Salem's Lot: Not enough bite

Salem's Lot (2024) • View trailer

3.5 stars (out of five). Rated R, for bloody violence 

Available via: MAX

By Derrick Bang

Film adaptations of Stephen King’s novels have run the gamut, from the excellent — Misery, Stand By Me, The Shawshank Redemption and Carrie — to the deplorable: Thinner, Cell, Lawnmower Man and many, many others.

 

With sundown rapidly approaching, the wary vampire hunters — from left, Susan
(Makenzie Leigh), Ben (Lewis Pullman), Dr. Cody (Alfre Woodard), Mark (Jordan
Preston Carter) and Father Callahan (John Benjamin Hickey) — contemplate how
best to invade the dread Marsden House.

Most often, the fault lies with inept directors and scripters. Sometimes, though, the fans who inhabit what King calls Constant Reader Land are upset because a given adaptation changed so much that it “ruined the book.” To those folks, King always cites what James M. Cain said to a student reporter who bemoaned how Hollywood had altered books such as Double Indemnity and The Postman Always Rings Twice.

“The movies didn’t change them a bit, son,” Cain replied, pointing to a shelf of books behind his desk. “They’re all right up there. Every word is the same as when I wrote them.”

 

Director/scripter Gary Dauberman’s respectful handling of King’s famed 1975 novel does pretty well, when it comes to fidelity. He includes almost all the central characters, hits most of the story’s key plot points, and deftly maintains the unnerving atmosphere King established so well, with the juxtaposition of quaintly bucolic, small-town Americana invaded by macabre, old-world Evil.

 

And when Dauberman does slide the story into different territory — notably during the third act — he does so cleverly; the climax is both ingenious, and suspensefully mounted with an assist from editor Luke Ciarrocchi.

 

That said, this film fails in another, equally important manner: overall pacing. 

 

After taking time, during a leisurely first act, to introduce the key players and set up the looming threat, a fleeting second act rushes far too quickly into the aforementioned finale. King’s luxurious attention to detail — the nuances of sidebar characters, and their back-stories — are completely absent.

 

This is particularly egregious with respect to school teacher Matt Burke and local priest Father Callahan (although that’s getting ahead of things a bit).

 

The result is a jarring case of whiplash, as if great chunks of this film had been left on the cutting-room floor. Dauberman has admitted that his first cut ran three hours, which I suspect would have been preferable; director Tobe Hooper’s 1979 two-part TV miniseries, running 183 minutes, was — and remains — vastly superior.

 

The Gray Man: Colorfully overblown

The Gray Man (2022) • View trailer

Three stars (out of five). Rated PG-13, for intense violence and action, and some profanity

Available via: Netflix

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 7.29.22

Given the often exaggerated genre we’re dealing with, this film trundles along reasonably well … until most of downtown Prague — and its entire police force — are blown to bits during the dog-nuts second act (apparently without sparking an international incident).

 

With scores of gun-toting thugs laying waste to downtown Prague while trying to kill him,
Sierra Six (Ryan Gosling) is about to make clever use of a passing tram.

In their obvious efforts to kick-start a new franchise, scripters Joe Russo, Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely have retained very little of Mark Greaney’s 2009 espionage thriller (first in a series of 11 books thus far). Russo and co-director Anthony Russo have uncorked a fast-paced loner-against-the-world saga which — despite becoming increasingly preposterous — ticks all the boxes for folks seeking mindless thrills.

And, in fairness, we get a solid set of (quasi) good guys, victims in peril, and some very very bad guys.

 

During a brief prologue set 18 years in the past, Court Gentry (Ryan Gosling) is rescued from a lengthy prison sentence by upper-echelon CIA handler Fitzroy (Billy Bob Thornton).

 

“What’s the catch?” Gentry asks.

 

“You come work for us,” Fitzroy replies.

 

Turns out Gentry has mad assassin skills, but — as the first action sequence reveals, once we bounce back to the present day — also possesses a strong desire to avoid collateral civilian damage. Gentry has become a highly valued member of Fitzroy’s dark-ops “Sierra” program, his identity submerged beneath the code-name Sierra Six, or simply Six: aka the Gray Man.

 

Unfortunately, Fitzroy was pushed into retirement a few years back, his place taken by the ruthlessly ambitious Agency Group Chief Denny Carmichael (Regé-Jean Page, suitably condescending), who lacks his predecessor’s scruples. Worse yet — for reasons not immediately revealed — he has no use for the Sierra program, and is busily “cleaning house” in a lethal manner.

 

This doesn’t sit well with Deputy Group Chief Suzanne Brewer (Jessica Henwick), who regards her boss as reckless and arrogant. She spends the entire film barking objections at his heels, to the point of turning into a tiresome nag. It’s not a well-crafted role, and Henwick brings nothing to the party.

 

When Six accidentally gains possession of intel that would destroy Carmichael’s career, the latter hires charming, kill-crazy psychopath Lloyd Hansen (Chris Evans) to terminate the final link in the Sierra chain.

 

Hansen, who torments his targets for sport, is introduced while torturing some poor schlub; we therefore know he’s Not A Nice Guy.

 

The Lion King: More of a whimper than a roar

The Lion King (2019) • View trailer 
Three stars. Rated PG, for dramatic intensity
By Derrick Bang

It’s difficult to view this film as anything but a cynical cash grab.

Cruelly tricked into believing that he has committed an unspeakable act, the forlorn
lion cub Simba's spirits are lifted when he unexpectedly befriends a warthog (Pumbaa)
and a meerkat (Timon).

Disney has been cannibalizing its legacy of late, and the results are increasingly deplorable. Bad enough that we had to endure (mostly) live-action remakes of Dumbo and Aladdin earlier this year; at least they’re populated mostly by human characters who could be given fresh interpretations by flesh-and-blood actors (as will be the case with a live-action Mulan, arriving next year).

But The Lion King is different: nothing more than “trading up” an entirely non-human cast from (more or less) traditional animation to CGI. To what end? Animation is animation. The opulent, Tony Award-winning Broadway production was highlighted by Julie Taymor’s costume design and inventive direction, Richard Hudson’s scenic design, and Garth Fagan’s choreography … none of which translates to this animated retread.

And, as was the case with Aladdin, this Lion King has been expanded from the 1994 original’s just-right 88 minutes, to a bloated and often insufferable 118 minutes. That additional half-hour adds nothing to the story, aside from granting director Jon Favreau more space for portentously long takes apparently intended to amplify the drama.

In fact, such lengthy pauses make the film seem like more of a drag.

In fairness, the animation is stunning:  a collaborative effort by visual effects supervisor Rob Legato, animation supervisor Andrew R. Jones, and MPC Film VFX supervisors Adam Valdez and Elliot Newman. It’s not merely a pride of lions looking and moving in a lifelike manner; this story has a massive cast of four-legged and winged characters, not to mention sidebar insects, reptiles and all manner of other critters.

The verisimilitude is breathtaking … and that’s part of the problem. Because it frankly looks weird when these creatures break into song. The talking is disorienting enough, but at least that’s subtle; watching the mouths of a lifelike lion, warthog and meerkat wrap their lips around the lyrics of “Hakuna Matata” utterly destroys the illusion.

12 Years a Slave: A brilliant, timeless drama

12 Years a Slave (2013) • View trailer 
Five stars. Rating: R, for grim violence, brutality, nudity and brief sexuality
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 11.15.13

Some films transcend their big-screen confines.

The story is so compelling, the direction so deft, the performances so persuasively real, that we cease to see the screen or the acting, and simply become immersed in the experience.

As Epps (Michael Fassbender, center) expresses far too much appreciation for the
cotton-picking skills of Patsey (Lupita Nyong'o), Solomon (Chiwetel Ejiofor) gradually
recognizes the unpalatable, one-sided "understanding" between this master and his
attractive slave ... but, of course, can neither do or say anything.

12 Years a Slave is such a film.

I remember, years back, getting wholly caught up in a stage production of Tennessee Williams’ The Glass Menagerie. At one point, the fragile Laura Wingfield stepped outside the front door and onto the porch of the simple but effective set, and I grew concerned; she wasn’t dressed warmly enough, and surely she’d get cold out there, late at night.

That’s how invested I was in British director Steve McQueen’s sensitive, unflinching and utterly mesmerizing handling of this film.

John Ridley’s note-perfect screenplay is adapted from Solomon Northup’s 12 Years a Slave, a rare 19th century memoir by a man who lived what he wrote — no, make that endured and survived — and what we now see on the screen. Northup’s saga is brutal, horrifying, even unbelievable at times. We civilized, 21st century citizens of the world cannot comprehend men — and women — behaving so callously, so cruelly to their fellow men and women.

Horrific times, we think, seeking solace. Nearly two centuries ago. Surely, we’ve become better in the meantime.

But then I reflect on the Nazi persecution of the Jews, with the often willing participation of “good Germans,” and I reflect on young Malala Yousafzai, nearly killed by Taliban thugs who’ve promised to keep trying, just as they bomb schoolchildren and continue to maim and behead others who’d encourage education, and I realize what McQueen clearly intends to demonstrate.

This film isn’t a portal to another time, another place. Sadly, it’s a mirror to the here and now.

The year is 1841, in pre-Civil War United States; we meet Solomon Northup (a simply astonishing performance by Chiwetel Ejiofor) as a dignified gentleman living with his family in Saratoga, N.Y. He walks assuredly among his white peers, treated with respect whether on the street or conducting business in a shop.

Although, even here, we get a flash of underlying tension: a flicker of ... something ... in the eyes of one white aristocrat who registers Solomon’s presence, his station, and says nothing, but silently speaks volumes.