Fast reviews for busy people! Watch as I review three movies in less time than it takes to do a high five! Have a look as I race against the clock to tell you about almost epic “The Return,” the apocalyptic musical “The End” and the nostalgic disaster flick “Y2K.”
Watch the whole thing HERE!
LOGLINE: The 1960s set “The Bikeriders,” a new drama starring Jodie Comer, Austin Butler and Tom Hardy, and now playing in theatres, is about the rise and descent into lawlessness of The Vandals, a motorcycle club founded as a surrogate family for its members.
CAST: Jodie Comer, Austin Butler, Tom Hardy, Michael Shannon, Mike Faist, and Norman Reedus. Written and directed by Jeff Nichols.
REVIEW: “The Bikeriders,” based on a 1967 photo-book of the same name by Danny Lyon, wants to be an ode to individuality, but lacks the grit and spirit of rebellion required to feel authentic. It does do a good job of essaying the evolution of motorcycle clubs from groups of outsiders who didn’t belong anywhere—except with one another—their loyalty and camaraderie, to criminal organizations that used fear and illegality as currency.
As a timeline of how male bonding turned toxic within this subculture, the sociological history lesson is interesting, but director Jeff Nichols allows the biker aesthetic and posturing to overshadow the nitty gritty of biker gang life. It’s more effective in its portrayal of how this shift in culture affects the leader of the gang, Johnny, played by Tom Hardy. He becomes a tragic figure when he realizes his club is out of control, and legacy is not what he intended.
Using the chatty narration of Jodie Comer as Kathy, wife of the sensitive but rebellious rider Benny (Austin Butler), as a framework, Nichols injects a different and welcome point-of-view to the story. Biker movies often treat female characters as afterthoughts, but Kathy is the hub from which the story emanates. This is essentially a love story, a story of the platonic love between the bikers, and Kathy’s almost unquestioning love of wild child Benny. It’s a showcase for Comer and her plain-spoken mid-western accent, allowing the “Killing Eve” star to reveal the personality layers of someone who says, wistfully, “I used to be respectable.”
The episodic “The Bikeriders” plays it by the rules to tell a story about people who don’t.
“The Flash,” the long-awaited DC origin story of Barry Allen (Ezra Miller) a.k.a. The Flash, echoes all the all the stuff we expect from a big superhero tentpole movie. There are multiple universes, multiple superheroes and, once again, the world is in danger but it is the title character’s emotional life that sets this movie apart from the pack.
Loosely based on the “Flashpoint” comics, the movie sees Barry still grieving the death of his mother (Maribel Verdú) and his father’s (Ron Livingston) wrongful incarceration for her murder. Fueled by pain and rage, he finds a way to potentially ease his anguish when he discovers his superspeed gives him the ability to create a “chronobowl” and travel back to the day his mother was killed.
“I could save people,” he says. “I could save my mom.”
Before setting off to right the wrongs of the past, he consults with Bruce Wayne (Ben Affleck) who warns him against messing with the fabric of time. “You could destroy everything.”
Ignoring Batman’s advice, Barry travels to the past and soon pays the price for his impulsive actions. Caught in an alternate universe where a younger version of himself doesn’t yet have superpowers—“This is my face,” his doppelganger says. “You stole my face.”—Barry soon realizes he is in uncharted territory. “This can’t be happening,” he says. “I completely broke the universe.”
Things go from bad to worse when Kryptonian supervillain General Zod (Michael Shannon) makes the scene, loaded with ill will for all of humanity. “This world must die,” he says.
Having changed the past and potentially the future, Barry teams with alternate universe Batman (Michael Keaton) and Kara Zor-El, a.k.a. Supergirl (Sasha Calle) to restore order. “If I can’t undo what I did, if I can’t get back” he says, “there may not be a future.”
“The Flash” finds a balance between fan service and a story for general audiences. Origin stories can be nightmares, filled with endless exposition and scene setting, but, for the most part, director Andy Muschietti keeps things moving along. Perhaps not with his star’s superspeed, but at a good clip. You don’t need a roadmap to follow the multiverse aspect, so ever-present in superhero movies nowadays, and Barry’s personal story is both entertaining and emotional.
Part of that is the casting. Miller is wonderfully cast as the title character. He brings both a well-defined silliness and deep inner life to his dual portrayal of Barry as both an adult and a teenager. I can’t tell whether a crack he delivers early on to a victim of a large scale disaster—”You should seek the help of a mental professional,” he says. “The Justice League is not very good at that… trust me.”—is meta, given Miller’s recent, very public issues, or if it is wildly inappropriate. Either way, it is the film’s only reference to Miller’s well-reported off-screen behavior, and a rare misstep in the film’s carefully crafted first half.
It’s when the movie becomes larger and louder that it loses some of its charm. The appearance of Zod, complete with some dodgy CGI, raises the stakes but shifts focus from the film’s heart and soul, which is Barry’s quest to save his mother. The big showdown is a staple in superhero movies, but “The Flash” works best when it is character driven. In this case, bigger is not always better.
Oversized or not, “The Flash” is entertaining with nice little details, like how Barry has to eat high calorie food to fuel his superspeed and a wild baby shower. Literally, a shower of babies falling from the sky. As a buddy movie—Barry and Barry are an odd couple of a sort—it gets dark without surrendering to the ennui that has cast its shade over so many of the other DC movies.
The result is a film that provides action, warmth and nostalgia—It’s worth the price of admission to hear Keaton say, “Yup. I’m Batman.”—and a few genuine surprises (NO SPOILERS HERE!).
“Amsterdam,” a quirky new film starring John David Washington, Margot Robbie and Christian Bale and now playing in theatres, is a convoluted story fueled by everything from fascism and birding to murder and music. If there ever was an example of a film that could have benefitted from the KISS rule, Keep It Simple Silly, this is it.
The madcap tale begins in 1933 New York City. WWI vet Dr. Burt Berendsen (Christian Bale), once a Park Avenue physician, he now runs a downtown clinic where he caters to the needs of soldiers who came back from the war broken and in pain.
When Berendsen and his best friend, fellow vet and lawyer Harold Woodsman (John David Washington), are hired by Liz Meekins (Taylor Swift), the daughter of their beloved commanding officer, to ascertain the cause of his death, they are drawn into a murder mystery involving secret organizations, ultra-rich industrialists and a crusty Marine played by Robert DeNiro.
In a flashback to the final days of WWI, we learn their backstory and meet Valerie (Margot Robbie), a nurse who treats their wounds, physically and mentally. As a trio, they swear allegiance to one another during an extended bohemian get-a-way in Amsterdam, a city that becomes a metaphor for freedom and friendship.
Reviewing “Amsterdam” stings. The production is first rate, from Academy Award nominated director David O. Russell, to the a-list cast to the ambitious script that attempts to link events of the past to today’s headlines. But, and this is what stings, the film is definitely less than the sum of its parts.
From the off-kilter tone, part screwball, part deadly serious, to the glacial pacing, which makes the already long two-hour-and-fifteen-minute running time seem much longer, and the script, which casts too wide a wide net in hope of catching something compelling, “Amsterdam” flails about, lost in its own ambition. This is the kind of story, it’s easy to imagine, the Coen Brothers could make look effortless, but Russell does not stick the landing.
He does, however, forward some lovely ideas about embracing kindness and the full experience of being alive, but even those are muddied by the inclusion of heavy-handed, and not particularly original, warnings about domestic terrorism and authoritarianism. Ideas get lost in a sea of exposition and narration, that not even these interesting actors can bring to life.
There may be an interesting story somewhere within “Amsterdam,” but it is hidden, lost in the movie’s epic ambitions.
Your enjoyment of “Bullet Train,” a new action adventure now playing in theatres, will depend directly on your enjoyment of star Brad Pitt. He’s having fun punching, shooting and generally behaving badly throughout, but it’s possible he’s having more fun than the audience.
Based on the Japanese novel “Maria Beetle,” “Bullet Train” stars Pitt as assassin “Ladybug.” Plagued by mishaps—“My bad luck is biblical,” he complains.—he wants out of the criminal life. “You put peace into the world and you get peace back,” he says.
When his handler, Maria Beetle (Sandra Bullock), needs a replacement for a quick job aboard a bullet train heading from Tokyo to Kyoto, she reaches out. He gives her the “peace” line. Her response? “I think you’re forgetting what you do for a living.”
She ropes him in with the promise of an easy gig. Grab a silver briefcase full of cash and get off at the next stop. “What’s the catch?” “There is no catch,” Beetle says.
Of course, there is a catch. In this kind of movie there is always a catch.
In this case the world’s fastest train is packed with some of the world’s most highly trained killers, and every one of them has some kind of tie to a psychotic crime syndicate boss known as the White Death. “He doesn’t need a reason to kill people like you,” says a passenger. “He needs a reason not to.”
Among them are Cockney killers Tangerine (Brian Tyree Henry) and Lemon (Aaron Taylor-Johnson), The Prince (Joey King), a British assassin posing as a schoolgirl and The Wolf (Benito A Martínez Ocasio), a Mexican murderer with a vendetta against Ladybug.
Cue the darkly comedic action.
For all its high-speed antics, “Bullet Train” feels been-there-done-that. It’s as if Quentin Tarantino and Guy Ritchie met in a head-on collision. Director David Leitch and screenwriter Zak Olkewicz borrow elements from both filmmakers, but despite the flash and sass, the quick edits and even quicker quips, their film lacks the gusto of its inspirations. It’s a familiar tale told with flashbacks, revenge motifs, pop culture references—one of the assassins endlessly quotes “Thomas the Tank Engine”—pop songs layered over violent fight scenes and Ninja swords.
It is, I suppose, a great example of Reduce, Reuse, Recycle, except other than the reductive script, Leitch doesn’t actually reduce anything. Reuse and recycle, for sure, but the film’s commitment to ultraviolence, sprawling cast and excessive 126-minute running time don’t suggest a reduction of any kind.
Pitt appears to be having fun, but the character’s New Age journey—he’s a nonstop font of “let this be a lesson in the toxicity of anger” style platitudes—grows wearisome and it’s hard to shake the feeling that the actor is revisiting his Cliff Booth character in the “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood’s” LSD fight scene. It is a hoot to see him cold-cock a giant Anime character, but his befuddled killer act gets old quickly.
“Bullet Train” is a derailment. It’s a movie with the odd highlight—Lemon and Tangerine’s banter is a hoot—but despite its desperate need to entertain, it ultimately goes off the rails.
What to watch when you’ve already watched everything Part Five! 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, Ozark drug dealers, driving lessons and teenage rock n’ roll! #Winter’s Bone #TheRunaways #LearningToDrive
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In 2017 Kenneth Branagh delivered a new version of Agatha Christie’s “Murder on the Orient Express” that was as big and bloated as a new crime dramedy, “Knives Out,” is sleek and entertaining. Both feature large ensemble casts and twists galore but director Rian Johnson manages to breathe life into the creaky whodunnit genre.
The action takes place in a small up-state New York town on an estate one character says resembles a “Clue” board. In the film’s opening minutes the dramatic theme song sets the stage for what’s to come… murder most foul.
Marta (Ana de Armas), caregiver to Harlan Thrombrey (Christopher Plummer), the best-selling mystery writer of all time, is shocked to discover his dead body in his office. Throat slit, knife on the floor beside him, the local police Det. Elliot (Lakeith Stanfield) and Trooper Wagner (Noah Segan) think it is a suicide but a private investigator, the silver-tongued Benoit Blanc (Daniel Craig), disagrees and says so in an accent as thick as gumbo. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he says to the family, “I would like to request that you all stay until the investigation is completed.”
The assembled family stick around, partially at Blanc’s request but mostly for the reading of the will. “What will that be like?” asks Marta. “Think of a community theatre production of the reading of a tax form,” replies Blanc.
As the investigation unfolds everyone seems to have a motive for killing the old man, from his children the imperious Linda (Jamie Lee Curtis) and the hair-trigger tempered Walt (Michael Shannon) to various others, including the spoiled-rotten grandson Ransom (Chris Evans), devious son-in-law Richard (Don Johnson) and alt-right troll grandson Jacob (Jaeden Martell). These are people who believe they deserve to be rich and won’t hear any talk to the contrary.
The mystery has more layers than a Vidalia onion but Blanc unpeels it, one tier at a time leading up to the film’s climatic reveal.
“Knives Out” mixes pointed jabs at the 1%–Linda started her company with a modest one-million-dollar loan from her father—with social commentary about class divisions in American life to form the backdrop of this engaging mystery. Add to that a collection of characters that would make Miss Marple suspicious and the game is afoot.
Leading the charge is Craig. As Benoit Blanc, the American Poirot, he rides the line between ridiculous and shrewd, chewing the scenery with an accent unheard since the days of Colonel Sanders television ads. His flowery language—”Physical evidence can tell a story with a forked tongue,” he says—gives Craig a chance to show off his comedic side mixed with a physicality that suggests he can get the job done if need be. It’s a dramatic (maybe that’s not the word but you see what I mean) and welcome shift from his grim-faced 007 role.
What begins as a melodramatic comedy in the vein of “Murder by Death,” gets a little darker as the true nature of the crime is presented, and then funnier again in its wild ‘n woolly resolution. It’s an old-fashioned set-up but slowly echoes of modern-day issues of immigration, deportation and white entitlement are introduced to add edge to the story.
Director Johnson, he of “Looper” and “Star Wars: The Last Jedi,” is having fun here, finding a perfect rhythm in the unveiling of the story’s details. We always learn just enough to carry us through to the next twist and it is an enjoyable ride.
Tough and tender, “What They Had” is a story of Alzheimer’s and dysfunction but never dips into the easy sentimentality of many other family dramas.
Writer-director Elizabeth Chomko begins the story with Ruth (Blythe Danner), in a dementia daze, dressed in a nightgown, getting out of bed and walking off into a blizzard. The disappearance is short-lived but serious enough for Ruth’s daughter Bridget (Hilary Swank) and granddaughter Emma (Taissa Farmiga) to fly to Chicago from California to come to her side.
Son Nick (Michael Shannon) thinks it is time to put Ruth in a home where she can be looked after but Burt (Robert Forster), her husband of decades, wants her to stay home where he can look after her. Caught between Nick and Burt, Bridget believes her mother should be put in a memory care facility called Reminisce Neighbourhood but is torn in the best way to make it happen.
The synopsis does “What They Had” no favours. It sounds like a downer, an earnest movie of the week style story of bickering siblings up against a stubborn patriarch. But it is more than that. There is pain, anger and heartbreak but there is also humour. Shannon’s outbursts, born of frustration and a certain amount of realism, are often amusing and always hit exactly the right notes.
There are strong performances across the board—Swank, Forster and Farmiga all feel completely authentic—but the film’s beating heart is Danner, who plays Ruth as though she’s wearing a shroud of sadness at her fleeting memory.
“What They Said” occasionally feels cluttered, as though the focus is spread to widely over all the characters, but its unflinching eye for detail is a strength not a minus.
By Richard Crouse – Metro Canada
“It’s nice to know there are still some heroes out there making sacrifices so I can go play dress up,” says Geoff Stults, “and I loved playing dress up on this one.”
Stults co-stars with Chris Hemsworth, Michael Shannon and Michael Peña in 12 Strong, the tale of one of the most successful missions in military history. In just three weeks, 12 Green Berets, with the help of Gen. Abdul Rashid Dostum of Afghanistan’s Northern Alliance, battled the Taliban to take back the occupied city of Mazar-i-Sharif.
Based on Doug Stanton’s non-fiction book Horse Soldiers, 12 Strong is both conventional and unconventional in its approach. Structured like a traditional war film, it’s also the first time in memory we’ve seen modern warfare on horseback on the big screen. Once in Afghanistan, the Green Berets discover the best method of transport through the rocky and treacherous terrain is on the back of a horse.
“I grew up part-time in Colorado so I grew up with trail rides,” Stults says. “Certainly hadn’t been on a horse in years. The first day of getting on this horse was interesting.
“The wranglers would throw marks on the ground and we would have to ride up and stop and hit our marks-ish. The good news is the horses were trained better than the actors were trained. They knew what they were doing but they’re temperamental animals. Sometimes they didn’t want to stand there on a weird angle, on a weird hill, for 10 takes in a row while the actors got their lines right. Harder than riding was getting the horses to stay still. Between takes, just to keep the horses chill, we’d be moving them around.”
As the first American soldiers to take on the Taliban on their home turf after 9-11, the soldiers portrayed in 12 Strong endured impossible odds, outgunned and outnumbered 5,000 to 1.
“These guys were already in service and said, ‘What are we going to do to make sure nothing like this ever happens again?’ It’s a story about 12 guys who were willing to make what could have been the ultimate sacrifice.”
Stults is quick to mention that the movie is not only an American story.
“9-11 happened on American soil,” he says, “this is an American skewing story but it wasn’t an isolated American experience. It changed all our lives.
“It is also about the people of Afghanistan and their heroics. This couldn’t have happened without them and Gen. Dostum’s partnership. These people have been occupied, oppressed, dealing with the Taliban coming in and out of their villages.”
