31 Days of Horror- Day 1: We Are Still Here (2015)

(dir. Ted Geoghegan)

Dark Sky Films

Aw yeah! It’s Year 3 of 31 Days of Horror, and I’m back with plenty of favorites, and first time watches to keep you spooked, and on your toes this Halloween season. And if you want to supplement your viewing pleasures, be sure to check out Audiences Everywhere’s list of the 100 Greatest Horror Films of the 2000s (So Far).

First up, we have last year’s Italian Horror inspired, We Are Still Here, which took the independent genre circuit by storm last year when it first premiered at South by Southwest. Set in the 1970s, the film follows a grieving mother, Anne (played by scream queen, Barbara Crampton) and her husband, Paul, as they move into a new house that may be possessed by the spirit of their recently deceased son…or something else entirely.

Despite whatever the plot synopsis may convey, We Are Still Here is not a typical haunted house story, at least not in the modern sense. Yes, many of the tropes are there from dark shapes moving in the corner of the frame, a basement with mysterious properties, falling picture frames, and séances, but Geoghegan manages to use these tropes to subvert expectations, and deliver a story far grander in scale than haunted house movies have proven to be. Most interestingly is how the film manages to play with these expectations through its tone. There’s a certain sense of melancholy that pervades the film, but also a biting sense of humor that is at times disconcerting in the face of the film’s various tragedies. The film progresses slowly, opting for a sense of mood instead of instant scares, but film’s runtime is served well in the creation of an odd experience. This is a positive aspect because while many horror films are frightening, or gory, or shocking, very few manage to be odd in a way doesn’t dictate audience reaction.

While the odd neighbors, spirits and Lovecraftian evil that make up the film’s horror elements are frightening in the most standard horror movie sense, the true horror comes from the possessive sense of home and what a lack of home entails. It’s said that home is something you take with you, but when you can’t take it and are unable to move on, then what space are you existing in if it’s no longer home? And so We Are Still Here takes a grieving couple in a grieving home in a grieving town and examines the horrific impact of an inability to let go.

Scare Factor: 3/5 Featuring a great soundtrack, memorable effects, and an odd take steeped in America’s history and current sense of ownership, We Are Still Here rewards the patient viewer with the necessary amounts of strange and gore to make it excellent way to start off the month’s horror festivities.

*Audiences Everywhere’s Founder and Editor-in-Chief, David Shreve, interviewed director Ted Geoghegan last year so be sure to give it a read and keep checking back in with Audiences Everywhere for more interviews with horror’s hottest directors during the rest of the month.

Follow and retweet @wetalkmovies on Twitter for your chance to win exclusive horror film prize packages this month!

Suicide Squad Review

(dir. David Ayer)

Warner Bros.

“You know what they say about the crazy ones...”

In our age of cinematic universes, franchise crossovers, and spin-offs there’s a lot to be said about the stakes of a movie, and the weight we place upon it. These stakes are no longer simply narrative ones, but financial and critical ones as well. For months we’ve heard about how Suicide Squad was not only the film to save a lackluster summer movie season, but also a film positioned to save the still novel DC Expanded Universe (DCEU). Positioned not as a movie, but as a seismic event, Suicide Squad never stood a chance with critics looking to hang the studio’s fiscal goals, their critical reputation, and the state of fandom all upon a single film’s shoulders. In all the ruckus created from elements outside of the film itself, we lost sight of the fact that Suicide Squad is simply a movie, not a Dark Knight or Avengers level event meant to change the superhero film landscape for the next five to ten years. Making a superhero film has become akin to playing a high-stakes round, and while David Ayer may keep a disheveled hand and lose a few chips in the process, Suicide Squad never folds. While Ayer falls short of hitting the jackpot, he manages to stand out from the ever-growing pool of superhero filmmakers and give us a game that never becomes one to bet against.

  

In the aftermath of the events of Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Suicide Squad picks up with government official Amanda Waller (Viola Waller) putting together a task force of expendable supervillains to handle Metahuman threats. The team, consisting of Deadshot (Will Smith), Harley Quinn (Margot Robbie), Captain Boomerang (Jai Courtney), Killer Croc (Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje), El Diablo (Jay Hernandez), Slipknot (Adam Beach), Katana (Karen Fukuhara), and Col. Rick Flag (Joel Kinnaman), is dropped in the midst of a supernatural event at the heart of Midway City where they must battle the forces of the Enchantress (Cara Delevingne), and try to get out alive.

Suicide Squad feels like a David Ayer movie through and through. Despite its blockbuster sized budget and marketing platform, Suicide Squad is, at its heart, a B-level urban action movie with a secondary theme about the painful and pleasurable destruction that results from personal loss. It may feature some of DC Comics most iconic characters (and a handful of misfits) but it fits right in with Ayer’s filmography. Characterization outweighs an admittedly slight story, but given the characters involved it’s hard to find too much fault with that aspect. As far back as Training Day, Ayer’s screenwriting abilities have been defined by moments—specific lines, scenes, and performances that remain highpoints even as the actual A to B story fades from memory or care. Part of Ayer’s success with character comes from his ability to lean into that which is considered visually pleasing and emotionally honest to urban audiences, while welcoming in those who can appreciate the hip-hop grunge of it all while standing just outside of it. Ayer doesn’t simply cast diversely. He gives the film a unique voice that celebrates urban identity to a degree. Suicide Squad may very well be the first hip-hop comic book movie.

Suicide Squad’s cast elevates the whole production with Margot Robbie, Will Smith, and Viola Davis being the obvious standouts. Robbie and Davis both fully inhabit their characters as if they stepped off the page onto the screen, and everything from the way they eat to their stance shows a perfect understanding of character and psychosis that extends beyond what we just see on the screen. Smith adds personality and charisma to a previously stock-character, giving us the “movie-star Will Smith” that’s been missing from the majority of his more recent performances. While the rest of the cast serve more supporting roles they’re each given a moment to shine and a measured level of pathos. Jay Hernandez in particular stands out as El Diablo and delivers one of the film’s highpoints, a dramatic scene right before the film’s action packed final act. So many of these characters would have been generic throwaways in another film, but each member of the cast offers these characters something to make them feel like an indispensable part of the film’s unique identity. The film manages to balance depictions of these characters that feel true to the source material while also allowing their Ayer-isms to create moments of unexpected emotion.

There are few characters as steeped in the unexpected as the Joker, and Jared Leto offers his own unique take that feels familiar, disconcerting, and surprising. While the late Heath Ledger’s Joker is often described as reptilian, Leto’s Joker is feline. He’s cagey, dangerous, and dryly morose. Leto doesn’t just speak his lines he purrs them, while his dead eyes and slow grin hint at both violence and lust. Perhaps more than any incarnation of the character, Leto’s Joker plays into that comic’s idea that the Joker is only playing at being insane and is in fact totally in control of what he’s doing. The film prods at the Joker’s manipulation of Harley Quinn, and obsession for control under the guise of seemingly random chaos, but any real insight into the character is tabled for a better film yet to come. Ultimately the Joker has very little effect on the plot and he’s used in sporadic bursts but never carries the film away with him. In his previous iterations in both Batman and The Dark Knight an oft-repeated complaint was that the Joker’s presence takes away from every other character in the film, making them feel secondary to his all-consuming whirlwind of intrigue. But in Suicide Squad, the Joker feels secondary, perhaps to the point of being extraneous, but given his historical scene presence it’s not surprising that he’s only allowed to nip at the characters in the film instead of biting them full on.

Earlier this year I discussed the comic book movie experimentation at the heart of Batman v Superman. Suicide Squad displays its own willingness to experiment and adhere to the comic book source material, perhaps closer than some would find comfortable. Where Batman v Superman operated under the prestige format graphic novel with its grand themes and weighty desire to understand the roots of these characters, Suicide Squad acts as a collection of issues. Much has been made about the film’s editing and while it certainly has its share of issues in its break from structure, and occasionally logic, there is an actual purpose behind it even though the results are messy and at times tedious. The beginning of the film is where Suicide Squad faces its greatest pacing issues in its aim to introduce each member of the Squad through a series of flashbacks, exposition, and pop-musical cues. As each character is introduced their name and criminal history appears across the screen acting like a cinematic version of DC’s Who’s Who. These character introductions don’t feel much different from the back-up stories or one-shots that comic books often feature as supplements to their main story arc. In fact, DC Comics is currently in the midst of a line-wide reboot and before the start of these new comic stories DC offered a Rebirth issue that re-introduces the characters central to the book and establishes their status quo. The first half hour or so of Suicide Squad functions in the same manner, and while these introductions are both too long and occasionally too broadly sketched they do serve their purpose in introducing audiences to a world for which the entire basis so far has been Batman and Superman. Once that opening chunk of introductory business is over the film settles into itself and both Ayer and the characters are able to let loose. But even then the film never loses its comic book sensibilities with flashbacks coming connected to certain images or lines and shots created to directly echo the work of famed comic book artists (Alex Ross, Lee Bermejo, Eduardo Risso, and Bruce Timm most notably). And as the film careens into its final act it becomes increasingly clear that the story is following that of the most simplistic comic book storylines where a protagonist(s) must confront a massively powered villain with flimsy motivations. Everything from structure, the skimpy outfits, the villain’s motivation, and the timing of set pieces are built on the foundations of comic book basics, not much different at all from the new releases that hit shops every Wednesday. We’ve heard both fans and critics say for years that they wish comic book movies would hew closer to their source material well for better or worse this is it. Suicide Squad is about as close to the average comic book as you can get and that’s a hell of an experience.

Grade: B

Captain America: Civil War Review

(dirs. Anthony Russo, Joe Russo)

Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures

“Compromise where you can. Where you can't, don't. Even if everyone is telling you that something wrong is something right. Even if the whole world is telling you to move, it is your duty to plant yourself like a tree, look them in the eye, and say 'No, YOU move'."

Guns N’ Roses once sang, “I don’t need your Civil War,” but not even Axl Rose could have predicted the rise of Marvel Studios and their event film that fans have clamored to see for nearly a decade. Kicking off Marvel’s Phase 3, Captain America: Civil War is the culmination of plot points set up in earlier entries and the introduction of new ones crafted to bring fresh energy into the Marvel Cinematic Universe. When it comes to the new players, there’s a lot to love about Marvel’s latest entry, but in terms of our regularly featured Avengers, it’s hard not to notice that things have become a bit static. Civil War is something that fans of superhero movies definitely wanted, but the film doesn’t entirely make a convincing argument that it’s something we needed.

Picking up from the events of Avengers: Age of Ultron, Captain America: Civil War finds our heroes at odds with one another when the U.N.’s Sokovia Accords seeks to institute government control over super-powered individuals. With Tony Stark standing behind the U.N.’s plan and Steve Rogers firmly against it, battle lines are drawn amongst our Avengers. Matters are further complicated when Bucky Barnes is framed for setting off a bomb during the U.N. meeting which causes Black Panther to enter the fray, and pushes Stark and Rogers to the extremes of their respective personal and political views.

The performances are as good as they’ve ever been. Even after all these years, the actors still show enthusiasm for these characters, although Captain America is portrayed a bit wearier and Iron Man is played with a bit more of narrow-mindedness, both changes come from age and experience. While the script lacks the snappy dialogue of Joss Whedon, it does succeed in creating genuinely emotional moments, particularly the ones between Steve and Tony. But we’ve come to know these actors’ portrayals of these characters so well that there is little to be surprised by in the quality of their performances. The surprise is instead left to the performances of our newcomers, Tom Holland’s Spider-Man and Chadwick Boseman’s Black Panther. For the first time in any live-action depiction of Spider-Man, Peter Parker actually comes across like a teenager. Holland’s take is the closest we’ve seen to the comic character. He’s wisecracking, uncomfortable, and constantly out of his depth. T’Challa on the other hand is played with a regality that makes the Black Panther seem like he’s been an experienced superhero for years. Every word he says seems carefully thought out, but you can sense the diplomacy at war with his more primal instinct. If Captain America: Civil War makes a completely convincing statement about anything, it’s that Marvel’s upcoming Spider-Man: Homecoming and Black Panther are in great hands with these actors.

Heroes aren’t the only newcomers, as Daniel Bruhl’s villainous Helmut Zemo has his stake in the conflict as well. Zemo’s depiction is quite a bit different from the comic character, which isn’t a bad thing. Bruhl makes the character cunningly broken and eerie, but he is plagued by the script’s lack of exploration into his extensive knowledge about these heroes, Hydra, and the Winter Soldier program. Zemo simply knows things and has access to things because film’s plot has to reach its set of plot points. Ultimately Zemo falls victim to having inexplicable insight and a plan that relies on a lot of conveniences and players being in the place he wants them to be. He’s like a world-class chess player who never read the rules and never faced off against anyone before but wins anyway. It’s not a leap to assume that Zemo was a leftover element from the Captain America 3 script before Robert Downey Jr. signed on and the film became Civil War. Through Zemo we can see the bones of the film that was, and it’s a shame more attention wasn’t given to making him gel within the revised film’s framework because there’s a fascinating individual there. Marvel may succeed time after time with their heroes, but the villains often still leave a lot to be desired.

Captain America: Civil War works best when it explores the personal stakes of its characters. It is entirely believable for Steve and Tony to land on the side they do. Tony’s desire to make sure his work ends up in responsible hands with safeguards intact has defined his character arc. Steve’s arc has been defined by standing up against bullies and world-powers that seek absolute control. The film understands these characters and follows these arcs almost to their natural ends. The personal stakes of the film also go a long way in creating depth for Black Panther, The Scarlet Witch, and Vision. We may not know these characters as well as Steve and Tony, but the film makes sure their decisions work within the logic of the characters. But with such a large cast of characters, screenwriters Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely don’t always succeed in allowing personal desire and political necessity to collide in ways that would be most impactful for the characters. With the immediate exception of Steve and Tony, friendships aren’t broken or challenged in any way that can’t be repaired. Our central heroes’ sidekicks and cohorts fall on the sides we expect them too, not necessarily because they understand the political stakes but because they’re simply attached to their friends and the people who called them in…because it’s easier for the filmmakers and the audience that way. Ant-Man and Spider-Man’s involvement allows for some spectacular action sequences, but the film doesn’t stop to ask why the characters end up on the sides that they do. In Ant-Man we saw Scott Lang’s struggle to prove himself as a hero and create a better world for his daughter, but that doesn’t seem to factor into his decision when he decides to join up with Cap in the face of being labeled a criminal and possibly being prevented from seeing his daughter once again. And Spider-Man, a fifteen year-old who is protective of his identity and a stranger to Tony Stark, never has time to pause and consider what government access to his identity would mean for himself and his life. While these aspects don’t damn the film, it is frustrating that the film is so busy that it never allows these characters to question the why of what they’re doing and what they’re potentially giving up.

Catastrophe. That’s the only outcome we’re expecting when the dust settles. It’s the outcome that Vision, in his godlike mathematic foresight, alludes to. But catastrophe never rears its head. Yes, we get a surplus of action sequences, some that rely too much on quick cut editing and some that are stellar feats of choreography, but none create the kind of stakes that make the film live up to the war in its title. The airport battle is one of the best superhero fights within the genre, and the showdown between Iron Man, Captain America, and Bucky is brutal and cathartic, but ultimately the film never reaches a place where reparations can’t be made, a place where some of our toys are lost and we’re left with a feeling of absolute uncertainty about what comes next. The stakes feel real, but the fallout feels safe and beholden to status quo. For all the film’s talk about the changing role of superheroes and suggested tragedy, the film doesn’t leave us in a place that’s so different from where Age of Ultron left us. War should hurt, but as the triumphant music soars over the film’s credits, it’s clear that Captain America: Civil War is only interested in temporary pain.

Even though it cannot balance all of its many moving parts, Captain America: Civil War is quite good, and in parts it’s great, but it’s avoidance of risk prevents it from being a true game-changer. In Captain America: The Winter Soldier, the Russos showed an ability to balance narrative stakes, action, and character moments, while not being afraid to tear things down. But in Captain America: Civil War, their inexperience starts to show and one can’t help but wish that this film had been a two-parter so that it might have reached the narrative heights of The Winter Soldier. Still, Captain America: Civil War provides many of the moments we want to see in these movies while generating a surplus of interest for future installments. So we’ll take our short-lived pain, relive the excitement of seeing our favorite characters all together, and be ready for the next Marvel event when it comes around, because like any war, we’re either with them or against them and it’s a whole lot more fun in the hype of being with them.

Grade: B

10 Cloverfield Lane Review

(dir. Dan Trachtenberg)

Paramount Pictures

*Spoiler-Free Review*

“It’s not safe out there.”

There are few aspects of storytelling more compelling than a genuinely surprising narrative twist. And if that twist can be built upon a strong foundation of characterization and logical plot points, then chances are high that this story is going to have a lasting impact, one that lingers long after the last page is turned or the credits roll. The Twilight Zone was founded upon this notion, so much so that decades later those brief episodes still rustle around in our minds. It’s proven nearly impossible to replicate the genuine thrill of that level of creative storytelling. In our current cinema landscape, driven by scoops, announcements, set photos, and spoiled endings, surprises are hard to come by, which is why the announcement of 10 Cloverfield Lane felt like such a gift. The idea that we could be taken completely unaware by a movie announcement, eight years after Matt Reeves’ Cloverfield challenged everything we thought we knew about pre-release build-up, was presumably a lost art form. And yet, thanks to producer J.J. Abrams’ commitment to Mystery Box filmmaking, here we are with another film that proves cinematic surprises are not just something we crave, but something we need. And make no mistake, 10 Cloverfield Lane is a necessity for the future of filmmaking.

After waking up from a car accident, Michelle (Mary Elizabeth Winstead) finds herself in an underground bunker with two men, Howard (John Goodman) and Emmet (John Gallagher, Jr.), who tell her that the world outside the bunker has become contaminated from a chemical attack…and everyone she knows is dead. But life inside the bunker may be far more dangerous than what lies outside, unless of course it’s not. 10 Cloverfield Lane is carefully built upon the audiences’ expectations and subsequent subversion of those expectations. While elements of the plot may be familiar, this familiarity is only used to challenge both characters and audience members’ presumed knowledge of genre tropes. Just when everything seems to come together, a new piece of information is tossed in, creating an ever-growing threat of possibility.

While 2008’s found-footage film Cloverfield managed to create a sprawling and cataclysmic sense of horror as New York fell under attack from a giant monster, its spiritual successor takes a different approach. 10 Cloverfield Lane is contained within the walls of the bunker, and while the space is much smaller than that of its predecessor, this film still feels big. This is partly because of first-time filmmaker Dan Trachtenberg’s keen eye for spatial relations. When Michelle first wakes up in the bunker, she’s on a bed and chained to a wall. Her phone lies several feet away from her, out of arms’ reach. Trachtenberg frames the scene in such a way that the room seems cavernous, impossibly threatening in its emptiness and lack of resources. Michelle is confined to this wall, and made small by the room and her mounting anxiety. We return to this room throughout the film, and as Michelle’s situation changes and she grows more comfortable with her surroundings, we see the room for how it really is, small and harmless. The rest of the bunker is given the same treatment, with a twist of course. Most of the space feels large and open when the characters are at peace, and yet seems to shrink in upon themselves as Goodman’s Howard takes up the room, not only with his impressive size, but also his personality, which induces nothing but the essence of paranoia. This film’s script may work under the rules of a bottle-drama, but its direction feels just as a big and impressive as any sweeping journey through a haunted mansion, or harrowing run through a ruined city.

Coupled with the direction is the mounting sense of tension that’s carefully nurtured by the three performances. If Cloverfield was sheer panic in the face of a massive attack, then 10 Cloverfield Lane is the fear that another attack will happen. 10 Cloverfield Lane offers numerous jump scares, not born out of cheap fake-outs, but because the film spends its time convincing us that danger is not only real but that it’s everywhere. Even in light of all of its twists, this film makes an early promise not to trick its audience, and the experience is made all the more anxious because of that. Born of a Cold War fear of “others” from “outside,” and a modern fear of the people who live next door or with us, Trachtenberg’s film further establishes Cloverfield as a franchise that explores modern anxieties through the lens of the monster movie. But the monsters aren’t simply what roam outside, or even the ones we share a space with. Monsters are also our inner-most fears that lead us to act against our best interests. Michelle and Emmett define the millennial generation in their fear of their own future, fear of commitment, and regrets about a life not lived to its fullest potential. They’re both runners, who in the midst of this experience are forced to stand still. Howard, on the other hand, has no regrets and is deeply committed to being prepared in every way. He fears the future because he knows the past, yet we and the characters fear him because we do not know or believe that past. This film not only about pitting beings against each other, but also pitting ideologies against one another and seeing what shakes loose.

Given this film’s namesake, it’s going to be impossible not to compare this film to 2008’s. Is 10 Cloverfield Lane as good as Cloverfield? No, it isn’t, but it never needed to be. This film is different from the first, and yet acts as the next logical step in the most unexpected way. Those expecting to see a direct continuation of the events of Cloverfield may find themselves disappointed, but those willing will find connections far more satisfying. J.J. Abrams has suggested that for now we can consider both this film and 2008’s film as an anthology series, until future installments. An anthology is good way of looking at these films, as one does not necessitate the viewing of the other, but the more I contemplate these two seemingly separate films, the more connections begin to arise. 10 Cloverfield Lane is a puzzle with missing pieces (something the film heavily alludes to indirectly) but if we’re patient and smart enough to follow along, the Cloverfield films could end up being the most innovative cinematic universe we’ve seen.

We need films like 10 Cloverfield Lane, not simply because it’s original, but because it finds original ways to discuss us in the here and now, much in the way that Rod Serling did for the us of the 50s and 60s. By giving us characters who are delicately human and smartly capable, 10 Cloverfield Lane not only exposes our fear but also our hope, and manages to cherish both attributes. This is a film that allows us to be surprised at the very components that make up ourselves, and uses its twists not as a shock-factor but to remind us of the communal experience of being human and surviving that. In its careful balancing act of tone, genre, and characterization, 10 Cloverfield Lane is a reminder of why we go to the movies.

Grade: A

Deadpool Review

(dir. Tim Miller)

20th Century Fox

“You're probably thinking 'This is a superhero movie, but that guy in the suit just turned that other guy into a fucking kebab.' Surprise, this is a different kind of superhero story.”

We’ve been down the irreverent superhero road before with mixed results. From the good (Kick-Ass), the okay (Super), and the bad (Hancock), R-rated deconstructions of the superhero movie are difficult to pull off well without their so called maturity coming across as juvenile, and their shots at the genre coming across as mean-spirited mockery. Enter Deadpool, the long-gestating take on one of Marvel’s most popular characters in terms of readership, a character whose meme-ready, and off-beat sense of humor and 4^th wall-breaking has made him the most popular X-men character, surpassing even the likes of Wolverine. On the subject of roads we’ve been down before, 20^th Century Fox has already attempted to bring Deadpool to the big-screen before with Ryan Reynolds in X-Men Origins: Wolverine, but that take on the character turned out to be a debacle that shared little in common with his comic book roots. Despite the reception to that film, Deadpool became a passion project for Reynolds, one that seemed unlikely to ever happen until test-footage was “unofficially” released and fans clamored for Tim Miller’s R-rated take on the character, until that’s exactly what we got. Despite being a studio production, Deadpool is the biggest fan-film ever made, and that ain’t a bad thing.

Just when good-natured and mentally unstable mercenary Wade Wilson (Ryan Reynolds) is ready to settle down with the love of his life, Vanessa (Morena Baccarin), he is diagnosed with terminal cancer. He volunteers for an experimental treatment, only to find himself prisoner to an elusive organization that seeks to activate dormant mutant genes and create an army of super slaves. Disfigured and more unstable than ever, Wilson escapes and dons the guise of Deadpool to hunt down the people who ruined his life, and hopefully get his face fixed.

Tone and heart go a long way in making Deadpool one of the year’s earliest success stories. This is one of the rare-instances where bait-and-switch marketing actually lives up to both sides of the joke. For months now we’ve seen the teasers and billboards championing Deadpool as a must-see romantic comedy. It was a clever bit of marketing to get couples into theaters on Valentine’s Day weekend, but of course the trailers told of a movie splashed in ultra-violence and raunchy humor. As it would turn out, Deadpool is a romantic comedy, one made of dismembered body parts and peak levels of inappropriate behavior, but oddly sentimental and sweet all the same. The heavy-reliance on a love story is actually quite a departure from the comics where Deadpool’s selfish and self-serving behavior drives the majority of his story arcs. This departure goes a long way in terms of making Deadpool a character we can root for in spite of, or perhaps because of his twisted humor and extreme levels of violence. Deadpool has never been one of my favorite characters, but Miller and screenwriters, Paul Wernick and Rhett Reese, give him a cause to fight for while still maintaining the character’s sense of identity and Bugs Bunny-like antics.

Every central plot beat in the film is framed by Wade’s love of Vanessa, and the charismatic performances from both Reynolds and Baccarin sell that romance better than most superhero movies. Breaking the narrative mold of origin story films, Deadpool switches back and forth between Wade’s present day storyline of revenge and his love story with Vanessa, until we meet up in the middle for a blend of both. This not only balances the film’s emotional stakes and action, but also prevents either the meet-cute romance or action from becoming tiresome or repetitive. In true Deadpool fashion, the film displays an awareness of its own inter-workings with references ranging from studio budget, Reynolds’ career missteps, the Marvel Cinematic Universe, and other clever commentary that I dare not spoil. This awareness easily allows the film to maneuver the clichés and tropes of the genre, and while some may see it as a means of beefing up the film’s simple narrative, these tricks go a long way in terms of making the film’s narrative seem more complex than it actually is. The supporting characters: TJ Miller’s Weasel, Ed Skerin’s Ajax, and Gina Carano’s Angel Dust, also allow for the film to take some amusing avenues in both the departments of comic relief and villainy, and give Deadpool a range of characters to play off of.

Deadpool’s lack of complexity is refreshing and it creates an efficient superhero yarn that doesn’t rely on world-building, subtext, heavy thematics, or world-ending threats. When you look at the film’s plot laid bare of all of its self-referential gags, call-backs, and deviations, we’re left with a film about a guy who just wants to get his face fixed so he can go back to his fiancé. It sounds silly when the film is looked at from that angle, but silly is exactly where this film’s priorities are. This is a film that is so comfortable in its identity that even the jokes that don’t land, and some of the obvious first-time filmmaking techniques, only serve to work in the film’s interests. The film uses “fuck” and “dick” like a 12-year old who just learned he can swear around his friends without anyone giving him the side eye. It’s occasionally annoying, but the film even owns up to that factor, commenting on Wade’s occasionally annoying nature and penchant for saying nonsensical things. Some would say that the film’s ownership of its faults are the filmmakers’ attempts to avoid criticism, and they wouldn’t be wrong; but it’s so engaging to watch a film that doesn’t try to force the audience to ignore its limitations, but to laugh at them instead, and I can’t help but commend Deadpool for that because I laughed a hell of a lot.

Tim Miller may be working under the pressures of a limited budget and his own inexperience, but he boldly uses the X-Men lore like no X-film director before him. He embraces the wild and weird nature of the comics, clinging to its pseudo-science, humor, and soap-opera elements. While Colossus and Negasonic Teenage Warhead are the only X-Men to feature in the film, they feel more like the characters that people have loved over the decades than most of Singer’s take on characters. This isn’t to say that Deadpool is the best X-verse film, but it does show a willingness to engage with areas that we rarely see and avoid taking itself too seriously…ok, Deadpool doesn’t take itself seriously at all. In addition to a clear-love of the source material, Miller shines in the film’s action sequences, delivering a hand-to-hand combat fight scene that ranks alongside The Winter Soldier. While there are still a few kinks in editing and cinematography to work out before the film’s inevitable sequel, Miller certainly proved that he was the right guy for the job.

From the moment we see Deadpool’s fantastic opening credit sequence, it’s unmistakable that Miller and Reynolds have created something special for fans and soon-to-be fans alike. This isn’t the best superhero movie ever, not even close, but this was made for a very specific audience who will bestow upon it that very title. This is a film about, and composed entirely of love (and dick jokes.) It took Ryan Reynolds four prior attempts to find a superhero franchise worthy of his particular brand of humor, and in Deadpool he has finally found his calling and I think he knows it. I suspect we’re going to see Ryan Reynolds' butt in red spandex for a long time to come. Sophomoric and charming, Deadpool is a blast to watch, even more so because I know that this is what Deadpool’s biggest fans have been waiting for.

Caution kids, Deadpool at play.

Grade: B+

2015: The Year in Review

So I’m later than last year with this list, but earlier than usual, so I suppose that counts for something. I’ve decided to break the mold a little and extend my Top 10 list into a Top 20, because as the Terminator franchise has taught us: more is better. But this isn’t just an excuse for me to hold your attention a little longer. It’s a way to celebrate what an incredible year in film 2015 was. Out of the 276 first time watches this year, 102 were new releases (if anyone wants to sponsor me with movie theatre gift cards I’m open to it). You can check out my full list and ranking at: http://letterboxd.com/richard_newby/list/2015-film-ranking/

Top 10 (portions of some entries originally published at Audiences Everywhere )

1. Mad Max: Fury Road

Almost without warning, 70-year old George Miller revolutionized what action films are capable of both in terms of narrative and spectacle. This is a watershed moment in action filmmaking that hasn’t been seen since The Matrix. Mad Max: Fury Road allows Miller to usher in a new and distinct visual style, one that washes away the dull gray and brown color palate we’ve come associate with a world gone rot, and replaces it with bright bursts of color and operatic grandeur. There is a beautiful, handmade quality to George Miller’s wasteland, and I can promise you that no matter how many times you’ve seen fictionalized depictions of our world post-nuclear holocaust, you’ve never seen anything like Mad Max: Fury Road.

2. It Follows

While most horror films can’t resist a deflating backstory, David Robert Mitchell knows that the most successful aspects of horror are the things that can’t be explained. But that doesn’t mean the film is without answers or meaning. While it’s easy to state the film is an allegory for STDs, it’s also something far more complex than that. It Follows aims to capture sexual anxiety, in the form of the willingness to engage in the act, and the questions of what comes next. The whole film is built on that adolescent notion of feeling different after sex, of growing up while being haunted by something younger and older than oneself. It Follows is a beautiful, intimate, and transformative experience that will leave you shaken.

3. Creed

Just as John G. Alvidsen’s film did almost 40 years ago, Ryan Coogler’s Creed situates us in place and character, putting emphasis on relationships and self-examination over ringside noise. The facades of familiar Philadelphia locales have been slightly revamped and given new coats of paint, our familiar characters are older and a little worse for wear, the tunes have changed to provide the movie with a pulse of its own, and our lead character’s background is drastically different from Rocky’s, but underneath all of these necessary changes is that same beating heart reminder that the legacy of Rocky has always been about more than boxing. Creed is big-hearted drama at its best, and the cinematic celebration of identity and legacy that we’ve been waiting for.

4. The Revenant

With The Revenant Alejandro G. Innaritu creates a tonal poem of human survival. This is a visceral experience, one that emphasizes what is felt moreso than what is told. Leonardo DiCaprio’s performance as Hugh Glass is that of an open wound, physically, emotionally and spiritually raw, and a profoundly affecting look at humanity at its most basic and primal nature. While it’s production has garnered constant attention for almost a year, the lengths that Innaritu, the crew, and the cast went through doesn’t lessen the film’s impact or emotional stakes. In fact, it could be argued that it furthers them. No, The Revenant didn’t have to be filmed on location, no it didn’t have to be filmed in natural light, and no DiCaprio didn’t have to eat raw bison liver or sleep inside an animal carcass, but each of these decisions comes through in the film, giving it a power both real and mythologized. The best art isn’t always created by doing what is easy, but doing what is honest and The Revenant is deeply honest.

5. Sicario

Sicario is a panic attack, not only in its efforts to create a visceral emotional experience for its audience, but also as a cinematic critique of a compassionless American government. Like Prisoners and Enemy before, Denis Villeneuve takes his characters (and viewers) down a long and winding tunnel of darkness where the light at the end is the illumination of their true selves, which they, and perhaps we, were hesitant to face. In many ways, Sicario is like Westerns of old, the ones that saw cowboy ethics fall to the wayside as industrialization and railroads brought the frontier to an end. While superheroes and modern myths fill our screens, Sicario does nothing less than assure us that in this day in age, there can be no heroes.

6.  Star Wars: The Force Awakens

The Force Awakens is the start of something grand, familiar by design but entirely new in terms of where it places its attention and emotional interest. Much of The Force Awakens’ modernity stems from the fact that the lead characters are in the hands of a woman, a black man, and a Latin American man. While so many franchise restarts try to cater to the same audience, Abrams aims to broaden and celebrate the reach of Star Wars not by just focusing on legacy, but diversity as well.  Beyond that, it’s impossible not to see the energy and care on the screen. The Force Awakens provides the emotional first steps in convincing audiences that Star Wars is back for good and we no longer need be bound by fear.

7. Ex Machina

Alex Garland’s restrained and character focused sci-fi opus thrives in the spaces left between. Whether it be moments of silence in between dialogue, the division between characters that direct eye contact intensifies rather than lessens, the stillness in between Ava’s direct and graceful movements, or the gap between how individuals present themselves and who they really are, Ex Machina carefully uses this space to revel in and reprimand curiosity. In doing so, Garland creates a modern myth, but one that’s cautionary tale can’t be divided by simple binaries. Beautifully composed, and comprised of performances that deny expectations, Ex Machina is one of the truest examples of science-fiction that wholly embraces the scientific part of its identity to providing more questions than answers.

8. Dope

Like a love-child of Spike Lee and John Hughes, Dope balances its honest portraitures of blackness and neighborhood life with teenage wish fulfillment and narrative convenience. Dope is deliberately modern and unique in its approach to filmmaking, announcing itself as far more than a sampling of familiar tracks. Heroically, Rick Famuyiwa’s film reclaims the term “oreo” and uses it not as an insult, but as an identity marker that can be owned and redefined by those so referred to as such. Like ’90s rap, Dope is a mix of intelligence, humor, and morally questionable decisions that don’t create a sum total of contradictions, but speak to the complicated nature of black identity in America.

9. The Hateful Eight

Lacking in immediate satisfaction, The Hateful Eight is arguably Quentin Tarantino’s most mature film. Racially charged, and packed with a motley crew of characters fashioned from the director’s intrinsic tics, The Hateful Eight is a mocking portrait of America’s systemic racism, mythologized history, and old-world attitudes. If Tarantino’s previous takes on history, altered events in the service of violent optimism, then The Hateful Eight displays our history as it is, without a moral center. While his blend of humor and violence has defined Tarantino’s career for two decades and made him a fan-favorite, The Hateful Eight shows a willingness to alienate that fanbase in the service of an honesty that doesn’t allow for forgiveness or restitution.

10. Carol

There isn’t a single frame in Carol that isn’t exquisite. The same can be said about its performances. Every touch, every lingering glance that Therese and Carol share is deeply felt, and lasting in its impact. As audience members, we become invested in their love story not because of the characters’ sexuality, but because of their fragile humanity. Todd Haynes crafts a love story that isn’t just engaging and tender, but also necessarily radical in its depiction of choice and consequence. He plays with what we’ve come to expect from period romances, and assures us that a fragile humanity doesn’t necessitate tragedy, that our characters can embrace hurt and pain, and not only still be strong, but come out better for it. Carol is so unafraid of quietly tearing down clichés, that it doesn’t even feel like a film from this era. Yet, it remains unquestionably topical all the same.

The Best of the Rest (11-20):

11. Avengers: Age of Ultron

12. Crimson Peak

13. Room

14. Predestination

15. Bone Tomahawk

16. Inside Out

17. What We Do in the Shadows

18. Spring

19. Mistress America

20. Tangerine

Honorable Mentions: Clouds of Sils Maria, Trainwreck, Brooklyn, Cobain: Montage of Heck, Straight Outta Compton

Worst of the Year: The Seventh Son, Serena, Fantastic Four, Aloha, The Lazarus Effect

2016’s Most Anticipated

1. Suicide Squad

2. Rogue One

3. 10 Cloverfield Lane

4. Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice

5. X-Men: Apocalypse

6. Doctor Strange

7. Captain America: Civil War

8. The Witch

9. Everybody Wants Some

10. Midnight Special

I'd like to thank everyone who visited my blog this year and read my reviews. If you enjoy what you read here please be sure to check out me and my friends on Audiences Everywhere where I also publish reviews and other features concerning movies, TV, and popular culture.

--Richard Newby

Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens Review

(dir. J.J. Abrams)

Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures

“It's true. All of it. The Dark Side, the Jedi. They're real.”

*Minor plot spoilers ahead.

In a few short years (well, long years for the most eager fans) Star Wars Episode VII went from being an impossibility to perhaps the most anticipated movie of all time. J.J. Abrams went from definitely not directing, to having the weight of a galaxy on his shoulders. From a behind the scenes angle, the Star Wars franchise has always been seen as a bit of a gamble, an improbability not always in terms of financial success, but quality. The question was never whether or not Disney, the reformatted Lucasfilm, and J.J. Abrams could bring in the money, but whether The Force Awakens could simultaneously live up to the nostalgia of the Original Trilogy, work through the middling response to the Prequels without ignoring them, attract new and old audiences, and serve as a pleasing launchpad for Hollywood’s newest franchise model: the cinematic universe. Of course, none of these aspects would be small achievements by themselves, and to achieve them all would seemingly need nothing short of a large-scale revolution of Hollywood’s blockbuster practices. But J.J.Abrams understood that a massive upheaval of the mythology was not what was needed for this first new installment, and instead returned to what had first electrified audiences in 1977 while implementing changes in other areas of necessity.

Set 30 years after Return of the Jedi (1983), The Force Awakens ushers us into a world where the remnants of the Galactic Empire have formed The First Order, a massively powered terrorist group backed by mysterious dark side forces. Pit against them is the Resistance, a reformed Rebel Alliance, secretly supported by the New Republic. At the center of their conflict is a map that leads to the missing Luke Skywalker, the last Jedi, whose reappearance or death could turn the tides for either side in the brewing war. But fear not, politics and galactic schemes take a back seat to the introduction of new characters and familiar faces. Swept up into the Resistance’s battle are Rey (Daisy Ridley), a scavenger with a mysterious past, and Finn (John Boyega), a Stormtrooper who has broken free of his conditioning and abandoned his post. With the aid of two familiar smugglers, Han and Chewie, and the droid BB-8, who contains part of a map leading to Luke Skywalker, Rey and Finn are swept up in an adventure that changes the fate of the galaxy.

As the film moves along with an ease that buries any notice of the 135 minute runtime, it’s hard not to become increasingly aware of the similarities The Force Awakens shares with A New Hope. While some may feel disappointed that the film doesn’t attempt to break new narrative grounds, the similarities work in terms of making Star Wars feel like Star Wars. As odd as it may seem, many of us have forgotten what seeing Star Wars for the first time actually feels like. The prequels crafted an almost entirely different world and scale (one that fit with Lucas’ sensibilities), and the franchise’s progeny, as entertaining and occasionally fantastic as some of those have been, haven’t fully captured what makes Star Wars so exciting. There really is no replacing the feeling, grandeur, characters, or sense of mystery that comes along with that galaxy far, far away.

The familiar story beats in The Force Awakens ground the film in its singular identity, once again situating the franchise in monomyth, while giving new and old fans characters to latch onto, a facet that has always had more weight than narrative originality in the saga. We’ll spend the next two years listening to some bemoan the use of another Death Star, this time in the form of the Starkiller Base, but the familiar plot beats provide more time to spend exploring the characters and less time explaining some new narrative MacGuffin that's up the First Order’s sleeves. Call it laziness or a lack of imagination, but The Force Awakens isn’t rushing to the finish line to show us the large-scale, but giving us time to fall in love with the small-scale before Rian Johnson’s sequel surely up the ante in terms of exploring new territory.

In many ways, J.J. Abrams was the perfect choice to kick off the new trilogy. He excels at repositioning the old and making it feel modern, and for all of its callbacks, The Force Awakens does feel exceptionally modern, thanks in no small part to its characters. Yes, the opportunity to see Luke, Leia, Han, and Chewbacca in their senior years was always the big selling point of The Force Awakens, but the new players give the film a life of its own. There’s an immediate chemistry between these new characters. Whether it’s Rey and Finn, Poe and Finn, or BB-8 and everyone else, these new characters and their subsequent relationships are not only likeable, but full of potential. While these characters share similarities with their predecessors, they are entirely their own individuals, each given convincing motives and histories. Fear has long been a theme in the franchise, but here it’s not as simple as fear leading to anger, hate, and the dark side, but how fear has power to both hold characters back and propel them forward. There’s a lovely and occasionally heartbreaking reality that not all of our familiar characters are where we imagined they’d be. This is paralleled by our new characters who also find themselves bound to the past and afraid of the future before moving on. The narrative familiarities are intentionally tied to these themes, delivering an awakening that lies in reflection and a near literal return to the past. Fan-service it may be, but no one ever said there couldn’t be meaning in fan-servitude.

But of course, an aspect of successful fan-service is recognizing how broadly fandom stretches, and how much the popularity of Star Wars owes to those fans that the films have largely neglected featuring. Much of The Force Awakens’ modernity stems from the fact that the lead characters are in the hands of a woman, a black man, and a Latin American man. While so many franchise restarts try to cater to the same audience, Abrams and co-writer Lawrence Kasdan aim to broaden and celebrate the reach of Star Wars not by just focusing on legacy, but diversity as well. The narrative tropes pale in comparison to how many tropes of racial and gender-defined characterization are broken. Rey is powerful, smart, and charming without the film trying to sexualize her as well. While many films attempt to create the stoic black man, flawless and boring, Finn is given the personality and an arc that allows him to change. And while Oscar Isaac’s Poe Dameron plays a smaller role in the events of this film, it’s refreshing to see a Latin American man who’s portrayed simply as a through and through good guy instead of a criminal or coward. Women and minorities are prominently featured as extras in most scenes. They are pirates, First Order affiliates, X-Wing pilots, and commanders, all going a long way to make this galaxy a more believable place, a place that any kid watching can see themselves easily fitting into.

Going hand-in-hand with this modernity in casting, the dialogue also displays an adept ear for how people talk to each other. It actually takes a bit of adjustment in terms of hearing dialogue that’s closer to Whedon (though not nearly so cutesy) than it is to Lucas’ more stilted style. Even the film’s central villain benefits from this modernity of language and characterization. Gone are the days where an utterly unstoppable killing machine with a modicum of personality were enough to create a compelling threat. Adam Driver brings an intensity to Kylo Ren, as well as genuine emotional struggle. His desire to drown out his call towards the light side, and fully embrace the dark side, creates a complexity that not only serves as a parallel for the other characters’ “awakening” but gives his villainy a place to go in future installments. Kylo Ren is unquestionably one of the best villains we’ve seen emerge in our new age of blockbusters, because it’s not the outward acts that define him but the inward struggle. There’s an emotional realism given to Kylo Ren, Rey, and Finn that gives the film a subtle heaviness that couldn’t feel more different from A New Hope. And that’s the key of the film; even in the face of recognizable plot points, The Force Awakens is comprised of its own emotional beats, one unmistakably Star Wars but fresh nonetheless. Contributing to this subtlety and emotional heft is John Williams’ score. While it doesn’t offer the same kind of instantly recognizable tracks (yet), it could be argued that it marks some of Williams’ best work yet. The score has a lasting resonance to it, one that often quietly maintains the film’s sense of mystery.

The Force Awakens’ lack of exposition comes as a bit of a surprise. There are a lot of story aspects that go unexplained, obviously to set up the subsequent installments, but it works quite brilliantly. We take for granted how little audiences knew about the galaxy at the end of A New Hope. Of course, many of us were spoiled on plot points and reveals before we ever saw that film. And the instant accessibility of all of the films in the saga, along with our ability to watch them sequentially, have eliminated many of the guessing games that those original 1977 audiences played. We don’t get answers about all of the characters, or even the establishment of this new galactic order, which provides us with a kind of lasting excitement that makes the film worth going back to see in theaters multiple times. Make no mistake, there’s nothing standalone about The Force Awakens. It is necessary to see what has come before and see what will come after in order to get the full story. While there are some narrative flaws, and plot choices that may prove frustrating to some, I’d hazard to be too vocal about them until we can look back on this new trilogy in its entirety.

The Force Awakens is the start of something grand, familiar by design but entirely new in terms of where it places its attention and emotional interest. It’s impossible not to see the energy and care on the screen. Whether it comes from the practical effects, the designs, the performances that not even Harrison Ford could simply phone in, or its powerful action and story beats, The Force Awakens provides the emotional first steps in convincing audiences that Star Wars is back for good and we no longer need be bound by fear.

Grade: A