Five Fingers of Death (1972) *

Directed by:  Chang Ho Cheng

Starring:  Lo Lieh, Ping Wang, Bolo Yeung

I understand writing a negative review for a movie like Five Fingers of Death is akin to chastising my cat for not being able to play video games, but I must do it anyway.    I, like many youngsters, watched these martial arts movies as a kid on Saturday afternoons, noticing even then how laughable the dubbing was and how the same sound effect was used no matter what part of the body was punched or kicked.    I got a kick out of them, no pun intended, but now many years later, I see Five Fingers of Death could stand in for any review of a martial arts action film not starring Bruce Lee.

Bruce Lee's Hong Kong productions were energetic, mostly because of the unique charisma of Lee himself.     He stood apart from the rest of the dreck being churned out at the time and it is why he is still celebrated 45 years after his death.    Lo Lieh, the star of Five Fingers of Death, hardly registers.   He starred in many of these films, but nothing stands about him.     The same could be said for the rest of the people in this film, who mostly engage in fights and barely say anything above the complexity of "What do you want?" before throwing down.

I think there is a plot in Five Fingers of Death, which seemed to be about two rival martial arts schools feuding before and during a tournament.     The story is told so haphazardly, we can't tell who is on whose side.    These films aren't really about plot anyway, but the fight scenes, which are amateurishly staged and edited.     Every fight contains at least one sequence in which the two combatants leap at each other in the air and only one gets hit, who then falls to the ground and shakes off his pain, like a video game character.

The characters in Five Fingers of Death aren't people, but fighting machines, devoid of personality and uniqueness.    After a short time, the fights grow quickly tiresome.    There are only so many of these we can stand before we grow bored.     And why do these guys always have cronies around them ready to pounce?    They surround the hero and then attack him one at a time instead of just ganging up on him.   

Movies like Five Fingers of Death are pretty much critic proof.    You either love them or you don't.   At one point in my life, I could watch them with attached bemusement and laugh at them, but now life is too short to waste on such trivial films. 

Dick Tracy (1990) * * *

Directed by:  Warren Beatty

Starring:  Warren Beatty, Glenne Headly, Madonna, Al Pacino, Dustin Hoffman, James Caan, Charles Durning, Dick Van Dyke, Paul Sorvino, Charlie Korsmo, Seymour Cassel, William Forsythe

If there was ever a comic book movie which looks and feels like a comic book, it is Dick Tracy, which pops with color and grotesque, hideous villains.    Straight-arrow detective Dick Tracy (Beatty) inhabits this world of crime and battles Big Boy Caprice (Pacino), who is part-Quasimodo, part-rabid dog, and his batch of disfigured cronies.     Beatty is the right man for Tracy, whose girlfriend is Tess Trueheart (Headly), but his first love will always be crime fighting. 

Big Boy has just taken over crime in the big city, after dispatching of rival Lips Manlis (Sorvino) and taking over his club.    The main attraction of the club is sultry Breathless Mahoney (Madonna), who witnessed Big Boy killing Lips, but doesn't want to testify.    She is more interested in seducing Tracy, but Tracy stands his ground...barely.     Along the way, Tracy and Tess adopt a homeless, nameless Kid (Korsmo), whose primary question is, "When do we eat?"   Tracy and the Kid form a strong bond as Tracy inches ever closer to bringing down Big Boy, but not without complications.

With its ritz, glamour, and period music, Dick Tracy manages also to capture the feel of a 1930's crime drama, or at least a modern-day retelling of one.    The most interesting characters are the villains, who go about their jobs with relentless glee.    They love being bad, but I would guess when you look like they do your future is pretty much set in stone.     Even a villain who is relatively normal looking, Mumbles (Hoffman) is flawed.     He speaks so fast that Tracy has to slow down a recorded interrogation of him to understand him.     There is also the emergence of The Blank, who wears a faceless mask and whose loyalties are questionable.    The Blank seems to be both a friend and enemy of Tracy (and Big Boy) at the same time. 

Pacino, who was Oscar-nominated for his role here, has a ball growling at his cronies to kill Tracy.   We get the sense that no amount of money or power could ever satiate him, which makes him a forever dangerous adversary.    I could never warm up to Madonna as an actress, while I confess I have yet to see Evita.    She always speaks with a weird, distracting affect or accent, which only draws attention to the accent and detracts from the performance.    

Dick Tracy isn't deep, but lovingly realized and imagined by Beatty as a visual feast which still holds up.    The actors don't seem to inhabit the scenery, but emerge from it, like the characters in a comic strip.    The movie is uniquely full of life, although truth be told I wish Madonna were recast. 

Hostiles (2017) * * *

Directed by:  Scott Cooper

Starring:  Christian Bale, Rosamund Pike, Wes Studi, Ben Foster, Timothee Chalamet, Jesse Plemons, Adam Beach, Rory Cochrane, Q'orianka Kilcher, Jonathan Majors

We first meet Captain Joseph Blocker (Bale) rounding up Native Americans in 1892 New Mexico and taking them prisoner.     His anger at them is palpable, because he is fought them in many battles and watched many soldiers die at their hands.   Isn't it a kick in the head that he would be assigned to accompany dying Chief Yellow Hawk (Studi) from New Mexico to Montana where he will die in peace and buried on sacred land?     Blocker opposes the order, but under threat of court martial and loss of Army pension, he reluctantly agrees to take Yellow Hawk to Montana.  

This is the setup for Hostiles, a contemplative, thoughtful Western in which modern day thoughts on Native American genocide are transposed onto 19th century characters.    Did some soldiers realize they were responsible for such atrocities and haunted by them?    I would assume so, but Hostiles has the benefit of hindsight and fiction on its side.    It makes for some powerful moments, but also follows some formulas of Westerns, in which characters died according to their position on the marquee.   

Blocker and his group shackle Yellow Hawk and his family in chains as they come across the widow Rosalie Quaid (Pike), whose home was burned and family killed at the hands of local Comanche aggressors.    They bury her family and she accompanies them on their journey.    She at first is horrified to see other Native Americans in the party, but she is soon reassured by Blocker and Yellow Hawk's daughter's kindness.    Blocker soon realizes the difference between men like Yellow Hawk fighting for his home and family and the Comanche warriors who savagely kill, loot, and pillage.    Maybe he even sees a little of himself in the Comanches and it terrifies him to his soul.   

Along the way, Blocker is ordered to accompany a former soldier (Foster) charged with murder to his destination to be eventually hung.    The soldier taunts Blocker about his own checkered past and finds it unjust that he be hung for murder while others go free.    At this point, Hostiles becomes a tad subplot-heavy, as we now have this guy to deal with on top of everything else, including a potential love story between Blocker and Rosalie.    Members of Blocker's regiment are slowly killed off during gunfights, knife fights, and other skirmishes, with Blocker undergoing his inevitable change of heart towards Yellow Hawk and his family.  

Hostiles runs somewhat long as it touches its bases to cover the subplots thrust upon it, but its central theme and rich, complex performances pull it through.     Blocker does not telegraph his change of heart through speeches or stirring emotional scenes, but through a look or a facial expression with suggest multitudes of inner conflict.    At the end, he is at peace, or as much as he can be and makes a spontaneous decision which we would never think he could make prior.    The Native American roles aren't weighted quite as heavily, but Studi is an impressive actor who imbues Yellow Hawk with deep reservoirs of courage and honor.   

Director Scott Cooper previously directed the unfortunate Out of the Furnace (2013), which also starred Bale and Black Mass (2015), the entertaining story of Whitey Bulger.    Both films, like Hostiles, take time to slow down and reflect on what's going on.    With Out of the Furnace, this happens so much it slows the movie to a halt, while Black Mass chooses its quiet times more carefully.     Hostiles isn't mindless violence, but instead a mirror for us to view ourselves and our history.     How can the people in Hostiles call the Native Americans savages when we are guilty of many of same crimes?    And we weren't protecting our land, but simply taking it from others.  

What's the Worst That Could Happen? (2001) *

Directed by:  Sam Weisman

Starring:  Martin Lawrence, Danny DeVito, Bernie Mac, John Leguizamo, Carmen Ejogo, Richard Schiff, Nora Dunn, William Fichtner, Larry Miller

This movie, for one thing.    What a disjointed film; a so-called comedy devoid of laughs and coherence.    The "plot" is about two thieves, one a petty thief named Kevin (Lawrence) and a corporate thief named Max (DeVito) involved in a war of oneupmanship over a ring which Max stole from Kevin during Kevin's attempted robbery of Max's summer mansion.    Hi-jinks ensue which are totally unfunny, with the actors screaming their dialogue at each other.    It is trying to be comedy noir, with both actors playing unlikable people and surrounded by even more unlikable people in a plot we couldn't care less about. 

It becomes a test of the will to last through til the end of the movie and it is one I barely passed.   The cast is full of talented people who were done no favors by the witless script.    The film is a free-for-all, as if the story was written after Lawrence and DeVito were cast as the leads.    The thinking must have been that comic actors this successful would be able to make anything funny, and that is surely not the case here.    I am as big a Danny DeVito fan as there is.    He takes over a scene with the sheer force of his personality.     In this film, he is forced to carry too heavy a load because there is nothing funny for him to do.     Even an actor as talented as he can't make this work.

I was never a big Martin Lawrence fan.    His grating comic style just never worked for me.    His stand-up comedy film You So Crazy is one I watched in appalled silence while others insisted it was funny and I somehow missed its genius.    That is possible, but it isn't worth a second viewing to find out.     I am curious to see what type of response the same folks who liked You So Crazy would think of What's the Worst That Could Happen?, which is full of inexplicable scenes, missed comic opportunities, and is a film which I'm sure most of the viewing public including the actors have long forgotten about.

Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle (2017) * *

Directed by:  Jake Kasdan

Starring:  Dwayne Johnson, Kevin Hart, Jack Black, Karen Gillan, Nick Jonas, Alex Wolff, Bobby Cannavale, Madison Iseman, Morgan Turner, Ser'Darius Blain

There isn't anything terrible about this reboot of Jumanji (1995), which starred Robin Williams in the plot identical to this one.    In this case, four teenagers are trapped in a video game (vs. a board game in the original) and must use their wits and skills to win the game and return to the real world in one piece.    The film is likely to appeal to those who aren't familiar with the original film or those looking for sheer adventure.     The movie isn't awful, but isn't anything spectacular either.    It is just flat and kind of there.   After about 90 minutes or so, it's over and we can go on with our lives, not much moved by the experience.

The original film had a sense of poignancy to it which made it work.    A boy is trapped in the game in 1969 and freed from it in 1995 after two children discover the game in the attic of their new home.    The boy grew into Robin Williams, who not surprisingly missed his parents who died in the ensuing 26 years following his disappearance.     This version has a similar arc, with a teen discovering the game in 1996 and immediately being sucked into it.    His disappearance still haunts his hometown to the present day, which is when four teens in high school detention discover the game which has now mutated into a video game form.    The teens are nerdy Spencer (Wolff), the jock Fridge (Blain), brainy Martha (Turner), and popular girl Bethany (Turner).    However, their identities in the game are radically switched.    Spencer is now Dwayne Johnson, Fridge is now Kevin Hart, Bethany is now Jack Black, and Martha is now Karen Gillan.    Each has varying skills and weaknesses which come in handy during their time in the game.

The goal of the game is to return a green jewel to its original place which will free the land of Jumanji from the evil clutches of Van Pelt (Cannavale), who wants to use the jewel to rule the land.   The teens now have to adjust to their new personas, with Bethany naturally having the most trouble since she is now Jack Black.    The movie's biggest laughs come from this switch, although this grows contrived and tiresome.     The other characters learn to trust and befriend one another in predictable ways.     During their journey, they discover Alex, who has become the game character of Seaplane and isn't aware just how long he has been stuck in the game.

The heroes seem nice enough, but are kind of bland.     The villain is off-screen a lot, so he never gathers enough villainy points to be someone whose demise we openly root for.    Like a video game, the characters must dodge dangerous snakes, trampling herds of rhinos, a hungry hippo, and endure a series of chases and fights to win the game.     The movie mostly follows in lockstep with the original with the exception of contemporary technological updates, including Alex's storyline involving his left-behind family.    The actors do what they can with the script which favors action over characters.   But, action itself is boring if we don't care about the stakes or the people involved.    Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle is adequately produced and acted, but was it entirely necessary to be made?     Was there a clamoring for a remake of the popular original film I wasn't aware of?   Based on the film's healthy box office so far, it appears the answer is yes. 

2018 Oscar Nominations and Predictions

The nominations for the 90th Annual Academy Awards are out.    Here are my annual predictions in the major categories.

BEST PICTURE

Call Me by Your Name
Darkest Hour
Dunkirk
Get Out
Lady Bird
Phantom Thread
The Post
The Shape of Water
Three Billboards outside Ebbing, Missouri 

Prediction:   Three Billboards outside Ebbing, Missouri.   The Shape of Water, with 13 nominations, is the only other possibility in this category.    Since 2011, the Best Director and Best Picture winners have agreed only once.    Prior to that, these winners usually went hand in hand.    I see The Shape of Water winning Best Director, but Three Billboards taking the top prize.    Oddly, only four times in Oscar history has a Best Picture won without a corresponding Best Director nomination.    The last time was 2012's Argo.

BEST DIRECTOR

Dunkirk (Christopher Nolan)
Get Out (Jordan Peele)
Lady Bird (Greta Gerwig)
Phantom Thread (Paul Thomas Anderson)
The Shape of Water (Guillermo del Toro)

Prediction:  Guillermo del Toro.    Already a Golden Globe winner, I anticipate del Toro will add a Director's Guild award and Oscar to his burgeoning mantle within the next month.

BEST ACTOR

Timothee Chalamet, Call Me by Your Name
Daniel Day-Lewis, Phantom Thread
Daniel Kaluuya, Get Out
Gary Oldman, Darkest Hour 
Denzel Washington, Roman J. Israel, Esq.

Prediction:   Gary Oldman.   Having won a Golden Globe and SAG Award already, it appears to be the punctuation on a long distinguished career for Oldman will happen on Oscar night, barring any possible #MeToo ramifications over alleged domestic abuse by Oldman years ago during a divorce.    But, I think Oldman sidesteps that and wins.    If not, I will say Daniel Day-Lewis takes home his fourth Best Actor Oscar.   

BEST ACTRESS

Sally Hawkins, The Shape of Water
Frances McDormand, Three Billboards outside Ebbing, Missouri
Margot Robbie, I, Tonya
Saorise Ronan, Lady Bird
Meryl Streep, The Post

Prediction:  Frances McDormand.   A nice bookend Oscar for the 1996 Best Actress winner for Fargo.   Interesting side note, four of the five performances in which McDormand has been nominated have been for films with places in their title:   Mississippi Burning, Fargo, North Country, and now Three Billboards outside Ebbing, Missouri.   

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR

Willem Dafoe, The Florida Project
Woody Harrelson, Three Billboards outside Ebbing, Missouri
Richard Jenkins, The Shape of Water
Christopher Plummer, All the Money in the World
Sam Rockwell, Three Billboards outside Ebbing, Missouri 

Prediction:  Sam Rockwell.   Willem Dafoe had won almost every critics association award you can think of, but Rockwell's wins in the Golden Globes and the SAG awards have completed stifled Dafoe's momentum.    He will have to wait for another year.    Rockwell showed amazing depth in his moving work and will be rewarded.   

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS

Mary J. Blige, Mudbound
Allison Janney, I, Tonya
Lesley Manville, Phantom Thread
Laurie Metcalf, Lady Bird
Octavia Spencer, The Shape of Water

Prediction:  Allison Janney.   Like Willem Dafoe, Laurie Metcalf was the critics associations' darling until the Golden Globes.    Then, it has been all Allison Janney.    I have no reason to believe it won't continue at the Oscars.  


BEST ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY

The Big Sick
Get Out
Lady Bird
The Shape of Water
Three Billboards outside Ebbing, Missouri

Prediction:  Three Billboards outside Ebbing, Missouri.   Martin McDonagh was overlooked for a Best Direct nomination, so I look for a win here for him.  

BEST ADAPTED SCREENPLAY

Call Me by Your Name
The Disaster Artist
Logan
Molly's Game
Mudbound

Prediction:  Call Me by Your Name.   89-year-old James Ivory, a multiple time Oscar nominee himself as director of A Room with a View, Howard's End, and The Remains of the Day will break through with this award.     I did not see Mudbound yet, but this is a thin category.    How else would you explain Logan among the five finalists?  


Notes:   Last year, I went 7 for 8 in these categories.   My only miss (which ruined my chance at perfection) was Best Picture.    We all know what happened there last year, but for three glorious minutes or so I was 8 for 8. 

Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby (2006) * * *

Directed by:  Adam McKay

Starring:  Will Ferrell, John C. Reilly, Sacha Baron Cohen, Michael Clarke Duncan, Amy Adams, Jane Lynch, Gary Cole, Leslie Bibb, Andy Richter, Greg Germann

First, NASCAR was taken with deadly seriousness in 1990's Days of Thunder,  a lame Tom Cruise vehicle.    Now, we have Talladega Nights, which satirizes the world of NASCAR, sports movies, comeback stories, and xenophobia.    You may as well throw in homophobia too.    Talladega Nights brings us into the insane world of Ricky Bobby (Ferrell), the perennial champion driver whose standing is turned upside down by the arrival of Formula One racer Jean Gerard (Cohen), he with the Clouseau-like accent and a husband.     He is everything Ricky Bobby and the NASCAR world detests, but he is quite good at winning races. 

Talladega Nights jumps headlong into Ricky Bobby with confident, manic zeal.    It isn't afraid to be ridiculous and take chances.    The actors are clearly having a great time and this rubs off on the audience.    Ferrell tried the same formula in other films with varying degrees of success, but this one boasts some hilarious supporting performances.    It isn't just Ferrell's show.     Ricky Bobby has it all.   Lots of money, a hot blonde wife (Bibb), two kids named Walker and Texas Ranger (those familiar with the old Chuck Norris series will get a kick out of that), and a mantra of "If you're not first, you're last." 

Things are going well, until Girard arrives to challenge Ricky and subsequently breaks his arm.    Ricky's winning streak comes to an abrupt end and as Girard's star rises, Ricky loses his sponsorship, his house, his wife to his racing partner Cal Naughton (Reilly), and is forced to move back in with his mom and get a job delivering pizzas.    It goes south fast for poor Ricky.    Then, with help from his mostly absentee father (Cole), he plots his comeback to regain everything from Girard.   

Talladega Nights has an improvised feel to certain parts, as if the actors were encouraged to find the furthest fringes of lunacy in their characters.    Most of it is inspired, some reaches a little too hard for a laugh, but it mostly works.     Besides Cohen, who provides a little more depth than you would expect from the villain, we have Amy Adams, who tells Ricky, "You are not a thinker, you are a doer,"  Gary Cole as Ricky's dad and mentor with unusual training exercises, and Reilly, whose Cal Naughton is a goofball sidekick who finds himself at odds with Ricky.    Cal has a bedside confession to Ricky which is really funny and unexpected.   

Ferrell is, of course, the center of all of this madness.   In some scenes, he kind of, sort of plays the straight man while allowing his co-stars to get in on the fun.    Ferrell is a comic actor who grew on me.    He is a unique talent who hits and misses, but he rarely has anything less than total enthusiasm for the material.    He also has done well in semi-dramatic roles also.    In Talladega Nights, he unselfishly lets his co-stars showcase their comic skills as well.   

The Commuter (2018) * *

Directed by:  Jaume Collet-Serra

Starring:  Liam Neeson, Vera Farmiga, Patrick Wilson, Sam Neill, Elizabeth McGovern, Jonathan Banks

Here is another entry in the Liam Neeson kicks somebody's ass sweepstakes.   It started with Taken and has continued on like the speeding commuter train in The Commuter, which throws Neeson into the middle of an overly complicated plot hatched by villains who should know better.    Any baddie worth his salt should have realized his plot is riddled with needless complications.   If you are able to hack into cell phones, be omnipotent, and otherwise control everything down to the last detail, why would you throw a wild card into the mix like Neeson, who could easily disrupt everything?    If you seemingly can be everywhere, then how could you not know the identity of the person you are trying to kill?    Why do you want Neeson, who knows nothing about your plot, to do it for you?    Why? Why? Why?    I asked that question a lot, and that is usually fatal to the enjoyment of escapist entertainment like The Commuter.

Neeson is Mike McCauley, a sixty-year-old ex-cop turned life insurance salesman with money troubles, made worse by being let go from his job after ten years.    He has a son going off to college and an otherwise loving home life, so he would be the least appetizing candidate for the plot which is about to be foisted on him.   Aboard the NYC commuter train, he meets a mysterious woman named Joanna (Farmiga), who presents him with a deal.   For $100,000, all he needs to do is track down someone on the bus who goes by the name Prynne (which should ring a bell to those who read The Scarlet Letter) and place a tracking device on his/her bag, setting up the person for certain doom.  Joanna doesn't give many clues, except that the person "doesn't belong and is carrying something in his or her bag".  Mike, desperate for money, tries to locate the person before the person is scheduled to get off at the final stop.    He deduces quickly, though not quickly enough, that the person he is trying to find is earmarked for a bad ending and then he hopes to stop the plot instead.

You know the ex-cop portion of Mike's resume will come into play, as he goes mano y mano with other villains (or red herrings) on the train.    You would also think other passengers would be scared off by the sound of shots being fired or two guys fighting all over the seemingly mile-long train.  Nope.   They don't even notice.    The other passengers and staff helpfully stay away while Mike does his thing.   You would also think the idea of Mike harassing other passengers would raise a red flag.  Nope.   Not even that.    The plotters really left a lot up to chance here.    If they know the passenger is getting off on the last stop, can't they deduce for themselves who they are targeting and just send someone on the train to get rid of Prynne?    Wouldn't that draw less attention than having the tall and lumbering Neeson wreaking havoc and arousing suspicion all over the train?   How did the plotters even find out about the existence of Prynne in the first place?

Neeson is self-assured and dependable in these action roles which have filled up his filmography lately.    I don't know if being an ex-cop necessarily qualifies you to hold your own in a fistfight with professional hitmen, but we are willing to suspend our disbelief at least on that.   The Commuter follows the laws and cliches of such films in lockstep, including the fact that characters introduced in the opening scenes will surely play a part in the finale.    Neeson doesn't have to really do much characterization.    We know him from other movies of this ilk, so we know what he is and what he is all about.    The original Taken was intense fun; the sequels were ridiculous howlers.    Non-Stop was silly, but still engaging, and now we have The Commuter, which topples under the weight of its plot holes.    Neeson does this sort of role well, but we know he is capable of so much more.    It is a blessing Neeson found these roles later in his career than earlier, otherwise Oskar Schindler would have turned the Nazis into punching bags. 

Enemy at the Gates (2001) * * 1/2

 

Directed by:  Jean-Jacques Annaud

 

Starring:  Jude Law, Joseph Fiennes, Rachel Weisz, Ed Harris, Bob Hoskins, Gabriel Marshall-Thomson

 

This is a frustrating movie, with greatness in its grasp, but it keeps tripping over itself.    Based on a true story, at least according to Russian historical perspective, Enemy at the Gates features a top notch cast and a central plot which drags.    The story, about a cat and mouse duel between a Nazi sniper (Harris) and a Soviet sniper (Law) during the Battle of Stalingrad, is one with potential suspense soon eclipsed by our own impatience.    We wish they would get to it already.    And when they do, it is anti-climactic anyway.  

 

The Battle of Stalingrad was a significant Soviet victory against the advancing Nazi front in late 1942-early 1943.    The town is reduced to ruins, but the Soviet army perseveres despite flagging morale and even more desperate odds.     Having lost half of their soldiers, the Soviet brass led by Nikita Khruschev (Hoskins-who looks uncannily like him) is in need of something to keep the fight going.      An officer named Danilov (Fiennes) thinks he knows what the people need.    During a tense opening battle which draws comparisons to the D-Day opener of Saving Private Ryan, Danilov witnesses a heroic soldier named Vassily Zaytsev (Law) shoot down several German soldiers with his rifle.    Danilov's brainstorm is the propagandize Vassily's exploits and turn him into someone the people can rally around.    Vassily's heroics are plastered in the local papers and word of his deeds spreads to Stalin himself.     Vassily becomes a celebrity amidst the war-torn Russian ruins, which draws the attention of Major Konig (Harris), a master Nazi sniper dispatched to Stalingrad to kill Vassily and squelch the last hopes of the Stalingrad residents.

 

Vassily and Konig are both professionals and expert sharpshooters, but are a study in personality contrasts.    Vassily is approachable, affable, lacking confidence in his ability to kill Konig, and in love with Tanya (Weisz), a college-educated soldier also admired by Danilov.    There is a potential love triangle here which the movie could surely do without, although Weisz has a great smile and lights up the screen.    Konig is a cold man of duty, who doesn't allow himself to be flustered or emotional, and is supremely confident in his skills.    ("You know how I know Vassily is still alive?  Because I haven't killed him yet,")    He befriends a young boy named Sacha (Marshall-Thomson), who pretends to be a Nazi sympathizer but is actually a double agent.     In a critical scene, Konig has to choose between his friendship with Sacha and his sworn duty to the German cause, which probably causes him the most discomfort he will exhibit in the entire movie.    Harris, who is brilliant here as custom, doesn't make the mistake of making Konig a mad, frothing villain, but an intelligent professional with a certain respect for Vassily and maybe even a certain sympathy masked behind a flat, calm voice.   But, he tracks Vassily because that is what he does best.

 

It isn't the performances or even the production values which undermine Enemy at the Gates, but the stop and start nature of the plot.    There are too many scenes of either Vassily or Konig peering into a rifle scope at his potential target, which manages to stay just out of reach of a deadly bullet.     They grow tiresome.    The movie could've spared twenty minutes of running time if they had one big duel instead of several little ones which build up to the climactic one.     But, we get the suspicion the big duel has to wait because we have various subplots to tidy up first, such as the love triangle and Danilov's smoldering jealousy which triggers a treacherous action.  

 

Thankfully the actors don't speak in tortured German or Russian accents, which I find to be distracting in movies like this.    We get it.   They're Russian.   Why bother speaking in an accent which only proves the actors mastered accents in acting school?     Harris doesn't use an accent at all, which is all the more refreshing.    Enemy at the Gates is supposedly based on truth, but there has never been confirmation that such a battle between Zaytsev (who died in 1991) and Konig ever took place.    Or that there was ever even a Konig.    Is the story yet one more account published by the infamous Soviet propaganda machine?    Regardless, I just wish it were told more tautly.  

 

 

 

 

Phantom Thread (2017) * * *

Directed by:  Paul Thomas Anderson

Starring:  Daniel Day-Lewis, Vicky Krieps, Lesley Manville

We meet Reynolds Woodcock (Day-Lewis) and we are immediately fascinated, even though we couldn't imagine a fate worse than being forced to dine with him.     He is a fashion designer to the wealthy and powerful in 1950's England; creating custom designed works of art in the forms of gowns and wedding dresses.    He grooms impeccably, is a slave to his routine, and conducts both his professional and personal life with as little wasted movement as possible.    Breakfast is his "quiet time" and heaven forbid you spread butter on your toast with a little too much force or make too much noise pouring a glass of juice.    He will flash a perturbed look and his sister, Cyril (Manville) who coldly runs the business end of things, later kicks the woman to the curb.    She knows Reynolds all too well.   ("When should I tell this girl to stop waiting around for you to fall in love with her?")

That appears to change when Reynolds meets a young waitress named Alma (Krieps) in a restaurant.   He orders a great deal of breakfast food and is impressed when Alma remembers it all.   He smiles at her pleasantly and asks her to dinner.     Soon, she is living with him as a muse and lover, in that order.    Alma models Reynolds' creations, but soon learns he doesn't have much other use for her.    His work is his first love, while Alma will have to make an appointment to even have a quiet dinner with him, much less sex.    This will not do for Alma, and then Phantom Thread starts to evolve into a strange dynamic between Reynolds, Alma, and Cyril (who has forever been the "woman" in Reynolds' life and is now facing a threat of being pushed aside).    There won't be a threesome, so get that out of your head, but what exists is an ever-changing battle of wills.    Alma won't let Reynolds go without a fight and won't let Cyril push her around, which is something neither is used to.

Reynolds' home is really nothing more than a glorified workplace where seamstresses await Reynolds' every command.     He is not adept to handle anything which interrupts his routine and his power.    Alma just wants to love him, but who exactly is Reynolds Woodcock?     Is he capable of loving anything, even his work?    He is a man of unrealistically meticulous standards which act as a defense mechanism.    He rarely lets his guard down, but there are moments when he does, which is when Alma is able to get close.    The trouble is, Reynolds doesn't do it nearly enough for her liking.   

I reflect on the storied, multiple award winning film career of Daniel Day-Lewis and I can't think of one film in which he plays a generic character.    He does not settle for safe, one-dimensional characters.    He wants challenging and convention-defying roles and immerses himself completely in them.    Much has been reported on him staying in character throughout shooting of movies such as Lincoln (2012), but it works and why change what has been successful?    Reynolds Woodcock is memorable, if not altogether pleasant, because Day-Lewis understands him inside and out.    Maybe there is a little of Day-Lewis in him.    Or a lot.

Phantom Thread isn't just a Day-Lewis tour de force, however.    Krieps is able to hold her own against both the overpowering actor and character.    Lesley Manville also shines as a coldly frank businesswoman who says things like, "let me be unambiguous" when dealing with others.    Cyril may be a lot of things, unambiguous is not among them.    This strong trio of actors carries Phantom Thread along, even through a final fifteen minutes which I'm still having trouble buying; a revelation which doesn't fit with what has come before it.     Up until the final fifteen minutes, Phantom Thread was a unique film which took some time to reveal itself and the natures of its characters.    We think we have it wired and then defies our expectations time and again.    Then, it goes a little overboard, kind of like the final minutes of Magnolia (1998) in which frogs inexplicably rained from the sky.   That doesn't happen here, but Anderson again leaves us with a film which mostly works, but doesn't quite feel completely realized.  

Con Air (1997) * * *

Directed by: Simon West

Starring:  Nicolas Cage, John Cusack, John Malkovich, Steve Buscemi, Ving Rhames, Mykelti Williamson, Rachel Ticotin, Danny Trejo, Colm Meaney, Monica Potter

Con Air is exactly what you would expect.    It is full of explosions, absurd action scenes, sadistic villains, and a tough, principled hero; the type of film in which a plane crash lands on the Vegas strip and you aren't the least bit surprised.    The movie is a skillfully made and cheerfully absurd; very happy to be no more than exactly what it is.     1997 was the year in which Nicolas Cage morphed into an action film star.    Both The Rock and Con Air work in their own ridiculous ways, with Cage as the steady hand through all of the hyperactivity surrounding him.

Cage is Cameron Poe, an Army Ranger-turned-convict paroled after serving eight years for killing a man in a bar fight who attempted to assault his wife.    He finds himself on a plane full of criminals being transferred to various higher security prisons.    He only wants to go home and reunite with his wife and daughter, but a group of prisoners led by Cyrus "The Virus" Grissom (Malkovich) hijack the plane, forcing Poe into action to save the hostages aboard and help his best friend who is suffering from a diabetic seizure.    Poe pretends to be on Cyrus' side, while figuring out a way to bring the plane down.  

The hijacking comes to the attention of air marshal Vince Larkin (Cusack), who quickly deduces that Poe is not a villain and just may be the help he's looking for to bring the plane down safely.    Larkin is constantly at odds with his superiors who simply want to shoot the plane down, leading him to take matters into his own hands.    John Cusack may not be the first, second, or third actor you would expect in an action film role, but he is pretty convincing anyway.    Malkovich by this point in his career had the vicious, cerebral uber-villain thing down pat, while Cage carries on in his own quietly laconic way.    The rest of the cast turns up the wattage as things go haywire all around.    At one point, a sports car is somehow tethered to a plane taking off and you don't even blink.    It is that type of movie.    You just go along for the ride, if this is the type of ride that interests you.  





   

Despicable Me 3 (2017) * * *

Directed by:  Kyle Balda and Pierre Coffin

Voices of:  Steve Carell, Kristen Wiig, Trey Parker, Russell Brand, Steve Coogan, Jenny Slate, Miranda Cosgrove, Julie Andrews

I looked back and saw I did not review the first two Despicable Me films, although I saw them and enjoyed them both.    I would give three stars to each, the first one for its sly humor and the introduction of the Minions, the second one for much of the same reason, although the Minions begin to grow a bit tiresome, and now this third installment, which is filled with 80s references and some humor the adults will like more than the kids.    The kids are more interested in the Minions, who at least are reined in somewhat here.

As Despicable Me 3 opens, former supervillain Gru (Carell) turned superagent, along with his now superagent wife Lucy (Wiig), nearly captures an 80's child TV star turned grown-up villain Balthazar Bratt (Parker) and a large diamond he stole for nefarious means.    He lets Bratt get away, which costs he and Lucy their jobs at the agency and bums out Gru's otherwise happy home with his three adopted girls.    One day, Gru learns he has a twin brother he never met named Dru (also Carell) and is flown in on a private jet to meet him on his vast island of wealth and excess. 

Dru, like Gru, has a quasi-Peter Lorre accent, but unlike Gru has a tan and hair, but both have the unfortunate resemblance to Murnau's Nosferatu.    Dru is ecstatic to meet Gru, but more ecstatic to learn the family business of villainy, which Gru left behind in the first film.    Gru reluctantly, as he does most things, show Dru the ropes by hatching to steal the diamond back from Bratt,   Bratt is stuck in a 1980's time warp with his clothing, hair style, and catch phrases, leading to numerous pop culture references from the period which won't mean much to kids, but cause a recognizing smile in parents.

The Minions are part of a subplot in which they leave Gru because they want to be associated with a villain, but find themselves in the clink and longing for a reunion with their former boss.    The Minions are cute, but as we've learned over the course of three films and a standalone film, better in smaller doses.    The film is engaging enough while not being especially remarkable.   It is an animated adventure which dashes of sweetness and humor which makes it enjoyable.    To ask for more from Despicable Me 3 would be burdening it, and us. 

The Shape of Water (2017) * * * 1/2

Directed by:  Guillermo del Toro

Starring:  Sally Hawkins, Michael Shannon, Richard Jenkins, Octavia Spencer, Doug Jones, Michael Stuhlbarg

The Shape of Water could have been made in the 50's as a schlocky science fiction romance titled, "I Fell in Love with an Amphibian".    It could have played as part of a double feature with Mant from the movie Matinee (1993).    But, The Shape of Water isn't made like a B-movie, but instead as an absorbing story of isolation.    Its characters are all cut off from ordinary joy in some way.    Whether it is the ability to speak, humanity, a loving marriage, a mate, or even a place to truly call home; the characters in The Shape of Water all are missing something.     For some, that something remains elusive.    Others find what they are looking for.

We first meet Elisa (Hawkins), a mute woman unable to speak since childhood.   The scratches on her neck suggest a trauma caused her condition, but she can hear, is intelligent, and holds down a job at a dingy government lab in 1960's Baltimore.    Her apartment, like the lab, is dirty, run down, with mildew clinging to the walls.    Elisa is a slave to her routine because well, she doesn't have much else to be a slave to.    She wakes up, boils eggs for her lunch, masturbates in a full bathtub while timed with an egg timer, and then visits her lonely, alcoholic artist neighbor Giles (Jenkins-in a compassionate, sympathy-drawing performance).   

Elisa's other friend is her fellow custodian Zelda (Spencer), who is in a troubled marriage and tells Elisa all about it.    One night, a tank arrives full of water with an amphibious creature swimming inside.    The creature (Jones) has gills which emerge from its neck and was kidnapped from the Amazon by the sadistic, ambitious bureaucrat  Richard Strickland (Shannon), who zaps the poor creature with a shock stick for his own pleasure.    One night, the creature fights back and bites off two of Strickland's fingers, which are later sewn on haphazardly.   The oozing pus and rot from the fingers is symbolic of Strickland's own inner rot, for you literary buffs.

Elisa feels a connection to the creature.    During her cleaning of the lab (which looks like it will never be clean again), she communicates with him, plays jazz to him, feeds him hard-boiled eggs, and they fall in love...as much as one can fall in love with an amphibian and vice versa.     The romance is not as convincing as the idea of a warm, loving friendship between two outcasts.     There is even a sex scene or two between them.    How this occurs is best left unexplored, although Elisa explains it to Zelda in her own inimitable way.

A compassionate lab doctor (Stuhlbarg) with a questionable background believes the creature should be humanely treated and studied.    Strickland awaits the go-ahead from his superiors to kill it and cut it open.    Elisa catches wind of the plot and with help from Zelda, a reluctant Giles, and the doctor, she is able to remove the creature from the lab with the understanding that Elisa will eventually have to return him to the sea during the upcoming rainy season.

The entire plot is inherently ridiculous on its surface, but del Toro presents us with a memorable atmosphere and societal subtext.    Intolerance leads to isolation and loneliness, which makes it harder for those affected to break free.   Even though the events take place in 1960s Baltimore, they are otherworldly, as if this world is one inhabited apart from the ugly realities of civil rights violence and the Cold War which are depicted on TV.   Poor Giles witnesses racism and homophobia up close when trying to woo a waiter at his favorite diner.    Jenkins' performance is the best in the film; easily the one we can empathize with the most.     To Elisa, world events don't register much at all, especially when the creature arrives.

The Shape of Water is rich, involving and touching.    The creature exhibits more compassion and humanity than some of the human characters, especially Strickland, whose only goal in life is to work his way up the bureaucratic ranks.     He is a cold, unfeeling instrument of the government, perfect for their Cold War needs, but not much good for anyone else.    Shannon masterfully handles the role, although it is less complex than the others, but no less effective.    I was also intrigued by Stuhlbarg, whose doctor harbors secrets and questionable loyalties and tries to negotiate his way through his love of science vs. love of country.   

Since Hawkins has no voice, except for a brief musical interlude expressing her love which is a tad over the top (look what you created La La Land!), and thus has to gain our trust and sympathy with nonverbal skills which are up to the task.    The creature completes her, as Elisa says, and in many ways we see how and why.  

The Post (2017) * * * 1/2

Directed by:  Steven Spielberg

Starring:  Meryl Streep, Ben Bradlee, Bob Odenkirk, Bradley Whitford, Tracy Letts, Bruce Greenwood, Carrie Coon, Sarah Paulson, David Cross, Matthew Rhys

The Post tells the story of The Washington Post's 1971 legal battle to publish what became known as The Pentagon Papers, a 4000-plus page study compiled by former Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara.    The study outlined the U.S. government's entire covert ops history with Vietnam, beginning with the Truman administration and continuing into Nixon's.    McNamara believed as early as 1965 that military conflict in Vietnam would be unwinnable, yet thousands of troops were sent and thousands died, mostly to avoid losing a war for the first time in our nation's history.

This story holds parallels to today's America, in which the media finds itself under attack by a presidency which thinks a free press should not be free at all or tell the truth.    In this presidency's eyes, the media should only flatter the presidency and not criticize it, or report on its failings.   What is as scary as this attitude is how many citizens go along with it, shouting "Fake News" whenever confronted with a story even minutely showing the President in a bad light.    Post editor Ben Bradlee (Hanks) knows the papers are an important piece of truth which people should see for themselves.     The Nixon administration felt differently, filing injunctions against the New York Times, in which the papers were originally published, and in essence any other newspaper which even considers doing stories on them.   

Parallels aside, which are not meant to be hidden by Spielberg and writers Josh Singer and Liz Hannah, The Post is a strongly made film displaying the need and power of accurate journalism.    I saw All the President's Men (1976) again recently and was awed by its knowledge of reporting and its ruthless depiction of what a grind it can be.    The Washington Post found itself forever at odds with the Nixon administration even before the Pentagon Papers came to light.    Bradlee is in a quandary to determine which reporter should cover Nixon's daughter's wedding because the Post was seen in such disfavor by Nixon.     After the papers matter was settled, Nixon banned the Post from allowing its reporters anywhere near the White House.   Sound familiar? 

In the center of this historic story is Katherine "Kay" Graham (Streep), the publisher of the Post who had just taken the paper public on the American Stock Exchange and faces immense pressure not to publish the story on the Papers due to possible financial implications, contempt of court charges which could land she and Bradlee in jail, and her own friendship with McNamara (Greenwood) which clouds her judgment in the way Bradlee's own relationship with the Kennedys did.    It is difficult to print unflattering stories about people who are frequent dinner and party guests, but as Bradlee tactfully puts it to Kay, is the Post more interested in cultivating political friendships or printing stories for the benefit of its readers?   

The dynamic between Bradlee and Graham plays almost like an Odd Couple.    Bradlee is a tireless editor, always looking to scoop the New York Times, and seems to be at home more in his office than his own house.    Graham eyes widening the profit margins and growth of the Post, which at the time was seen as a "local paper" and not yet a national media powerhouse.    Her relationship with Bradlee never devolves into profits vs. principles arguments...thank goodness.    Each understands the other's position when it comes to publishing the story on the papers, but it is Graham who is left with the ultimate decision on whether to go to press.     The more subtle (or maybe not so subtle) subtext in The Post is the belief by a male-dominated board that Graham, as a woman, simply is unable to handle being in charge because she is a woman.    It would be refreshing to say such attitudes are mostly dead and buried today, but sadly we know they are not.

As a filmmaker, Steven Spielberg is unmatched in his ability to marshal the biggest talent both in front of and behind the camera and focus it to fit his vision.    The Post was made in less than one year because Spielberg felt the story has entirely too much resonance to today's political and media climate to wait to be told.    He is correct.    The leads are played by two of the best actors of all time, Meryl Streep and Tom Hanks, and their performances are not star turns but intense character studies.     Streep expertly conveys Graham's internal battles as the weight of the future of American freedom of the press falls on her shoulders.    This is not hyperbole.    Those were indeed the stakes.   Hanks is the moral conscience of The Post.    I don't know whether the real Ben Bradlee was this idealistic, but Hanks' portrayal of the editorial giant is one of utterly convincing worldly experience and the ability to know when to take the gloves off when dealing with attorneys or others who stand in his way. 

The supporting cast is chock full of strong actors doing strong supporting work, especially Letts as Fritz Beebe, Kay's financial adviser who isn't unsympathetic to her battles and Odenkirk as Ben Bagdikian, a nose-to-the grindstone reporter who tracks down the papers.    What is not lost on the viewer about The Post is how, a mere year or so later, the Washington Post found itself on the wrong side of Nixon again in its reporting on Watergate.    Only this time, Nixon and his power-mad administration finally met their just end.    How could it end any other way?    The Post juggles a lot of balls in the air.    It has a lot to say and says so in just under two hours.    It doesn't drag, but it also doesn't quite match the power of previous Spielberg dramas like Lincoln and Schindler's List.    Maybe because in those stories, good ultimately triumphed over an evil system, while in The Post, good triumphs only temporarily because the role of the media is ever fluid in the public's mind.    The same Washington Post which was lauded for holding Nixon accountable is now criticized for being holding Donald Trump accountable.    Makes you think.   And shudder.

Daredevil (2003) * * *

Directed by:  Mark Steven Johnson

Starring:  Ben Affleck, Jennifer Garner, Jon Favreau, Michael Clarke Duncan, Joe Pantoliano, Colin Farrell

Matt Murdock is a Hell's Kitchen lawyer by day and a mask and costume wearing vigilante by night.    No, he isn't Batman, but he is indeed blind as a bat.    Sorry, I couldn't resist.    Daredevil, like Batman, becomes a crime fighter after being blinded by a toxic waste accident and the murder of his boxer father by the Kingpin (Duncan).    Despite being unable to see, his other senses were heightened by the accident, which makes him difficult to defeat.    No one would assume Murdock and Daredevil (with an emblazoned DD on his lapel) are one and the same because, well, Murdock is blind. 

Affleck, who later played Batman in three DC universe films, is Murdock/Daredevil and is plausible enough as the hero leading separate lives.    He not only has to contend with the seemingly untouchable and cigar-chomping Kingpin, but Bullseye (Farrell), whose deadly aim allows him to use anything lying around as a potentially deadly weapon.   Just ask the poor chatterbox who annoys him aboard a flight who comes into contact with a flying peanut.    I've never seen a guy throw a playing card and cut someone's throat, but Bullseye does with sadistic glee.    Farrell is appropriately intense and dangerous, complete with his native Irish accent which gives him an added element of villainy.    Not much riles up Bullseye except when he rarely misses his target, which is enough reason for him to want to destroy Daredevil.    

Further complicating matters is Murdock's fledgling romance with the mysterious Elektra Natchios (Garner), whose father is Kingpin's right-hand man and soon-to-be target.    She is no slouch in the buttkicking department either, as Murdock and others soon find out.    Matt and Elektra's foreplay consists of a mano y mano battle in a playground, but in a touching scene, Matt is able to "see" what Elektra looks like through raindrops.    I told you his other senses were heightened.

Daredevil takes place in the shadows, much like Batman, and in some cases darkness.    Matt is a disquieted soul hoping his vigilantism will take away his pain, but he finds this not to be the case.    The movie has religious overtones also, with Matt confessing his violent acts to a sympathetic priest.    Later, Daredevil and Bullseye have their final showdown in a church, with organ pipes used as weapons and a symbolic use of stigmata.   

Despite its darkness, I thought Daredevil was an enjoyable film, in which the superhero does things on his own without help from ten other superheroes.     Nowadays, there is safety in numbers with superheroes, and too much so.    Superhero films lately are CGI gone berserk; loud, mind-numbing exercises in mind-numbing sensory overload.    Too many subplots, too many characters, too little human interest, and too many incomprehensible action sequences.    Daredevil was made in a quieter time for superhero films and doesn't mind taking a moment to have people talk to each other.   

P.S.  (Spoiler alert).   I'm not a fan of the ending, in which the hero lets the villain live due to some inexplicable moral awakening.    The hero didn't mind killing off no-name hoods and Bullseye, but draws the line at the guy who ordered his father's death?    Not buying it. 

I, Tonya (2017) * * * 1/2

Directed by:  Craig Gillespie

Starring:  Margot Robbie, Sebastian Stan, Allison Janney, Julianne Nicholson, Paul Walter Hauser, Caitlin Carver, Bobby Cannavale

If the story of figure skater Tonya Harding and her band of would-be criminals didn't exist, you would have to invent it.    But, could it be invented?   Who could make this stuff up?    As Tonya (Robbie) tells us in I, Tonya, "I went from loved, to hated, to a punchline,"   She is pretty much right about that.    All anyone remembers is the attack on rival skater Nancy Kerrigan in early 1994, and not that Harding overcame her redneck background (her words, not mine) to succeed in a sport in which presentation means us much, or more, than technical skill.    Harding's problem wasn't her abilities, but her lack of couth and class which so apparently permeated from her that it was hard to sway the judges to recognize her talent.    As fate would have it, once Harding began to receive respect from the figure skating world, her dumb ass ex-husband Jeff Gillooly (Stan) concocts a harebrained scheme to take out Nancy Kerrigan and effectively ended Harding's skating career.   Thanks for nothing, Jeff.

I, Tonya is funny, briskly paced, and sympathetic to Harding to an extent.   She was already behind the eight ball thanks to her gruff, chain-smoking mother LaVona (Janney), whose idea of being supportive is to remind Tonya of how much money she spends on her training and putting her down at every turn.  LaVona says she wants to toughen Tonya up, but we soon see her mistreatment of Tonya is rooted in jealousy and resentment.    Tonya has a unique gift which her mother never had and has a chance to escape her humble roots, which her mother never will.    The main players are all interviewed and break the fourth wall to address the audience.   LaVona has such a bruised ego, she laments that "my storyline is coming to an end,"   Did Tonya ever really have a chance?

Tonya thought her savior came in the unfortunately mustached Jeff, who is the only guy Tonya ever dated up to that point and was soon suffering physical abuse thanks to his hot temper.    Of course, Jeff says Tonya abused him.    One of the funnier aspects of I, Tonya is how each person can't seem to accept fault for their issues.    Nothing is ever Tonya's fault, from a poor competition showing to having her lace on her skate break.    Jeff acts put upon and smarter than he was, while LaVona thinks of herself as a good mother.

The king of delusion, however, belongs to Shawn Eckhardt (Hauser), who is so unaware of his own stupidity, we laugh with almost every syllable that escapes his mouth.    His is an obese hanger-on to Jeff who is asked to carry out the plan against Kerrigan and messes everything up from minute one.    He calls himself Tonya's bodyguard, and the media not surprisingly referred to him as such.     But as a criminal, he is as incompetent as they come.   Hauser nearly steals the movie here in a movie teeming with great comic performances.    I hope the academy recognizes him with an Oscar nomination.

Robbie's Tonya wears makeup as if she never wore it before or even heard of it.    The makeup artists do their best to temper Robbie's physical beauty (which is almost impossible) by frizzying up her hair and applying freckles, but no one would ever mistake Robbie for Tonya Harding.     Even if the physical appearance isn't similar, Robbie allows us to sympathize with Tonya despite her bad taste in friends and her crudeness, as much as we are able to sympathize with her.    She wants to be loved and we see in her eyes how great it feels for her to be loved, whether by her mother, Jeff, or the public, but we also feel sad for her that such love is fleeting.    Janney is hardly seen without a cigarette in her hand and allows us to understand LaVona without feeling bad for her.    She is funny despite being thoroughly unlikable, which isn't an easy task.  

Then, the movie arrives at the crime itself, in which two idiots hired by Shawn pull off the assault on Kerrigan's knee and may as well have left a trail of bread crumbs for the FBI to find them.    Jeff's complicity is soon discovered, which wasn't that hard for the FBI to figure out either.    You can almost see the snickering by the agents as these knuckleheads prove what criminals they aren't.   The movie effectively answers whether Tonya knew about the attack beforehand.    She did not, but she did know Jeff was masterminding some silly scheme to freak out Kerrigan by mailing threatening letters, which by the way is also against the law, although not in the Tonya Harding universe.

I, Tonya is narrated by its players as well as Bobby Cannavale as a Hard Copy reporter who covered the story and can't help but laugh at how insane the scandal was.    It was the start of the 24-hour news cycle, he recalls, and the Harding scandal was just the thing to fill it.    Harding become a name overnight, just not the way she wanted.    The movie is told in a richly comic tone as both a biopic and a crime movie.    Yes, the people are sad and pathetic, consistently undermining Tonya's rise to greatness whether intentionally or unintentionally, but I, Tonya wisely chooses to play the events for laughs.    If you didn't know of the story already, you would think they were making it up anyway.

Vampire in Brooklyn (1995) * *

Directed by:  Wes Craven

Starring:  Eddie Murphy, Angela Bassett, Allen Payne, Kadeem Hardison, John Witherspoon, Joanna Cassidy

Eddie Murphy tries to stretch himself as a villainous vampire looking to feast on victims in contemporary Brooklyn.    I don't think a comic horror film is for him.   Especially this one, which is an uneasy blend of comedy and gore.   I've seen Eddie Murphy as an action hero, a romantic comedian, an R & B singer, and even the star of family-friendly films, but somehow seeing fangs protrude from his gums works the least.

Murphy plays Maximillian, a Caribbean vampire who arrives in Brooklyn via a boat looking for his ideal mate.  I couldn't help but think of Coming to America, Murphy's superb 1988 comedy, updated as a vampire tale, which is as ungainly as it sounds.    The mate in question is Brooklyn police detective Rita Veder (Bassett), whose deceased mother was an expert on the paranormal and whose father was a vampire; unbeknownst to her, but beknownst to Maximillian.     Rita has strange dreams of Maximillian and of things to come before they happen.    She doesn't know why, but Maximillian does and hopes to influence her to be his eternal bride.    It seems Maximillian needs a bride or will die, which is why he is so pushy with her.

Complications are abound, including Rita's partner Justice (Payne), who is in love with Rita and vice versa, although they don't express it out loud.    Maximillian enlists a young thief named Julius (Hardison) as a ghoul who acts as the vampire's butler and limo driver.   Not a bad gig, but Julius finds himself losing body parts and with deteriorating skin.    I suppose that is the price of vampire apprenticeship.

Murphy not only plays Maximillian, but taps into his amazing comic talent to play a preacher and a white petty thief with mob connections.    Those scenes are amusing, including the preacher (who is really Maximillian morphed into him) who convinces his flock to repeat, "Evil is good,"   That scene works as satire of religion and is a nice diversion from the maudlin plot.    Vampire in Brooklyn is mostly a slog, with good comic actors being good sports and Eddie Murphy trying something new.   To my knowledge, he never attempted to play a vampire again.

Tin Cup (1996) * * *

Directed by:  Ron Shelton

Starring:  Kevin Costner, Cheech Marin, Rene Russo, Linda Hart, Don Johnson, Jim Nantz, Ken Venturi

If there was ever a guy who could've been a contender, it is Roy McAvoy (Costner), nicknamed Tin Cup, a one-time promising golfer who now operates a run-down driving range in Podunk, Texas.   He has more buddies who hang around than customers.    Tin Cup and his pals pass the time by making absurd bets on just about anything.    One day, pretty, well-dressed psychologist Molly Griswold (Russo) drops in wanting to learn how to play golf.    Roy is smitten and falls in love, which doesn't cross any ethical boundaries to my knowledge.   Molly is surely attracted to Roy, but isn't quite sure the life of dating a broken down golf pro is for her. 

Roy could've been a golfer on the tour, much like his college buddy (turned rival) David Simms (Johnson), who happens to be Molly's boyfriend and adds another twist of the knife into Roy's already fragile psyche.   Roy takes too many needless risks on the golf course.    He goes for it when he should play it safe.    At times, he melts down and breaks every club in his bag except a 7 iron. 
His best friend and caddie Romeo (Marin) can only shake his head and watch in despair as Roy self-destructs...again.    Can Roy actually win Molly and pull himself together to qualify for the upcoming US Open?   Maybe.   Maybe not.    Part of the fun of Tin Cup is watching him try.

Tin Cup is not as conventional as it sounds, which is part of its charm, although the ending is unsatisfactory.    Roy doesn't necessarily have to win for the ending to be satisfactory, but it attempts to put a smiley face on another Roy mental meltdown and that will not do.   Until that moment, though, I admired Tin Cup for its effortless likability.    Costner plays Roy as not just an underdog, but a guy who is trying not to be all edges and elbows.    He loves Molly, but realistically understands she may not want to trade in her stylish boyfriend for life in a trailer.    Molly herself doesn't know what she should do.   So, she agrees to be Roy's sports psychologist, helping him work through his "inner crapola" as she puts it so he can maybe realize his potential.    This, of course, is like a moth flying too close to the flame.    I enjoyed the fact that Molly isn't played as a pushover, but an intelligent woman with inner crapola of her own. 

Ron Shelton, who teamed with Costner in 1988's Bull Durham and again here, wrote and directed some of the smarter sports comedies.    He is not only interested in the players, but the game, and the outlying factors which could affect both.   He lovingly shows us his people with their odd superstitions, their backstories, and their passions which could both help and hinder them at any given minute.    I liked the people in Tin Cup.   Costner and Marin have an easy, unforced chemistry.  Even Don Johnson isn't your standard rival prick.    He is smarmy to be sure and likes to needle Roy, but he isn't unbearably arrogant.    His relationship is based more on rivalry than hatred. 

The US Open scenes have an authentic feel with CBS analysts Jim Nantz and the late Ken Venturi on hand to call the action.    Tin Cup loves golf to be sure, but it loves its characters more.    I just wish the ending didn't try so hard to be atypical. 

Bad Moms (2016) * * *

Directed by: Jon Lucas and Scott Moore

Starring:  Mila Kunis, Kristen Bell, Kathryn Hahn, Christina Applegate, Jada Pinkett Smith, Annie Mumolo, David Walton, Clark Duke

I was happy to see Bad Moms defy my expectations and give us a raunchy comedy with a heart.   Well, truth be told, Bad Moms doesn't go heavy on the raunch, which makes it all the more satisfying.    Any comedy in which a party figures heavily into the plot is not one which gives me high hopes for success, but the movie wisely makes this a segment rather than the focus and that helps move the plot along.   

We meet Amy (Kunis), a harried mom of two ungrateful, spoiled kids who is trying in vain to be all things to all people.    She gets the kids ready for school, makes the lunches, drops them off at school, goes to PTA meetings, holds down a part-time job at an office in which she (at 32) is the oldest employee there, and then hurries to take her daughter to soccer practice.    She is married, but refers to her clueless husband as her third child.    He is too busy watching porn to actively partake in his family.    Amy is surely taken for granted, but one day she pushes back and forms a friendship with two other moms who are mad as hell and not going to take this anymore.

Her two new friends are Kiki (Bell), a frazzled mother of four and Carla (Hahn), an unapologetically foul-mouthed mom of one who is not opposed to sleeping with the husbands of other moms.    They throw responsibility to the wind and target their wrath at wealthy Gwendolyn (Applegate), the insufferable, spiteful, fascist PTA President on a permanent power trip.     Amy, tired of Gwendolyn's crap, decides to run against her for the PTA presidency, which in Bad Moms is apparently a big deal.  

Applegate is sufficiently hateful and mean, under a façade of properness and caring.   She is flanked by two flunkies (Smith and Mumolo), giving us a grown-up version of Mean Girls.    We root for their demise, which is a step in the right direction.    We feel sorry for Amy and Kiki, who are sweet, nice people who deserve to have a little fun.    A lot of the punch lines are reserved for Carla, who is profane and proud of it, but really loves her baseball-playing son even though she would rather do anything else but watch his games.

Bad Moms never strays over the line into bad taste or someone drinking bodily fluids.    When movies or TV shows resort to slow-motion displays of drinking and partying, I sense it is nothing but filler.    But, in Bad Moms, the party is a big swerve in Amy's favor in her election bid against Gwendolyn, so it serves a purpose.    And it doesn't last all that long.    Bad Moms isn't as inspired as better comedies like The Hangover (which Lucas and Moore co-wrote as well as this one) or Animal House, but it maintains its own effortless charm and even some sweetness in places you wouldn't expect.