SYNOPSIS: In “Despicable Me 4,” the latest adventure in theatres from former supervillain Gru and his Minions, Gru’s former adversary Maxime Le Mal has broken out of jail and his hunger for revenge upsets Gru’s family life, which now includes a newborn son, Gru Jr. To keep his family safe, Gru and his Minions join forces with aspiring supervillain Poppy.
CAST: Steve Carell, Kristen Wiig, Pierre Coffin, Joey King, Miranda Cosgrove, Stephen Colbert, Steve Coogan, Sofía Vergara, Renaud, Madison Polan, Dana Gaier, Chloe Fineman and Will Ferrell. Co-directed by Chris Renaud and Patrick Delage.
REVIEW: The first “Despicable Me” instalment in seven years comes to theatres with amped up action but a deaccelerated imagination. Fast paced and silly, in an economical 90 minutes, it rips along like a cheetah chasing after a Lamborghini with plenty of fun Minion mayhem and supervillain slapstick.
That’s the good stuff.
The absurdist Looney Tunesesque comedy and a Minion version of the Fantastic Four entertains the eye, engages the funny bone and earns the price of a ticket. The rest of it—a heist, Gru’s heartwarming family dynamic, and some meddling neighbors—feels formulaic, as if those segments are just the place holders between the Minion scenes.
The character design, particularly the creepy half-man, half cockroach villain voiced by Will Ferrell, is inventive and the voice work by Carell, Wiig, Ferrell and Coogan is committed and enjoyable.
This isn’t the most original story of the franchise, but who goes to these movies for the story? You go to see the fun and frivolous Minions tear it up and “Despicable Me 4” lets them run free to great effect.
If you have seen the trailer for “Strays,” a new comedy starring a pack of very cute dogs and the voices of Will Ferrell and Jamie Foxx, you know what you are in for.
If you haven’t seen the trailer, think of it as an animal road trip movie like “The Incredible Journey” minus the family-friendly bits. Or maybe as a riff on “The Adventures of Milo and Otis” with raunchy dialogue that would make Snoop Dogg blush.
Ferrell is trusting Border Terrier Reggie. He lives with Doug (Will Forte), a cruel owner who only puts up with the dog because his girlfriend adopted him from a local general store. The goodhearted Reggie calls Doug, “the best owner in the world,” despite the fact that their game of Fetch involves stranding Reggie far away from home to see if he can find his way back.
When the girlfriend leaves, Doug wants Reggie gone. He leaves the gullible dog to fend for himself on the street three hours away from home, alone and unloved. But Reggie doesn’t understand that he’s being abandoned. He thinks they’re playing another long-distance game of Fetch, and is determined to return to Doug and win the game.
Trouble is, he’s hopelessly lost. Dog-gone it.
On his journey Reggie meets Bug, a street-wise Boston Terrier, who runs with a pack of stray dogs that includes an Australian Shepherd named Maggie (Isla Fisher), and a therapy Great Dane named Hunter (Randall Park). Bug doesn’t trust humans. He was abandoned, and believes humans harvest dog poop to make chocolate.
Reggie’s new friends convince him that Doug has abandoned him. “Take it from me, kid,” Bug says, “he left your ass.” In disbelief, Reggie mumbles, “That would mean Doug doesn’t love me.”
His world turned upside down, Reggie vows to get revenge on his former owner. “You’re a stray,” Bug says. “You can do whatever you want.”
I think it is a safe bet to crown “Strays” the most adorable, yet rudest movie of the year. Reggie and his pals are a cute canine quartet but the film’s “beyond the chain” jokes and situations, mostly involving poop, vomit and doggie sex, are anything but sweet. It is a raunchy coming-of-age story as Reggie learns from his new friends that everyone has worth. It’s a great message, laced with laughs, for those with a high tolerance for poop-and-scoop humor.
As Reggie, Ferrell revisits the naiveté of the “Elf” era. The unsophisticated Border Terrier is a wide-eyed innocent, unaware of the ways of the world. He sees the good in everyone, including his hateful owner Doug. He’s a lovable waif, so the movie’s revenge fantasy angle plays well, but the real appeal here is his open-hearted way of viewing the world.
Ferrell is ably supported by Reggie’s new friends. Fisher and Park, are a flirty and often filthy duo, but it is Foxx’s finely tuned comic delivery that brings the funny. Add to that a truly strange cameo from Dennis Quaid and a ton of shock value, and you have a doggie style movie like no other.
“Strays” is not “Marley and Me.” It’s a deeply silly movie that fully embraces its extreme side. There is something inherently funny about watching these adorable dogs saying terrible things and while the humor may not be family friendly, the message that we should be nice to animals or they may do terrible things to us, is a good one.
Those expecting “Barbie,” the new battle-of-the-sexes fantasy starring Margot Robbie as the titular doll, to be a two-hour advertisement for Mattel may be shocked to discover that it is actually an esoteric movie about what it means to be human. It’s Existential Crisis Barbie!
“Since the beginning of time,” intones narrator Helen Mirren, “since the first little girl ever existed, there have been dolls. But the dolls were always and forever baby dolls, until…” Barbie came along.
By design, the blonde plastic doll with arched feet and optimistic outlook, first introduced in 1959, could be and do anything. “Thanks to Barbie, all problems of inequity and feminism have been solved.”
At least that’s what “stereotypical” Barbie (Robbie) believes.
She lives in the fluorescent Barbieland, a feminine nirvana where “every day is the best day ever. So was yesterday, and so is tomorrow, and every day from now until forever.”
Barbies, like Robbie’s Barbie, and doctor Barbie (Hari Nef), Barbie with a Nobel Prize in physics (Emma Mackey), mermaid Barbie (Dua Lipa), Supreme Court Justice Barbie (Ana Cruz Kayne), president Barbie (Issa Rae), among many others, live in Dreamhouses, without a care in the world.
Along for the ride are Barbie’s platonic friends, the Kens (played by Kinglsey Ben-Adir, Scott Evans, Simu Liu, and Ncuti Gatwa). Barbie may have a great day every day, but lovesick Beach Ken (Ryan Gosling), only has a great day when Barbie looks at him.
It’s mostly all sunshine and dance parties in the candy-colored Barbieland, but lately Barbie is troubled. “Do you ever think about dying?” she wonders aloud.
Just as disturbing, after a fall, her arched feet, perfectly suited to the extra high heels she always wears, have gone flat. “Some things have happened that might be related,” she says. “Cold shower. Falling off my roof. And my heels are on the ground.”
Turns out, there is a rift in the time and space continuum between the doll and the real world. Barbieland’s elder, Weird Barbie (Kate McKinnon), advises Barbie that the only way to resolve her creeping ennui is to visit to the real world and find the little girl who is playing with her. The two are inexplicably intertwined. If the girl is sad, it could be rubbing off on Barbie.
“I’ll be back in no time with perfect feet,” she says, “and it will be like nothing happened.”
Transported to Venice Beach, the real world isn’t exactly what Barbie, and Ken who eagerly tagged along, expected. “No one rests until that Barbie is back in the box,” orders the Mattel CEO (Will Ferrell).
Unlike the doll that inspired the movie, “Barbie” has a big, beating heart. A study in what it means to be alive, to be a woman, feminism, patriarchy and toxic masculinity, it is a hilarious and humanist social satire that may win a world record for the use of the word “patriarchy” on film.
Director Greta Gerwig, who co-wrote the script along with Noah “The Squid and the Whale” Baumbach, takes a maximalist approach in creating Barbie’s thermonuclearly pink world. It’s a perky and playful take on her life, like a Barbie Dreamhome brought to magical life. It leans heavily into Mattel lore and is sure to stoke feelings of nostalgia for Barbie-heads. “I’m the Barbie you think of when someone says ‘Barbie,’” she says.
But as Barbie leaves behind the superficial life she knew before, her head fills with something unfamiliar; a flood of feelings. Her exposure to subjugation and objectification in a world opposite of the feminist utopia of Barbieland—“Basically everything men do in your world,” she says, “women do in mine.”—has a profound effect on her self-identification. She may still dress like “Hot Skatin’ Barbie” but her outlook has changed, she now craves meaning in her life, to understand who she really is.
Robbie brings breathes life into Barbie’s journey in a fully committed performance that is often as hilarious as it heartfelt. In a more comedic role, Gosling steals the picture as Ken, a soppy, dim-witted guy whose exploration of misogyny takes up much of the film’s last half.
“Barbie” is not your typical summer blockbuster, or your regular toy-based movie. It is both those things, of course, but it somehow finds a way to push back and be its own plastic and political thing. It has both style and substance, and while its story may get overactive and muddled in its last reel, Gerwig’s point of view on gender roles and the way that women are treated in society pulls few punches.
I doubt that “Spirited,” the new Will Ferrell Christmas musical now streaming on Apple TV+, will give people the same holiday feels as his stone-cold Yuletide classic “Elf,” but Ferrell and co-star Ryan Reynolds work as hard as Santa’s reindeers on Christmas Eve to spread goodwill.
In this modern twist on the 1843 novella “A Christmas Carol” by Charles Dickens—it’s “like the Bill Murray movie and every other adaptation nobody ever asked for,” says Jacob Marley (Patrick Page)—the story focusses on the haunters, not the haunted.
For almost 200 years, under the guidance of Marley, the afterlife spirits, the Ghost of Christmas Present (Ferrell), Ghost of Christmas Past (Sunita Mani) and the Ghost of Christmas Yet-To-Come (voice of Tracy Morgan), scare one Scroogey type—a “perp” they call them—into changing their lives for the better.
“That’s what we do,” says the Ghost of Christmas Present, “we change a person into a better person, and then sing about it.”
Trouble is, after almost two centuries of the work—there’s a year-round research process before the actual haunting—G.C. Present wonders if he wants to continue transforming the lives of strangers. He could retire, get his gold watch, Sephora gift card and return to life as a mortal in present day, but he has his eye on one more client.
He wants to redeem the unredeemable. Clint (Reynolds) is a slick spin doctor who works for politicians and corporations, and, with help from assistant Kimberly (Octavia Spencer), digs up damning dirt on their competitors. Between them they’ve ruined more lives and careers than you can shake a Yule log at.
The charismatic but evil Clint—“He’s like the perfect combination of Mussolini and Seacrest,” says G.C. Present.—turns out to be a challenge. “So, out of all the people on the planet, murderers, people who thrown gender reveal parties,” he says, “I’m the guy you choose to haunt?”
As G.C. Present works to reform Clint, the specter finds himself falling in love and questioning his own path in the afterlife.
“Spirited” is worth the monthly Apple TV+ fee for the Dickensian duet “Good Afternoon” from songwriters Benj Pasek and Justin Paul (Oscar-winners for “La La Land”). Based on the worst insult you could say to someone in 19th century London, it is a showstopper, funny and perfectly suited to the talents of Ferrell and Reynolds.
Both bring their well-established personas to the film. Ferrell’s finely crafted goofiness contrasts with Reynolds’s sardonic character. They’re not exactly Hope and Crosby, but, as funny, all-singing-and-dancing combos go these days, they’ll do. They have great chemistry and riff off one another in a jaunty, good-natured way. It’s lighthearted, very aware—they often break the fourth wall to comment on what is happening in the scene—stuff that updates the 179-year-old story with subplots about the dangers of on-line life in addition to the more traditional themes of the importance of forgiveness, generosity and compassion.
“Spirited” owes a debt not only to “A Christmas Carol” but also, in its modern take, to “Scrooged,” the 1988 Bill Murray movie that shares the same DNA. Like “Scrooged,” “Spirited” finds a way to make an old story, feel fresh and that is its biggest gift to the audience.
Richard joins canada’s number one mid-morning show “The Marilyn Denis Show” to talk about movies and television show to make your Yuletide bright. We talk a pair of tinsel town Christmas movies on Crave, “Four Christmases” with Reese Witherspoon and Vince Vaughn and “Elf,” starring Will Ferrell. On the streamers we talk Disney+’s “Home Sweet Home Alone,” the holiday themed “Hawkeye” mini-series and the delightful Netflix holiday movies “Klaus” and “Father Christmas is Back.”
Over the years I have accidentally picked up life lessons from the famous folks I’ve interviewed. Today I’ll tell you about what Will Ferrell taught me, in his own, wild way.
Will Ferrell is a wonderfully weird and committed actor. Like a dog with a bone when he latches onto a part he doesn’t let go, come hell or high water. When it works, it really works, and the result is an indelible comedic creation like the deluded Ron Burgundy that not only makes us laugh but also reveals the character’s humanity. When it doesn’t work, as in “Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga,” now streaming on Netflix, it is all commitment and little humanity.
Ferrell plays Lars, a middle-aged Icelander whose love for the Eurovision Song Contest began in 1974 when he dancing in front of the TV, much to his father’s (Pierce Brosnan) chagrin, to ABBA’s winning performance of “Waterloo.” No one believes in his musical dreams except for his childhood friend Sigrit (Rachel McAdams), who loves him even though her affections don’t seem to be reciprocated. She believes in elves and drops little pearls of wisdom like, “Anger cannot churn butter.”
Together they are Fire Saga, a synth-pop duo who play to crowds at the local pub who only want to hear songs like “Ja Ja Ding Dong,” and not the “real music” Lars writes. Through a series of unlikely events they stumble into a spot on the Eurovision show. Lars’ father doesn’t want them to go. “All of Iceland will laugh at you,” he says. Undeterred, Lars soldiers on. “I have to become an international star to prove to my very handsome father and all of Iceland that I have not wasted my life.”
Lars and Sigrit’s experiences in their tiny fishing village of Húsav´ík do not prepared them for the cutthroat world of Eurovision. Will predatory singers, like Russian superstar Alexander Lemtov (Dan Stevens with a George Michael frosted-tip bouffant), and stage mishaps dampen Lars’ dreams of Eurovision fame?
“Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga” should be a lot funnier than it is. It’s a little too loving of Eurovision’s kitschy spectacle to be a satire; a little too sincere to be truly silly, despite Ferrell’s ridiculous hair and even more outlandish sweaters. The comedy is further blunted by the film’s main conceit, that Lars and Sigrit are talentless wannabees. “We all know they are awful,” says the local Húsav´ík cop, “but they are our awful.” Thing is, in context, they fit like a puzzle piece next to the other over-the-top acts the movie showcases.
Ferrell brings the usual commitment to his trademarked arrogant man-child character but never pushes the characterization much beyond the way the townsfolk see him. “Lars is weird,” they all say, and Ferrell obliges, playing the character as the result of a damaged psyche—he feels unwanted by his father—and just a little too much confidence. It’s familiar ground for him and us.
McAdams feels like an odd choice to play opposite Ferrell’s exaggerated character. She’s good, but her more natural performance feels like it belongs in another movie.
The real Eurovision Song Contest won’t be happening this year, another victim of COVID-19, so perhaps “The Story of Fire Saga” will fill that gap for fans. If you tune in expect some scattered good moments. Ferrell delivers a few laughs and Stevens has fun but Lars and Sigrit’s protracted love story pushes the movie to an unwieldy 123 minutes with not quite enough laughs to justify the running time.
Four hundred years ago when Shakespeare wrote, “To thine own self be true,” he could not have imagined that his words would provide the bedrock of a raucous teen comedy and yet here we are. “Booksmart,” Olivia Wilde’s feature directorial debut, is both high and low brow, touching and sentimental in its look at female friendship.
Molly (Beanie Feldstein) and Amy (Kaitlyn Dever) are best friends. Inseparable, they are class president and vice-president, Michelle Obama acolytes who listen to self-empowerment tapes. “You’ve worked harder than anyone and that’s why you are a champion. Stand at the top of the mountain of your success and look down on everyone who has ever doubted you.” Molly is a perfectionist who corrects the grammar on bathroom wall graffiti while Amy is off to Botswana to “help women make tampons.”
On the eve of their high school graduation, they have Yale and Columbia in their sights but when Molly realizes her slacker schoolmates are also going to Ivy League schools she isn’t happy. “We chose to study so we could get into good schools,” she says. “They didn’t choose.” After semesters of prioritizing academics over socializing they attempt to cram four years of fun into one night. “Nobody knows we are fun,” Molly says. “We are smart and fun. What took them four years were doing in one night.”
There’s only one big problem; they don’t have the address of the hip graduation party and no one is answering their texts. “We have never hung out with any of these people except academically,” Amy says. “They probably think we’re calling about school.” After some misadventures on a tricked-out yacht and at a murder mystery party they use their academic skills. “How will we find out where next party is? By doing what we do best, homework.”
“We are 8A+ people and we need an A+ party.”
The plot synopsis of “Booksmart” sounds like it could have been lifted from any number of other high school comedies but director Wilde simply uses the of high school graduation party set-up as a backdrop for her hilarious study of female bonding. The premise may be familiar but the charm of the movie is all in execution and the connected chemistry between the leads.
In her feature debut Wilde is so self-assured, staging big party scenes, a dance number and even car chases but never allows the focus to drift from Molly and Amy. Even when the supporting cast—the cosmically free-spirited Gigi (Billie Lourd), rich kid Jared (Skyler Gisondo), the much-talked-about AAA (Molly Gordon) or the very theatrical drama club members Alan and George (Austin Crute and Noah Galvin)—gets showcased in increasingly outrageous ways Wilde never lets their humanity trump the humour. In other words, it’s funny because it’s based in truth; real human behavior.
Feldstein and Dever are the film’s beating heart. Both have crushes on other people—Molly likes party boy Nick (Mason Gooding), Amy has her eye on skater girl Ryan (Victoria Ruesga)—but deep down they are soul mates. They click, whether it is through their banter or the knowing looks they exchange, and by the time “Unchained Melody,” that ode to unconditional love, spills from the theatre’s speakers there’s no doubt that Molly and Amy are bound to be connected forever, or at least until adult life gets in the way.
Like its main characters “Booksmart” is true to its self, an overachiever that knows how to have a good time.
