I join CTV NewsChannel anchor Akshay Tandon to talk about the new releases in theatres, including the adventures of Star wars: The Mandalorian and Grogu,” the absurd social commentary of “I Love Boosters” and the demonic road trip “Passenger.”
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 adventures of Star wars: The Mandalorian and Grogu,” the absurd social commentary of “I Love Boosters” and the demonic road trip “Passenger.”
Watch the whole thing HERE!
SYNOPSIS: In “The Mandalorian and Grogu,” the first “Star Wars” film to be released in theatres in almost seven years, the New Republic hires bounty hunter The Mandalorian and his apprentice Grogu to rescue Rotta the Hutt in exchange for information from the Hutt clan on a New Republic target. “This isn’t about revenge,” says Colonel Ward (Sigourney Weaver). “It’s about preventing another war.”
CAST: Pedro Pascal, Jeremy Allen White, Brendan Wayne, Lateef Crowder, Sigourney Weaver. Directed by Jon Favreau.
REVIEW: “The Mandalorian and Grogu” feels like spending an afternoon binge watching the Disney+ show that inspired the movie. It captures the show’s vibe with big action tempered by the heartwarming father-son dynamic between the title characters.
The action begins years after the fall of the Galactic Empire. Former Rebel Alliance pilot Colonel Ward (Sigourney Weaver), now of the New Republic, recruits Din Djarin a.k.a. The Mandalorian (Pedro Pascal) to hunt down Imperial warlords who still rule parts of the galaxy.
Part ninja, part knight and full-time dad who keeps Grogu safe, and makes sure he doesn’t ruin his dinner by eating too many cookies, Mando reluctantly agrees to rescue the kidnapped slug-like Rotta the Hutt (Jabba the Hutt’s son voiced by Jeremy Allen White) in return for information on the whereabouts of an elusive Imperial despot.
Dealing with the intergalactic gangsters, however, comes with unexpected twists and turns. “Do you know how hard it is to be your own man when your father is Jabba the Hutt?” asks Rotta.
“The Mandalorian and Grogu” is an old-fashioned action-adventure film with a high-tech sheen. Director Jon Favreau, who also created the television show, delivers large-scale action, some cool puppetry, creepy monsters that look freshly escaped from Ray Harryhausen’s imagination and the father-son relationship so central to the TV show’s success.
What’s missing is ambition. For all the big scale battle scenes, new creatures and things that go boom, there isn’t much risk taking. Visually, the IMAX treatment is, of course, larger and louder than the streaming show, but thematically there’s not a lot of texture. It’s a theme park ride with lots of ups and downs, but no real excitement. The stakes are life-and-death, but the pacing of the two-hour-and-fifteen-minute movie, kills any sense of urgency the story attempts to generate.
But, while “The Mandalorian and Grogu” is mostly empty calories, it does offer pleasures along the way. Martin Scorsese voicing the four-armed fry cook is an unexpected hoot and the spirit of loyalty and love between Mando and Grogu, in part, makes up for the lack of meaningful storytelling.
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: Set in a small, dusty New Mexico town, the satirical neo-Western “Eddington,” starring Joaquin Phoenix and Pedro Pascal and now playing in theatres, sees a humiliated man pushed to extremes in the early days of the pandemic.
CAST: Joaquin Phoenix, Pedro Pascal, Luke Grimes, Deirdre O’Connell, Micheal Ward, Austin Butler, and Emma Stone. Written and directed by Ari Aster.
REVIEW: No one will accuse writer-director Ari Aster of a lack of ambition. “Eddington” throws a handful of genres—neo-Western, political satire, dark comedy, and thriller—into a blender to tell a chaotic story of the early pandemic era. At 145 minutes Aster digs deep into a specific time in the summer of 2020 when the world was turned up-side down by COVID, social distancing, George Soros conspiracy theories, Bitcoin, post truth and any other number of hot button topics. It was a time of ideological whiplash that Aster essays in a film that addresses those powder-keg topics without completely lighting the fuse.
Joaquin Phoenix is Joe Cross, sheriff of the sleepy little town of Eddington, New Mexico and husband to Louise (Emma Stone), a complex woman who suffers from anxiety. Her fragile mental state is exacerbated by her mother Dawn (Deirdre O’Connell), a conspiracy obsessed who never met a bit of misinformation she couldn’t embrace.
Joe’s anti-mask stance—”There’s no COVID-19 in Eddington,” he says—puts him in conflict with Ted Garcia (Pedro Pascal), Eddington’s incumbent mayor now running for re-election.
As outside influences take hold in Eddington, anti-racist protests break out on their lone main drag in response to the death of George Floyd, and calls to de-fund the police ring in Joe’s ears.
As Joe and Ted’s personal and professional animosities grow, the sheriff takes matters into his own hands and announces his bid to run for mayor. With slogans like “Joe Cross for Air! Joe Cross for Mayor!” and “Try No Corruption for a Change,” Joe’s run at public office leads him to down a dangerous and deadly path.
The action described above plays out against a background of news and social media reports of the turbulent social, political, and economic climate that were the earmarks of the era, adding to the film’s unsettled feel.
Unlike most Westerns, even recent neo-Westerns, this isn’t a story of good guys vs. bad guys. In “Eddington,” everyone is morally ambiguous, and while you may like some characters over others, all are damaged, driven by ego, selfishness, greed or ideology.
As Sheriff Joe, Phoenix is a weak man in a job that requires strength and decisiveness, qualities that seem foreign to him until he is pushed up against a wall. A flip on the usual, stoic main figure in a typical Western, this is a guy whose character flaws make up his character. Phoenix isn’t afraid to make him pathetic, and in doing so, delivers another interesting, edgy performance. He’s a walking metaphor, an emasculated man emblematic of the fears and concerns that defined the uncertain, divisive summer of 2020.
He’s a complex guy, an attribute that can’t be said of any of the film’s other characters.
As the smooth-talking mayor, Pascal’s laid-back performance is an antidote to the film’s intensity, but the character doesn’t give him much room to maneuver. Ditto Emma Stone, whose limited screen time reveals a committed performance but little else.
On the plus side, “Eddington” is a confrontational experience, a provocative recreation of the unsettling chaos of the pandemic years and its effect on humanity. On the debit side of the leger, Aster’s reluctance to dig beneath the film’s unsettled surface puts a dull edge on the film’s satire.
SYNOPSIS: Set against the backdrop of New York City, the Rom Com Capitol of the World®, “Materialists” sees Dakota Johnson play Lucy, a matchmaker for the rich and famous. “I promise you’re going to marry the love of your life,” she says to her clients. She has arranged nine marriages but personally, keeps romance at arm’s length after a messy break-up. Things change for the “eternal bachelorette” when she meets wealthy charm-bomb Harry Castillo (Pedro Pascal). “You are what we call a unicorn,” she tells him, “an impossible fantasy.” As romance blossoms, Lucy’s life is upended by the return of her broke ex-boyfriend, John (Chris Evans), forcing her to choose between a perfect match and her imperfect ex.
CAST: Dakota Johnson, Chris Evans, and Pedro Pascal. Written and directed by Celine Song.
REVIEW: A rom com that emphasizes the rom over the com, “Materialists” takes several big leaps, story wise, to arrive at the fairly simple idea that the heart wants with the heart wants. There’s no fifty-shades of nuance here.
As a matchmaker, Lucy (Dakota Johnson) treats her clients like commodities, not humans. She talks about the “math” of relationships, the calculation of compatibility plus physical appearance plus bank account, but admits, “We promise them love, but the math doesn’t add up.”
In other words, sometimes perfect on paper, isn’t perfect.
With “Materialists” writer-director Celine Song takes a deep dive into the need for real human connection, the kind of bond that is messy, unpredictable, sometimes illogical and can’t be summed up by a simple equation.
It’s the stuff of rom coms, boiled down to its essence.
There are a handful of mild laughs, but don’t come to “Materialists” looking for slapstick. Song subverts the genre, poking fun at the often unreasonable demands prospective daters want regarding class and age. “39 isn’t in the 30s,” says an older guy who wants to date thirty-year-olds, by which he means a woman in her mid-to-late twenties.
The “interview” segments between Lucy and her clients are often funny and more often ridiculous but they don’t set the tone for the entire film. Song isn’t as interested in the ins-and-outs of modern dating as she is in the bond people form when the math is taken out of the equation. It aims to be a realistic rom com of a sort—although you could argue that Lucy’s $80,000 salary is an unrealistic figure given her high end wardrobe and NYC apartment—about how there is no formula for love that avoids most of the formulas of the genre.
SYNOPSIS: In “Gladiator II,” director Ridley Scott’s long-gestating sequel to his 2000 blockbuster of almost the same name, Paul Mescal plays Lucius, former heir to the Roman Empire, now forced to battle in the Colosseum after his home is invaded by General Marcus Acacius on the orders of Rome’s syphilitic, power-hungry emperors Caracalla (Fred Hechinger) and Geta (Joseph Quinn).
CAST: Paul Mescal, Pedro Pascal, Joseph Quinn, Fred Hechinger, Lior Raz, Derek Jacobi, Connie Nielsen, and Denzel Washington. Directed by Ridley Scott.
REVIEW: Come to see a man bite a monkey, stay for Denzel Washington’s deliciously devious villain.
The follow-up to Best Picture Oscar winner “Gladiator” is long on spectacle—Lucius not only battles giant monkeys, but also sharks and a huge, bloodthirsty rhino—but short on soul. It is loud and proud but the emotional connectivity offered by the original film, and specifically Russell Crowe’s performance, gets lost in this new translation.
The story of corruption, loyalty, birthright, vengeance and angry fighting animals is lavish and epic, but it isn’t much fun.
The set pieces in the Colosseum deliver big CGI action, there’s a fake severed head (a practical effect that makes the infamous rubber baby in Clint Eastwood’s “American Sniper” look photorealistic) and throngs of soldiers for as far as the eye can see. It is epic filmmaking on a grand scale, but it’s missing adrenaline, that hit of dopamine that gives you a rush.
The opening battle scene and the abovementioned monkey bite are rousing, but after that the movie gets bogged down, not with plot—that’s relatively simple—but with heroic banter and political intrigue.
Paul Mescal, as Lucius, son of Russell Crowe’s character Maximus Decimus Meridius from the first film, takes pains to differentiate himself from Crowe’s Oscar winning performance. His gladiator is pensive, weighed down by the death of his warrior wife at the end of an arrow fired by Marcus Acacius (Pedro Pascal). Mescal is charismatic but in his quest for vengeance, he’s tasked with delivering a series of heroic speeches, none of which are as memorable as Crowe’s “Are you not entertained?” declaration.
Pascal’s gets the job done as the conflicted Roman general Marcus Acacius. He’s a warrior, but fears Rome is headed in the wrong direction under the sadistic twin emperors, Caracalla (Fred Hechinger) and Geta (Joseph Quinn).
Both hand in fine performances, but then, into the mix, comes Denzel Washington. It’s a supporting role, but he’s here for a good time, not a long time. As Macrinus, a wealthy former slave with a plan to control Rome, he gives the film some bounce, some real personality.
As the villain of the piece, his cunning would put Machiavelli to shame. He’s a master chess player, moving everyone around as though they are pawns in his devilish game. His scenes are the film’s most memorable, and remember, this is in a movie where the lead character bites a monkey!
Ridley Scott’s “Gladiator II” has sword and sandal sequelitis. It’s bigger, louder and longer than the original film, but more, in this case, doesn’t mean better.
SYNOPSIS: Based on Peter Brown’s award-winning, #1 New York Times bestseller of the same name, “The Wild Robot,” a new animated film starring the voices of Lupita Nyong’o and Pedro Pascal, and now playing in theatres, features a shipwrecked robot named ROZZUM unit 7134— “Roz” for short—who develops a parental bond with an orphaned gosling. “A ROZZUM always completes its task,” she says.
CAST: The Wild Robot Lupita Nyong’o, Pedro Pascal, Kit Connor, Bill Nighy, Stephanie Hsu, Mark Hamill, Catherine O’Hara, Matt Berry, Ving Rhames. Directed by Chris Sanders.
REVIEW: The animated “The Wild Robot” will put you in the mind of “The Iron Giant,” “E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial” and “WALL-E,” but carves out its own, unique, rewarding space. Brimming with compassion, humor and kindness, it’s an exciting adventure story with a big, beating heart.
It’s a deceptively simple film. Roz’s sleek character design and the unpretentious premise of finding your logical, not necessarily biological family, are brought to life by the power of a great voice cast, inventive animation and director Chris Sanders’s vivid imagination.
Roz (voiced by Lupita Nyong’o) is a bigger BB-8 style robot, mechanical and, when we first meet her, mission driven with no visible signs of compassion behind her crystal blue electronic eyes. At first the matriarchal relationship with the gosling named Brightbill (voice of Kit Connor) is a job, nothing more. “A ROZZUM always completes its task,” she says.
But as time passes a warmth appears in her eyes and voice as Nyong’o reveals the bot’s hidden humanity. She’s less Siri and more a mother. “Sometimes to survive,” she says, “we must become more than we were programmed to be.”
Nyong’o does the heavy lifting, shifting Roz from automaton to sentient being, but she is supported by a terrific cast.
Catherine O’Hara brings comedic relief as frazzled possum mother Pinktail. As Fink, a fox who undergoes a transformation from predator to patriarchal figure, fan favorite Pedro Pascal brings sly humor and, as robot Vontra, Oscar nominees Stephanie Hsu is the icy-but-wacky voice of authoritarianism.
“The Wild Robot” is a wonderful film for the whole family. It has humor, adventure and uplift, but mostly, it has heart and the makings of a classic. “Was this task completed to your satisfaction?” Roz asks several times in the film. The answer is an emphatic yes.
Set in 1999, “Drive-Away Dolls,” a new LGBTQ2+ b-movie wannabe from director Ethan Coen in his first solo outing, feels like it emerged, untouched from the time before Y2K.
A loving throwback to the kind of independent, verging on experimental, filmmaking that made the Coen brothers famous, “Drive-Away Dolls” is a queer caper film whose action, after a brief but memorable prologue, begins when the uninhibited Jamie (Margaret Qualley) cheats on girlfriend Sukie (Beanie Feldstein) and gets thrown out of their apartment.
“I’ve had it with love,” Jamie says. “It might be alright for the bards and the troubadours, but I don’t think it works for the twentieth, soon to be twenty-first, century lesbian.”
Looking for a change of pace, Jamie decides to hit the road, along with Marian (Geraldine Viswanathan), a reserved friend who is bored of her job and her life. They acquire a drive-away car (a vehicle that needs to be delivered from one city to another) and head off for a fresh start in Tallahassee.
Trouble is, the car they were given contains very valuable cargo that kingpin Chief (Colman Domingo) and his dopey henchmen Arliss (Joey Slotnick) and Flint (C. J. Wilson) need to get their hands on.
“Drive-Away Dolls” has many of the trademarks of the kind of 90s indie cinema the Coens and Tarantino left in their wake. There’s smart-alecky dialogue, over-the-top, bickering bad guys, a mysterious briefcase, a preposterous crime and “not your garden variety decapitation,” all wrapped in a tidy 84-minute package.
Unfortunately, it’s not an entirely welcome u-turn to 90s form for Coen. For all the free-wheeling vibes the movie emits, it’s a bit of a slog, even at its abbreviated runtime. Choppy storytelling, low stakes and an emphasis on quirky caricatures over real characters slow the roll of what could have been a fun road trip romp. The pitch perfect sweet spot between serious and silly, Coen achieved (with brother Joel) in “O Brother, Where Art Thou?” and “The Big Lebowski” is sadly missing here.
The performances are amiable. Qualley’s intermittent Texas accent is distracting, but Viswanathan brings the nerdy charm to Marion. The great Bill Camp steals scenes as Curlie, the crusty drive-away clerk, and Pedro Pascal has a memorable cameo.
“Drive-Away Dolls,” written by Coen and his wife, and long-time editor, Tricia Cooke is about hitting the road and cutting loose but never puts the pedal to the metal.
