Not only one of the best horrors I've seen this year, but one of the best films I think I've seen in a very, very long time.
I went into this thinking that it was a horror movie. That's what I expected, a horror movie, what I got was a lot of tears and some alcohol in my system. There is horror but it's shown more in human nature, how selfish we become in face of danger.
This film surpasses it's zombie subgenre - it's a heartbreaking and gruelling tale of a father's fight for his daughter's survival. All other characters along the way are equally compelling. And the movie is a fresh take on an overused subject - don't expect guns, machetes, chainsaws and tanks - this is a raw and emotional fight you're in for.
The paradigm of material being cut from a book to fit into the run time of a movie doesn't really apply here because next to nothing from it happens in the film. It bares little resemblance to the book at all and is completely shallow for it. Conservatively I'd put it at 10% of the book translated to the screen in a recognisable form.
It should be "Inspired by" rather than "Based on" however I didn't find it that inspired at all. It's unbelievable to me that Cline himself handled the screenplay, at least in part. People that love the film will be thoroughly disappointed by the book, especially the PG-13 crowd the film brought in.
The Oasis itself was done an utter disservice by portraying it as basically just a game, it was so much more than that.
Disappointing.
One of the better comedy specials I’ve seen in a long while. Love both these guys.
[7.6/10] Solo has the scruffy confidence to be its own movie. Of the ten Star Wars films, it’s the only so far not to tie directly into the events of the main saga. That alone makes it interesting and laudable as the first real cinematic step of Star Wars ceasing to be a film series and starting to be a “cinematic universe.”
Which isn’t to say the film isn’t closely connected to its predecessors. Solo reveals how Han and Chewbacca first became a team. It features the first meeting between its title character in Lando Calrissian. It even shows how Han ended up with the Millenium Falcon. And that’s setting aside references to a “gangster on Tatooine” and hints of a growing rebellion and familiar characters popping up in unexpected places. Make no mistake -- the film is certainly interested in reminding its viewers where all these characters will be in ten years time.
But it’s also good enough not to be about that. Solo is part-heist flick and part coming-of-age film. It’s more interested in Han’s big adventure in this movie and how he gets to be the sarcastic smuggler we meet in A New Hope than it is in how he fits into the broader Star Wars Universe, to the film’s benefit. The promise of these “Star Wars stories” is that they can use the diverse, elaborate world that George Lucas and his collaborators created to spin all kinds of yarns untethered to the concerns of the Skywalker family. Solo still anchors its story on familiar faces, but tells its own tale, and comes out the better for it.
The big problem with Solo is that it has two modes: (a.) irreverent action/adventure flick filled with colorful characters and (b.) semi-serious interrogation of What Han Solo Is™, and it’s much more entertaining and effective at the former than the latter. The script, penned by Empire Strikes Back scribe Lawrence Kasdan and his son Jonathan, does a superb job at introducing all these figures, old and new, and then letting them bounce off on another in the confines of a rickety old ship and a job pulled at various rough-and-tumble locales. But it falters when trying to use that setup to get at its title character’s true nature.
The film’s thesis on that front is a solid one -- that he is unavoidably rough around the edges, and wants to be “bad,” but deep down he’s good. That is, after all, his essential arc in the Original Trilogy, where a seemingly good-for-nothing smuggler is revealed to have a heart of gold and sympathies to the cause of the Rebellion, or at least his friends. Solo retraces that arc a bit, and weakens Han’s progression in the saga films a little in the course of that, but the Kasdans get Han: the talk that’s bigger than his paydirt, the cocksure improvisational confidence, and the innate goodness that peaks through his rough-hewn if charming exterior which he’ll deny to the end.
The film just does a much better job of showing us those qualities through Han’s actions and attitude than in having various other characters ham-fistedly comment on it and wax rhapsodic about who he’s been and who he’ll be.
The best parts work, as they must, thanks to Alden Ehrenreich, who takes over the role originated by Harrison Ford in 1977’s A New Hope. Following in those iconic footsteps is a tall order, but Ehrenreich makes it work. He doesn't stoop to doing an impression of Ford, short of a few conspicuous mannerisms, but still manages to capture the character’s rakish charm and overconfident, anything goes spirit. Yes, it’s a little hard to grok that this guy becomes 70s era Harrison Ford in ten years, but Ehrenreich absolutely works as Young Han, and the movie wouldn’t work at all without that.
The other characters that populate the film vary a bit more, but are largely fun and entertaining. Woody Harrelson’s turn as Beckett sees him filling the weathered good ol’ boy niche he’s carved out for years now. Emilia Clarke does fine as Qi'ra, who manages to be a little bit more than just Han’s love interest, but only a little. Donald Glover’s charisma carries the day as he inhabits Young Lando, but occasionally he comes across like Glover doing his best Lando impersonation than a fully convincing character (though his chemistry with Ehrenreich sparkles over that nicely). And there’s plenty of other fun, if seemingly disposable side characters, like Paul Bettany’s genteel but menacing villain, Dryden Vos, and Phoebe Waller-Bridge as a delightfully irrepressible droid revolutionary named L3. Even relative newcomer Joonas Suotamo brings character beyond the fur to Chewbacca, alongside Star Wars sound designer Ben Burtt’s traditional groans and growls.
When Solo deploys these characters well, it’s a hell of an action-filled romp. Seeing Han’s Oliver Twist-esque origins blossom into his up-and-down efforts to live on the fringes of both the law and the galaxy are fun and thrilling. The movie takes the viewer to new, scrappier corners of the galaxy, packing the frame with wild new creatures and settings that help make Star Wars feel big and diverse again.
Han’s goals and wants are clear; his compatriots are well-if-quickly sketched, and the set pieces are nicely chaotic and spontaneous, as befits the way any plan involving Solo should shake out. The pacing is off here and there, and certain action sequences extend to the point of exhaustion (likely a casualty of the hand off from the nixed boundary-pushers Phil Lord & Christopher Miller to steady hand Ron Howard). But the core setting of the film -- a band of well-traveled and wannabe outlaws does a job with pitfalls and smart remarks -- works like gangbusters.
Then, the final act hits, and the film stops being fun and starts being serious. There’s double-crosses on double-crosses, heavily sign-posted character-defining choices, and cliché, ponderous statements about who Han is supposed to be or can’t be or might have been that one time (we’re not really sure).
Solo, like its protagonist, has its heart in the right place here. It’s laudable to try to turn this adventure into something revealing about one of the franchise’s biggest characters and not just an empty-calorie escapade. But the film can’t support the weight of that introspection (not to mention all of that clunky extrospection) and becomes bogged down when trying to unravel both its less-compelling plot threads and its character study in one big convoluted finale.
But one thing is for sure. This movie is not about the Skywalkers. Despite an eyebrow-raising tie-in, it is not about the broader Star Wars Universe. It’s about Han Solo, and It is, for the first time, a genuinely independent Star Wars story. For most of its run time, Solo is a standalone (if franchise-winking) adventure from the days when Han was still cutting his teeth as a smuggler and outlaw. The film has its problems when it departs from that, but still shows the benefits, and the fun, of Star Wars movies that follow the lead of Solo himself and aim to go it alone.
Engaging and Captivating, Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri, is a drama that will leave everyone specullating and guessing without ever revealing the real culprit of the plot's main story! Incorporating Dark Humour, this movie gives us outstanding performances by Frances McDormand, Woody Harrelson, and Sam Rockwell, and it's sure to leave moviegoers satisfied, even with the lack of closure!
A Great Movie
ID4 blew the door wide open to the sci-fi action genre. It was the birth of the blockbuster. Is it perfect ? That depends on how you view it. You can find flaws in any movie. The question is how much you let it affect you. Are there logic issues ? Yes. Does it matter ? No, because it is entertaining as hell and the story is much better then dozens of movies that came after this. Despite the fact it is now over 20 years old it has aged well. My opinion has always been that life photography SFX ages better than CGI.
In any case it is way better than the re-quel
You do not believe the story or the characters. Totally flat film that bores from start to finish
I was not expecting this movie to be so good. It really shocked me how good it was. I expected it would be just another teen romance, it was so much more. And all the questions it makes you ask and consider it does it so well, without being condescending or contrite. It really makes you think in a good way. Thank you to everyone involved for making this movie as I would never have read the book it was based on and that would have been my loss.
I just saw the BEST movie! I went to see this REALLY tired (I had just driven over 4,500 km in 4 out of 5 days and went to this movie to stay awake until it was an appropriate time to go to bed for the night). It was so much more than a young adult romance. It asked questions like: Am I defined by my shape, my gender, my colour? Have we a right to make decisions for ourselves that will compromise the ability of another to make their own decisions? What does respect or love look like and in the case of the latter does it have to have a “look”? And, finally, what would we be willing to sacrifice for the one we love most in the world and/or a total stranger? This storytelling is exquisitely beautiful. And, as one of the major protagonists is played by a number of actors the emotional tension could have easily dissipated were it not for the entirely captivating character inhabited by young actress named Angourie Rice. A wonderful journey. A new favourite movie. I give it a 10 out of 10. [Romantic Fantastic Drama]
Home Alone is a perfect movie, not in the sense that there is zero room for improvement or it's the greatest artistic achievement in human history, but in that it does what it sets out to do in a nigh-flawless fashion. It is impeccably paced, shot, and edited. It has the right balance of escapist fantasy, relatable family drama, humor, heart, and even slapstick comedy to keep the film lively without making it a piece of fluff. And miraculously, despite a cast full of ringers like Catherine O’Hara and Joe Pesci, the whole thing hinges on the acting talents of a nine-year-old boy who pulls it off with flying colors.
Because as great as O’Hara is as the mother desperate to get back to her son, as amusing as Pesci and Daniel Stern are as a pair of robbers who get more than they bargained for, as hilarious as the inimitable John Candy (who steals the show with less than five minutes of screen time) is as a polka-playing good Samaritan, Home Alone is, first and foremost, a story about Kevin McCallister, and even at that tender age, Culkin (with a huge assist from writer John Hughes and director Chris Columbus) sells that story like a champ.
That’s part of why Home Alone works so perfectly as a family movie that plays with both kids and adults. As a child, the more outsized elements of the story loom large. The iconic scenes of Kevin tormenting his pursuers offer a spate of perfectly deployed slapstick, worthy of Looney Tunes or The Three Stooges and apt to elicit any number of giggles from the younger members of the audience. By the same token, there’s an escapist fantasy for kids in the early part of the film, where Kevin jumps on the bed, eats junk, and “watches rubbish” without anyone being able to tell him otherwise. There is an incredible sense of fun to these scenes, whether it’s the ACME-inspired antics and great physical performances of the “Wet Bandits” or Kevin living out the immediate joy of his wish to be family-free.
But what makes the film more than just an insubstantial flight of fancy is the way it mixes that holiday mirth with enough heft, enough of the downside of that wish and a stealthily nuanced depiction of a young child maturing in both his ability to take care of himself and his understanding of the world.
When we meet Kevin in the film’s frenetic opening sequence, showing an entire household abuzz with cousins and uncles all in a state of pre-travel frenzy, Kevin cannot even pack his own suitcase. There’s recurring jabs from his siblings and cousins that his mom has to do everything for him. Over the course of the film, when pressed into service by being the all to his lonesome, Kevin becomes a surprisingly self-sufficient little boy. When not smothered by a score of other siblings, he shows a surprising resourcefulness, proving himself able to go to the store, do laundry, and even leave out cookies for Santa Claus when the time arrives. This culminates in the cornucopia of traps Kevin sets for the robbers, proving that he is even capable of defending his house from those who would do his family harm.
In the process, Kevin overcomes a number of his fears, which provides another thematic throughline for the film. Chris Columbus and Director of Photography Julio Macat help this part of the story tremendously by the way a series of normal things are made frightening by shooting them from Kevin’s perspective. From the low shot on the furnace in the basement as it seems to taunt and beckon Kevin while he’s doing laundry, to the scene in the store where Old Man Marley is introduced only by his big black boots, seeming to glower down at Kevin from high above, Macat’s camera keeps us inside Kevin’s head, seeing the terror in these otherwise quotidian interactions. That cinches Kevin’s transition when he tells the furnace not to bother – we understand what he’s overcoming.
The heart of the movie, however, comes through in the scene where he conquers his other big fear – his scary looking next door neighbor, whom his brother described as a secret murderer the cops couldn’t catch. When Kevin runs into him at church, he discovers that Marley isn’t some serial ghoul, but rather a kindly old man who offers him a bit of solace and comfort in a time of need.
It’s an incredibly well-written scene, bolstered by the stellar performance of Roberts Blossom as Marley and Culkin playing Kevin at his most precocious and worldly. Blossom sells the utter warmth and humanity of Blossom behind his icy visage. His sitting next to Kevin as a friendly presence, telling a small part of his life story, and speaking to the lad as something approaching an equal provides a big leap for the film’s protagonist. It’s part of that maturation process, the realization that he shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, that he can’t necessarily trust his brother’s accounts, and that the people who seem the most unnerving can be the people you want in your hour of need. In one scene, Old Man Marley goes from being the film’s great threat to being its heart.
And he ties into the other big motif running through the film – an appreciation of one’s family. What could easily be a trite Hallmark card of a message from the movie has real force from the way the lesson is delivered. When Kevin wishes he had no family, the film helps us understand why, putting him in that relatable little kid situation of causing a scene, feeling you were goaded into it, and that nobody takes treats you nicely or appreciates you. And then when his wish comes true, it takes some time to let the audience, and Kevin, revel in his newfound freedom. But it also show’s Kevin slowly but surely realizing that he misses them, and that as much as they drive him nuts sometimes, having them back is what he really wants for Christmas.
That’s why the scene and story of Old Man Marley’s estrangement with his son is so important. It’s center on the idea that the issues Kevin is dealing with – fear, family discontent, loneliness around the holidays – are not unique to him or his tender age, but are universal obstacles that people of all ages confront at various points in their life. It’s a sign of Kevin’s broadening perspective, the way he’s being changed by this experience and learns that it’s possible to love your family even when you’re angry with them.
It’s also his realization that even in those impulsive moments, whether you’re an old man or a little boy, that you make grand declarations about not wanting to be a part of your family anymore, you may soon find yourself regretting it, yearning for the thing you were so ready to give up. Kevin starts to understand this in Home Alone, and it’s why his sincere plea to one of Santa’s “messengers” (who amusingly offers him tic tacs and can’t get his car started) to bring his family back has weight and meaning.
All of this is able to come together so well because so many of the technical, or less showy parts of the film are all done extraordinarily well. John Williams’s score expertly matches the mood of the film at every turn, whether he’s playing yuletide pop classics or an orchestral score that fits a grand escape or moment of tension. The writing has a clockwork quality to it. Hughes’s script accounts for the circumstances in which a nine-year-old would left alone by himself, unable to be contacted by his parents or the authorities in a nicely plausible fashion, and he constructs a series of events in which Kevin believes he wished his family away and then wished them back in a way that is equally convincing for the kid and the viewer.
And the film is shot and edited superbly, with amusing cuts like Kevin calling out for his mother with an immediate smash cut to a roaring airplane, or the frenzied fashion in which the McCallisters are depicted racing through the airport. Every part of this film works in sync, to deliver a visually exciting, narratively sound work that lets its humor, story, and message, land without a hint of friction.
So when we reach the end of the film and see Kevin’s reunion with his family, and Old Man Marley’s reunion with his, both moments feel earned. Chris Columbus tells a nigh-wordless story in the final scene, with O’Hara’s Kate McCallister silently marveling at how great the house looks and Kevin offering an expression of reluctance, one that suggests he might still be holding onto the anger he unleashed at this mother the last time they were face to face, before quickly sliding into a smile and running to embrace her. Their expressions tell the story, of the way both mother and child now see each other differently on this Christmas Day. The same goes for the expression of gratitude, of near-tearful camaraderie, between Kevin and Old Man Marley as Kevin witnesses his new friends’ reunion with a family of his own. Everyone here has grown; everyone has taken chances despite their fears, and come out better for it.
Throughout all of this, Home Alone manages to be cute, sweet, thrilling, funny, sharp, clever, and hopeful. For films set alone the holiday, it’s all too easy to lean into maudlin sentiment or cloying comedy, but Hughes’s and Columbus’s collaboration produced a film that manages to be nimble and amusing from start to finish, with enough meaning and mirth in it to make the story told feel as important as it is small. Home Alone tells the tale of a young man learning that despite his fear, his inexperience, and his familial resentments, he’s ready to take his first step into adulthood, and finds in the process that what he needs most are the people he was afraid of or wanted to wish away.
While the debates among the Star Wars faithful rage on about the proper ranking of the theatrical films, or the level of canonicity of various events, or who shot whom when, one simple truth remains. However high its highs, a franchise as wide-ranging as Star Wars with tentacles in television, novels, comic books, toys, games, and every spinoff and merchandising opportunity imaginable, is inevitably going to produce a fair amount of utter crap.
Most of that crap can be laughed off or outright forgotten because of how tangential it is to the anchors of the franchise. Ephemeral stories or characters, dreamed up by folks far removed from franchise czar George Lucas, who may or may not have been paying attention to one another’s work, can be easily derided and discarded.
But The Star Wars Holiday Special cannot be. Despite its status as complete and total dreck, despite the minimal involvement from Lucas, and despite its mostly disconnected pieces, the special has become an indelible part of Star Wars lore, the original misstep for the franchise, destined to live in disco ball-tinged infamy as long as the franchise persists.
It is, after all, the first on-screen glimpse of the soon-vaunted “Extended Universe” of the franchise, the first unofficial expansion of the world Lucas crafted outside of the films themselves. It features the original introduction of Boba Fett (who was designed by Captain America: The First Avenger director Joe Johnston). And most importantly, it has the imprimatur of legitimacy that comes from having nearly all of the major players from the original cast reprise their roles.
It’s true. That’s part of why it’s so hard to cast aside the holiday special. As tempting as it is to write off the bizarre psychedelic phantasmagoria/comedy throwback, there are Mark Hamill, Carrie Fisher, and Harrison Ford in all their phoning-it-in glory to remind you that, no, like or not, this really is Star Wars, and you’re just going to have to deal with it.
But given how thoroughly the flaws of The Star Wars Holiday Special have been documented, let’s start out by focusing on what’s good about it, however slim those pickings may be.
The highlight of the piece, to the extent something so dim can be said to cast and bit of illumination at all, is Bea Arthur’s “Goodnight, But Not Goodbye” number. Set at the famous cantina on Tatooine, the song (written by Ken and Mitzie Welch, parents of superb folksinger Gillian Welch) doesn’t exactly fit in with the spirit of A New Hope, but it has a sort of campy-but-sincere quality all its own.
The piece is a Cabaret-meets-Cheers setup that Arthur sells like a champ, wandering around the room and cavorting with any number of rubber mask aliens in a fashion that’s enough to make you believe she has the slightest modicum of affection for them. Again, it doesn’t really work in the context of Star Wars (though the way the song integrates the famous cantina theme deserves some recognition), but Arthur embraces the sweet-ish kitsch and delivers one of the special’s few winning segments.
The other saving grace of the special, and indeed the only part of it that Lucasfilm has ever officially released, is the animated segment at the halfway mark. The short piece was animated by the production company Nelvana, who went on to do the animation for two future Star Wars ventures on television: the Ewoks and Droids series. This segment does feel the most Star Wars of anything in the special, with a space-bound adventure, a shocking reveal, and a new planet bustling with unusual alien life.
But even this piece of the special, entitled “The Faithful Wookiee,” is mostly a dud. The designs and movements of the characters are bizarre, leading the viewer to wonder if the animators had ever actually seen A New Hope. Luke looks like an escaped mental patient who just got back from a makeover. Han’s nose is longer than his blaster. C-3PO bobs along on his coils in a way never seen before or since, and R2-D2 bends and wobbles like he was made via a droid-shaped jello mold. The reveal of Boba Fett’s true allegiance plays well, but the segment comes off as the fever dream of someone who caught the first half of Episode IV in a bar one night rather than the real deal.
There’s other merits to the film. As bizarre as it is to include a scene of Chewbacca’s elderly father watching holographic human pornography, Diahann Carroll sings the hell out of “This Minute Now,” a song that scans more like a forgotten Bond theme than a part of the Star Wars universe. There’s a mildly redeeming sweetness to the way Saun Dann (Art Carney) offers his affections to the wookiee family. And while it gives the special itself no greater credit, the 1970s commercials attached to the bootleg versions of the film floating around are endlessly fascinating as a time capsule of American culture and commerce.
But otherwise, The Star Wars Holiday Special is an onslaught of the predominantly dull, the overwhelmingly chintzy, and the occasionally bizarre. There’s an odd strain of psychedelia to the special, from a parade of Seussian acrobats, to the acid trip background of Carroll’s musical number, to a lite brite-colored performance from Jefferson Starship. The hideous Wookiee costumes look like they were later spray-painted and reused in the live action How the Grinch Stole Christmas film, which would match the set’s hideous green carpet.
The broad attempts at comedy (most of them from Harvey Korman in a variety of roles) are tepid and full of awkward and sometimes creepy dead spots. The long stretches of segments that include nothing but Wookiee growls quickly become exhausting. And the ending, which features a series of Wookiees seemingly walking into the sun and emerging on the set of the local community theater’s production of Eyes Wide Shut, where all the main Star Wars cast members are magically present for undefined reasons, is the cherry on the perpetually bewildering cake.
Still, The Star Wars Holiday Special lives on in the hearts and minds of the diehard fans, even if we’re not exactly clamoring for another celebration of Life Day. It’s a reminder that even just a year removed from the film that started it all, Lucas & Co. were ready to put their good name on a steaming pile of bantha fodder. The special is an insane combination of a space opera and a variety show, a monument to the fact that the merchandising and spinoff empire that’s spanned decades and mediums galore, started off with a stumble that makes The Phantom Menace look like The Empire Strikes Back. But it too is Star Wars with all the greatness, terribleness, and downright strangeness that title conjures up.
That Game of Thrones joke was glorious. Hardest I laughed at a movie scene all year.
I was excited by this idea and love black mirror so had high hopes. I’m sure if it’s done again it will be better. I think making choices like which cereal to eat, which cassette to play and which record to buy are ridiculous and just interrupt the flow of the story. Real decisions where a character actually takes an action that can lead to different plot/story would have been better. And instead of “choosing” and following that story instead you were made to feel like it wasn’t choosing for yourself but trying to choose the right answer which is not the same. If it’s just going to circle back around till you make the right choice then what is the point of having the choice...?
I think it was good once but would hope in the future that decisions actually had an impact.
[8.1/10] Black Panther doesn’t have the aura of a Marvel Cinematic Universe film. Yes, it has the allies and enemies we’ve met in prior movies like Age of Ultron and Civil War. It has the jovial vibe among its main cast. And it has the mandatory, climactic third act battle, draped in CGI and the usual fanfare.
But it also stands apart from the rest of the MCU’s offerings. It is unabashedly Afrocentric in its focus and its approach. It is a plainly political film, meditating on the legacy of colonialism, the oppression of people of color around the world, and the push and pull of isolationism vs. global activism. Though squeezed into the standard, three act superhero structure, Black Panther takes its audience to a different space, one untouched by the rest of the world and, in some ways, untouched by the broader cinematic universe the film acts in concert with.
It is a uniquely, profoundly black take on the modern superhero film, one long overdue, if for no other reason than how it breathes new life into the familiar formula. There’s nothing wrong with comic book movies hitting certain standard notes of uncertainty, challenge, and self-realization. But Black Panther is a cinematic argument for broadening the franchise, showing the renewed, distinctive character these common stories take on, when they’re told from a fully-formed, confident, and different perspective.
That distinct atmosphere is the best thing about the film, alongside the clear camaraderie among its cast and characters. No hero is an island these days, and while the title character has a notable arc that’s done well, the most enjoyable portions of the movie emerge when the plot mechanics of that arc are set aside for Black Panther to chat, spark, and laugh with his tech-wiz sister Shuri (Letitia Wright), his altruistic ex Nakia (Lupita Nyong'o), and his fierce, principled guard Okoye (Danai Gurira). So much of these films depends on the chemistry and connection between the people the audience is asked to spend two hours with, and Black Panther soars on that front, building a rapport among those core characters that carries the day.
At the same time, Chadwick Boseman gives one of the best dramatic performances to grace a Marvel film. Thematically, the film centers on the notion of whether someone with a kind heart but also uncertainty about how and where to guide his people can be a good leader, and Boseman brings the inherent decency and heft to make these ideas land.
Black Panther constantly puts its title character between conflicting choices and impulses. T’Challa has to balance his inherent sense of mercy, shown to the leader of a challenging tribe, with his desire to deliver swift justice, shown when he threatens enemy of the state Ulysses Klaue in public. He has to reconcile his deep love for his father and his deep respect for his people’s traditions with his growing realizations that his forebears were men, not gods, who made mistakes, and that his homeland may need to change and evolve. He must square his country’s tradition of isolation, with the competing calls to share the nation’s wealth and knowledge in order to help those in need, or to use those resources to bring down the oppressors around the world who keep them in that state.
If there’s one area where Black Panther excels, it’s in creating a central character who’s pulled in multiple directions, on multiple dimensions, leaving him unsure what path to take and what sort of man to be, until the right direction is forged in fires of challenge and hardship. The film is a political story, a cultural story, a family story, and a personal story.
It’s just that Coogler and co-writer Joe Robert Cole seem not particularly interested in it being a superhero story. That’s not necessarily a problem. Films as tonally diverse as Logan and Deadpool have shown you can use the superhero framework to craft a multitude of different films with different approaches within the superhero framework. But there’s a sense in Black Panther that the comic book-y elements are perfunctory, that Coogler and Cole had a compelling story to tell about legacy, power, and obligation, couldn’t tell it without including the de jure superhero fireworks.
Black Panther is at its best when it shows its title character confronting his responsibilities as a citizen, son, and leader, or finding strength, challenge, and affection among his friends and family. And it’s at its weakest when it shows him punching and kicking those things in comic book movies that inevitably must be punched and kicked.
At times, Coogler and director of photography Rachel Morrison capture the same sort of raw intensity of combat that hews close to a boxing match from Creed. The close quarters combat of the challenges for leadership are tight and visceral, giving an immediate sense of the personalities clashing at the same time bodies are, and a digitally-stitched but nominally unbroken action sequence early in the film has the energy and fluidity of a splash page. But too often, the film’s fight sequences are a big jumble, edited to bits and nigh-impossible to follow from one blow to the next. Worse yet, the CGI is especially in these sequence -- digital characters move without weight, animated creatures and vehicles disrupt the immersion of a scene, and climactic fights between fully computer-generated figures in a computer-generated world feel like gameplay clips pulled from Mortal Kombat.
Despite the strength of the story that ends in that skirmish, the film ostensibly breaks little new ground in terms of its narrative. Notably, Marvel’s own Thor trilogy covers much of the same territory, from the prince questioning his place as king, to far off lands debating the appropriate level of engagement with the outside world, to unruly yet sympathetic relatives with an appetite to conquer angling for the throne.
But what makes Black Panther so refreshing is the perspective from which it approaches this material. There is a richness to the cultural wellspring that Coogler and his team draw from, one underutilized in big budget filmmaking. The film is rife with different hues, different pleasures and sore sports, that inform the movie’s sensibilities even as it applies them to the smash-and-then-find-yourself routine that the Marvel origin movies have nigh-perfected at this point.
It’s the critic’s crutch to see a film’s story as a metaphor for the film itself. And yet it’s hard not to see parallels between the story of T’Challa deciding to bring Wakanda into the rest of the world, and Coogler deciding to bring his Black Panther into the Marvel Cinematic Universe. One of the wonderful things about the MCU is the way that it can create a cohesive sense of place among different films, and foster the sense, through minor easter eggs and the occasional team-up, that all of these events are taking place in the same world.
But despite having a few of those continuity nods and connections, Black Panther feels like it occupies a world all its own, one full of its own color, character, and vibrancy. At the end of the movie, T’Challa opts for outreach, he decides to open Wakanda’s borders, and share his nation’s knowledge and culture with the world. With this film, Ryan Coogler & Co. do the same for Marvel, telling their own story in their own, but also bringing such a distinctiveness and a specificity to it that makes the world of these films a deeper, richer, better place for Black Panther’s presence within it.
I really loved this movie and the funny thing is I did not want to see it, I went by myself in a bad mood this was the only comedy playing so I went. I laughed so hard I was crying!!! It reminded me of when I was younger hanging out with my friends too. It really turned my mood around and I enjoyed it so much I went a few days later and saw it with a friend who needed cherry up and we laughed our buns off and I could not believe I remembered some of the "Kicker" lines was saying it in my head lol you know it's a great movie when you were so into it the first time that you remember it so well. I will be buying this one when it becomes available for sure.
“The Spy Who Dumped Me” doesn’t take the spy-comedy genre to new heights, however there is a lot of fun to be had with this one. It features stellar locations and a great comedic performance by Kate McKinnon.
This is one of my absolute favourite shorts. I just want to watch this little birdie all day long!!!
This is the sweetest thing I've ever seen. I'm in love with it!!!
This is a smart, funny and very entertaining movie with a killer soundtrack. The soundtrack has a little bit of everything and is choreographed perfectly into the action. Ansel Elgort is great and so are Kevin Spacey and Jon Hamm.
EDIT: Saw it again and it is still just as great.
[9.3/10] At first blush, Baby Driver writer-director Edgar Wright and fellow director Wes Anderson don’t seem like a natural pairing. Wright’s films, like Hot Fuzz and Shaun of the Dead tend to be overtly comedic, include a good quotient of action, and bring an adventure-focused quality to the proceedings. Anderson’s, by contrast, tend to be quieter, more droll pictures, that are certainly funny and have their share of exciting moments, but which find their form in the more reserved, music box sensibilities of Anderson’s oeuvre.
And yet, Wright and Anderson’s films have something very much in common. They both create films where it seems like the world was built to fit their characters, rather than more typical films where the main personalities find themselves struggling in a world that’s indifferent to them or even more commonly, which doesn’t fit them at all. Whether it’s Anderson’s elegant dioramas or Wright’s “everything’s foreshadowing” rube goldberg machines, the environments of these films bend to our heroes, not the other way around, resulting in some wonderfully well-choreographed cinema.
Baby Driver is the apotheosis of this tack, brought to bear in the form of car chases, gunfights, and the best jukebox soundtrack this side of the galaxy (and any attendant guardians). Indeed, Marvel Studios’ Guardians is a nice reference point, as both films not only feature countless rockin’ tunes, but also center on roguish but decent young men, holding onto to the last holy artifacts of their mother, finding solace in music and falling in with a rough crowd before deciding to stand for something more. It’s kismet that star Ansel Elgort, who plays the lead (appropriately named “Baby’), is signed on to be the past and future Han Solo in the latest standalone Star Wars flick, a character who’s very much in the DNA of Guardians’ Peter “Star-Lord” Quill.
Independent of any comic book counterparts, however, Baby Driver doesn’t offer much in terms of an original premise. Baby is a badass driver and a decent kid, mixed up with some bad folks, tentative about the prospect of blood and his hands, wanting to start a new life with his lady love. There are a lot of tropes in the film: the quiet but effective young naif, the loose cannon gangster, the slimy mastermind, the ingenue who represents a beacon of hope, the inevitable moral dilemma.
But what the film lacks in originality in its setup, it more than makes up for in performance, texture, and execution. Baby Driver has a murderer’s row of performers who chew up and spit out Wright’s script and make what could otherwise be stock character come alive and compensate for any dearth of depth with the sheer vividness of their presence.
Kevin Spacey looks alive for the first time in ages, bringing a blasé menace as the organizer of each heist. Jamie Foxx is at his extroverted best, rolling through pointed monologues and bringing a lived-in flavor of crazy. Lily James has enough homespun, wanderlust charm to balance out her underwritten part. Elgort is necessarily more reserved, but equally endearing and a fine fulcrum for the movie. And Jon Hamm brings his Mad Men practiced-gentility in a fashion that makes him seem like that much monstrous when the scales fall.
But while the performances carry the film in its quieter moments, what sets Baby Driver apart is sequence after superlative sequence of breathtaking kinetic cinema. Not content to simply toss in explosive but empty action to keep the heart-pumping, Wright, cinematographer Bill Pope, and editor Paul Machliss create these elegantly constructed set pieces of gorgeous synchronous stunts, twists, and turns, the hum right along with the music, just like the protagonist.
That works whether Baby is blowing the doors off the film’s opening with a series of death-defying terms perfectly sequenced to his backing track. It works when the young man finds himself embroiled in a firefight where surprise shots and returned fire blast back and forth in time with the beat. It works in chases on foot as the rhythmic thump of the tune of the moment matches the energy of pursuers and pursued alike. Even when Baby goes to get coffee, the world moves with him; from the graffiti on the walls to the buskers on the street everything goes where he goes.
In the same way, the film doesn’t so much present action scenes as it does ballets of chrome and octane. Baby Driver oozes with style and tempo, knowing how to hold the audience’s attention through great escapes that and close scrapes that keep topping one another, and quieter scenes where the tension comes from sweet interactions juxtaposed with combustive elements, leading the viewer to wonder which will win the day.
It’s also a near perfectly-paced movie. Like a perfect mixtape, Wright knows when to kick things into gear and when to slow things down to let the audience catch its breath before putting his foot on the gas once more. While the film starts to feel a bit overextended at the very end, with the villain creeping into unkillable slasher territory, for the vast majority of its runtime it holds your attention from moment to moment and scene to scene expertly. In that, Wright matches the talents of his protagonist, directing and maneuvering this complex machine like it were a rough-and-tumble ballerina, full of slick thrills and inimitable grace.
He achieves this with a movie, a setting, and a lead character, that each move like clockwork in sync with one another. While Baby Driver is neither as quiet or twee as Wes Anderson’s work, it brings with it the film’s own sense of longing and melancholy beneath an intricately constructed world. Every scene is a dance, every moment a confluence of sound and imagery and movement, whether in the pulse-pounding races against cops or robbers, or gauzy imaginings of another life that might be. In Baby Driver, Wright has built his most elegant, intricate toy, and it’s a treat and a pleasure to see him play on the screen once again.
Brilliant cinematography, brilliant soundtrack and a brilliant plot, this movie has everything going for it. The writing was steady and deliberate with every word and the film didn't make any mistakes in terms of dramatic idiosyncrasies; From the chekhov's gun of the punching bag to the repetitive drinking becoming a key element other than for character development. Everything was purposeful from the sets, to the costume design, to the sound. this is simply an exquisite film. Watch now
Alicia Vikander is striking,stunning and just so mesmerizing to watch.She is stealing the show here ; every other character(well 2?) seems to fade in ever so contrasting backdrop ; just speechless !!!
A unique and timely approach to a familiar sci-fi trope. Well acted, methodically paced, and altogether thought provoking.
