TL;DR: On my way out of the theater I saw a dad talking to his 6/7 year-old son: "Which one did you like better? The one we watched this morning at home [the original "Ghostbusters"] or this one?" The boy replied without hesitation: "I liked the one at home more."
An exemplary example of corporate studio cowardice, Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire is an unbalanced morass shaped into the form of a movie that only vaguely resembles the original. Most frustrating: Even though it's a confounding pastiche, buried underneath the cringe-worthy fan service, vapid dialogue, absurd plot holes, and pointless characters there were glimpses of a film that could have stood up to the 1984 classic, but if this movie shows us anything, it's that studios today would never, ever greenlight something as original and visionary as Ivan Reitman's masterpiece.
Instead of a comedy with sprinklings of sci-fi, horror, and suspense, this Ghostbusters feels like a bunch of scenes from each those different genres shoehorned together into something that could appeal to little kids while tugging at the nostalgic heartstrings of their parents. The result is cynical dreck. Silly sight gags bump up against cheap jump scares which transition into gross out humor. Instead of trying to build something unique, something with a singular vision, they took the genre classifications of the original and inserted elements of each one. It's paint-by-numbers movie making... and it stinks.
Mckenna Grace is the heart of the story, and her Phoebe Spengler is the only character who goes through a meaningful story arc. (With the possible exception of Paul Rudd's Gary, but his story gets so little screen time that it's all but disqualifying.) She actually gives a pretty good performance, and the filmmakers could have used her journey to explore lots of ideas- things like the nature of reality and the coherence of the soul. There was even a chance to center a queer character in a touching way, but nothing goes beyond heavy inference, or it is explained away with technobabble. And as any Star Trek fan will attest, when technobabble is used as an emotional escape hatch instead of a plot device, everything around it crumbles.
Even the villain was a wasted opportunity. The O.G. Ghostbusters villain, Gozer, was a Sumerian god. This new one is also a god of the same era. That's a rich vein to explore. Are the Ghostbusters modern incarnations of ancient warriors who helped rid the world of transdimensional beings in the earliest days of civilization? It's an idea that gets a fleeting mention (though only in relation to a secondary character), but, like all the other big ideas, is never explored. Instead of world-building we get a revisit to the New York Public Library and a meaningless bit of fan service.
Ghostbusters: Afterlife was a promising, if flawed, kick-start of the franchise. I'd hoped that with a return to New York and more involvement by one of the original's writers we'd get something at least marginally as entertaining as the first two of the series. I guess that I'll just keep on hoping.
Full of spectacular visuals and gorgeous direction, Denis Villeneuve's Dune: Part 2, is a tragic, magical masterpiece. Its epic scale feels perfectly balanced with intimate moments, and the story is driven relentlessly forward by a bold script that brilliantly adapts Frank Herbert's dark, challenging novel. The end result is a moviegoing experience rarely seen in modern cinema; as the credits rolled I felt something akin to what a previous generation must have after seeing The Empire Strikes Back. Dune: Part 2 expands the universe introduced in Dune: Part 1, making that first film feel foundational instead of merely groundbreaking. This second film is bigger & better (though not perfect), with an ending shrouded in darkness. It is instantly a member of the exclusive fraternity of sequels that improves on the original*.
There are (minor) flaws, but not with the acting. While purists may quibble with some of the words said - or not said - the delivery of every line was pitch-perfect. Timothée Chalamet holds the heart of the film in his hands, and in the most important moments he lives up to the task. His "hero" is haunted by prophetic dreams and is relentlessly tempted by people driving him towards a bloody power grab. His struggle & eventual failure to hold on to his moral center plays out on his face in one of the most convincing turns in any sci-fi movie ever.
Among all of the uniformly incredible secondary players Zendaya stands above the rest. Dune: Part 2 is her coming out party. The expanded role that her Chani gets in Villeneuve's script is served well by her intensity, ferocity, and courageous vulnerability. She's falling for a man who's at the center of a prophesy that she doesn't believe in. As she fights to hold on to him, she's also fighting for the soul of her people- all while trying to win their freedom in any way that she can. The Chani of the novel didn't have nearly as much agency as the Chani of the film, so Zendaya's turn is probably its biggest surprise, and it was a joy to watch.
Given its 2:47 runtime it's strange to feel like anything was missing from the movie, but my only quibble with Dune: Part 2 is that some plot points felt a little rushed, and the climatic battle was almost peripheral. There was clearly a decision made to focus most screen time on character development, which kept the spotlight on the people at the center of the story. In our age of vapid popcorn spectacles, Villeneuve's choices were the right ones to make. But in a work as vast & detailed as "Dune" anything left out creates a gap that is hard not to notice. When deciding what to keep and what to skip, like Paul Atreides, he's damned if he does, and damned if he doesn't. I'd just love a chance to see what ended up on the editing room floor in a Director's Cut someday.
*Check out my List, "Second Verse, Better Then the First," for my take on which sequels top their originals.
The Marvels is the MCU trying to right the ship... and it feels like it. The shift in marketing prior to its release (i.e. Thanos appearing in the final trailer & TV spots) & the 1:45 runtime are the most obvious examples of this. The film is a good watch but also felt a bit like a sugar rush: Totally enjoyable, with a slightly hollow-feeling comedown. The Marvels has the bones of what could have been a genre-redefining swing for the fences, but in the brief moments where I could catch my breath as the story plowed ahead I couldn’t help but think that the changes that were obviously made during reshoots & in the editing bay were the wrong ones to make. Kevin Feige & Co. are smart enough to know that they've made mistakes of late. They're just not brave enough to make the kind of movie that would fix them.
The trio of Brie Larson, Teyonah Parris, and Iman Vellani have great chemistry and are loads of fun to watch. Vellani is the breakout star of the piece, but her arc felt rushed. In a more ambitious film Larson could have showcased a wide range of emotions- from rage, to soul-crushing guilt, to brooding loneliness, to broad musical comedy. We get to see flashes of each, but it left me wanting more. And Parris just kind of… is. She holds her own, but only comes to life in her quiet scenes with Larson & Vellani. She deserved more of that.
Until The Marvels, the average runtime of an MCU movie was 2:18. The choice to trim that down dramatically for this installment wasn’t necessarily a bad one- it’s just that the wrong things got left out. Instead of quick-cut flashbacks to fill in plot gaps (Zawe Ashton’s Dar-Benn barely gets any motivation for her malevolence, so her energetic performance is kinda wasted), they could have skipped a couple of set pieces and used the technological plot device in act two to do a lot more character development.
Imagine an MCU movie with flashy comic book stuff that felt like an addition instead of the raison d'etre of the piece. The massive battles & awesome stinger + post-credits scene could have bookended a Phase 5 bottle episode that served as a deep character study of the women at the center of it.
We could have seen Carol Danvers make a mistake and be devastated by her (genocidal) actions. We could have gotten much more of Monica Rambeau coming to terms with her abilities. And we could have seen Kamala humanizing her idol & coming to grips with the awesome responsibility of her powers. They could have even retconned the dismal Secret Invasion. (The filmmakers seem to have joined the rest of us in wishing that it never happened, as most of the plot contradicts what went down in that show.)
Instead, Marvel stuck with what it knows, and what we got was a perfectly serviceable entry to the MCU. It just wasn’t as good as it could have been if Marvel wasn’t trapped in the formula that it created.
Just a step above hot garbage, Blue Beetle's greatest contribution to the genre of comic book adaptations is that it is a near-perfect example of what happens when a movie is plotted out on storyboards as if it were a graphic novel, and then transferred directly to the screen. Whatever the noble intentions of the director & artists involved, what works on the page rarely ever works in the theater.
There are kernels of a great story and heartfelt acting sprinkled throughout the film that in a comic book would tease depth of character and complex storylines, but when fashioned by marketing executives aiming for four-quadrant box office returns they serve as frustrating moments in a nearly insultingly formulaic morass.
Xolo Mariduena is only slightly less flat as Jaime than he is in Cobra Kai, but his castmates mostly hold him up in the scenes that they share. Given the bad material they all had to work with, however, it's hard to make judgements about performance, as everyone had at least one moment to show what they were capable of. Shockingly, the weakest link is Susan Sarandon. She's just too good an actor to play the kind of crappy, campy villain that this sorry script calls for. She hasn't got the tools to make her cringe worthy lines fun; she's a heavyweight trapped in a featherweight bout and it just never works.
In between bouts of head shaking at simpleton dialogue & predictable story beats, I found myself wanting to see more of those good things. I wanted more of Nana's backsory (and a juxtaposition between her history & Conrad's), any kind of illustration of Jaime & the suit's relationship, and more about Rudy's genius & it's stifling by the US's Immigration policies.
The worst thing about Blue Beetle is that it had the potential to be a great film but it was dumbed down on purpose.
Barbie is a breath of fresh air. It's a brilliant conceit with stunning visuals, incisive writing, imaginative direction, and pitch-perfect performances. It'll go down as a cultural touchstone, but not a classic, IMO. What holds it back is its complete abandonment of any world-building. To be fair, at several points, writers Greta Gerwig and Noah Baumbach tell us via different characters that none of the "How" and "Why" questions are important; and what's left off of the page in the way of table-setting leaves plenty of room for sly political jabs & feminist manifestos. (The takedown of Citizens United & Trump's Border Wall in particular are beautifully rendered.) Unfortunately, without this connective tissue the movie can feel like a collection of awesome scenes that are only tangentially related to each other, and the final 10 minutes (which should have been 5) do not feel earned... I know that this can feel a bit nit-picky, but my nerd brain craves rules for my cinematic universes, and I just couldn't help but keep bumping up against the lack of any while I was watching this movie, no matter how many times it (rightfully) criticized Mattel, capitalism, consumerism, the objectification of women, and the patriarchy.
That said, I still had lots of fun and laughed out loud quite a bit. Margot Robbie is absolutely brilliant as Stereotypical Barbie. She's a Toy Story character come to life, and you root for her the whole way- right up until her final line, when she exudes unmitigated joy at doing something that most women (I imagine) see as a chore, at best. What's more, the wattage of her star power goes toe-to-toe with - and matches - Ryan Gosling's turn as Ken. He absolutely knocks it out of the park, giving a heartfelt complexity to a story arc that is, arguably, more transformative that that of Barbie's (up until the final 10 minutes, anyway). And the secondary characters from Barbieland all shine, with Simu Liu & Kingsley Ben-Adir standing out from the (very talented) crowd.
The world needs Barbie the movie, even with all of it's imperfections, and even if it hasn't convinced me that it needs the toy itself.
With breathless action sequences, a multi-layered & relevant plot, and surprisingly strong acting performances, Mission: Impossible - Dead Reckoning rises above the abysmally clunky exposition scenes, always annoying just-in-time-out-of-nowhere escapes, and absurd masks that pollute the series. There's a complex story and believable character motivations, and Tom Cruse maintains his fierce intensity throughout- except when delivering great comedic story beats. He's the main attraction, but most of the supporting cast are on the top of their game as well (save for Carey Elwes & Henry Czemy who are flat & boringly archetypical). Both Rebecca Ferguson & Hayley Atwell shine, with Atwell more than holding her own in her scenes with Cruise- even matching his ability to perform incredible stunts while maintaining character. And while Esai Morales crafts a deliciously sinister villain in Gabriel, the lack of depth or even understandable motivation afforded to him in the script limits his impact. We can only hope to learn more about him in the next installment. (Though nobody will ever match Philip Seymour Hoffman's turn in Mission: Impossible 3.)
And those stunts. Wow. Mission: Impossible films are about the ride, and this one certainly delivers. With the exception of a major set piece in the 3rd act that goes on just a bit too long, everything holds your attention and gets you moving in your seat as your body bobs and weaves with the camera. Christopher McQuarrie's direction is frenetic but not confusing, hard-hitting but not abrasive. The flow of both action and story feel smooth (except in the clunky exposition scenes). While I wouldn't call this a classic in any sense of the word, it was a fun watch and I definitely feel like I got my money's worth.
A heartwarming, hopeful, yet surprisingly shallow entry from Ron Howard, We Feed People seems more interested in dissecting the man behind World Global Kitchen than in examining the work that they do. Founder José Andrés (who did not want the film to be centered on himself) is an interesting person, to be sure, but amidst the vision, drive, leadership and selflessness, you only ever see glimpses of the anger, frustration, and family neglect that live alongside them. What remains feels like an incomplete portrait. The same holds true for the organization that he started and functions as the heart of. As his team moves from disaster to disaster, we only get flashes of how they perform what can only be considered to be miracles to get an industrial-scale kitchen up and running in the middle of a disaster zone all while building logistics & distribution networks amid ruined infrastructure. The closest that they come is when the NGO is responding to a hurricane in Bermuda. A team on the ground scrambles to find a way to set up a kitchen so that they can start processing the food that they are ferrying in via helicopter. But just when it seems as if we're going to get details on the kitchen build and the rallying of volunteers, we've moved on. What should really be the star of the movie - the team members & locals who create the needed systems seemingly out of thin air - are seen as we drive past them, following Chef Andrés as he moves from place to place. There's not nearly enough on them. This gives us a documentary that is an examination of Who, What, Where, When & Why, but offers frustratingly little about How.
Like its titular character, Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny exists in a world that has moved on from it. What's more, even though it's a perfectly serviceable film that's got fun moments, fine acting, and some heartfelt character work, there doesn't seem to be a reason for it to exist at all. The movie is all about reliving the past (or, more to the point, trying to save it), and it starts off with a flashback action set piece that is both exciting and full of technical wizardry. Disney seems determined to perfect the art of de-aging onscreen and the effect here is the best to date. It's a throwback that works, as Director James Mangold constructs the most Indiana Jones-esque part of the movie with fast-paced action and plot development that work really well together. Once its done and we fast forward to 1969, however, the story becomes a bit of a morass that challenges even the most fervent suspension of disbelief.
Harrison Ford is 80. He looks great- not a day over the 70 years old that he's playing, in fact. But watching him punch Nazis and scramble up cave walls while keeping up with his goddaughter, Helena, who even he points out is half his age, is absurd. Her character arc is the plot's biggest surprise and forces Indy to ask some interesting questions, but it doesn't help that Phoebe Waller doesn't look the part that she's trying to play, nor does she have the gravitas to feel like the heir to Indy's legacy that the film so obviously wants her to be. And those questions that get asked? Well, they're never answered. For a movie so interested in the past, it never really wants to reckon with it.
It's more than just missed opportunities to talk about Indy's history of "grave robbing" or the casual colonialism inherent in his ethos. (Whose museums do all of those artifacts belong in, anyway?) Even Nazi ideology is once again breezed over, save for one moment when Mads Mikkelsen is at his chilling best when he needles a Black WWII vet. The worst offenses are the obvious callbacks to iconic scenes in the first 3 films. Not only do they reflect lazy writing, it feels like the entire structure of the movie was built around them. At one point Indy grouses about an experience from one of the first 3 movies that everyone watching will remember, only to have a repeat of that film's other most memorable scene take place just a minute or so later. It's beyond fan service. It's insulting hackery.
This would have been a much more impactful and meaningful film had Harrison Ford been forced into the background, if there had been a worthy heir who could have taken the lead in the adventure as he advised. This would have worked as a nostalgic film as well, as he could have found himself playing the role that his father did in (the far superior) Last Crusade. Alas, the folks at Disney's Lucasfilm division seem much more interested in trying to repeat the successes of the past than inventing something for the future. If the world really has moved on from Indiana Jones, it'll have to keep waiting for what comes next because there's no sign of it here.
It's obligatory for any reviewer to dismiss James Gunn's hyperbolic table setting for The Flash, so here is my required, "No, this was not the greatest comic book movie of all time." It was... fine. It's lightyears better than the dreck that was Shazam: Fury of the Gods or the rolling disaster of Black Adam. And while it has more depth than Justice League, it lacks the - love it or hate it - imagination & vision of Man of Steel. For the most part the special effects are what we've come to expect from superhero movies these days, which is to say they are just enough to create the world onscreen and not good enough to wow you, but the final extended post-battle sequence was almost insulting in its lack of quality. Like the movie as a whole, it felt like way too much got crammed into a limited timeframe so there wasn't the space to give it the care and attention that it needed to make it truly great. What we got instead, both in that sequence and through the entire movie, were cool moments that are fun but underwhelming, and inside jokes that are amusing but not good enough to welcome in those who aren't hard-core comic/film industry nerds. If you're in that latter category you're going to enjoy the ride, if not be blown away by it. For those who aren't, you'll be more confused than entertained by it all.
After this middling performance, we've probably seen the last of Ezra Miller in the DC universe, their legal troubles notwithstanding. There were ahem flashes of good acting at times (Barry's goodbye to his mom was genuinely emotional, as was his lashing out at his younger self in the Batcave), but for the most part they fell flat. Maybe the unbalanced tone didn't give them a chance to shine, or the weak dialogue was beyond elevating... or maybe they're just not as good an actor as we saw in The Perks of Being A Wallflower. Either way, it's hard to like (either) Barry very much, and a major reveal in the third act doesn't feel earned because of it.
On the other hand, Sasha Calle was a breath of fresh air. Her Kara Zor-El could have been a triumph if the story had been centered around her. As (rightfully) bitter as she is against humanity, her core heroism comes through loud and clear- as does her devastation at the loss of her planet and people, along with her desire for vengeance against Zod. She deserves more of a chance to shine in her own movie. Her counterpart in the story, Michael Keaton, underwhelmed me, but that's only because he spent a good portion of the film as Bruce Wayne and we didn't have enough time to get acclimated to, or learn about, the changes that he's gone through since we last saw him in the cape back in 1992.
This is not a spoiler, but on the way out the door we get one of the most jarring tonal shifts of all: An end credits sequence that comes out of absolutely nowhere. It's an obvious stylistic stamp on the film from James Gunn. With its music an and comic whimsy it acts as a visual and emotional coda on everything that has come before, announcing that the film that you just watched was The End, and from here starts a new beginning.
We can only hope.
Apollo 13 & From the Earth to the Moon this is most definitely not. Both Ron Howard's masterpiece & Tom Hanks' epic miniseries were portrayals of complex humans driving America's space program, while Director Damien Chazelle and writer Josh Singer seem to think that Neil Armstrong and the rest of the men at NASA were all one-dimensional automotons. Somebody forgot to remind these filmmakers that when you are dramatizing well-known historical events where the end result isn't in doubt, the drama & suspense need to come from the characters themselves. Instead, we get Ryan Gosling's Armstrong showing no emotion and never displaying any sense of ambition. After a personal tragedy at the start of the film he is distant and cold to everyone around him, including his wife and children. He drifts through the story, moving from scene to scene without any apparent purpose or emotional drive. He's going through the motions and doesn't seem phased when he's ultimately chosen for the Apollo 11 mission. This emptiness, which is echoed by everyone around him (apparently there was never any laughter or lightheartedness at NASA), creates a void at the center of the film that saps all of the energy and joy from the climactic scenes on the Moon. Why should we care about this momentous occasion when the main character clearly doesn't? It's fitting that we don't see Armstrong's face for almost all of the Moon sequence, since we never see his insides during his journey up to that point. By the end I was so angry with Armstrong as a person - and at NASA for letting someone who appeared to be a borderline sociopath anywhere near a rocket - that this felt like the origin story of a villain instead of an examination of a family at the center of one of humanity's greatest triumphs. But that's not even the worst of it. Chazelle & Gosling's story and performance choices do an incredible disservice to the brilliant VFX and sound editing that give at least a little life to what is otherwise an interminably boring character study of an absurdly uninteresting man. First Man is a tragedy of wasted potential.
Phenomenal acting from Jonathan Majors. An inspiring story. A "forgotten" war. Really great effects. Devotion had all of the ingredients to be a tear-jerking blockbuster but - tragically - it misses the mark. Majors is astounding as Jesse Brown, a pioneering Black pilot in the early days of military integration, never more so than when the racism, discrimination, and abuse that his character has internalized erupts from within. His scolding of his co-pilot at the start of the third act, which starts as a murmur but rises with every sentence to a thundering crescendo, is as powerful and affecting a cry for an ally as anything you'll ever see on screen. In those moments he rises so far above the script and his castmates that it's almost absurd. Glen Powell isn't bad in his role as wingman Tom Hudner, but he just looks out of his depth next to Majors. The cinemaphotography is beautiful, but it can't paper over the spaces where the story drags, and it certainly can't elevate the flat, nearly dead-eye performances of the entire supporting cast. J.D. Dillard's directorial choices baffled me throughout. Was Brown's squadron some sort of bubble that didn't have any racism in it? And could Thomas Sadoski's Lt. Cmdr. Cevoli have been any more corny & shallow? There were moments when tears threatened to well up, but the spell was never able to hold. I wish like hell that it had been able to.
It's a rare movie that draws tears in this viewer that gets less than a 9/10 rating (I'd give it an 8.5/10 if that were possible), but as amazing a job as James Gunn did in his MCU swan song, he can't quite rise above the weight of the studio's formula. One too many needle drops. One too many reality-bending CGI mega-set pieces. A new character (Adam Warlock) who felt shoehorned in. A litany of all-too-obvious Disney contract announcements as codas. If anything, the fact that Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 rises to the emotional and storytelling heights that it does, even with all of that extra baggage, says more about Gunn's skills as a filmmaker than a straight ahead 10/10 rating would.
The movie's runtime never feels too long as each character gets space to breathe and go through a full arc that is satisfying- though the afore-mentioned extended set piece at the end does push the boundary. The Quinn-Gamora story has a (surprisingly) mature resolution. Nebula continues to shine. Drax and Mantis get more depth than ever before. And Chukwudi Iwuji knocks it out of the park as the High Evolutionary, giving us a new All-time Top 5 MCU villain. (Killmonger, Kilgrave & Loki are still duking it out for the top spot, IMO.) But the real stars of the show are the visual effects artists. They should get an Oscar nomination for acting, as Rocket's origin story and emotional journey is entrancing. It's the absolute height of virtual performances, picking up the torch that was first lit by Gollum in the Lord of the Rings films.
By far the best offering from Marvel Studios since Avengers: Endgame, this Guardians film is chock-full of heart wrapped up in big laughs and punctuated by bloody violence, body horror, and emotionally shocking animal cruelty. By the time the credits rolled I felt like nobody who experiences the film could ever stand for testing on animals (or maybe even eating them), and that Gunn was giving a big "Eff You" on his way out of the Marvel door, daring them to censor his vision: "You want a good movie?! HERE'S a good movie, suckas!"
While he's breathed new life into a moribund MCU, he's also laid down the (Infinity) gauntlet: If Guardians 3 is any indication of what he'll help shepherd into existence over at DC, then Kevin Feige & Co. had better improve their game. Fast.
For any who have pondered what it would look like in our post-Lord of the Rings, superhero blockbuster era if somebody tried making The Princess Bride, Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves is your answer. It's an ambitious swing that results in a solid hit, if not a classic. And while it falls short of being a viable launching pad for a new universe of IP-based media content, it is an all-around fun watch that will entertain and perhaps even delight you, so long as you don't stare too hard at some of the frayed plot edges. The cast is all aces (though Chris Pine is - surprisingly - the weakest link among them), and the script from Jonathan Goldstein, John Francis Daley, & Michael Gilio is solid. Even when they're making jokes at its expense, the filmmakers show a deep respect for the source material, though they're not always interested in being 100% faithful to it. Genre films that don't take themselves too seriously can be lots of fun. See the afore-mentioned The Princess Bride or Eric the Viking (which clearly had an influence here) for great examples. But the flip side of irreverence is a deprioritization of world-building. Case in point, there's no sense of place, as the team jumps from region to region and nothing is explored. Another issue is magic- one moment we're getting an explanation of why magic can't just solve everything, and - literally - the next we get the introduction of a new magic MacGuffin. ("See? You can magic your way in!" one character says.) Magic has rules, apparently, but they are almost never explained or followed- except when they serve to present an obstacle for the characters to overcome. There's an order of spies & supposed defenders of justice that one of the main characters was once a part of, but we never see any of them. At the center of the plot is the fact that there's a vast kingdom bordering the region of Neverwinter that's ruled by an all-powerful cadre of Red Wizards who command an army of the undead. Yet why isn't the entire society on a war footing? All of this and more is glossed over in favor of jokes and madcap adventure. To be clear, the madcap adventure is fun and the fan service is subtle enough to be accessible to novices (a really neat trick, that), but as I was watching I just kept feeling like this could be so much more.
Tolkien's work demands dedicated, detailed craftsmanship from the people who want to translate it to the big screen. Why is it that Dungeons & Dragons doesn't warrant the same kind of effort? And what would a movie (or prestige TV series) from this talented team of filmmakers look like if it did? I hope that we can find out someday.
Overwrought. Derivative. Way too long. These are all valid criticisms of Avatar 2, yet somehow the spectacle that James Cameron puts onto the screen ("movie" doesn't do it justice) overcomes all of those problems. The 3D has been dialed back a bit from the original so that it's less distracting, and the character development feels more natural than it did in the first film, which both suit the story well. Family takes center stage, and what starts as a fight against a new wave of invaders quickly becomes a story of pacifism & its limits in the face of a relentless enemy. Again, the villain is colonialism and the Ewoks Na'avi are able to go toe-to-toe with their superior technology thanks to their connection with the natural world- which is shown to be beautiful, powerful, and sacred at every opportunity. Cameron is clearly in love with the water (and has been since The Abyss), and just in case you don't get that message, there's a gorgeous credit sequence that he beats you over the head with. ("Thank you, sir! May I have another?!") The anti-hunting message is also strong. In fact, if not for one brief moment at the start of the movie, which is bookended by another in the penultimate scene, you could almost call it a pro-vegan movie. (I'd put the effectiveness of its stealth vegan messaging up there with Aliens.) The atrocities of the humans are shockingly brutal, coming only after we've had time to understand & fall in love with the creatures that the Na'avi live in harmony with. This jaded moviegoer was surprised at just how affecting the final act was, and at the tears that welled up. This was a mainly emotional ride, with the action taking a backseat until the very end, and even then it's smaller in scope and much, much more personal than the first film. There' a satisfying conclusion, with plenty of story threads just begging to be explored in the forthcoming sequel, which I shall eagerly hand over my hard-earned money to watch. But until then, I won't be going back into the theater to see Avatar 2 again. As spectacular & satisfying as it was, it's not rewatchable in its entirety.
A fun watch but not rewatchable, I've added an extra point for the sheer audacity of the concept, if not its execution. The script is lighthearted and fun, never taking itself too seriously- except when it does. These moments, which focus on Santa's backstory and the mystery of "Christmas Magic," are far too fleeting. Perhaps a full origin story that ran alongside the main plot as flashbacks would've anchored the film better. It definitely would have eaten up minutes that were spent on absurd action set pieces that tried to shock, but were far too fantastical for me to suspend my disbelief. (I'm pretty sure that the barn fight scene involved twice the bad guys that had been shown in the previous scene. They literally came out of nowhere.) And it absolutely would have been more interesting. The movie's main draw - the violence - was funny, and the performances were mostly good; David Harbor is awesome, and John Leguizamo does a great job keeping his villain straight & scary. On the other hand, the homages sprinkled throughout did more to remind me of the better movies that inspired it instead of bring me in on the joke. Overall, I admire the swing, but it just misses.
