it succeeds because it takes interesting, thoughtful first steps into a new superhero franchise.
SYNOPSIS: “Wolf Man,” now playing in theatres, is a new take on the 1941 Lon Chaney Jr. horror classic. Set in the Pacific Northwest, the story sees Blake and his family barricade themselves inside a farmhouse following an attack by a strange feral creature. “What was that thing? It sounded like an animal. But I swear to God it was standing on two feet.” As the animal lurks outside something insidious begins to happen inside the house. “’What’s wrong with Daddy?” asks daughter Ginger.
CAST: Christopher Abbott, Julia Garner, Matilda Firth, Sam Jaeger, Ben Prendergast, Benedict Hardie, Zac Chandler, Beatriz Romilly, Milo Cawthorne. Directed by Leigh Whannell.
REVIEW: The Wolf Man has always been a tragic figure. A man and a monster, the cursed character is an unwitting victim of an animal bite that transforms him into a bloodthirsty werewolf. Through no fault of his own he is a villain, but, as “Wolf Man” suggests, he’s also a victim. “What’s happening to me?” Blake asks.
The story begins as Blake’s (Christopher Abbott) estranged father goes missing and is presumed dead. When Blake inherits his dad’s rural Oregon property, he sees an opportunity to mend his tattered marriage to Charlotte (Julia Garner) with a trip away from their big city San Francisco life.
With daughter Ginger (Matlida Firth) in tow they set off, but as the trio approach their destination, they’re attacked by someone, or something. Locking themselves inside Blake’s isolated childhood home, Charlotte notices changes in her husband’s behavior. Blake says, “’It’s a little too dangerous for us to go outside right now,” but as he begins to transform, the real danger may already be in the house.
Director Leigh Whannell’s take on the werewolf story has as much to do with David Cronenberg’s “The Fly” as it does with George Waggner’s 1941 “The Wolf Man.” Gone from the traditional werewolf story are any religious or supernatural elements. This is a story of an infection—or, as one character calls it, “a disease” typical to the rural region—and the life changing effects it has, not only on Blake, but also on his family.
It’s an allegory, with a horror twist, for any disease that strips away physical and mental health.
Blake’s transformation into a beast happens slowly. He doesn’t collapse behind a desk and emerge as a hairy handed gent. As his humanity gradually slips away his teeth fall out, his senses are heightened—a spider crawling up a wall sounds like an eight-legged timpani drum—and his grip on reality erodes. Whannell uses POV shots to illustrate the otherworldly visions Blake sees, effectively displaying how his take on the world is changing.
The horror here comes from Blake’s transformation, his struggle to contain the beast within as Charlotte and Ginger stand by, watching the man they once knew slowly disappear.
As such, it’s also a family drama, a love story of a sort and a monster movie that never lets go of its humanity.
But this is also a movie that wants to deliver scares. To that end there is dimly lit atmosphere, some creepy shadows and the odd jump scare but, as Blake shifts from victim to villain, Whannell stages gorier moments—like one involving a bear trap—that will linger in the memory.
“Wolf Man” is ambitious in its reinvention of the werewolf myth as an allegory for sickness. Light on plot and dialogue, it delivers its message effectively, even if Julia Garner, so great in “Ozark,” isn’t given more to do. In a performance that is mostly wide-eyed and reactional, she often disappears into the film’s thick atmospherics.
Despite that, “Wolf Man” is a smart reinvention of a story we’ve seen many times before.
Edgy and tense, “The Royal Hotel” is a slow burn story about sexual violence and intimidation, power dynamics and revenge, wrapped up in a story about two young women on a work/travel visit to Australia.
Julia Garner and Jessica Henwick play Hanna and Liv, American backpackers, who claim to be Canadian when asked—“Everybody loves Canadians,” Hannah says.—on a work and travel program in an Australian city. The free-spirited Liv has burned through her cash, forcing the pair to apply for work at a job agency.
They are placed as bartenders in a hotel pub, but the gig comes with words of caution.
“It’s good money,” they’re told, “the only thing that makes it bothersome is the remoteness of the location. It’s a mining town, so you’ll have to get used to the male attention.”
“Will there be kangaroos?” Liv asks naively.
There are kangaroos, but they’re in the minority. The anything-but-regal Royal Hotel offers up a mostly male clientele, unused to the niceties of polite society. Add to that a drunken, gruff owner (Hugo Weaving) who is more concerned with selling booze than policing the behavior of his customers. “If I banned everyone who does bad stuff,” he says, “I’d be out of business.”
Their first night behind the bar is marked by a sign out front that reads “Fresh Meat.” Inside, the bar is filled with predatory customers who make lewd remarks and repeatedly encourage the stern Hannah to lean in while she serves them and to “smile more.”
People are strange, when you’re a stranger.
The longer they stay, and the more drinks they serve, the worse their customers behave. Hannah wants out, but, despite the menace, the adventurous Liv wants to stay. “You’re strong,” Liv says to Hannah. “No, I’m not,” Hannah says. “I’m weak and I’m scared and I want to go home!”
“The Royal Hotel” isn’t a travelogue or a “Shirley Valentine”-style journey of self-discovery. What begins as a lark, an adventure in Australia, soon turns into a cabin-in-the-woods style horror movie, where the boogeyman is toxic male behavior.
Director Kitty Green expertly ratches up the tension, allowing the sense of unease to simmer for much of the film until reaching full boil. Something is going to happen, but we’re never quite sure what, and by the time Green stages her cathartic climax, it’s a welcome release from the pent up anxiety felt by Hanna and Liv and the audience.
Garner and Henwick are both great, both steely and vulnerable, but the real star here is Green, whose examination of gender politics is provocative and unsettling.
She is the invisible woman. The assistant to a high-flying New York movie mogul, Jane (Julia Garner) floats around the office, silently collating papers, cleaning up mysterious stains from her boss’s casting couch—“Never sit on the couch,” her co-workers joke—wordlessly doing the jobs nobody else will do. An aspiring filmmaker with hopes of one day producing her own movies she sees the job, low level as it is, as a stepping stone.
When her boss flies in a young, pretty waitress (Kristine Froseth) he met at the Sundance Film Festival to work in his office Jane suspects it is a #MeToo situation in the making. Reporting her feelings to HR in hopes of protecting the new naive hire she is instead reminded of how power works. “I can see you have what it takes to produce,” says the appropriately named HR guy Wilcock (“Succession’s” Matthew Macfadyen). “Why are you trying to throw it all away?”
That harrowing scene lies at the heart of “The Assistant,” now on VOD. A timely study of the systemic mistreatment of vulnerable and defenceless women, Jane’s story is an account of the many slights and indignities suffered by subordinates to power.
“The Assistant” is a quiet movie. Much of the dialogue comes from Jane’s conversations with unseen limo drivers or her boss. We see her limited interaction with co-workers, but mostly we see the day-to-day drudgery that fills her hours. She arrives before dawn, stays well into the night and is treated like she should feel lucky to be there. Director Kitty Green keeps the focus tight, allowing the viewer to feel the soul-crushing drudgery of Jane’s job. She is invisible, a presence simply to absorb her boss’s bad temper and get lunch for the senor staffers.
Green never strays from Jane. We don’t meet the head honcho or learn about anyone’s backstory. It’s not that kind of movie. Instead it is a document of the degradations and power dynamic that are an accepted part of the job. The film’s chattiest scene, between Jane and HR’s Wilcock, is quiet but shattering in its impact. His smugness is the very attitude that enabled the very abuse that Harvey Weinstein is facing trial for today. The casual nature of Wilcock dismissiveness is chilling, punctuated by one last parting shot. On her way out of their meeting he ‘reassuringly’ adds, “You don’t have anything to worry about. You’re not his type.”
“The Assistant” is anchored by a subtle yet devastating performance from Garner. The hard-edged bluster she brings to her character on “Ozark” is missing, replaced by anxiety as she realizes the extent of the exploitation happening around her. It’s quiet, restrained and heartbreaking to watch how she is beaten down.
Based on hundreds of interviews with real-life assistants, this is more than just a movie, it is a timely document of abuse of power and complicity.
The last time Lily Tomlin had a lead role in a film was almost three decades ago. It’s been too long. “Grandma” shows her at age 75 in fine form as a cantankerous poet who goes on a journey, both physical and metaphysical, on one busy afternoon.
Tomlin plays Elle Reid, a once famous poet, now an unemployed seventy-something living alone following the death of Violet, her companion of thirty-eight years. Her quiet life is interrupted when her granddaughter Sage (Julia Garner) arrives at her door looking for $630 to have an abortion. Her high school boyfriend promised to pay but now doesn’t have the money or the interest to help out. Elle doesn’t have the cash either but hits the road with Sage in search of the cash.
“Mom says you’re a philanthropist,” says Sage. “Wait, that’s not it… misanthropic.”
“That’s an understatement,” `snorts Elle.
Over the next few hours they drop in, unannounced, on the slacker boyfriend (Nat Wolff), an old friend of Elle’s (Sam Elliott), an angry café owner (the late Elizabeth Peña), an old flame (Judy Greer) and the one person who intimidates both Elle and Sage (Marcia Gay Harden).
The premise of “Grandma” is provocative. A young woman and her grandmother trying to raise cash for an abortion is bound to raise an eyebrow or two, but the movie isn’t really about that. The abortion is the McGuffin, the reason for the journey but not the reason for the story. The abortion is treated matter-of-factly, it’s the relationships that count.
It’s a pleasure to watch Tomlin let loose as Elle. As Elle she’s an unstoppable force of nature, unrepentant and resourceful. It’s great fun to watch her bully her way through life but Tomlin adds dimension to the character, allowing her vulnerable side to peak through from time to time. She commands the screen whether she’s being argumentative, beating up a teen (yup, she does that) or crying in the shower at the remembrance of lost love. It’s the moments of openness that elevate “Grandma” from “Grumpy Old Lady” movie to interesting character study.
Good performances keep “Grandma’s” relationships dynamic and by the time all is said and done the message of life goes on, hiccups and all, is subtly but powerfully enforced.
