Mission Impossible: The Final Reckoning — An insufferable ego trip

Mission Impossible: The Final Reckoning (2025) • View trailer

Two stars (out of five). Rated PG-13, for strong violence, dramatic intensity and fleeting profanity

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 5.25.25

Vanity, thy name is Tom Cruise.

 

It has become increasingly obvious — ever since the Burj Khalifa climbing sequence in 2011’s masterfully entertaining Ghost Protocol revived the series — that Cruise’s increasingly flamboyant stunt sequences were becoming the tail that wagged the dog.

 

Upon reaching the entrance to a huge underground server farm, Ethan (Tom Cruise,
center) and his comrades — from left, Paris (Pom Klementief), Degas (Greg Tarzan
Davis), Benji (Simon Pegg) and Grace (Hayley Atwell) — find the place curiously quiet.

The Final Reckoning brings this trend to its inevitable, lamentable conclusion. 

All tail, and no dog.

 

This slog is overcooked and overlong, its incomprehensible, so-called “plot” no more than techno-babble dialogue interludes between Cruise’s determination to prove that he “can too still do this stuff” in his 60s, in an escalating series of laughably ludicrous action sequences that are leagues beyond any viewer’s willingness to accept.

 

The Christopher McQuarrie/Erik Jendresen narrative doesn’t merely stretch credibility beyond the breaking point; it makes no effort to feign any level of credibility.

 

“This new movie is a gargantuan accomplishment,” Cruise boasts, in the production notes. “Very elegant, very layered and incredibly epic.”

 

Elegant? In your dreams, Tommy.

 

This is what happens, when unchecked ego calls the shots.

 

I worried, when 2023’s Dead Reckoning concluded, that McQuarrie and Jendresen had written themselves into an irresolvable corner, with their all-powerful AI “Entity” poised to infiltrate and corrupt every aspect of world-wide civilized society.

 

As this film opens, that worst nightmare has come to pass. The Entity’s “deep fakes” have obliterated world-wide public trust in all news sources, politicians and government officials. People riot in the streets of every country’s major city; violence and anarchy are the order of the day.

 

Worse yet, The Entity has seized control of five of the world’s nine nuclear missile stockpiles, and is doing its best to break into the remaining four ... one of which is our good ol’ USofA, which it’s certain to absorb within three days.

 

(Why three days? Who could know such a thing, with such precision? Don’t ask.)

 

Impressionable, cultish “true believers” eagerly hope The Entity will destroy everything, in order to create some ill-conceived new world order. (Like there’s life after nuclear annihilation???)

 

There’s simply no coming back from the doomsday scenario depicted in this film’s first 10 minutes ... despite the fact that — somehow — Ethan Hunt (Cruise) and his Impossible Missions Force team will save the world, because The Script Says So.

 

Ergo, Cruise and McQuarrie — who also directs this film, as he has the previous three — rely entirely on breakneck momentum, to lurch from one preposterous action sequence to the next, rather than even attempting to develop genuine suspense with a reasonably crafted linear narrative.

 

The result is an insufferably loud barrage of soulless visual cacophony: an unforgivably protracted, boring, senses-shattering 169 minutes of mayhem.

Orion and The Dark: Joyously illuminating

Orion and The Dark (2024) • View trailer

Four stars (out of five). Rated TV-Y7, and suitable for all ages

Available via: Netflix

By Derrick Bang

As he introduces himself, at the beginning of this delightful animated film, Orion claims to be “a kid just like you.”

 

But that isn’t quite true.

 

Orion is understandably apprehensive when his late-night bedroom is invaded by a
partially shapeless, ink-black apparition that introduces himself as Dark.

All kids fret about this or that, but Orion’s fears are on an entirely different level. To quote Charlie Brown, his anxieties have anxieties.

As Orion soon confesses, he worries about...

 

• Murderous gutter clowns;

 

• Cancer-causing cell phone waves;

 

• Mosquito bites getting infected, causing a limb to wither and drop off;

 

• Falling off a skyscraper;

 

• Being responsible for his team losing;

 

• Being rejected by Sally, the girl he worships from afar;

 

• School locker rooms, particularly when local bully Richie Panici is present; and

 

• Bees, dogs, the ocean, haircuts and monsters.

 

All of this is depicted in a colorful, crayon-style animated rush lifted from the artwork in Orion’s personal journal: a style distinct from the more traditional animation work in this DreamWorks charmer from director Sean Charmatz, making an impressive big-screen feature debut.

 

Most of all, though, Orion is afraid of the dark. He insists on sleeping with night lights, and his bedroom door open. His tolerant parents haven’t quite given up on him, but they’re running out of ideas; he blatantly rejects their insistence that much of what he professes to fear would be fun, if he simply yielded to the moment.

 

“Fun?” he retorts. “Fun is just a word people made up, to make danger sound more appealing!”

 

Orion and The Dark is adapted from British author Emma Yarlett’s captivating 2014 children’s picture book ... although “adapted” isn’t quite the right word. Her book actually is a jumping-off point for a pleasantly mind-boggling script by Charlie Kaufman, who previously perplexed our brains with Being John Malkovich, Adaptation and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (the latter earning him a well-deserved Academy Award).

 

Trust Kaufman to weave a singularly unique, existentialist storytelling style into a children’s fantasy, while smoothly blending this with Yarlett’s gentle wisdoms.

Black Panther: Wakanda Forever — Sophomore slump

Black Panther: Wakanda Forever (2022) • View trailer

3.5 stars (out of five). Rated PG-13, for dramatic intensity, strong violence and occasional profanity

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 11.11.22

If this new entry falls short of its predecessor, it’s mostly because the 2018 film set the bar so impressively high.

 

Okoye (Danai Gurira, left) and Shuri (Letitia Wright) adopt disguises in an effort to
infiltrate MIT, where they hope to locate — and rescue — the scientist who has
developed a controversial vibranium detector.

That said, director Ryan Coogler’s second entry in the Black Panther series has a massive hole in its center: the tragic absence of star Chadwick Boseman. Try as they might, Coogler and co-scripter Joe Robert Cole — both of whom brought us the first film — can’t quite fill that gap.

And, in an effort to compensate — while also honoring the series’ ongoing heritage — they spend too much time on grief, lamentation and bleak dialogue exchanges between the story’s primary characters. You’ll find very few smiles in this long-winded saga, which at a ridiculously self-indulgent 161 minutes, overstays its welcome by at least one massive melee too many.

 

On top of which, this story’s central character — the science-minded prodigy, Shuri (Letitia Wright) — is burdened by an unnecessary amount of heartbreak.

 

A year has passed since the untimely death of Shuri’s older brother, King T’Challa, from circumstances left vague. Wakanda’s Queen Ramonda (Angela Bassett) struggles to protect their nation from intervening world powers, some of whom — notably France and the United States — wish to get their hands on the African realm’s fabled vibranium metal, with its extraordinary abilities to absorb, store and release large amounts of kinetic energy.

 

This meteoric substance also remains invisible to conventional scanners, making it a potential game-changer in global rivalries … which Queen Ramonda knows only too well. She has no intention of sharing vibranium with anybody.

 

Ah, but elsewhere at sea, a U.S. research facility is monitoring the progress of a deep-water machine that CAN detect — and has found — an undersea vibranium deposit. But before this discovery can be celebrated, everybody at the facility is slaughtered by an ocean-going platoon of blue-skinned underwater denizens, led by the remorselessly vicious Namor (Tenoch Huerta), lord of the hidden undersea civilization of Talokan.

 

(A brief sidebar, for those unfamiliar with Marvel Comics history: Namor, most famously known as the Sub-Mariner, dates all the way back to 1939. Since then, he has become both hero and villain, generally in service of trying to prevent his undersea kingdom of Atlantis from being discovered and/or destroyed by “surface dwellers.” 

 

(More recently in the Marvel Comics universe — given that both are hidden civilizations with advanced tech and militaristic tendencies — Wakanda and Atlantis have been embroiled in a punishing, long-term war that has wreaked havoc on both sides: hence, this film’s core plotline.)

 

(But I’ve no idea while Coogler and Cole made up “Talokan,” when they could — should — simply have used Atlantis.)

Wendell & Wild: A fractured Halloween fable

Wendell & Wild (2022) • View trailer

3.5 stars (out of five). Rated PG-13 for dramatic intensity, violence, brief strong language, and an overall ookie-spooky atmosphere

Available via: Netflix

By Derrick Bang

The Brothers Grimm would have loved this film.

 

Director Henry Selick’s newest stop-motion fantasy is gleefully, grotesquely ghoulish: full-tilt macabre and disturbing at a level that absolutely warrants its PG-13 rating. (Parents, take note.)

 

While her sorta-kinda friend Raúl watches nervously, Kat prepares to have a close
encounter with something rather unpleasant.

But while the film looks fantastic, it’s somewhat over-written, with at least one sub-plot too many, and a tendency to short-change supporting characters who deserve more exposure. The clumsy script is by Selick and Jordan Peele, based on an unpublished book by Selick and Clay McLeod Chapman.

 

A fleeting prologue lasts just long enough to introduce 8-year-old Kat Elliot, who immediately loses her parents in a tragic car accident, for which she blames herself. (Bad enough that so many Disney films, animated or otherwise, feature characters who lose one parent; this poor girl loses both?)

 

Before we can wonder about Kat’s subsequent fate, we’re whisked to a cacophonous underworld setting, where an immense demon named Buffalo Belzer (voiced by Ving Rhames) has built a crazy-quilt amusement park for despondent lost souls on his massive chest. His two much smaller sons, Wendell (Keegan-Michael Key) and Wild (Peele), spend eternity by applying dollops of rejuvenating hair cream on Belzer’s balding pate … all the while dreaming of building their own, vastly superior amusement park for the dear departed.

 

(Amusement parks for the dead? On a demon’s chest? Seriously? No wonder Selick and Chapman haven’t been able to sell their book.)

 

Time leaps ahead in the surface world. Kat (Lyric Ross), now a defiant, punk rock-loving 13-year-old, has endured the worst of the foster care system; she’s brought back to her home town — in shackles — for her “last-chance placement” at the local all-girls Catholic school. She’s shocked to see that her beloved community of Rust Bank is a sorry shadow of itself; her parents’ brewery burned to the ground shortly after their demise, and most homes and storefronts are barricaded, with ugly “Klax Korp” posters warning people not to trespass.

 

Kat’s sullen attitude doesn’t dent the chirpy greeting from the school’s preppy “RBC Girls”: Siobhan (Tamara Smart), Sweetie (Ramona Young) and Sloane (Seema Virdi), accompanied by their adorable pet goat. They want to become instant BFFs; Kat wants no part of them. She’s a bit more tolerant of Raúl (Sam Zelaya), a quiet, artistic trans lad who has turned the school attic into a well-appointed studio workshop.

 

The school is run by Father Bests (James Hong) and Sister Helley (Angela Bassett), with assistance from a couple of squat, forever scowling nuns dubbed Penguins (old joke, right?).

Gunpowder Milkshake: Gleefully explosive

Gunpowder Milkshake (2021) • View trailer

3.5 stars (out of five). Rated R, for frequent profanity and strong, bloody violence

Available via: Netflix

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 7.23.21

A title such as this one practically screams “guilty pleasure.”

 

Indeed, it’s a pleasure.

 

Albeit extremely guilty.

 

With all manner of vicious thugs hot on their heels, Scarlet (Lena Heady, left) guides
Sam (Karen Gillan, right) and young Emily (Chloe Coleman) through a secret
escape route.

Director/co-scripter Navot Papushado’s opulently stylish revenge/survival thriller is a total kick: the sort of high-octane B-movie that’ll be adored by fans of Baby Driver and Guy Ritchie’s early-career crime flicks. Papushado, production designer David Scheunemann and cinematographer Michael Seresin give this violent romp all manner of atmosphere: way-cool settings, exaggerated and cleverly distinct color palettes, and a degree of intensity that threatens to burst from the screen.

These backdrops are populated by outré characters laden with ’tude: burlesques who couldn’t possibly exist in the real world (and thank God for that). Then there’s the most important element, which sets this film apart from grim, joyless cousins such as John Wick and its sequels: The script — by Papushado and Ehud Lavski — has heart.

 

The hyper-violence is mitigated by our lead character’s virtuous decision to Do The Right Thing.

 

Fifteen years ago, 12-year-old Sam (Freya Allan) learned — in the worst possible way — that her mother Scarlet (Lena Headey) worked as an assassin for a ruthless crime syndicate known as The Firm. That day also was the last time Sam saw Scarlet; the girl subsequently was raised by The Firm, and has followed in her mother’s lethal footsteps.

 

She has become coldly, mercilessly efficient: the go-to “handler” dispatched to clean up The Firm’s most dangerous messes.

 

As the film opens, Sam (now Karen Gillan) has been a little too thorough with her most recent assignment, much to the chagrin of Nathan (Paul Giamatti), her handler and surrogate parent figure. The blowback is likely to enrage the local Russian mob, with which The Firm has an uneasily cordial understanding.

 

While Nathan frets over how best to handle the repercussions, he sends Sam on an easier assignment: to kill a man (Samuel Anderson) and retrieve a bundle of cash that he stole from The Firm. During this confrontation, she learns that he took the money in order to ransom his 8-year-old daughter Emily (Chloe Coleman), who has been kidnapped by a quartet of mopes concealed behind monster masks.

 

This triggers Sam’s memory of her own younger self, orphaned under similarly dire circumstances. In the blink of an eye, Sam’s loyalty to The Firm evaporates; we see the shift in Gillan’s gaze. No matter the consequences, she intends to protect that little girl.

 

Consequences prove plentiful.

 

Soul: It has serious chops!

Soul (2020) • View trailer

Five stars. Rated PG, for mild thematic elements

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 12.31.20

This isn’t the first time I’ve observed that some of the sharpest, wittiest and most perceptive scripts belong to animated films.

 

An impressive percentage of them come from Pixar.

 

Joe Gardner's soul, right, tirelessly tries to find something that might inspire the cynical,
world-weary — and yet oddly childlike — Soul 22.

Pete Docter has been one of Hollywood’s most innovative writer/directors for well over a decade; he’s also one of the most savvy collaborators. Although he shared scripting credits on WALL•E, Up and Inside Out, all three possess an inventive point of view — a shrewd analysis of the human condition — that bespeaks Docter’s guiding influence.

 

This is even more obvious, given that he directed — and won well-deserved Academy Awards — for the latter two.

 

I figured Inside Out would remain his career masterpiece. I should’ve known better.

 

Soul — directed and co-written by Docter, with scripting assistance from Mike Jones and Kemp Powers — is another animated tour de force that ingeniously blends humor, pathos and social commentary with a wildly imaginative take on what makes us who we are.

 

Whereas Inside Out cheekily proposed how our workaday behavior varies according to the influence of (primarily) joy, sadness, fear and anger, Soul — available (ahem) solely via Disney+ — offers a fascinating theory for how our personalities are shaped, and the unalterable degree to which that influences who and what we become.

 

But the film doesn’t initially seem that way, and that’s another clever touch: An equally strong secondary story beats at its heart.

 

Joe Gardner (voiced by Jamie Foxx), a gifted pianist with wicked jazz chops, has tirelessly gigged in an effort to get the one big break that might ignite a career. He’s a constant disappointment to his mother (Libba Gardner), who wishes he’d abandon such dreams and be content as a middle-school music teacher … particularly since he’s just been offered full-time employment.

 

Ah, but Joe lucks into an audition for world-renowned sax legend Dorothea Williams (Angela Bassett) … and nails it. She makes him a member of her quartet, currently headlining at the Half Note (the absolute epitome, as visualized, of an intimate New York basement jazz club).

 

Giddy with delight, oblivious to his surroundings, Joe has an accident … and winds up — now a much smaller, ghostlike presence that represents his soul — on a moving sidewalk leading heavenward into The Great Beyond.

 

(This whiplash assault on our emotions and expectations — giddy with joy, sharing Joe’s success, to sudden whattheheck??? — is typical of Docter’s films.)

Olympus Has Fallen: If only it were so...

Olympus Has Fallen (2013) • View trailer 
1.5 stars. Rating: R, for strong violence and plenty of profanity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 3.22.13

An “exhortation to tweet,” handed to patrons who attended Tuesday evening’s preview screening of this film, asked if we all were ready for a “heart-pounding, nonstop, action-packed thrill ride?”

Hey, you bet; I’m always up for that much entertainment.

Once a suicide bomber blows a hole through the protective fence that surrounds the
White House, terrorists begin to pour through the gap. Seeing his slim chance,
Banning (Gerard Butler) follows quietly from the rear, hoping to pick off any stragglers.
Hey ... it could work!

But having now seen the film, I’m still waiting.

Olympus Has Fallen isn’t a thrill ride; it’s a thoroughly unpleasant, mean-spirited, jingoistic slice of propaganda disguised as a mainstream movie. It’s also insufferably and unforgivably stupid, laced with characters who spout laughably trite dialogue while behaving, for the most part, like cowardly morons.

If our heads of state truly responded like the idiots depicted here in Creighton Rothenberger and Katrin Benedikt’s offensively brainless script, we’d deserve to be invaded by terrorists.

Attempting to position this bomb as a “thrill ride” also implies at least a certain degree of fun, and you’ll find none of that here. What you will find, under Antoine Fuqua’s hammer-handed direction, is a first act that lovingly depicts the mass slaughter of hundreds, if not thousands, with most victims gorily shredded by high-powered gunfire. The bloodbath goes on and on and on and on. Long past the point of necessity.

Then, for good measure — and to rev up our patriotic fury, donchaknow — we watch the Washington Monument destroyed in a manner uncomfortably similar to the 9/11 shattering of the twin towers. And then Fuqua lays waste to the White House.

Uh-huh. Jolly good fun.

This is the sort of turgid melodrama that forces an actor of Morgan Freeman’s stature — playing the Speaker of the House of Representatives, fergawdsake — to intone the immortal line, “They’ve opened up the gates of hell!” To a melodramatic crescendo from Trevor Morris’ bombastic score, of course.

I’d dismiss this hokey nonsense as a latter-day descendant of 1970s disaster flicks, such as Earthquake and The Towering Inferno, were it not for the nasty political subtext. Otherwise, though, the genre clichés are consistent: Any bit player granted a line of dialogue here — just enough to fix him or her in our minds — is guaranteed to go the way of Star Trek red-shirts. Gratuitously, I might add.

Our hero is Mike Banning (Gerard Butler), once a star Secret Service agent in charge of protecting President Benjamin Asher (Aaron Eckhart), now assigned to desk duty in the Treasury Department, in the wake of events in a rather cruel prologue. That’s typical of the overkill approach Rothenberger and Benedikt take to all elements of their script: no need for credibility or reasonable psychological subtlety, when a sledgehammer will do.

This Means War: Intermittently funny battle for love

This Means War (2012) • View trailer
Three stars. Rating: PG-13, and quite generously, for profanity, violence, sexual content and plenty of smutty dialogue
By Derrick Bang


Most films benefit from the guiding hand of a competent director ... which is, after all, the point of the entire endeavor.

Are CIA agents ever this cute? FDR (Chris Pine, left) and best friend Tuck (Tom
Hardy) size up the opposition before plunging into a furiously choreographed
battle. Alas, this melee will have dire consequences, when one baddie gets away
and swears revenge.

On the other hand, some films succeed in spite of ham-fisted directors, and This Means War is a perfect example. The director who prefers to be known as McG — born Joseph McGinty Nichol — never has been what could be termed a thoughtful filmmaker; his oeuvre runs to flashy action fare such as Charlie’s Angels and Terminator Salvation.

In fairness, he also delivered a genuinely heartfelt drama with We Are Marshall: apparently a bid for respectability.

But his tendency toward wretched excess obviously proved too great a temptation, when it came to This Means War. McG’s egregiously stylistic flourishes constantly get in the way, and he appears to have fired his continuity supervisor; key plot points and minor details come and go at random.

Granted, the script is something of a hodge-podge to begin with; one gets a sense that writers Timothy Dowling, Marcus Gautesen and Simon Kinberg didn’t agree on much. But the core premise is cute and engaging: Best-buddy CIA agents FDR (Chris Pine) and Tuck (Tom Hardy) accidentally wind up dating the same woman, a Consumer Reports-style product tester named Lauren (Reese Witherspoon).

FDR and Tuck figure this out quickly, and agree to let Lauren’s heart choose between them ... without telling her any of this. (She never sees them together.)

At first, with minimal emotional involvement, FDR and Tuck have no trouble keeping things honorable. Unfortunately, as they both begin to fall for Lauren, their behavior becomes increasingly petty, their determination to sabotage each other’s date nights increasingly nasty (and funny). Eventually, the friendship and working relationship begin to fray.

Bad timing on that, since a vengeful villain from a recent mission has promised to kill them both.

And Lauren? Heck, after being dateless for so long — the usual plot point that raises eyebrows, when dealing with somebody of Witherspoon’s blinding charm and hotness — she’s in seventh heaven, courting two hunky guys with an uncanny knack for catering to her interests, hobbies and passions.

No surprise there: FDR and Tuck have mobilized surveillance teams to bug her entire life and research every detail from her past. When these junior operatives worry aloud about privacy issues, FDR reassures them with the catch-all answer: “Patriot Act.”

Utterly preposterous, to be sure, but laden with potential. Most importantly, Pine, Hardy and Witherspoon plunge enthusiastically into every crazed detail.