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I didn't realize this movie was directed by P.T. Anderson until I saw his name pop up in the credits. Some quick googling revealed that this was in fact his debut feature. This was particularly coincidental because just a few days prior I had started to watch Anderson's most recent feature, the Best Picture nominated Licorice Pizza. I say started, because I only made it half way through. Not because it was bad, per se, but because it was late and my girlfriend wasn't particularly invested (I'm sure I'll finish it at some point). I only bring all of this up as a way to introduce some broader commentary on Anderson's overall body of work. Full transparency, I've got a few gaps in my viewership (Boogie Nights, Punch-Drunk Love, & Magnolia), but I've seen all his other features (There Will Be Blood, The Master, Inherent Vice, & Phantom Thread).

Watching Hard Eight, it was interesting to see that Anderson's signature style of storytelling seems to have been well established even at the start of his career. First and foremost, he writes character driven films. In this case, it's not until toward the end of the movie that we get an external conflict that starts to follow a traditional (A) leads to (B) leads to (C) structure. Everything before that point feels like character study. Luckily, Anderson crafts his characters in such a way that they don't need much narrative structure to be compelling. While it may seem counterintuitive, I think part of this success hinges on very restrained characterization. There are few, if any, expository dumps to tell the audience what makes these characters tick. Instead, every character feels like a puzzle, and with each scene we get a few more pieces to try to put together the picture of who they are. But Anderson never gives us enough to have the whole picture, which allows his characters to surprise the audience in a way that never feels cheap or unearned.

While Anderson's approach is almost always well executed, I do think it speaks to why his films are not crowd pleasing blockbusters. The average audience member will need more of a narrative to latch onto, not just characters. I think this is why I tend to come away from his films saying "good, not great". I enjoy them, but still generally prefer something with a stronger through line.

All of that said, I'd be remiss if I didn't also comment on the stellar performances, which are certainly another hallmark of Anderson's films. While no one disappoints, Philip Baker Hall was the big standout in this restrained role that really embodies Anderson's style of characterization. Even in his simplest scenes, the character feels real, with every word and action influenced by some complex history that the audience will never know.

Over the last two years, my brother has turned into something of a professional poker player. As such, I've had to listen to more than my fair share of stories from the tables, both online and in the casino. Through no fault of my own, I've even absorbed a decent amount of poker knowledge. I'm certainly no expert, but I can talk through a hand using all of the lingo and generally have a decent understanding of what separates good play from bad play, at least for Texas Hold 'Em anyway. So, with that context, I expect that I went into this film with an above average knowledge of the subject matter. Unfortunately, that familiarity with the world that the film explores detracts from the experience in two significant ways.

The first way is obvious. For uninitiated audiences, the quirks of the poker lifestyle will feel fresh and unique, whereas those same elements don't feel like quirks at all to those who are already familiar. The second way relates to how the creators have to cater to those uninitiated audiences, resulting in dialogue that, for those in the know, may feel like ham-fisted exposition and/or oversimplification. This is a common pitfall with any movie/show that explores a very niche community/activity (e.g. when doctors critique House or Grey's Anatomy). Even with my less-than-professional poker knowledge, I raised my eyebrows at some of what was happening on screen (i.e. why isn't Teddy KGB 3-betting his Aces?). In addition to those issues, there's also the problem of poker not making for particularly cinematic material. Having to lean on narration to convey what's happening on screen is never ideal.

Despite all of these issues, the film is still very well made and I generally enjoyed it. It likely does the best job possible at capturing the low level poker grind, and I'm sure those who know nothing of that world will find even more to enjoy. Plus, Edward Norton plays a wonderful slimeball.

I never owned a Sega console. I've basically never touched a Sonic game. And, in addition to lacking any such nostalgic motivations, I'm also too old to be seeking out a movie that is clearly targeting a young audience. That said, I've enjoyed Ben Schwartz in plenty of comedies, and Jim Carrey is a classic, so when I was looking for something mindless and unchallenging, this seemed as good an option as any. Ultimately, it was about what I expected. Kids probably love it. I didn't hate it. Jim Carrey seemed to be having an absolute blast, and seeing him really throw himself into an over-the-top villain role was a pleasure. He steals every scene, leaning on his signature style of exaggerated dialogue delivery and physical comedy that could be pulled straight out of some of his most memorable old-school comedies. Other than that, everything else was entirely serviceable. The plot is dead simple and cruises along at a pace fitting of the titular character. Ben Schwartz's voicing of Sonic was solid, although his comedic chops were understandably relegated to very kid-focused humor. While none of it was overly grating to adult audiences, I wouldn't have minded if they had taken a more Shrek like approach and tried to work in some more veiled adult humor.

After watching this film, I was very surprised to learn that it was an Oscar winner. Admittedly, it was for Best Special Effects, which is a very contextual award that is difficult to judge fairly 30 years later. That said, the award kind of embodies my problem with the movie as a whole. The entire premise felt like a gimmick designed specifically to showcase a handful of cutting edge (at the time) special effects. I imagine the pitch for this movie may have been hyper focused on a few special effects scenes, with the rest of the story taking a back seat (i.e. "Wouldn't it be really cool for Meryl Streep to have her head on backwards and for Goldie Hawn to have a hole in her torso??"). As you might expect, this approach doesn't make for a very well rounded film (although interestingly enough, this was allegedly how The Matrix was pitched, so what do I know).

The structure of this film also felt very strange and oddly disjointed. I actually quite liked the relentlessly paced opening, with its multiple 7 year jumps to get through a whole lot of setup in a hyper-efficient way. That said, there was so much setup to get through that when the main premise/gimmick finally came around, it felt like it was a little late to the party. The conflict also felt like it didn't have a strong through line. The competition between the two female leads is essentially (and abruptly) resolved before act three, leaving the rest of the film to awkwardly pivot focus onto the hapless Bruce Willis. Ultimately this lead to an ending that felt rushed and unearned.

Despite these issues, there are still some positives to point out. As I said, the opening was actually quite fun. The performances are strong, with Meryl Streep and Bruce Willis both really selling their characters. There's plenty of quirky humor. Unfortunately, all of these positive elements are let down by a jumbled story that just didn't work for me.

I've been putting off writing this review because I don't really have much to say. It's been just over a month since I watched the film and I'm struggling to remember even the basic plot points, let alone any memorable scenes. It was decidedly forgettable. The entire process felt like a box checking exercise by someone trying to make a globe-trotting, treasure hunter film. We've got maps, we've got keys, we've got booby traps, we've got ancient ruins buried in modern cities, we've got predictable betrayals, etc. It's all been done before, and it's all been done better (shout out to the first National Treasure, which feels like the last film that really succeeded in this genre). The clue following and the mystery solving are token at best, with some combination of hand wave-y exposition and straight up stupid solutions (Tom Holland using both keys to "triangulate" the true treasure location on the map had me laughing in the theater with how absurd it is). The comedy mostly missed, with Tom Holland not able to successfully pull off the Spider-Man style quips with this character (mostly a writing issue I think). The action was unimpressive, with the climactic finale being so eye-rollingly unbelievable that it puts even the most ridiculous video game set pieces to shame. All in all, about what we've come to expect out of video game adaptations. That is to say, a disappointment.

My religious avoidance of trailers has undoubtedly had a positive effect on my film going experiences. Watching trailers creates expectations, both regarding the quality of the film, as well as the story, tone, and style. I have found that removing these expectations leads to a much more satisfying watch, where every plot point can surprise you and pre-conceived notions don't poison your assessment. Unfortunately, even without watching trailers, expectations sometimes are unavoidable. This is certainly the case with The Power of the Dog, where even just the knowledge that it is a Western was enough for me to have expectations. As a simple example, going into a Western, I expect guns to be going off at some point in the film. Well... spoiler alert: that expectation was not met. And that doesn't make this a bad film. In fact, I believe the lack of shoot outs has no bearing on its quality. But, because I had this expectation going in, it created a very real disconnect while I watched.

Moving past my misguided expectations, this Best Picture nominee is an incredibly well made film that just isn't in my wheel house. That said, I had no trouble recognizing and appreciating the quality. The acting is spectacular all around, with Benedict Cumberbatch's performance being absolutely masterful. The film is just dripping with tension, equal parts aggressive and sexual. Every exchange is full of nuance, often with just facial expressions and silent exchanges doing the heavy lifting. The dramatic relationship conflicts at the heart of the story are surprising and the execution unconventional.

As far as criticisms go, the significant shift that occurs in Cumberbatch's character midway through the movie felt oddly rushed. The ending had a similar problem, with plot points feeling forced to manufacture the dramatic resolution. As one last very minor complaint, I was disappointed that Thomasin McKenzie didn't have a larger role. After seeing Last Night in Soho and Leave No Trace, I've definitely become a fan, so to see her relegated to glorified extra felt like a waste of talent.

In recent years I've made a point to watch all 10 Best Picture nominees. It's a relatively achievable goal that forces me to broaden my horizons from the typical blockbuster fare and prepares me both for water cooler talk and future Jeopardy questions. While on the whole it's a worthwhile endeavor, inevitably there are films in this category for which I am definitively not the target audience. West Side Story (2021) is one such film. I don't seek out musicals. I don't have a deep appreciation for extended dance numbers. Romance is not my favorite genre. And I wasn't a particularly big fan of the Shakespeare unit back in English Lit. Absent the Best Picture nomination, the only other motivation I would have to watch this film is the director, which, admittedly, might have been enough. I mean... it's fucking Steven Spielberg.

And really, that idea is my big takeaway from this movie. Spielberg doesn't make bad movies, so even though this one isn't my type, I can still recognize how incredibly well made it is. The direction, cinematography, and production design are absolutely top notch. And even as an uncultured layman, I couldn't help but be impressed by the dance numbers. Unfortunately, the music still didn't do anything for me, even though I'm sure it was also well done. I'm used to musicals full of pop sounding tracks that are trying to (and sometimes succeeding) in becoming radio hits. This certainly isn't that. I heard someone explain that the soundtrack/lyrics are more operatic in nature, which makes sense to me, as they generally seemed to be overly dramatic and on the nose. That said, some songs/sequences still landed quite effectively, with Tony and Riff's fight over the gun being a standout for me.

Finally, regarding the story, I was surprised to find that it kept me invested despite the film's length. Having never seen any previous rendition of West Side Story, my only prior knowledge was that it was a take on Romeo and Juliet. This ended up adding to the experience, as I was kept curious as to how certain story elements would be handled and was pleasantly surprised by the ending.

With Sound of Metal winning two Oscars last year and being nominated for four more, it would seem that filmmakers have recognized the potential of stories dealing with deaf individuals. Unfortunately, this film didn't quite live up to that potential for me.

The unique angle of a hearing daughter amongst an otherwise deaf family is compelling and well executed. The problem here is that the unique angle isn't used to explore an equally unique plot. The fundamental story is rife with clichés, feeling like it would be right at home as a Hallmark or Disney Channel original. A girl who wants to pursue her dream and go to college but who is held back by conflict with her family. A love interest with whom our protagonist has a rapid falling out and equally rapid reconciliation. An eccentric mentor who she also has a rapid falling out and equally rapid reconciliation with. The story beats in this film will likely feel very familiar and the fact that our protagonist is a Child of Deaf Adults isn't enough of a twist to fully mitigate that familiarity.

Now, even though the story feels like Hallmark/Disney Channel, the quality of the filmmaking certainly does not. This movie is very well made. The acting is generally great, and despite all complaints of familiarity, the movie still lands some potent emotional punches. I definitely got watery eyed when Ruby's dad verbally tells her to go. It's just unfortunate that it couldn't also tell a more unexpected story.

For those looking for other films dealing with deaf individuals, I strongly recommend The Tribe (2014). It is much more avant-garde, exploring the dark world of a Ukrainian boarding school for the deaf. There is essentially no dialogue and the Ukrainian sign language is not subtitled, making for an eerie not-quite-silent silent film.

I have a hard time calling this movie bad given that so much of the "badness" is so obviously intentional. This is a lovingly crafted b-movie that doesn't shy away from being utterly ridiculous. In fact, being utterly ridiculous seems to be the main intention. While I don't think that intention generally merits a feature length film, they pull it off here thanks to an aggressive pace and a short runtime that recognizes the lack of substance. Clive Owen and Paul Giamatti are game for some delightfully hammy dialogue and performances. Combine that with the juvenile, over-the-top action sequences and off-beat humor, and it was enough to keep me watching. Where else would I get the chance to see a carrot used to fire a submachine gun?

Now, all of that said, I have an equally hard time calling this movie good. Not all of the over-the-top moments land, and for every scene that had me laughing at the absurdity of it all, there was another that had me rolling my eyes and wondering why I wasn't watching something with higher aspirations. There's also the issue of special effects, with dated CGI roaring its ugly head and handicapping some of the most ridiculous scenes. However, I'd be remiss if I didn't also point out that there's plenty of practical effect work to appreciate, with blood squids galore. In fact, I couldn't help but wonder how much more CGI this movie would have if they made it today? I suspect, to its detriment. The camera work was another black mark, with action often being lost in a whirlwind of excessive cuts.

All things considered, I don't regret the watch, but I probably wouldn't recommend it.

In today's environment of bottomless new content competing for my attention, I really struggle to find reasons to re-watch anything. The siren call of the new and unknown, brimming with potential greatness, will inevitably win out over the familiar. However, the one exception to this rule is when I have opportunities to watch things with others. After all, what is the purpose of trekking out into the unknown if I don't share what I discover. With that said, this was a re-watch for me, as my mother was visiting and was looking to watch a movie. This film had really resonated with me and I thought she would connect with its story as well.

I wasn't writing reviews at the time of my first watch, so I figured I'd circle back with a brief write-up. If you're unaware, this film is based on a stage play, so you should be prepared for a very small, dialogue driven story. That said, the clever central conceit (our perspective mirroring the unreliable perception of Hopkins' character as his mind deteriorates with age) provides a backbone of drama and mystery as the story unfolds. It's the perfect blend of high and low concept (a simple narrative twist applied to a dialogue driven character study). Ultimately, the main thing to talk about here is the powerhouse performance of Anthony Hopkins. There's a reason he won an Oscar for this role. His character's arc through the movie feels authentic, with the entire spectrum of human emotions on display. Historically I'm not one to get emotional during movies, but that may be changing, as Hopkins' performance in some of the final scenes of this film definitely had my eyes watering up.

There's a lot to talk about with this film. I mean, how can there not be when it's almost three hours long.

First, I want to discuss two comps. One that might feel obvious, and another less so. That is Watchmen and Dune. There's superficial similarities, such as length, with all three of these films running 2.5+ hours. In the case of Watchmen, you could also point to the narration based on the journaling of a masked vigilante. On top of that, there's the excellent production design, costumes, and cinematography. But the reason I point to these films as comps has less to do with those things, and more to do with the overall approach. All three films are heavily atmospheric. Oozing with style. If I had to label the category, I would call them auteur blockbusters. This is a relatively uncommon pairing due to the fundamental conflict between the risk associated with a singular artistic vision and the expense associated with big budget productions. In the crowded superhero genre, there's a lot of films that feel made-by-committee. Marvel has a reputation for their second unit directors, who film the action sequences for every MCU film. I don't know how accurate that reputation is, but the MCU certainly feels like it's struggled against a same-y quality that results in some of their films not having a lasting impact. The fact that several auteur directors have joined and subsequently abandoned MCU projects (e.g. Edgar Wright with Ant-Man or Scott Derrickson with the Doctor Strange sequel) certainly seems supportive of this conflict. Meanwhile, The Batman (and Watchmen and Dune) feel like they went all in on a singular artistic vision and, for the most part, I think they were better for it.

Getting into the actual film, Robert Pattinson continues to impress in his post-Twilight career, making for both an excellent Batman and Bruce Wayne. That said, I was somewhat disappointed that we didn't get more of the latter. Thinking back to Batman Begins, Christian Bale's portrayal of the playboy billionaire got plenty of screen time, with numerous memorable and character developing scenes. By comparison, Robert Pattinson seems to spend most of his time in the mask. This isn't a major issue, as ultimately we're here to see the caped crusader, but I do wonder how things could have looked with a slightly more balanced ratio. I was also impressed with Paul Dano's Riddler. His costume was suitably creepy, his dialogue suitably psychotic, and his performance suitably chilling.

As for the story, it didn't exactly blow me away, but it gets the job done. For such a long film, the plot actually seemed to move pretty quickly, feeling very comic book-esque as it jumped from one clue to the next as Batman tries to solve Riddler's ultimate puzzle. While I generally enjoyed the detective work, there are plenty of instances where suspension of disbelief is threadbare as some questionable logical leaps take us from one location to the next. Also, the culmination of the story didn't really land for me. Exposition dumps came fast and loose toward the finale, in one instance with contradictory reveals seemingly coming back to back (i.e. a character gives devastating news in one scene, and the very next scene a different character says "nope, that was wrong"). Additionally, Falcone's ultimate villainy felt like something of a false-twist, making the whole rat investigation feel like it didn't go anywhere interesting. Luckily, none of these problems are egregious enough to drag down the solid foundation.

Speaking of the length, I think there's a reasonable argument to be made that the film was longer than necessary. It's jam packed with lingering shots, to the point where you could probably cut 20 minutes without losing a single line of dialogue or plot point. Now, that's not to say that I would recommend such extreme measures. There's merit in letting certain moments hang, and the cinematography alone justifies plenty of these shots. That said, I still think some were overdone and that prudent trimming could be justified.

Some quick final thoughts. While my typical anti-narration stance remains, I wasn't too bothered by its implementation here. In fact, I thought the opening monologue and set-up with the various criminals all afraid of a potential encounter with Batman was well executed. Finally, regarding the action, I thought the hand to hand combat through most of the film was excellent. However, I do think there were a couple non-hand to hand moments that got a little over the top, such as the Batmobile chase that culminated in ramping off of a truck (although I will acknowledge that the upside down follow up shot, with Batman silhouetted by the explosion as he approached the Penguin, looked badass). Additionally, the finale set-piece with all of the shooters in the stadium rafters was a bit questionable, as it had Batman taking a lot more direct gunfire than you'd expect.

I don't know if its just a matter of age, but this film did not work for me. The central pairing between Michael Douglas and Glenn Close was almost a complete deal breaker. I understand style and beauty standards change from decade to decade, but I was not seeing any attraction, fatal or otherwise. And that's not to say the performances were bad. I actually think they both did solid work. Maybe too solid in the case of Glenn Close, as her character struck me as the type to avoid almost immediately. Job well done I suppose. As far as the story goes, there wasn't much to it. It's a simple premise, and once the train is on the tracks it doesn't really offer many surprises. I spent much of the movie speculating on the next big sequence and was correct more often than not. The ending also suffers from a couple problems. I felt it borrowed a bit too much from the slasher/horror genre (especially with the cliché not-dead-yet Glenn Close jumping out of the bath tub for a final scare. I also think it would have benefitted from a less tidy/happy ending. As an aside, my girlfriend and I had been specifically looking to watch an erotic thriller and were quite disappointed in this film's offerings in that regard. However, we did get a good laugh out of the strange sex scene where the sink accidentally starts running and Michael and Glenn frantically start splashing water onto each other. Not sure we'll be incorporating that move, but definitely something to think about. As one final note, there are a couple scenes featuring casual racist stereotypes that are enough to make any modern audience grimace. They aren't a major part of the film, and are downright tame compared to something like Mickey Rooney's character in Breakfast at Tiffany's, but it's always interesting to see how things have changed over the last 30+ years.

NOTE: This isn't a typical review. Most of it is commentary on screenwriting in general, as well as the career of this screenwriter. Skip to the last paragraph for my discussion regarding the actual film.

Most people may not realize it, but the majority of Hollywood scripts are either pre-sold or written on assignment. That is to say, the script doesn't come first. Established writers may approach studios with a pitch or outline, and if the studio gets on board they will pay for the script to be written. Alternatively, in cases where a studio already has something in mind, often based on IP they own, they will circulate an open writing assignment (aka an OWA). Writers are then brought in to pitch for a chance at securing the OWA, at which point they will be paid to write the script. Theoretically, both of these approaches allow writers to avoid unpaid work, as they only write scripts that already have funding behind them.

On the other side of the spectrum, there are "spec scripts", so labeled because they are written speculatively, with only the faintest glimmer of hope that they will ever be sold or produced. Every year, there are thousands of spec scripts written and maybe a couple dozen that make it to the big screen. So, with production often an unrealistic expectation, spec scripts more commonly serve as writing samples to get aspiring writers in the door, potentially helping them to secure manager or agent representation, which may in turn lead to OWA or other opportunities down the line.

Every year, a company called The Black List surveys hundreds of film executives to identify the most well liked unproduced scripts of the year. However, even the spec scripts on these annual lists, which theoretically are among the best spec scripts available, are unlikely to ever be made, with less than a third making it to production. Despite this, securing a spot on the list can provide up and coming writers a foothold into the industry. This approach was certainly effective for Jon Spaihts, the screenwriter of Passengers.

Back in 2007, Spaihts had two scripts make the annual Black List. While that sounds like quite a hot start to his career, his IMDB page may suggest that things didn't take off as quickly, with his first writing credit not coming until 2011. However, I believe this is likely misleading, as evidenced by Spaihts' second writing credit in 2012, Prometheus. That's a big budget film, tied to a huge IP, helmed by an A-list director. You don't get hired on that kind of project without making a name for yourself. So even if his credits were slim, Spaights was clearly making an impact from 2007 through 2011.

So what does overwritten preamble have to do with Passengers? Well, that's the interesting bit. One of Spaihts' Black List scripts from back in 2007 was this film! Passengers was written on spec almost a decade before the film's ultimate release in 2016. While I can't speak to the full journey from original script to big budget production starring A-list talent, having a project stay alive through such a long development period speaks volumes about Spaihts' career during those early days. And seeing where Spaihts' has gone since then (Doctor Strange, The Mummy, and Dune), it's clear that he has secured himself quite a spot in the industry.

I know this isn't your typical review, but as an aspiring screenwriter myself, I was fascinated when I looked into Spaihts' career and thought maybe others might be too. All of that said, I know I haven't said a single thing about the actual film. So what did I think?

I really enjoyed the premise. I really enjoyed the performances. I really did not enjoy the ending. What started as a small scale, interpersonal drama, devolved into an over-the-top, generic space disaster finale that completely destroyed all suspension of disbelief. I think there is a version of this story that takes a romantic thriller approach to the back half, which I would have enjoyed more.

I think slice-of-life films have a disadvantage over those that are structured around more linear and external dramatic narratives. In murder mysteries for example, the plot alone might be enough to keep viewers invested, as they try to anticipate the twists and turns and identify the culprit. On the other hand, in films like The Tender Bar, there isn't necessarily an "A leads to B leads to C" plot progression, with many scenes feeling more like independent vignettes than pieces of a whole. As a result, characters and dialogue, rather than plot, have to do the heavy lifting. Luckily, this film knocks it out of the park in both of those areas.

Every character in this film feels real. Of course, it is based on a true story, so naturally you would hope that would be the case, but I've watched enough movies to know that it's easier said than done. The central relationships are unique and well established. Not often do we get to see an uncle/nephew relationship take the center stage. I've always had a soft spot for Ben Affleck, and the unconventional role model character was perfect for him. Child actors are always a risky play, but Daniel Ranieri does a fantastic job as the precocious JR. Christopher Lloyd is the perfect crotchety grandpa with a heart of gold. One of my favorite sequences in the film was when he takes JR to the fathers' and sons' breakfast. Such a wholesome moment that almost singlehandedly fleshes out an otherwise one note character, giving him virtues to go along with his flaws.

As far as potential critiques go, I don't have too much to say. Narration has always been a tough sell for me, but its use was fairly minimal and it ultimately didn't meaningfully detract. I also thought that the intercutting of scenes with JR on the train to Yale didn't really add much.

Some final positives. The soundtrack is killer. The dialogue is clever. The sets and costumes are stylish. Beyond that, it was thought provoking, uplifting, and just generally a well made film. As one final note, I should acknowledge that I'm probably biased in my enjoyment of this film, as my own writing aspirations gave me a natural connection to JR's story. Despite this acknowledgement, I'm still surprised at the film's less than positive critical reception.

After watching this film, the phrase that comes to mind is "less than the sum of its parts". There were plenty of fun ideas and sequences, but as a whole the movie was a bit disjointed. After a cliché, but effective opening, the film moves at a quick pace, with several time jumps to progress through its historically based narrative beats and make the most of its WWI backdrop. While these time jumps may have been necessary, and some were even well executed (the time lapse of a European landscape turning into trench warfare was certainly effective), ultimately it felt like the movie was checking boxes without meaningfully progressing the central conflict. I think these structural problems may be driven by the attempted reversal of one of the key moments from the original Kingsman, i.e. instead of having a father/son (mentor/mentee) relationship that is disrupted midway through the film by the surprise death of the mentor, this film has it be disrupted by the surprise death of the mentee. The moment still works alright, providing a much needed jolt of surprise to reenergize the plot, but ultimately I think the original film's setup creates a more compelling narrative thread.

Beyond the structure, I think this film's role as an origin story for "The Kingsman" agency was also somewhat limiting. The elements related to the "network of spies" were almost purely expository and/or montage driven, and were generally the weakest parts of the film. In particular, the initial reveal scene of the secret door and conspiracy wall covered command center strained my suspension of disbelief, as we are supposed to believe that three people are somehow operating any sort of meaningful operation. It also felt out of the blue and very much at odds with what was seen previously of Ralph Fiennes' character. In addition, the film tries to replicate the odd tonal balance of the original Kingsman film, which is a tough sell. Mixing extreme violence with elements of whimsy is a dangerous game, and the original Kingsman's success has proven tough to reproduce. My recollection is that the sequel, Kingsman: The Golden Circle, suffered similarly.

However, as noted above, the film has plenty of successful elements. The action is generally fun and well executed, with plenty of impressive choreography and direction (e.g. even though the premise of the no man's land encounter is ridiculous, it's still a clever idea and nice set piece). The acting was solid all around. Ralph Fiennes is dependable and Djimon Hounsou, though underutilized, is always a treat. Having Tom Hollander play King George, Kaiser Wilhelm, and Tsar Nicholas is a fun idea, although it wasn't used very effectively in my opinion. Despite 1917 and They Shall Not Grow Old bringing it some recent attention, WWI remains an underrepresented historical setting in recent film, so to see another film take a stab at it is always appreciated. At the same time, this also naturally results in comparisons to 1917, which, as one might expect, are not exactly favorable for this film (Sam Mendes and Roger Deakins are on another level).

As some final notes, Charles Dance is really going to struggle to overcome his days as Tywin Lannister, as I waited patiently throughout this film for his inevitable betrayal (I won't spoil you by saying whether it came or not). And finally, the central villain, who I was quite certain was going to be David Tennant based on his voice, was in fact, not David Tennant, which was a nice twist (note that this is not a spoiler, as David Tennant is not in the film at all).

Coming-of-age is an interesting genre, as it often attempts a delicate balancing act of drama, comedy, and romance. This film certainly fits that description. In this case, the comedy is probably the strongest element, though it arrives primarily via the veteran supporting cast rather than the leads. Martin Starr, Bill Hader, and Kristen Wiig are all hilarious, often times performing what amounts to stand alone sketch comedy throughout the film (the unrefrigerated corn dog bit was a highlight). Additionally, the film gets plenty of comedic mileage out of the budget amusement park setting.

The romance and drama elements of the film are very intertwined. Jesse Eisenberg and Kristen Stewart share plenty of cute scenes, and I think they work well together as a somewhat awkward, unconventional pairing (the fact that they later starred together in American Ultra suggests that they may enjoy working together and have some natural chemistry, which is always nice to see). The dramatic elements to the romantic story are a little bit tougher to pull off. Unlike your typical rom-com, this film's romantic conflict doesn't come from some benign misunderstanding or "will-they won't-they" element, but rather incorporates some more serious drama. While these elements are perfectly serviceable, they didn't quite mesh with the rest of the story for me. This really stood out toward the end of the film, as it took some predictable turns, weaving toward a cliché finale. It also felt somewhat rushed and unearned, as the dramatic fallout of characters' bad decisions was relatively short-lived, being quickly swept aside to make way for an optimistic conclusion.

As a side note, I always find it interesting when plot threads are seemingly left hanging. In this case, the lack of resolution, or even acknowledgement of Mr. Brennan's presumed alcohol problem definitely stood out. Makes me wonder if there was ever the thought to add something more there, or if it was always going to be a silent acknowledgement.

I want to preface my review by acknowledging that I am definitely not the target audience of this film. I don't know that I've ever even seen a Gucci product, let alone purchased one, and I certainly didn't have any interest in the history of the brand. I watched this as a fan of Ridley Scott, Adam Driver, and Lady Gaga (who I have been excited to see expand her filmography after really enjoying A Star is Born (2018)).

When I reviewed King Richard a couple of months back, I pointed out two consistent issues that I have with movies based on true stories: (1) minor knowledge of the true story can make the movie feel predictable or even boring; and (2) those elements of the movie that do manage to surprise, often raise alarm bells as I instinctively assume that they are the result of creative liberties or embellishment. Luckily, House of Gucci suffered from neither of these problems. Unluckily, it raised a far more fundamental issue: sometimes true stories just don't translate into compelling films. To illustrate this point with a hypothetical, if a screenwriter set out to write a fictional film about the drama of a wealthy fashion family, I don't think the final product would look anything like House of Gucci. Without the restrictions of the real world, there would be more drama, more conflict, more substance. What we got instead, was over two and half hours of inoffensive but unexciting relationship drama that feels better suited to a simple Wikipedia article than it does to a Ridley Scott directed film.

Despite this quite significant critique, the movie is still entirely watchable. While I can't speak to the authenticity of the Italian accents, none of the performances stuck out in a negative way and the production design and costumes were excellent to my admittedly fashion-illiterate eyes. As one final point of interest, while watching the movie I would have bet the farm that the eccentric, balding Paolo Gucci was played by Jeffrey Tambor. To say that I was surprised when I learned that it was in fact Jared Leto (presumably under a metric ton of makeup), would be a massive understatement.

Prior to watching this film, I had some catching up to do on the slasher genre, having never seen any of the classics. I stuck to only the originals and watched Halloween (1978), Friday the 13th (1980), and Nightmare on Elm Street (1984). While those three didn't exactly win me over on the genre, I was still glad to have watched them, as this film makes numerous direct references to the characters and clichés of these classics. That said, I don't think you need to have seen them to enjoy this film, as the references aren't critical to the plot and can be understood through generous context in any case.

So, how does this meta-slasher stack up against the classics? It's better in pretty much every way. Both the story and the characters have more depth, with meaningful backstories, relationships, and reveals that all tie to the central conflict. Comedic elements actually land, both in terms of dialogue and meta-slasher commentary (Randy's slasher obsessed monologues are a good time, especially when coinciding with clever intercut moments). Finally, the biggest distinguishing success for me was the ending, which not only doesn't fall flat, but in fact lands so successfully so as to retroactively improve my assessment of the rest of the film. For example, some of the acting that I thought was a little too hammy in the first and second acts (Matthew Lillard's portrayal of Stu) is re-contextualized by the finale and feels much more appropriate in retrospect. It's a well-acted, bloody set piece with twists and turns that had just the right amount of bread crumbs to make them feel earned. It turns a would-be slasher into a who-dun-it that you feel like you could have actually solved, which is a nice change of pace from the much more simplistic classics. In the end, unlike in the case of those classics, with this film I'm actually interested in checking out the sequels, which serves as a solid endorsement to its quality.

EDIT: Forgot that I had taken a couple of notes during the movie. First, the cliché scene where a character is in a bathroom stall and overhears people talking about them was surprisingly solid. And two, being a big fan of Peaky Blinders, it's always fun to hear a soundtrack that includes "On a gathering storm comes a tall handsome man, in a dusty black coat with a red right hand". And given the killer's black costume, it's even somewhat relevant.

The third classic slasher on my list and easily the best so far. Production value was notably higher. Doing some quick Googling, it looks like estimates put the budget of this film two to three times higher than the budgets of Halloween (1978) and Friday the 13th (1980), and the extra money definitely translated onto the screen, with more locations, higher quality/quantity of special effects, and just generally better production design. In particular, the dream sequences that seamlessly transition between different locations to evoke the twisted domain where Freddy rules were very well done. Moving on to the story, the premise of this film was also a nice step up, forgoing the overly simplistic killer setup. Here we have an explicitly supernatural horror, with both the characters and the audience slowly unraveling how things work together. Again, this is a huge improvement from Michael Myers' and Jason's first movies, as the characters actually participate in the plot rather than just waiting for their turn to die. I think the critical change is the fact that the characters all learn of each death in advance of the next, whereas with Halloween (1978) and Friday the 13th (1980), all of the deaths were pretty much hidden to the characters until the "final girl" stumbles across all of the bodies. That setup gave tension only to the audience, whereas this setup allows the tension to build within the characters too. Nancy Thompson is frightened to go to sleep, not just in the final act, but throughout this entire movie, and I think that makes for a more compelling story. Additionally, the acting was much improved from the aforementioned classic slashers. Now, despite all of these improvements, the movie unfortunately didn't quite stick the landing for me. Both the pseudo-ending and the sequel-bait switch out felt unearned and anticlimactic.

To end on a couple of positive notes: (1) the opening sequence showing Freddy craft his signature finger blades was a very strong start; and (2) as with the previous two slashers I watched, I was once again pleasantly surprised to be unspoiled about any of the details of this movie. As such, Tina's death took me very much by surprise, as I had assumed she would be the "final girl".

Horror films, and more specifically slasher films, have never been a high priority for me. In fact, until this week, I don't think I had seen a single slasher film. So, in recognition of the iconic reputation held by some of the classics of the genre, I am now setting out to remedy this gap in my film history. This film was the second in my journey, following Halloween (1978). Unfortunately, two movies in, I'm already starting to remember why these movies weren't a high priority.

To put it simply, this movie just doesn't have much to it. Most of the characters are lacking in meaningful development, and even in the cases where an attempt is made, the characterization doesn't end up mattering, with no connection to the plot, narratively or thematically. At the end of the day, the characters only purpose seems to be to die, which doesn't make for all that compelling of a film.

As with Halloween (1978), this movie undoubtedly inspired any number of tropes/clichés, and while credit should be given for introducing such elements, at the end of the day, they don't hold up. The final segment of the film is the worst offender, with the "final girl" walking away from an incapacitated (but still very much alive) villain, not once, but three times. That whole sequence was unbelievably hard to swallow.

As the only other slasher I have seen, I can't help but to compare and contrast this film to Halloween (1978). This film's soundtrack was not as effective for me. The villain didn't have as much of a presence throughout, which took away from the tension. On the plus side, I think the acting on display in this film was slightly better over all. The kills were also a bit more visceral (although still pretty tame to a modern audience).

Finally, as with Halloween (1978), I was pleasantly surprised that I was unspoiled as to the plot of such an iconic movie, totally unaware of the origin story of Jason Voorhees and the fact that he wasn't the killer. Also, I was pleasantly surprised by the appearance of Kevin Bacon, who I had no idea was in this. Mr. Bacon's less than graceful dive into the lake was probably the most unintentionally hilarious scene in the movie for me.

When I heard good things about Scream (2022), I decided that it was probably time to go back and watch the original, which somehow I have never seen. However, I also knew that the original Scream was very influenced by and possibly included direct references to many classic slasher films; all of which I have also not seen. So, in order to fully appreciate whatever nuances may exist within the slasher genre, I must first catch up on all the classics, starting here, with John Carpenter's Halloween.

If I had seen this movie back in 1978, when it was considered a groundbreaking entry in the horror genre, perhaps I would have been more impressed and generous with my rating. Alas, here we are 44 years later, and what was once groundbreaking, is now a poster child for overused tropes and clichés. Of course, I understand this film likely invented some of those tropes/clichés, but at the end of the day, for a modern audience watching this movie for the first time, that doesn't really matter. Large swathes of the movie felt familiar because I've seen a dozen newer films that followed the same formula.

Now, that doesn't mean the movie isn't effective. It's a lean story with a simple set-up that very much accomplishes it's goal. Michael Myers is a truly creepy character; his heavy breathing and iconic mask an ever effective way to amp up the tension (especially when combined with the signature soundtrack). His overbearing presence throughout almost every scene in the movie does a good job of keeping the viewer on their toes, trying to anticipate how and when the next victim will meet their end. I will say, the violence is quite tame by modern standards, which somewhat deflates the payoff moments. Additionally, the ending was a letdown, providing an excellent example of one of my least favorite tropes: when the protagonist doesn't confirm that the villain is dead or at least restrain them, which happens, not once, but twice. I'd also say that the acting was rough in many places.

Ending on one positive note, I think it's crazy that a movie this iconic was still able to take me by surprise with it's opening scene: somehow I wasn't aware of Michael Myers' origin story and so I was not expecting a child to be the initial murderer.