Black and Blue: Badly bruised

Black and Blue (2019) • View trailer 
Two stars. Rated R, for profanity and considerable violence
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 10.25.19

As a gritty urban thriller, this is one helluva ride.

Director Deon Taylor and production designer Frank Zito make superlative use of post-Katrina New Orleans’ still ravaged wards; such scenes evoke the bombed-out European cities during all manner of World War II-era film dramas. One can’t help viewing this setting as a deplorable condemnation of the U.S. government’s failure to put any effort into rejuvenating NOLA’s poorer neighborhoods.

With corrupt cops closing in from all sides, Officer Alicia West (Naomie Harris) and
Mouse (Tyrese Gibson) have little chance of surviving the next few seconds, let alone
long enough to get crucial information back to her precinct house.

Taylor also draws a persuasive, crowd-pleasing performance from Naomie Harris, starring as rookie police officer Alicia West: an intelligent, compassionate and admirably (foolishly?) stubborn individual who genuinely believes that change begins one person at a time. She gets solid support from Tyrese Gibson, similarly strong as Milo “Mouse” Jackson, a local fixture whose tenuous, long-dormant tie to Alicia puts him in mortal danger.

And if this film had nothing beyond its suspenseful, heroine-in-peril scenario, this would be an entirely different essay.

But no: Peter A. Dowling’s original script is equal parts (supposedly) barbed social commentary, and in that, this film fails utterly. Indeed, this story is an equally offensive example of that which it intends to indict.

We begin as Alicia, enjoying an early morning jog through her attractive suburban neighborhood, is stopped and thrown against a fence by two white cracker cops intending to bust her for EWB (existing while black). They back off — very reluctantly — only when her ID reveals that she’s “on the job.”

Her day having gotten off to a lousy start, she nonetheless works a full shift alongside mentoring partner Kevin Jennings (Reid Scott), a decent enough guy who laments that their beat — the Ninth Ward — has deteriorated significantly, since she left years earlier and served several army tours in Afghanistan. Chance encounters with Mouse and former best friend Missy (Nafessa Williams) elicit savage contempt from the latter, now that Alicia has become “blue,” rather than black.

A personnel shortage prompts a second night shift detail, with Alicia now working alongside veteran Officer Deacon Brown (James Moses Black). As dawn approaches, they roll up to an abandoned warehouse, Brown having gotten “an assignment” on his personal cell phone. He orders her to remain in the car; when shots are fired, she rushes into the building, intending to support Brown.

Zombieland: Double Tap — Bloody good fun

Zombieland: Double Tap (2019) • View trailer 
3.5 stars. Rated R, for strong bloody violence, relentless profanity, drug use and sexual candor
By Derrick Bang 

Director Ruben Fleischer made an impressive big-screen feature debut with 2009’s Zombieland, applying his snarky sense of humor — honed by television work alongside Jimmy Kimmel and Zach Galifianakis — to an equally outrageous script from Rhett Reese and Paul Wernick.

Temporarily without wheels, and now saddled with the bubble-brained Madison (Zoey
Deutch, far left), our heroes — from left, Wichita (Emma Stone), Columbus (Jesse
Eisenberg) and Tallahassee (Woody Harrelson) — ponder their next move.

They also were blessed by an impressive cast, although that wasn’t entirely obvious at the time: Woody Harrelson (one Oscar nomination, two more to come); Abigail Breslin (still riding high on her Oscar nomination for Little Miss Sunshine); Jesse Eisenberg (not yet a breakout star, one Oscar nomination to come); and Emma Stone (also not yet noticed, with a Best Actress Oscar to come).

The result was an outrageously tasteless and frequently hilarious take on the whole zombie phenomenon: a thoroughly successful American response to Britain’s equally outré Shaun of the Dead.

Indeed, Zombieland was so successful that it begged for a sequel … but then, well, Eisenberg and Stone became rather famous. And quite busy.

So here we are, a full decade later, and the question is obvious: Can lightning strike again, after so much time has passed?

Answer: certainly.

Mind you, we’re talking about an “out there” level of success. This franchise is a guilty pleasure at best, thanks to a mutilated and blood-splattered level of gore commonly associated with George Romero’s more serious — and similarly gruesome — Living Dead entries. The faint of heart and easily offended are advised to steer veryclear.

As for the rest of us … what can I say? We have sick minds. (I make no apologies.)

The same period of story time has passed for veteran zombie hunters Tallahassee (Harrelson), Columbus (Eisenberg), Wichita (Stone) and Little Rock (Breslin). They’ve set up housekeeping in the White House, where its priceless historical relics are treated with varying degrees of respect or contempt. The quartet occasionally ventures outside to hone essential survival skills, by blasting, slicing, dicing and stomping modest staggers of zombies.

Eisenberg once again supplies necessary back-story and running voice-over commentary in Columbus’ insufferably nerdy (but always amusing) manner, while reminding us of the inexhaustible list of rules that have kept their little gang alive: Limber up, to prepare for the inevitable running away; the Buddy System, to watch your back; the Double Tap, because one shouldn’t be stingy with bullets; and — most important — Never be afraid to ask (scream) for help.

While Columbus enthusiastically reminds us of these essential commandments, they also appear on-screen via playful text animation: a sight gag that never gets tired.

Maleficent: Mistress of Evil — Maladroit

Maleficent: Mistress of Evil (2019) • View trailer 
1.5 stars. Rated PG, despite considerable violence and heartbreaking content
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 10.18.19

Wow. Genocide, in a (supposedly) family-friendly Disney fantasy?

What’s next? Gang rape? Child mutilation?

Uncle Walt must be spinning in his grave.

En route to a lavish dinner designed to acquaint Maleficent (Angelina Jolie, center) with
her future in-laws, Aurora (Elle Fanning) and Diaval (Sam Riley) can't help thinking that
this might be a very, very bad idea.

What were these people thinking?

Maleficent: Mistress of Evil is a tasteless, mean-spirited, Frankenstein’s monster of a movie: a textbook example of what happens when art is sacrificed on the altar of crass corporate commercialism. It follows 2014’s Maleficent, Disney’s response to Wicked, the stage play with its then-novel origin story of Dorothy Gale’s Wicked Witch of the West. Maleficent, in turn, was the origin story of the evil sorceress who bedeviled Aurora (aka Briar Rose) in Sleeping Beauty.

Which was a reasonable concept, the first time. But scripters Linda Woolverton, Micah Fitzerman-Blue and Noah Harpster have broken faith with the original fairy tale here — indeed, the entire genre — by blending cutesy-poo creatures with horrific violence, in service of a thoroughly unsubtle refrain of “We’ve got to overlook our differences, in order to get along.”

Real-world resonance notwithstanding, that lecture is getting very tiresome.

On top of which, the writers have blatantly borrowed (read: stolen) concepts from all manner of other, far superior fantasy sagas. The result is kitchen-sink overkill, as if dazzling us with a cornucopia of cheerful, colorful beasties will compensate for a story that becomes increasingly grim, depressing and sadistic.

And this is supposed to be for children? The PG rating is reprehensible, and a total lie. Disney should be ashamed.

Perhaps recognizing the folly of the entire production, most of the featured performers don’t bother acting. Angelina Jolie’s line readings are atrocious. Her Maleficent, intended to be intimidating, never rises above the smirking insolence of a star who recognizes that she’s wasting her time (and ours). Elle Fanning goes too far in the other direction; her Aurora is breathlessly melodramatic, her eyes forever wide with overwrought angst.

Harris Dickinson’s Prince Philip is no more than a stalwart hunk; his wooden insincerity is laughably inept. And the three actresses playing the colorful good fairies — transformed here into pixies dubbed Knotgrass (Imelda Staunton), Flittle (Lesley Manville) and Thistlewit (Juno Temple) — are just plain annoying.

Given that most of these actors have done superior work elsewhere, director Joachim Rønning deserves the blame for their poor performances here. He has no feeling for this material, having previously helmed only grim historical sagas — Max Manus: Man of War and Kon-Tiki — and 2017’s ill-advised Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales, a similar big-budget franchise flop.

Gemini Man: Double trouble

Gemini Man (2019) • View trailer 
Four stars. Rated PG-13, for considerable action violence and brief profanity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 10.11.19

Nature … or nurture?

That provocative question is at the heart of Gemini Man, thanks to an unexpectedly thoughtful script from David Benioff, Darren Lemke and Billy Ray. 

No matter where our heroes go — from left, Danny (Mary Elizabeth Winstead), Brogan
(Will Smith) and Baron (Benedict Wong) — the bad guys always catch up with them ...
and quickly. How is that possible?

“Unexpected” in the sense that — during the lengthy initial act — nothing about this high-octane thriller suggests that it’ll become so philosophical.

Considerable credit also goes to director Ang Lee — an Academy Award winner for Brokeback Mountain and Life of Pi — who, at first blush, seems an unusual choice for such pell-mell spyjinks. But Lee has long been fascinated by angst-laden decisions thrust upon characters forced to confront long-dormant facets of themselves.

(On top of which, Lee isn’t adverse to the occasional action-laden blockbuster, having also helmed Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon and Hulk.)

This updated Gemini Man has virtually nothing to do with the bone-stupid 1976 TV show of the same name, wherein Ben Murphy’s secret agent Sam Casey had the power to turn invisible, but only for 15 minutes at a time, lest his radiation-induced talent kill him. The series deservedly perished after only five episodes, leaving behind nothing but the intriguing title that Lee and his scripters have developed into a far superior premise.

We meet Will Smith’s Henry Brogan — an ex-Special Forces sniper turned assassin for a clandestine U.S. government agency — as he calmly prepares for his current mission: an assignment he completes successfully. Back at home in rural Savannah, Ga., Brogan tells his long-trusted handler, Del Patterson (Ralph Brown), that he’s had enough. 

Too many kills have left Brogan unable to face his own reflection in a mirror. He simply wants to build bird houses and fish the local waterways from his tiny boat.

We’ve seen this preamble many times before; we know full well that black-ops agents — particularly assassins — never are allowed to go quietly into that good night. And that’s true here as well.

But not in the usual manner. 

The Addams Family: Appropriately ookie and spooky

The Addams Family (2019) • View trailer 
3.5 stars. Rated PG, for macabre and suggestive humor
By Derrick Bang

This new Addams Family film definitely catches the vibe that cartoonist Charles Addams established so well, during a run that lasted from 1938 to his death in ’88.

Then again … not entirely.

Newly arrived in the postcard-perfect community that has been built in the lowland beneath
their dilapidated hilltop mansion, the Addams Family — from left, Morticia, Wednesday,
Gomez, Pugsley and Uncle Fester — prepare to greet their neighbors in their own
inimitable fashion.

These animated Addamses certainlylookright; directors Greg Tiernan and Conrad Vernon have faithfully followed the character template established within so many magazine covers and single-panel New Yorker cartoons. The resulting film moves along at a brisk, gag-laden clip; Tiernan, Vernon and editors Kevin Pavlovic and David Ian Salter pack their 87-minute romp with plenty of entertainment. I’ve no doubt today’s audiences will find it gleeful good fun.

And yet … scripters Matt Lieberman, Pamela Pettler and Erica Rivinoja have made a major change that would have prompted a frown from dear ol’ Charles, were he still with us. His cartoons always derived their humor from what dire deed was about to take place, generally executed by the gleefully macabre children, Wednesday and Pugsley; our imaginations filled in what would happen in the next few seconds, thereby making us collaborators in the punch line.

This film, in great contrast, too frequently completes the gag: often at the expense of poor Uncle Fester. Wednesday’s casually aimed arrows repeatedly penetrate his flesh, in a manner more reminiscent of Kenny’s recurring deaths, in television’s South Park. Many would excuse this as the dictates of modern humor, but I lament the absence of subtlety … particularly because subtlety — even if gruesome — was Charles Addams’ forté.

But times change, and it’s not really fair to judge this film by standards dated by more than half a century. Particularly because Lieberman, Pettler and Rivinoja have concocted a story quite decidedly Addams-esque, while taking a few cheeky digs at contemporary real-world behavior. 

It’s impossible to make too much fun of the narcissistic social media generation. On top of which, this film takes some perceptive shots at the gullibility of small-minded adults too easily swayed by libelous tweets and emails (a message likely overlooked by guilty parties who’d never, for a moment, think they behaved like that).

A brief prologue follows the nuptials that unite Gomez (voiced by Oscar Isaac) and Morticia (Charlize Theron) in unholy matrimony, after which they and all their bizarre friends and relations are driven away by angry/terrified “normal” townsfolk. Gomez and Morticia wind up at a mansion-esque, long-deserted asylum that comes with a vengeful resident ghost and hulking, shambling lunatic; the latter becomes their butler, Lurch (Vernon), when they turn this “perfect” estate into a happy home.

Joker: The monster in the deck

Joker (2019) • View trailer 
Four stars. Rated R, for dramatic intensity, violence and profanity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 10.4.19

Heath Ledger has some serious competition.

Actors have craved playing villains ever since Shakespeare’s era; as the cliché goes, it’s because they get the best lines. There’s a certain truth to that, just as the challenge of persuasively portraying madness carries its own allure.

As we initially meet him, Arthur (Joaquin Phoenix), much too socially awkward to hold a
"regular" job, makes ends meet — barely — by dressing up as a clown, and trying to
bring some joy into people's lives.

But that’s only half the equation. Unless one believes that evil emerges from the womb that way, it’s even more fascinating to depict the evolution of a monster: the downward spiral that transforms a disenfranchised — but otherwise placid — individual into a violent sociopath.

That’s where director/co-scripter Todd Phillips — sharing the writing credit with Scott Silver — truly shines. Joker is an uncomfortably disturbing portrait of an awkward misfit who’s just perceptive enough to recognize — and eventually resent — the fact that society doesn’t give a bent copper penny about him. He’s one of the “invisibles”: the exponentially expanding mass of homeless, jobless and unloved, utterly ignored by the One Percenters who don’t even glance in his direction.

If this sounds disturbingly similar to current events, that’s no accident. Phillips and Silver unerringly tap into the rising anxieties of middle-class, blue-collar and working poor individuals who have lost patience with the system, and therefore are willing to hitch their wagons to a movement or charismatic individual … even if he is a lunatic. 

Phillips and Silver exploit that angst so well, that at times Joker feels like the match about to be tossed into a dynamite-laden basement.

(Which explains Warner Bros.’ serious case of the jitters, while releasing this film in the wake of last week’s “mass shooting threat” directed at U.S. movie theaters. Recall that 2012’s Colorado slaughter took place during a midnight screening of The Dark Knight Rises.)

Of course, Phillips and Silver’s script is merely the template; Joaquin Phoenix brings it to chilling life. His performance is an all-in depiction of mental instability: of — as initially introduced — a social outcast desperately trying to hang on to meager crumbs of civility and sanity. The film opens on cinematographer Lawrence Sher’s tight-tight-tight close-up on Phoenix, cast as hapless Arthur Fleck, who mumbles, stumbles and chain-smokes his way through an interview with a tight-lipped but sympathetic social worker (Sharon Washington, aces in a brief role).

She asks to see his journal. He reluctantly shares it. We glimpse some of the pages, and regret having done so. The message is clear: This film will be relentlessly, unapologetically uncomfortable. Fasten your seat belts; it’s gonna be a bumpy ride.