Available for home viewing: All I See Is You ★★

It’s not entirely clear when All I See Is You slides into a fog but it definitely happens. Is it because of all the hyper-stylized camera work that might have been okay in small doses but gradually becomes distracting and then downright irritating? Is it when the film’s sluggish narrative momentum grinds to a halt? Is it when, with the climax approaching, the screenplay amps up the melodrama in a story that previously was low-key? Regardless, despite an interesting premise and a promising first act, All I See Is You ultimately fails to deliver much beyond a gradual descent into disinterest and watch-checking.
The director is Marc "Don’t Pigeonhole Me" Forster and his leading lady is Blake "Don’t Pigeonhole Me, Either" Lively. Forster has directed the Oscar-recognized Monsters Ball, the wonderfully weird comedy/fantasy Stranger Than Fiction, the Bond adventure Quantum of Solace, and the zombie-fest World War Z. All I See Is You is different in tone and intent from any of those but, considering Forster’s flexibility, it can’t be considered a "change of pace." Lively also likes playing in different genres. All I See Is You comes on the heels of her time-traveling romance The Age of Adaline and her kick-shark-ass adventure The Shallows. The other major participant is Jason Clarke, who plays Lively’s husband. Clarke shows some range here, starting out as a nice-seeming, supportive guy before graduating first to a stick-in-the-mud then to a full-on creep.

When the movie opens, Gina (Lively) is happily married to James (Clarke). They live in Thailand (presumably because that locale is deemed more exotic than, say, Brooklyn). Gina, blind for about 20 years as a result of a childhood car accident that killed her parents, learns from a doctor (Danny Huston) that an operation could restore sight in one eye. She agrees to the surgery and, in its immediate aftermath, the couple is thrilled. But a dark side emerges. Reality doesn’t match how Gina imagined things would look and, as she adjusts to life as a seeing person, she is gripped by a sense of melancholia. James, on the other hand, realizes that the "new Gina" is not the wife he had grown comfortable with. This woman is more independent and free-spirited. She no longer relies on him for everything. She shows a predilection for kinky sex and adventures, neither of which interest him. He comes to the conclusion that "they" (meaning "he") were happier when she was blind and he begins to ponder whether there might be a way for them to return to that state.

All I See Is You is presented (literally) from Gina’s perspective. Forster overdoes it with the point-of-view shots that feature blurry images and colored lights. (I have heard that colored lights are a symptom of a migraine…) A flash or two of this might have worked but it is overused. Likewise, we understand early that Gina lost her sight and her parents in a car crash in a tunnel in Spain, yet the movie regurgitates this memory repeatedly, as if we’re likely to forget it.

The movie perks up during the operation’s aftermath. The screenplay and actors do a good job portraying the shifting emotions that accompany this life-altering occurrence. Some, like Gina having difficulty coping with surroundings that don’t match the images she had created in her imagination, are expected. Others, like James’ jealousy of the freedom and independence sight imparts to her, are not. Had the movie explored these elements better (and with more energy), All I See Is You might have settled into an effective groove. Unfortunately, the story decides to take a lurid turn into B-grade psychological thriller material without bothering to worry about the "thrill" part of the equation. The grand finale is laughably absurd.

Had I not appreciated Forster’s previous work, I wouldn’t have been disappointed by what he accomplishes (or fails to accomplish) here. The story is pregnant with possibilities and the actors are committed to their roles (Lively, for example, does an excellent job with the scenes in which her character is blind) but the sluggish pacing and general lack-of-energy creates an impatience that’s exacerbated by the screenplay’s final act artifice. Blind to its missteps, the movie stumbles into a darkness from which it never escapes.

Available for home viewing: The Disaster Artist ★★★

When it comes to the pantheon of the Worst Movies Ever Made, there are only a few challengers to the title claimed by Plan Nine from Outer Space. One of those is Tommy Wiseau’s universally derided 2003 debut feature, The Room. Instead of fading into obscurity like most epically bad films, The Room has amassed a cult following in the 15 years of its existence and, like The Rocky Horror Picture Show, it has become a mainstay of midnight showings around the country. People attend those screenings more for the social aspects of the gatherings than because there’s anything worthwhile playing on the screen. Having viewed some of The Room (I wasn’t able to complete it), I can attest that it’s not So-Bad-It’s-Good. It’s So-Bad-It’s-Unwatchable.
The Disaster Artist is a comedic telling of how The Room came into existence. For the most part, actor/director James Franco focuses on the absurdities of Wiseau’s life and project but there are times when he ventures into semi-dramatic territory, mainly when examining the unlikely friendship between Wiseau and his co-star, Greg Sestero (David Franco). To the extent that there are aspects of The Disaster Artist that don’t work, they relate to this material. Wiseau is so off-putting as a character that attempts to humanize him fail. As presented, he’s like a Satanic version of Andy Kaufman.

Wiseau and Sestero meet in a San Francisco acting class and, after barely knowing one another, they move to Los Angeles together and start on the road to stardom. Wiseau is a shady character: despite an Eastern European accent, he claims to be from New Orleans (his pronunciation of the city is so garbled that some people can’t understand what he’s saying); he has a seemingly endless fortune; and he’s at least 20 years older than he pretends to be. After failing to get an agent, Wiseau decides to take matters into his own hands. He writes a script and, with money not being an option, he sets about the business of making his movie, even though he has no idea what he’s doing.

Approximately half of The Disaster Artist chronicles the creation of the film, with some scenes coming across like segments from one of those TV shows about bloopers and outtakes. Although Franco emphasizes Wiseau’s ineptitude he also highlights the man’s passion for the project even though no one, not even Sestero, understands what the movie is supposed to be about. Wiseau is also intensely jealous and when Sestero moves in with his girlfriend, Amber (Alison Brie), he throws a hissy fit.

Although the story is weirdly engaging in its own right, the best parts are the prologue and epilogue. The former consists of various famous talking heads (including the likes of J.J. Abrams, Kristen Bell, Adam Scott, and Zach Braff) waxing poetic about the importance and impact of Wiseau and his vision. The latter shows split screen representations of Franco’s recreations of scenes from The Room with the actual moments in Wiseau’s film. These depict, among other things, the director’s care in re-filming parts of The Room. (One wonders whether a complete remake exists somewhere.) Every shot is identically framed and the audio is nearly precisely timed. It’s an eerie experience and will give those who aren’t motivated to seek out The Room a flavor of the actual production.

In the end, The Disaster Artist comes across as one of those stories that almost seems too bizarre to be true, even though it is. It’s an inadvertent success story that illustrates how there’s more than one way to stardom. Wiseau gave the movie his stamp of approval; he has a cameo. As for Franco, this represents a labor of love. He directed using Wiseau’s mannerisms and voice — something that apparently disconcerted a few of the actors. (His on-screen portrayal is uncannily accurate, making it evident how carefully he studied the man — Franco the actor is completely immersed in the character to the point where he disappears, leaving behind only Wiseau.) The end result is a fascinating glimpse into the genesis of one of Hollywood’s worst releases and is worthy of a space alongside Ed Wood on the shelf for dreamers who succeeded because of a lack of self-awareness and an epic void of talent.

Available for home viewing: Coco ★★★

You know an animated film is doing something right when it brings tears to the eyes. Coco may not represent Disney/Pixar at its pinnacle but it’s close enough to the top to warrant consideration as the best computer-drawn film of 2017. Of course, competition is slim and little comes from Pixar’s last summer release, Cars 3, which was crass commercialism at its worst. Coco proves that when not tied to the strings of sequel-making, the writers and animators can do some of their best work. This one movie won’t be sufficient to revive a genre that has fallen into a chasm-sized rut but it’s as good a start as any. We need more films like this: family-friendly efforts that challenge viewers with ideas rather than regurgitating tired tropes in the name of placating toy companies.
Coco takes a deep dip into Mexican culture by setting the movie south of the border on the Dia de Muertos (Day of the Dead), when the spirits of the departed can visit their living relatives. This isn’t the first animated film to honor the holiday — Guillermo del Toro’s 2014 The Book of Life has already plowed this fertile ground. However, while there are superficial similarities (in the same way that two movies set at Christmas would be expected to share certain images), the plots are divergent. Coco seems to draw more inspiration from Pixar’s own Ratatouille and Hayao Miyazaki’s Spirited Away than The Book of Life.

Director Lee Unkrich brings a rich and respected animated filmography to this project. He was the co-director for Toy Story 2, Monsters Inc., and Finding Nemo. He was then the primary director for Toy Story 3. Without question, he understands how to blend child-appropriate material with mature themes. Toy Story 3 is one of the most successful "works on two levels" films and, although Coco falls short of that achievement, it is strong enough to engage viewers young and old alike. Music is an important aspect of the movie and Coco hits many of the right notes.

In the Rivera household, music is banned. The ban dates back several generations, when a woman, Mama Imelda (Alanna Ubach), was abandoned by her musician husband and left to raise her daughter alone. Despite the prohibition imposed by his great-great-grandmother, however, Miguel (Anthony Gonzalez) has a song in his heart and a tune on his lips. Bolstered by the "do whatever is necessary to follow your dream" motto of his idol, Ernesto de la Cruz (Benjamin Bratt), Miguel seeks to prove himself in a talent contest but his unorthodox means of obtaining an instrument catapult him and his dog Dante into the Land of the Dead, where he meets not only Hector (Gael Garcia Bernal), a good-natured con-artist, but many of his forebears, including Mama Imelda. Not being a spirit, Miguel has until dawn to return to the Land of the Living lest he remain trapped forever. But when Mama Imelda offers to send him back, he balks at her condition and instead seeks out Ernesto de la Cruz, with whom he believes he shares a special connection.

Putting aside the songs, which are unremarkable, Coco has most of the requisites that make animated movies popular: the (young) protagonist is likeable, the animal sidekick has cute antics, the villain is suitably nasty, and there’s heart and soul to the proceedings. Visually, the movie doesn’t attempt to top every previous Pixar effort — something that would be difficult considering the studio’s output in recent years. A few scenes, such as a panoramic view of The Land of the Dead, "pop" but much of the movie is more interested in emphasizing the Mexican culture than outdoing earlier features.

Family, a common theme in Disney movies, is front-and-center in Coco. The narrative focuses on Miguel’s desire to find his father, Hector’s love for his daughter, and the shared bond that develops between the two. The emotional aspect of the movie is handled with delicacy and just enough manipulation to ensure that even the iciest heart will melt a little. The movie also highlights Dia de Muertos customs and uses them to open a portal into a fantasy world. As in many good animated films, there’s plenty of comedy to go along with the occasional doses of pathos. The film also addresses death in a manner that younger viewers may relate to — not as a big, scary end but as a subtle transition to something else.

When not pandering exclusively to children, animation can be a wonderful outlet for a filmmaker’s creativity, opening vistas that are wider and more expansive than anything found in a live-action production. In its early days, Pixar did this with regularity. In recent years, financial expectations have forced the studio to take commercially secure but not necessarily rewarding avenues. Coco may not be a blockbuster but it’s a welcome return to a variety of animated fare that prizes inspiration over safety.

Available for home viewing: Wonder ★★½

At the risk of being called a curmudgeon, let me voice a dissenting opinion about Wonder, a "family drama" that veers too far into saccharine fantasy for its messages about tolerance and anti-bullying to sound a clear and genuine note. Oh, to be sure, Wonder’s heart is in the right place. It wants to be a life-affirming, uplifting story about the triumph of the underdog but the movie ignores the full cruelty of upper elementary school life and sugarcoats the degree to which bullying can erode the day-to-day experience of a victim. Because Wonder wants to attract viewers of all ages and seeks to provide a "positive" experience, it glosses over the darker aspects that a story of this sort should address. In doing so, it at times feels dishonest and the Pollyanna-ish ending borders on cloying.
That being said, I can understand where there is value in showing this film to younger children because the message, albeit sanitized, will resonate. A 10-year old watching Wonder will have a different experience than an adult. Bullied children may find some solace in observing the difficulties encountered by fifth grader Auggie (Jacob Tremblay) and how he pushes through them. And bullies may stop a moment to consider their actions. The movie, as brought to the screen by Stephen Chbosky (The Perks of Being a Wallflower), who co-wrote the adaptation of R.J. Palacio’s novel, lacks sufficient dramatic heft to be considered the "full package." It’s too determined to jerk tears, manipulate emotions, and tie all the loose ends of life into tidy package.

Until the first day of fifth grade, Auggie has been home-schooled. The reason is obvious the first time we meet him: his appearance, the result of more than two-dozen operations, is a mass of scars and misshapen tissue that illustrate how far medical science has to go before claiming victory over facial deformities. Auggie knows the reactions he will provoke: stares, uncomfortable glances away, and more stares. He’s prepared for these things and for the aversion and isolation that will accompany them but they hurt nonetheless. His educators, especially English teacher Mr. Browne (Daveed Diggs), are helpful, as is the headmaster of the private school, Mr. Tushman (Mandy Patinkin), but Auggie’s first day isn’t a good one. Things improve, however, when he makes his first friend: Jack Will (Noah Jupe), the first boy brave enough to risk being ostracized by bully Julian (Bryce Gheisar) for socializing with someone who looks like Darth Sidious.

Wonder explores the stories of other characters. Perhaps the most interesting is Via (Izabela Vidovic), Auggie’s older sister. Via’s experience is that of the "normal" sibling who becomes an afterthought in a family where the parents’ attention is focused on the special-needs child. Via doesn’t openly resent that Auggie gets the lion’s share of the attention available from her mother, Isabel (Julia Roberts), and father, Nate (Owen Wilson), but it’s obvious that she craves more in the way of affection and validation. Her life goes into a tailspin when her best friend, Miranda (Danielle Rose Russell), inexplicably breaks contact with her. Fortunately, when one door closes another opens and Via finds solace in school theater and a new boyfriend, Justin (Nadji Jeter).

Acting is one of Wonder’s strong suits. Trembly, the child trapped with Oscar-winner Brie Larson in Room, presents Auggie as an inspirational figure when he could easily have been a tragic one. Vidovic, a TV regular, shows a range and maturity that argues in favor of her pursuing substantive roles in the future. The adult performers — Roberts, Wilson, and Patinkin — remain mostly in the background. This isn’t their story and none attempts to leap forward and grab the spotlight. Roberts and Wilson portray parents who love their children but have divergent parenting styles and Patinkin plays the headmaster/principal every child wishes he/she could have.

From its imagination-tinged opening to its Kumbaya ending, Wonder never forgets that its primary mission is to provide viewers with a non-threatening, warm-and-fuzzy experience. When conflict arises, as it must in all dramas, it’s never too intense or wrenching. By soft-peddling the narrative, the film may be underestimating its core audience. A movie like A Monster Calls, which targets the same general age range (and was also based on a book), doesn’t feel the need to carve out a "safe space" for its viewers. A Monster Calls is ultimately cathartic and uplifting but it acknowledges and confronts the unvarnished ugliness that lurks in dark corners. The result imparts a life-lesson while also delivering compelling drama. Wonder lacks the latter quality and it’s reasonable to question how strong its commitment is to the former.

Available for home viewing: The Man Who Invented Christmas ★★

The Man Who Invented Christmas conflates the biography of Charles Dickens (at least until 1843) with the events of one of his seminal works, A Christmas Carol. Watching the film leads one to the conclusion that, although the story might have worked as a straightforward bio-pic or a new adaptation of A Christmas Carol, it founders as-is. The way it has been presented, with forced and artificial junctions, keeps the viewer at arms-length from the story and creates questions about the historicity of some scenes.
The movie opens with a brief prologue set during the author’s 1842 New York city visit then picks up again in 1843 as, with debts burgeoning and another child on the way, Dickens (Dan Stevens) finds himself in desperate need of a successful book — at a time when he is "blocked." The majority of the film depicts the various external influences that caused different elements to be present in A Christmas Carol as well as interactions between the author and one of his most famous characters, Ebenezer Scrooge (Christopher Plummer). His love-hate relationship with his spendthrift father, John (Jonathan Pryce), provides some dramatic fuel as do his memories of long, unpleasant days spent as a child working at Warren’s Blacking Warehouse.

The film moves into questionable territory when it sets up Scrooge as an analog for Dickens and the "conversations" between writer and creation don’t work despite a strong performance by Plummer as the latter. The depictions of a few limited moments from A Christmas Carol are truncated and half-hearted; those hoping for more than a flavor of the story would be better served by seeking out one of several excellent adaptations. (The most notable, although by no means the only ones, are 1951’s classic Scrooge and a 1984 made-for-TV version starring George C. Scott.) The movie also offers a feeble dramatization of the writing process, having us believe that Dickens ranted and raved and talked to unseen apparitions while composing his story. (The reality is that most of A Christmas Carol was developed during long walks the author took through the streets of London.)

The movie’s attempts to humanize the legend are only moderately successful due in part to a lackluster performance by Stevens (who played The Beast in the recent live-action adaptation of the Disney musical Beauty and the Beast). Some is also the fault of the screenplay, which seems determined to mix the accepted real-life influences of A Christmas Carol with a litany of made-up ones. The idea that Dickens came up with the "elusive" ending during a late-night visit to the ruins of the blacking warehouse is the height of absurdity and is neither believable nor dramatically sound. To give some credit to director Bharat Nalluri, the set design is exceptional. The Victorian Era London is impeccably crafted, which makes Stevens’ anachronistic performance all the more off-putting.

The title refers to Dickens’ role in reviving Christmas traditions and observances during the Victorian era. At the time when he wrote A Christmas Carol, the holiday was regaining popularity but there’s little doubt that the publication of the novella reinforced this trend. Social aspects of Christmas, especially those related to giving and spending time with family, were influenced by A Christmas Carol, so it’s not unreasonable to assert that the novelist was, to a degree, "the man who invented Christmas". Unfortunately, the movie bearing that name isn’t nearly as magical as one might hope. As interesting as it might sound to have an author and his creation conversing about weighty subjects like generosity and social injustice, the concept is more tantalizing than the execution. In terms of content, The Man Who Invented Christmas contains nothing inappropriate for family viewing, but I’d be hard-pressed to find a family that would find the experience enriching. It’s unlikely that watching this film will become the next great holiday tradition.

Available for home viewing: Justice League ★★

A word about spoilers in this review: For the most part, I have tried to avoid them. However, there is one development that I will openly reference. For many people, especially those who know about the behind-the-scenes details, this won’t be a surprise. However, it is a major plot point and those approaching the movie with a blank slate might not want to know about it. The first three paragraphs are safe to read for anyone. Those who have no clue what I’m hinting at, however, may want to come back after seeing the movie before proceeding beyond that point.
When Marvel mapped out the trajectory for their Cinematic Universe, they were sometimes criticized for overthinking and overplanning. Nearly every major hero — Iron Man, Hulk, Captain America, Thor — had his own movie. Many of the secondary characters (including the villain) boasted significant screen time in one or more of the first five films. Only once all these things had been accomplished were the characters brought together for The Avengers. The formula worked. The Avengers was popcorn bliss, a superhero nirvana.

DC, however, came late to the party. Riding the critical and popular success of Christopher Nolan’s Batman trilogy and smarting from the disappointing performance of Bryan Singer’s Superman Returns, they dithered and dallied and didn’t begin planning out the post-Dark Knight campaign until the MCU movie count was past the half-dozen mark and rising. The late start resulted in a rushed and ununified approach. Justice League arrives with three major characters who haven’t previously been introduced. As a result, this film has a lot of heavy background lifting to do — too much, in fact, for it to be able to tell a worthwhile story. Seventy percent of the movie is set-up for future tales. The rest is an overlong smack-down between our heroes and possibly the worst villain ever to appear in a comic book picture.

Marvel movies, for all their flaws, are almost always fun. Yes, the action and plotting follow familiar trajectories but there's usually wit in the screenplay and energy in the execution. Why is it that so many recent DC films (Wonder Woman excepted) feel like work? Why are the visuals so dark and muddy? I’ve said it before: Christopher Nolan understood how to make the darkness organic and necessary to the films, a part of their essential DNA. Not so with the DCEU films. The only one that really succeeds, Wonder Woman, does so in large part because director Patty Jenkins subscribed to a different aesthetic. Even though Zack Snyder was replaced late in the proceedings by The Avengers’ Joss Whedon (as a result of a personal tragedy), Justice League adheres too closely to the tone that hamstrung Man of Steel and Batman v Superman. Yes, there are more one-liners and some openly comedic scenes but there’s a vast gulf between the oh-so-serious events of Justice League and the antics of Thor: Ragnarok.

Narrative-wise, Justice League is forced to do too many things. It has to re-unite Wonder Woman (Gal Gadot), fresh off her own film, with the Ben Affleck iteration of Batman. (Because Affleck hasn’t yet gotten his own stand-alone film, we still don’t really know this rendition of The Dark Knight, except that his costume is bluer than his immediate predecessor’s and his Bat Cave is more high-tech. It would have helped immeasurably if the DCEU had taken the time for a proper re-introduction of a signature character.) To help in that department, it brings back supporting players Queen Hippolyta (Connie Nielsen), Alfred (Jeremy Irons), and Commissioner Gordon (J.K. Simmons). The movie also has to introduce Aquaman (Jason Momoa), The Flash (Ezra Miller), and Cyborg (Ray Fisher), and provide them with mini-origin stories. Then there’s the necessity of resurrecting Superman (Henry Cavill), because that character remains a key foundation of any DCEU movie even though he "died" at the end of Batman v Superman. Lois Lane (Amy Adams) and Martha Kent (Diane Lane) are on hand to represent the Superman support section.

As if all this wasn’t enough, Justice League also feels compelled to give us a Big Bad Guy whose muddled purpose has something to do with becoming a new god and possibly preparing the way for Darkseid, who might end up becoming the DCEU’s version of Thanos. This McGuffin-villain, Steppenwolf (a motion-captured Ciaran Hinds), has a poorly-defined backstory and no personality beyond crush-destroy-burn. He provides the catalyst that brings the Justice League together. In the grand scheme of things, he is inconsequential.

Although screen time is carefully parceled out, Snyder ensures that each Justice League member gets a moment to shine. In the wake of Wonder Woman’s success, one might expect to see more of Diana Prince in the final cut but the massive box office windfall from that film hit too late for her role to be substantially beefed up for Justice League (although she still has more screen time than anyone other than Batman). Fortunately, there’s good chemistry among the various actors and the yin/yang friendship/rivalry aspects of The Justice League members work well. Of the supporting cast members, Adams and Irons are well-utilized. Everyone else is extraneous.

There’s a lot of battling during Justice League but much of it falls into the been-there-done-that category: explosions, waves of power, bad CGI, superheroes getting knocked down only to get up again, etc. It’s all familiar by now and not all that interesting. Steppenwolf is a lackluster bad guy whose powers were taken from the Comic Book Villain Cliché Shelf and whose eventual fate provokes little more than a yawn. While Justice League mostly succeeds in assembling the title team and getting the internal dynamic right, it fails in crafting a memorable or imposing villain.

Kudos to Danny Elfman, who went back to basics for his score, drawing heavily on his own theme from Batman (1989) but not ignoring the previous work of other composers (both recent and not-so-recent). I also loved the use of Leonard Cohen's "Everybody Knows" as the opening theme. However, it's not a good sign when I have to fall back on the music as arguably the most praiseworthy aspect of Justice League.

Now that Warner Brothers has gotten this movie out of their system, maybe they can take a step back and spend a few movies developing the characters and the DCEU in general. At the moment, Justice League 2 has neither a crew nor a release date, which is probably a good thing. The next time these characters band together, perhaps they will do so with stronger backgrounds, a real sense of purpose, and a story that’s more than a cobbled-together mess. In concept, The Justice League has more potential than The Avengers. Now it’s up to the DCEU scribes to tap into that potential and make it real — something they have thus far failed at in four out of five tries, including this one.

Sending secret codes

All movie trailers are meant to be enticing — vehicles to encourage you to spend money to see the entire film. Some work better, for me, than others and this is one of those. The movie opens June 22.

Available for home viewing: The Shape of Water ★★★½

Although Guillermo del Toro was never given the opportunity to bring his vision of The Hobbit to the screen, movie-goers over the years have not been deprived of his brand of horror-tinged fantasy. With his latest, the story is a variation on Beauty and the Beast with a "monster" who resembles the Creature from the Black Lagoon. Yet, as is sometimes the case in tales of this nature, appearance is no determiner of true beauty, and gentleness and compassion rarely go unrewarded. The Shape of Water is an adult fairy tale that encourages the same emotional responses often engendered by such simple, heartfelt stories. It’s hard to come away from this film and not believe that, in his heart, writer/director del Toro is a romantic.

The movie is set in the 1960s and, as with del Toro’s Pan’s Labyrinth, real world concerns (in this case, Cold War espionage) are conflated with fantasy. The three protagonists are members of a minority or suffer from a disability — Sally Hawkins’ Elisa is mute, Octavia Spencer’s Zelda is black, and Richard Jenkins’ Giles is a closeted gay man — while the antagonist, Michael Shannon’s Strickland, is a clean-cut, hard-working WASP. By thus establishing the foundation, del Toro is able to make a social statement before introducing the merman into the equation. The Shape of Water is very much about cultural and racial myth-busting.

Hawkins is one of the most accomplished working character actors but she is not what one would consider to be conventionally beautiful. She looks more like a next-door neighbor than a movie actress. For The Shape of Water, it doesn’t matter — you’ll fall in love with her in what amounts to the best performance of a career of often overlooked top-notch portrayals. She’s luminous. She sells the movie, transforming an inter-species romance into something delicate and delightful. And she does all this without a line of dialogue. Purportedly, in order to play Elisa, she studied Chaplin and other silent film greats and, through this, discovered how to convey emotion through gestures and expressions.

Few actors can play a handsome monster better than Shannon. The guy is scary and intense and that intensity makes Strickland a frightening villain: a sadist, a butcher, and the ugliest sort of patriot. Even in his home life — a typical suburban existence — he’s a coiled spring ready to go off. Jenkins, playing a part originally envisioned for Ian McKellan, mixes wry humor with deep humanity as Giles, Elisa’s father-figure. An underused Spencer brings warmth to the stereotyped "best friend" role and Doug Jones, a frequent collaborator of the director (he played the Pale Man in Pan’s Labyrinth), imbues the amphibious man with a degree of humanity that might have been difficult to achieve via motion capture (del Toro opted for the old-fashioned 3-hour makeup job instead of pure CGI).

The movie opens by introducing us to Elisa and providing a snapshot of her daily routine. She makes a living by working as a cleaning woman at a military facility. After work, she comes home to an apartment she shares with Giles and goes about her nightly activities: hard-boiling eggs, taking a bath, and masturbating. All the while, the muffled sounds of movies float up from below; the apartment is atop a theater. Then, one day, Strickland arrives at Elisa’s workplace along with a scientist, Dr. Hoffstetler (Michael Stuhlbarg), and something referred to only as "the asset." Elisa is curious about the creature, who is kept chained in an oversized tub of water. She sneaks in to see him and, by offering him an egg, establishes the beginning of a tentative bond. She teaches her new friend sign language and, when Strickland receives permission from his superiors to vivisect the creature, she enlists Giles to help her with an elaborate escape plan.

The romantic aspect of The Shape of Water touches in ways many conventional love stories do not. Both Elisa and the creature are lonely souls. We know little about his background except that he was "discovered" in the Amazon where he was worshipped as a god. Elisa’s story is equally murky, although we learn that she was orphaned after someone tried to slit her throat as a child. Physical appearance is irrelevant; it’s the heart that matters. That’s the message of Beauty and the Beast and The Shape of Water, except Elisa isn’t a princess and the creature isn’t a man trapped by a magical spell.

Aspects of The Shape of Water recall E.T. As in Spielberg’s classic, this movie features of a group of unlikely heroes defying government forces to save a beloved friend and return him home. Or maybe Starman would be a better comparison because in John Carpenter’s 1984 feature, love and romance blossomed. Regardless of which antecedent you prefer, The Shape of Water is a special movie with relevant themes and a strong emotional payoff. It rebukes intolerance, affirms love in all its forms and guises, and does so with a strong dose of adventure and suspense. It arguably didn’t deserve the Oscar as the best picture of the year, but it is definitely one of last year’s best films.

Aggies could easily reach title game

I don’t know if anyone could have been more off-target than I in my original predictions for this year’s NCAA basketball tournament. But the great thing about this I can call a Mulligan. Why? Because I make up the rules as I go along, that’s why.

So now we’re down to the Sweet 16 where the right side of the bracket looks fairly normal (I can see a first and a second seed in the final four there) while the left side is a mess (where the final four could see seventh seed play a five, with the No. 7 winning it all to advance to the title game). In fact, I will go so far as to state the winner of tomorrow night’s Texas A&M/Michigan game stands a real good chance to face Villanova in the April 2 title game.

So without further adieu, here is my revised Elite Eight: Kentucky, Nevada, Gonzaga, Texas A&M, Villanova, Purdue, Kansas and Duke. From that group, the Final Four will be Kentucky, Texas A&M, Villanova and Duke with Villanova ultimately defeating A&M to the win the title.

Running once more

I watched  one of my favorite all-time movies, Running on Empty,  one more time this evening. My favorite moment in this film comes in a scene between Christine Lahti and Steven Hill, but for some reason -- even after all the times I have watched this -- I had forgotten this wonderful moment in the film when the family, along with Martha Plimpton, celebrate the Lahti character's birthday. It's a wonderful scene that perfectly defines a family and the process of welcoming a new member into that family.

Democrats' problem is lack of courage, fortitude

Available for home viewing: The Snowman ★

 Apparently, someone turned up the heat because The Snowman is a sloppy mess.

One of the most shockingly awful wastes of talent imaginable, this adaptation of Jo Nesbo’s thriller is mostly incoherent and, just when it starts to make sense, it is hijacked by a series of laughably bad clichés. These include, but are not limited to, the "talking killer" (in which a criminal holds the hero at gunpoint and reveals the details of his plan) and a deus ex machina (in which an extreme contrivance resolves the story). If The Snowman didn’t feature such a dour tone, one might suspect the whole thing was assembled as a satire — albeit a frustrating and overlong one.

Figuring out the story is like following a trail of bread crumbs through a labyrinth. According to director Tomas Alfredson, the production schedule was so tight that key parts of the screenplay were left unfilmed and there was little the editors (Claire Simpson and frequent Martin Scorsese collaborator Thelma Schoonmaker) could do to salvage a coherent storyline. The narrative problems go beyond mere plot holes. The story skips back and forth in time without rhyme or reason. Key scenes seem to be missing. Ambiguity abounds but not of the good kind. The book has been chopped up and reassembled. The fate of one character has been radically altered and a romance has been eliminated. It’s almost as if the movie went into production with a one-page synopsis and the filmmakers made everything up as they went along.

The ending is so horrendous that it caused my jaw to drop. Even B-movies try to avoid this kind of thing. First, we have a scene in which the killer explains his motivation so the audience will understand. Then there’s fight scene so chaotic that it’s nearly impossible to figure out what’s going on. Finally, the climactic confrontation ends with … an act of God. There’s no other way to describe it. Even had the rest of the movie been perfect, the unsatisfying resolution would have crippled it. However, considering how bad the majority of The Snowman is, this is just another in a long list of reasons why the production should be avoided. (The ending bears little resemblance to what happens in the book — it was created out of whole cloth by the screenwriters for reasons only they could explain.)

Distilled to its essence, the main narrative trajectory follows that of the novel. Detective Harry Hole (Michael Fassbender), the leader of an elite homicide squad in Oslo, begins an investigation into a series of murders that have one thing in common — all are committed under the watchful gaze of a snowman. Aided by a new recruit, Katrine Bratt (Rebecca Ferguson), a promising investigator with a secret past, Harry follows the clues, which lead to a high-profile businessman, Arve Stop (J.K. Simmons), and his doctor/pimp, Idar Vetlesen (David Dencik). The closer Harry gets to the truth, the more red herrings he discovers and, on several occasions, he realizes he has been following the wrong trail. Meanwhile, away from the job, Harry struggles with an unsatisfying personal life that involves a still-simmering connection with his ex, Rakel Fauske (Charlotte Gainsbourg), and obligations to her son, who views Harry as a father-figure.

At one point, The Snowman was perceived as a prestige project. Nesbo’s novel is acclaimed and, when the rights were first optioned, Scorsese was attached as the director. (Scorsese remained involved as an executive producer.) Talented actors like Fassbender, Ferguson, Gainsbourg, and Simmons signed on. Scorsese’s replacement, Alfredson, has a respectable resume that includes Let the Right One in and Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy. Somehow, the final product is considerably less than the sum of its parts. Like Tulip Fever, this is a case of a production going disastrously wrong in so many ways that nothing could fix it.

Available for home viewing: Last Flag Flying ★★★

 

Despite being adapted from a novel by co-screenwriter Darryl Ponicsan, Last Flag Flying feels like a Richard Linklater film. The director’s sympathy and affection for the characters is evident. He doesn’t judge them although they may have done terrible things. The tone is thoughtful, shying away from the harsh, jaded approach of many productions that deal with war and its aftermath. Structurally (although not narratively), the movie bears a resemblance to Before Sunrise — it’s about characters taking a road trip, talking, interacting, and eventually coming to a deeper understanding of one another. Along the way, there are moments of pathos and light humor but Last Flag Flying only occasionally ventures into melodrama or silliness, and those instances are easily forgiven.

The premise is brutal. Larry "Doc" Shepherd (Steve Carell) arrives in the Virginia bar owned by Sal Nealon (Bryan Cranston). At first, there’s no recognition then the light goes on as Sal realizes this is his old Vietnam buddy. The next morning, Doc takes Sal on a short trip to a nearby church. The preacher there is Reverend Richard Mueller (Laurence Fishburne), who they once knew as "Mueller the Mauler." Doc has a reason for reuniting with his old comrades. He has had a bad year (it’s 2003). His wife died of breast cancer. Now, his only son has been killed in action in Baghdad. The body is being flown home for burial at Arlington. Doc would like Sal and Richard to be by his side at the funeral.

Sal readily agrees but Richard takes some convincing. Eventually, the three of them get in a station wagon and head for Dover Air Force Base, where the flag-draped coffins arrive. Standing watch in the hanger is Washington (J. Quinton Johnson), a friend of the deceased. When he tells Doc the details about his son’s death, Doc decides that he doesn’t want the Arlington burial. Instead, he wants to take his son’s body home to be buried next to his mother in Portsmouth. Thus begins a trip that features stops in New York City and Boston, a train ride, and reminiscences about Vietnam and the reason why all three men carry a weight of guilt.

Last Flag Flying is based on Poniscan’s novel, which is a sequel to an earlier work, The Last Detail. That book was adapted into a movie in 1973 by Hal Ashby (it starred Jack Nicholson, Randy Quaid, and Otis Young). It was nominated for three Oscars, although it won none. Linklater has tinkered with the storyline to make Last Flag Flying a stand-alone story. Among other things, the characters’ names have been changed as have the details of their past interaction. But enough connections remain for this to be considered a sequel of sorts.

Calling Last Flag Flying an "anti-war movie" would be too facile a description. The movie features many discussions by the men about the nature and purpose of wars (including the quote "Men make wars and wars make men"). There is much bitterness and cynicism about the military, the government, and the purpose of war. When Washington notes that he and his comrades are "fighting them over there so we don’t have to fight them here", Sal remarks that the opponent may have changed but the excuse hasn’t. Nevertheless, the men retain a love of country and the corps. They have a strong sense of patriotism. (The flag, for example, has great meaning for them.) And their love for each other and the bond they formed while serving their country remains unbreakable. In short, they are conflicted — something that’s true of many soldiers who bled for their nation but later had doubts about what they were fighting for. Linklater captures this ambiguity perfectly — right up to the tearjerker of a final scene.

Last Flag Flying features a trio of strong performances. Carell plays Doc with meekness and quiet sadness. We feel most deeply for this character who has lost so much and is groping to find meaning for a loss that has left him alone and devastated. Carell’s decision to underplay the role emphasizes the pain and despair. Counterbalancing him is Cranston, who takes on Sal with the restraint of a dog gnawing on a bone. A loud-mouthed alcoholic with no self-restraint, Sal is frequently a source of friction and Cranston commits fully to the man’s audacity. Fishburne avoids an easy stereotype as Richard. Once a hard-swearing, hard-drinking, violent man, he found God and turned his life around. Now, reunited with men who remind him of his past, Richard can feel Mueller the Mauler stirring. But whatever "bad" impulses percolate to the surface neither shake his faith nor tempt him to the dark side. He remains a changed man. Fishburne’s performance is suitably restrained with occasional fiery moments.

There are some missteps. The bit about the men being mistaken as Islamic terrorists, although intended as comedic, is unworthy of the rest of the screenplay. The movie also falls prey to the occasionally somnambulant rhythms of the road trip. By their nature, road trip movies are episodic and some of the episodes are more compelling than others. That’s the case with Last Flag Flying. This isn’t about reaching a destination — it’s about what happens along the way as the three men re-connect with one another, try to find meaning in what they’re doing, and discover the addictive power of cell phones. A thoughtful meditation about war and surviving in its aftermath, Last Flag Flying avoids descending into the hell where many such movies take us and, as a result, is more hopeful and life-affirming.

Available for home viewing: The Square ★★½

The Square is an indicator that not only Hollywood blockbusters can be afflicted with bloat. At nearly 2½ hours in length, this production takes what could have been a lean, incisive satire of art, commerce, and altruism and turns it into an endurance contest. The interminable setup and unfocused ending bookend an otherwise engaging experience but the good parts of The Square — and there are quite a few of them — can’t overcome the weaknesses, making this a decidedly mixed bag. The movie, which features numerous dead-end side-stories and glaring plot holes, is short on narrative and long on allegory.

The first 45 minutes of The Square are turgid and unengaging. Although some degree of background is necessary to get things going, Swedish director Ruben Ostlund (Force Majeure) takes his time introducing the main character, modern art gallery curator Christian (Claes Bang), and setting up the various issues defining his life. At work, he’s busy establishing a marketing campaign to highlight a new exhibit called "The Square" (which, as the title implies, involves a square, the pompous purpose of which is to form "a sanctuary of trust and caring"). Away from work, he’s playing an amateur detective in tracking down the pickpockets who lifted his wallet and cellphone while he was distracted out on the street.

By the one-hour mark, The Square has settled into a nice rhythm of social satire and low-key drama. Ostlund’s No. 1 target is the art scene (or what passes for it). One exhibit in Christian’s gallery is a series of gravel piles laid out across the floor of a room. When a cleaning crew accidentally scoops up some of the loose material, a panicked underling approaches Christian. After asking her two questions ("Do we have the gravel?" and "Do we have photographs of the exhibit?"), he proposes that they rebuild the mounds as they were and no one will be the wiser.

Then there’s the outside marketing company hired to promote "The Square." In their zeal to create something guaranteed to go viral, they employ some "outside the box" thinking that results in a highly inappropriate YouTube video. Ostlund is making a serious point about the difficulties of generating interest in art and the genesis of this campaign, although bitingly funny, also seems plausible. In the end, what is the barometer of success: the number of pageviews, the number of outraged engagements, the people who show up to see "The Square", or something else?

Despite working on a project that advocates utopian ideals of caring and sanctuary, Christian doesn’t practice these in his real life. He’s stingy, self-serving, and emotionally unavailable. After having sex with a woman, he refuses to let her dispose of the condom, afraid that she might impregnate herself with the sperm. Later, when she corners him and asks him if he can remember her name, he dithers before finally coming up with it. He also has two children that we don’t find out about until midway through the film when their mother dumps them at his apartment for a visit.

Perhaps the most incomprehensible and disturbing sequence in The Square involves a dinner when Christian’s latest promotional idea — a man pretending to be an ape — goes awry. The actor gets so deep into the role that it results in a freakishly genuine performance that no one, not even Christian, can stop. This may be intended as a counterpoint to an earlier scene in the film where a real-life chimpanzee is shown sauntering around a woman’s apartment.

This combination of satire, weirdness, and offbeat drama is sufficient to make the middle portion of The Square engaging, if not compelling. Unfortunately, toward the end, the screenplay slides into the realm of sermonizing as it offers a lecture about how it’s bad to stereotype based on economic situation. There’s also a half-baked argument about freedom of speech that ignores some basic tenets of that right.

The Square stars Danish actor Claes Bang as Christian. His nuanced performance makes some of the duller stretches bearable. Physically, Bang is a cross between the To Kill a Mockingbird-era Gregory Peck and Jon Hamm. He has a gift for deadpan humor and is able to handle the quasi-dramatic sequences. The diverse supporting cast includes American actress Elisabeth Moss (who curiously starred opposite Hamm in Mad Men) and The Wire’s Dominic West. Gymnast and "movement choreographer" Terry Notary plays Oleg, the method actor who goes full ape.

The Square demands patience and, unfortunately for those willing to supply it, the rewards may still not be at the level one might hope for. Still, it’s a quirky, offbeat production and its best episodes are strangely engaging. The length, however, is a barrier — one that will be insurmountable for some potential viewers.

NCAA tourney predictions (in brief)

I am not going to bore you with all my game predictions. Suffice it to say I have two -- count 'em, two -- No. 12s (South Dakota State, New Mexico State) beating 5s in the first round and three ACC teams -- Virginia, Duke and North Carolina -- making it all the way to the Final Four. In the end, I see Villanova defeating Virginia for the championship.

Available for home viewing: The Foreigner ★★★

For Jackie Chan, The Foreigner represents a change of pace. Best-known for light-hearted action/comedies, Chan has never before descended to the level of darkness required by this film. In this thriller, directed by James Bond filmmaker Martin Campbell (Goldeneye, Casino Royale), Chan plays a grieving father seeking revenge. With his ex-Navy SEAL training, he is a perfect machine for vengeance and single-minded determination makes him seemingly unstoppable. Although Chan is given an opportunity to show off his martial arts skills (given his age, however, one has to assume he no longer does all his own stunts), the tone is somber. Absent is the playful, Keaton-esque quality so often used to frame the actor’s fight scenes. This role also gives Chan an opportunity to show a degree of dramatic acting we have not previously seen from him.

Although parts of The Foreigner echo the likes of First Blood and Point Blank/Payback, there’s more going on here than simple revenge. The overarching narrative, based on Stephen Leather’s 1992 novel, The Chinaman, involves a terrorist bombing in London and fractious negotiations between government official Liam Hennessy (Pierce Brosnan), a former IRA stalwart now working to maintain the peace from his office in Belfast, and his former compatriots. The movie has some difficulty with the IRA aspect of the story. When Leather wrote the book, the Provisional IRA was active. Now, 25 years later, The Troubles have ended so a "new" IRA had to be invented to endanger the current stability.

Quan Ngoc Minh (Chan) becomes involved in this international situation when his beloved teenage daughter, Fan (Katie Leung), is killed in a bombing. Devastated, Quan begins a peaceful but persistent campaign to learn from the police who the bombers were. Commander Richard Bromley (Ray Fearon), who is in charge of the investigation, sees Quan as a nuisance and sends him away. Learning from a TV news program that Hennessy is handling the investigation in Northern Ireland, Quan makes the trip. His meeting with Hennessy is no more satisfying than his interaction with Bromley and, pushed to the brink by stonewalling, he takes decisive action. After a series of swift, brutal activities, he dispels the notion that he’s nothing more than a disheveled old "Chinaman".

The political aspects of The Foreigner are fairly complicated and an understanding of the recent history of Ireland would be helpful in sorting things out. (In the U.K., everyone knows the backstory but that probably isn’t true in the United States.) At times, it almost seems as if there are two separate movies running in parallel. There are lengthy segments when Quan is off-screen as the story concentrates on Hennessy’s machinations and motivations. Likewise, there are times when we follow Quan almost exclusively as he sets up and executes traps. He wants one thing — the names of the people responsible for his daughter’s death — and, believing Hennessy to be in possession of that information, he makes the former terrorist his target.

The Foreigner delivers plenty of action and showcases the fact that, even at age 63, Chan still retains his physicality. However, perhaps the most remarkable aspect of Chan’s performance has little to do with stunts and martial arts. Early in the film, following Fan’s death, there’s a quiet scene in which Quan wanders around her room, looking at stuffed animals and smelling a dress to catch a last, lingering scent. It’s a heartbreaking moment and Chan plays it perfectly. Later in the film, as the brutality of his actions escalate, we remember this scene and understand the pain that motivates him. This is much more than most thrillers give us.

Brosnan, who previously worked with Campbell on Goldeneye (the movie that introduced him as 007), is credible as the aging hard-liner turned diplomat. Brosnan plays Hennessy as conflicted and complacent, enjoying the attentions of a much younger mistress (Charlie Murphy) while largely ignoring his bitter wife (Orla Brady). He is unprepared for the wave of terror unleashed on his watch and, when he is being stalked by Quan, he is forced to call in his special forces-trained nephew (Rory Fleck Byrne) to track the ex-Navy SEAL.

In terms of overall visceral impact, The Foreigner is perhaps not as satisfying as a John Wick or the aforementioned Payback because it’s a more serious, complex movie. Nevertheless, it’s well-made, nicely paced and accomplishes what we expect from this sort of film. The violence (of which there is a fair amount) seems organic rather than gratuitous and parts of the story are accompanied by a surge of genuine emotion. The most compelling reason to see The Foreigner is Chan, whose step into new territory reveals things we haven’t previously seen from him.

Available for home viewing: Goodbye Christopher Robin ★★½

When reading the Winnie the Pooh books as a child, I remember being amazed by the revelation that Christopher Robin was a "real" boy. That caused me to wonder whether all the animals were real, too. Goodbye Christopher Robin tells the story of that "real" boy and the difficult relationships he had with his taciturn father, his distant mother, and fame itself. Although hewing close to the established facts, the movie amps up the sentimental content for maximum effect. Goodbye Christopher Robin, a "based-on-a-true-story" yarn directed by Simon Curtis and written by Frank Cottrell Boyce and Simon Vaughn, has some interesting things to say about someone thrust into the spotlight against their will but the sometimes heavy-handed emotional manipulation limits the production’s overall power and effectiveness.

Perhaps the only child in the world to despise A.A. Milne’s Winnie the Pooh stories was his young son, Christopher Robin Milne (Will Tilston as a boy; Alex Lawther as a young man), for whom they were written. Christopher, who went by the nickname of "Billy Moon", viewed the books as having taken something private and made it available to the entire world. Furthermore, since he was known to be the inspiration for the stories’ boy character, he was frequently forced to dress the part for photo ops and publicity events (such as a tea party with contest winners). He went along with all these things until his father belatedly realized that Winnie the Pooh was a trap not only for Billy but for the whole family. Nevertheless, Christopher Robin haunted Billy into adolescence when he was bullied at school and he eventually joined the army to fight in World War II in an attempt to escape his "legacy."

Much of Goodbye Christopher Robin follows traditional bio-pic rules. We see the strained relationship between the affection-starved son and his father, famed author Alan Milne (Domhnall Gleeson), who, as a result of psychological trauma caused by World War I, is emotionally closed-off. The self-absorbed mother, Daphne (Margot Robbie), is rarely present and, when she is, she’s more apt to do damage than help. The nanny, Olive (Kelly Macdonald) becomes a surrogate mother and father until she "betrays" the boy for a life of her own. Thematically, the narrative gains traction when it focuses on the unintended consequences of Winnie the Pooh’s success. Daphne is delighted, Alan accepts it all with a stiff upper lip, but the brunt of the publicity avalanche falls on Billy, who is ill equipped to cope with it. "I had a wonderful childhood," he would later say. "But growing up was hard." An idyllic period in his life spent playing in the woods is followed by the horror of becoming hunted by the paparazzi and his adoring "fans."

Goodbye Christopher Robin’s attempts to trace the development of Pooh and his band of friendly animals is unevenly presented. One key theme — that of the way the between-wars era was fraught with trauma and angst for a generation that lost so much in "The War to End Wars" — is broached but never fully explored. This is unfortunate because Alan’s relationship with Billy is grounded in this. He was damaged in World War I. He wrote to salve the wounds yet, in the end, that writing drove his son to enlist as a way of escape. The movie hints at but never fully captures the grimness of the 1930s as Hitler’s rise to power made it apparent that "The War to End Wars" might not have been anything of the kind.

For Gleeson, who seems to be in every other movie made these days, this is another fine performance for his resume. It’s not flashy or showy; he captures the internal conflict experienced by Alan as he balances his own issues with his growing awareness of the damage he’s inflicting on his son. Robbie plays Daphne as an out-of-touch, narcissistic socialite who is contrasted with Macdonald’s caring nanny. Tilston, making his feature debut portraying Billy at age 8, seems overcoached. Technically, his acting is fine but at times it feels artificial.

There are some odd parallels between Professor Marston and the Wonder Women and Goodbye Christopher Robin. Both transpire at least in part during the 1940s and chronicle the factors that resulted in the creation of pop icons as well as the consequences of that work. The movies also offer elements of social commentary — Professor Marston about feminism and Christopher Robin about the downside of fame. The differences in tone, however, make the former film superior to the latter. Professor Marston and the Wonder Women is lively and passionate where Goodbye Christopher Robin is formal and sentimental. The problem with Goodbye Christopher Robin is that, although it tells its story, there’s no sense of freshness or energy to the approach. Winnie the Pooh is timeless and unforgettable. The same qualities don’t apply to this tale of the real-life people and circumstances that inspired his creation.