The End of Oak Street: A complete mess

The End of Oak Street (2026) • View trailer

TURKEY: No stars (out of five); rated PG-13, despite considerable violence and gore

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 8.16.26

This film fails — jaw-droppingly — on every level.

 

The premise is ridiculous, poorly rationalized, and fails to maintain internal consistency. The main characters are inadequately conceived, one-dimensional stick figures that lack even enough depth to be considered clichés. The so-called “acting” ranges from risibly burlesque to line readings so wooden they warp.

 

All hell breaks loose, once the folks on Oak Street realize that — somehow, improbably —
their entire neighborhood has been dumped back in time, to the Jurassic Period.

Rarely have talented name actors — Ewan McGregor and Anne Hathaway — been handled so poorly by a director, although the blame isn’t entirely theirs. Nobody could have done better with the eye-rollingly awful dialogue in writer/director David Robert Mitchell’s so-called script.

I don’t understand. Back in 2014, Mitchell lit up Hollywood with It Follows, a smart, scary and genuinely original little shocker that frightened the Jujubes out of viewers.

 

What happened to that guy?

 

He sure isn’t anywhere to be seen here...

 

The year is 1982. Events begin during a lively block party in a middle-class suburban neighborhood. Greg and Denise Platt (McGregor and Hathaway) and their children — teenage Audrey (Maisy Stella) and adolescent Brian (Christian Convery) — are introduced gaily participating in a sack race. Family dog Starbuck watches from one side.

 

Ah, but — behind the scenes — all is not well in the Platt household. Greg uncharacteristically works odd jobs and drinks too much; Denise is writing a novel that reflects her own unhappy marriage; Audrey and Brian worry their parents will divorce.

 

Starbuck tends to poop in the back yard of next-door neighbor Mel Jacobs (P.J. Byrne), a Mr. Crankypants who threatens to shoot the dog if it happens again. (One suspects he won’t last long, when things go south.)

 

Brian pals around with three friends. He always carries a toy bow and arrow. (This would have made sense in the mid-1950s, when boys his age were part of the pop culture Davy Crocket/coonskin cap craze, but in 1982? It’s ... weird.)

 

The next couple of days are mostly uneventful. Brian and his pals spot a new girl in town (Jordan Alexa Davis, as Jeannette). They speculate whether she attends a private school. One of Denise’s neighbors shares a strange plant that sprouted overnight in her back yard. While Denise tries to determine what it is, the local librarian examines her photograph and immediately identifies it ... as something that has been extinct for millions of years.

 

(That’s an impressive bit of trivia, to have at the tip of her tongue.)

 

Late that evening, the night sky explodes with a thundering roar and blinding flash of light, and the power goes out. Assuming a blown transformer, they bunk together in the living room. The following morning, the power still is off; so is the plumbing. The basement is flooded, and the ambient temperature is warmer than usual.

The Odyssey: An epic masterpiece

The Odyssey (2026) • View trailer

Five stars (out of five); rated R, for violence, gore, dramatic intensity and profanity

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 7.19.26

Not many screenwriters get to share a credit with Homer.

 

And Christopher Nolan is one of very few directors up to the challenge of the ancient Greek poet’s classic work.

 

Warriors three: Odysseus (Matt Damon, center), Cepheus (Jimmy Gonzales, left) and
Eurylochus (Himesh Patel) survey what's left of Troy, following their successful
siege of the city.

This is epic filmmaking on a truly grand scale, which is the only way to present a saga that has it all: gods and goddesses, men and monsters, full-scale battles, perilous sea voyages, and dastardly palace intrigue. Granted, Nolan skips some events, and minimizes the list of involved deities, but only scholars intimately familiar with Homer’s fabled poem will notice.

Nolan wisely holds our attention, during this three-hour masterpiece, by alternating the “money sequences” with quieter, even melancholy moments between primary characters. Indeed, judging by how Monday evening’s sold-out Sacramento crowd reacted, viewers were much more invested in what would become of Odysseus’ kingdom, during his absence, than with what he faced while struggling to return home.

 

Be prepared for a challenging initial character dump.

 

Nolan follows Homer’s template, opening the story in medias res — in the plot’s chronological middle — and then supplying What Came Before via flashbacks recounted by Odysseus and a few other key players.

 

Tensions are high in Ithaca, where 20 years have passed since King Odysseus (Matt Damon) and his men joined Agamemnon (Benny Safdie) in his army’s successful invasion of the city of Troy. During this time, Odysseus’ wife, Penelope (Anne Hathaway), has endured a palace invasion by an ever-expanding number of boorish suitors hoping to become her new husband.

 

She has held them at bay by promising to remarry when she finishes weaving a shroud for Odysseus’ aged father, Laertes ... but she secretly unweaves each day’s progress at night.

 

(And she has gotten away with this for 20 years? That doth raise an eyebrow or two.)

 

The suitors have remained at bay, in part, because Odysseus’ renown, skill and might leave a massive shadow, even in his absence. During one flashback, we see that he’s the only man able to string his bow, inevitably following that up with his favorite party trick: shooting an arrow through a series of bundled axe heads.

 

Odysseus and Penelope’s son, Telemachus (Tom Holland), has come of age during this time. But he’s more eager to find his father — or, at least, to learn if he’s alive — than challenging his mother for the throne.

 

But one of the suitors, Antinous (Robert Pattinson), has grown tired of waiting. His vile nature emerges early on, when he grossly insults Eumaeus (John Leguizamo), Odysseus’ loyal, loquacious friend and swineherd. Although now blind, Eumaeus still is able to tell the young man what he’s doing wrong during a swordplay training session. Leguizamo exudes honor, honestly and loyalty.

 

Worse yet, Antinous contemptuously abuses Argus, Odysseus’ faithful and now quite aged dog. Pattinson oozes smarmy menace, with a scowl to match. (Do we hate Antinous? You betcha.)

 

Such behavior violates what becomes a crucial theme, as these events proceed: Zeus’ Law, the “guest friendship” decree that decrees how hosts should and should not act, and requires them to treat all guests with respect.

The Devil Wears Prada 2: Still wickedly fun

The Devil Wears Prada 2 (2026) • View trailer

Four stars (out of five); rated PG-13, for sensuality

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang 

The delicious snark isn’t quite as evident, and a greater degree of sentimentality is present, but everything else about this long-awaited sequel is spot-on.

 

When a panicked Andy (Anne Hathaway) confesses that she has nothing appropriate
to wear for a weekend gathering at her boss' home in the Hamptons, Nigel (Stanley
Tucci) comes to her rescue.

No surprise, since the entire team returned: director David Frankel, screenwriter Aline Brosh McKenna, and stars Meryl Streep, Anne Hathaway, Emily Blunt and Stanley Tucci. It should be noted, however, that while the 2006 film was a reasonably faithful adaptation of Lauren Weisberger’s 2003 novel, this sequel is an entirely original story that is — as the screen credit reads — “based upon characters created by Weisberger.”

This actually is a good thing, since it allows McKenna to lace her character-driven plot with thoughtful — and rather unsettling — issues that are relevant here and now (although fans who enjoyed Weisberger’s two subsequent novels might be disappointed).

 

The story audaciously opens on twin crises.

 

Andy Sachs (Hathaway), having followed through with her long-ago decision to leave Runway magazine in order to become a professional reporter, receives a prestigious journalism award for a particularly hard-hitting series of articles. Alas, seconds before her name is announced as the winner, Andy and all of her key New York Vanguard colleagues — everybody sitting at the same table — are fired. By text. Victims of “corporate restructuring.”

 

Over at Runway, imperious editor-in-chief Miranda Priestly (Streep) faces a catastrophe, having failed to properly research an article about a clothing brand that has been revealed to rely on sweatshop labor. Advertisers begin to panic, and social media lights up with outrage and demeaning memes; Irv Ravitz (Tibor Feldman), owner of Runway’s parent company Elias-Clarke, is apoplectic.

 

Perhaps worse, Miranda cannot respond with the level of blistering waspishness that characterized her every interaction in the first film; a long series of HR complaints have left her verbally muzzled, forced to pivot to insufferable PC alternatives. One of the film’s funniest running gags involves Streep’s exasperated expression every time Miranda’s current assistant, Amari (Simone Ashley), quietly tut-tuts and forestalls an impending gaffe.

 

Seeking to hasten damage control, and made aware of Andy’s recent award, Irv figures she’d be the one to write an appropriately balanced and sincere mea culpa. He offers her a position as Runway’s features editor; astonished at this miraculous turn of events, she accepts.

She Came to Me: A beguiling rom-com

She Came to Me (2023) • View trailer

Four stars (out of five). Rated R, for profanity

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang

Folks who enjoy quirky dramedies populated by whimsically eccentric characters will love this one.

 

Against his better judgment, Steven (Peter Dinklage) — accompanied by his dog, Levi —
accepts an invitation to tour the tugboat owned by Katrina (Marisa Tomei). Her casual
handling of an axe,  however, gives him pause...

Writer/director Rebecca Miller’s delightful mélange of dysfunctional marriages, romantic angst, artistic frustration and — most importantly — true love, is powered by captivating performances from her three stars, along with solid work by four equally appealing supporting characters. 

The Brooklyn setting, framed so lovingly by cinematographer Sam Levy, also counts as an additional character. Goodness, but New York has personality.

 

Celebrated opera composer Steven Lauddem (Peter Dinklage) has been suffering a years-long writer’s block: not a good thing, with a commission due in mere weeks. He doesn’t want to be seen in public, fearing inevitable questions about how his newest work is going; he doesn’t even want to get out of bed in the morning.

 

His wife — and former therapist — Patricia (Anne Hathaway), hoping to break the cycle, tosses him out of their tony brownstone one day, ordering him to “get lost,” in a metaphorical sense. Take a long walk. Go somewhere different. Seesomething different. Accompanied by their adorable French bulldog, Levi, Steven obligingly lets the pooch determine their path.

 

Patricia, it turns out, badly needs help herself. What initially seems a reasonable preference for cleanliness is revealed as a mania far beyond obsessive/compulsive, with a heaping helping of lapsed Catholic guilt thrown in. Surfaces must be scrubbed thoroughly, before and after use. Sexual intimacy is rigorously limited to a scheduled once per week. (One pales at the thought of how Steven accommodates this.)

 

Although it seems inconceivable that Patricia would tolerate a dog in their home — she handles Levi’s leash with paper towels — losing him would be a shame; he has just as much presence and individuality as his two-legged co-stars. Indeed, at times Miller draws unexpectedly thoughtful gazes from him.

 

Meanwhile…

 

We also meet teenagers Julian (Evan Ellison) and Tereza (Harlow Jane), swooningly in love, and newly consummating their relationship; Polaroid snapshots are taken, to commemorate the moment. (Do today’s teens and twentysomethings still do this? If so, it’s rather sweet.)

 

Julian is Patricia’s son by a previous marriage; Stephen has done his best to be a good stepfather. Tereza was an “accident” that derailed the life of her then teenaged mother, Magdalena Joanna Kulig); she subsequently married Trey (Brian d’Arcy James), who obligingly adopted the girl.

 

The nerdy Trey is excitably passionate about everything he does, from his job as a court stenographer to his avocation as a Civil War reenactor. James makes him bossy and authoritarian: an attitude tolerated by Magdalena, but which frequently prompts rolled eyes from Tereza.

Armageddon Time: Heartbreaking growing pains

ArmageddonTime (2022) • View trailer

4.5 stars (out of five). Rated R, for profanity and drug use

Available via: Amazon Prime and other streaming options

By Derrick Bang

If Armageddon is viewed as the end of life as we know it, that’s also an apt description of the rude awakening experienced by an adolescent, the first time s/he is confronted by the world’s harsh realities.

 

When the emotional complexities of adolescence prove overwhelming, Paul
(Banks Repeta, left) knows that he can count on understanding and benevolent
wisdom from his Grampa Aaron (Anthony Hopkins).

Because that moment truly is the end of blissful childhood innocence.

Writer/director James Gray’s delicately nuanced, semi-autobiographical drama is both familiar and painfully intimate. It’s an excellent companion piece to Steven Spielberg’s The Fabelmans, with a similar focus on interpersonal dynamics and emotionally shattering revelations. Both families are Jewish, and this heritage plays a strong role in their lives. Both sets of parents have worked hard to be upwardly mobile, determined to create better opportunities for their children.

 

But whereas Spielberg’s protagonist ultimately finds release in artistic expression, it’s not entirely clear that Gray’s young alter-ego will be similarly successful.

 

His achingly poignant narrative gets additional punch from the well-crafted work by young Banks Repeta, starring here as Paul Graff. Film dramas often take place at a remove, with viewers aware of the distance between themselves and the characters on screen. Thanks to Gray’s sensitive direction, Repeta’s complex performance — and similarly excellent work from the supporting cast — that sense of distance vanishes. 

 

We frequently feel like interlopers, somehow eavesdropping on real-world events taking place in a home just a few doors down from our own.

 

The time is autumn 1979, the setting New York City at its worst. Paul lives with his parents Irving (Jeremy Strong) and Esther (Anne Hathaway), and older brother Ted (Ryan Sell), in a semi-detached two-family row house in Flushing, Queens. The story begins as Paul begins his first day of sixth grade at the local public school, where he immediately stakes out a reputation as a disruptor.

 

He’s intelligent and funny, but not particularly attentive.

 

Paul’s tendency toward disrespect continues at home, where he’s an insufferably picky eater, battles constantly with his brother, and frequently talks back to his mother. The Graff home — and dinner table — often are boisterous affairs laden with grandparents and other aging relatives. Paul’s behavior skates, in part, because his beloved Grandpa Aaron (Anthony Hopkins) understands that the boy still is finding himself.

 

Even so, while Paul remains a sympathetic character — for the most part — he often isn’t likable. (Not unusual for a kid that age.)

 

The Witches: Casts a weak spell

The Witches (2020) • View trailer

Three stars. Rated PG, for scary images and fantasy frights

By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 10.30.20

HBO Max is offering an unusual take on Roald Dahl’s The Witches.

 

Transplanting a Dahl tale from his native England to Alabama, is akin to suddenly insisting that James Bond hails from California. The disconnect is jarring, and the absence of Dahl’s distinctly British tone is keenly felt.

 

While her mouse-ified grandson and two similarly majicked mice companions watch
hopefully, Grandma (Octavia Spencer) carefully blends the ingredients for a
counter-spell designed to return them to human form.

That said, if an international order of witches wishes to eradicate all the world’s children, it certainly makes sense that such enchanters would travel. Ergo, why not the rural Alabama town of Demopolis? Indeed, location isn’t an issue in director Robert Zemeckis’ handling of Dahl’s creepy-crawly fantasy; the major problem is the script’s reliance on sight gags and special effects, over plot logic, continuity and plain ol’ common sense.

 

I’m frankly surprised. The writing chores are handled by Zemeckis, Guillermo del Toro — who certainly understands well-plotted fantasy structure — and Kenya Barris. The latter, best known for television work such as America’s Top Model and Black-ish, may be the reason this film too frequently sinks into sitcom-style slapstick, rather than attempting to emulate Dahl’s mordant British wit.

 

The story is told via flashback, and introduced during what appears to be a classroom slide show by an off-camera presenter (Chris Rock’s always distinctive voice and cadence). We then slide back to 1967 …

 

… where our young protagonist (Jahzir Bruno) has come to live with his Grandma (Octavia Spencer), following the tragic death of his parents. When the boy — never given a name — reports an unsettling encounter with an oddly dressed woman, Grandma springs into action, and takes them on a “vacation” to the seaside Grand Orleans Imperial Island Hotel.

 

Turns out Grandma has dealt with witches before, and cautions her grandson about what to watch for. Witches always wear gloves, even when it’s hot outside; their nostrils are larger than most; they wear wigs to hide their bald heads; they don’t have any toes; and — the ookiest detail — their elongated mouths can stretch to their ears.

 

Alas, Grandma and her young companion have abandoned the frying pan, only to wind up in the fire. The hotel also is hosting a gathering of the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children … whose exclusively female members actually are all witches, led by the Grand High Witch (Anne Hathaway).

Dark Waters: Deadly serious

Dark Waters (2019) • View trailer 
Four stars. Rated PG-13, for dramatic intensity, disturbing images and brief profanity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 12.13.19

Mark Ruffalo has become this generation’s Henry Fonda. Or Jimmy Stewart.

When corporate attorney Robert Bilott (Mark Ruffalo, right) reluctantly visits the cattle
ranch that has been in Wilbur Tennant's (Bill Camp) family for generations, they're
startled by the sudden apperance of a heifer that appears to be viciously rabid.

Ruffalo’s performances radiate the same intelligence and integrity. The same resolute dedication to a cause. The same anguish at the realization that greed and cowardice too frequently trump benevolence and compassion. The same disbelief over the ease with which people in power feel no remorse over lying, cheating and ill-treating those less equipped to fight back.

The primary difference is that Fonda and Stewart mostly played fictional characters in their iconic films, such as The Grapes of Wrath and Mr. Smith Goes to Washington. Ruffalo takes it a step further, tackling actual individuals in an expanding roster of fact-based sagas that qualify as searing advocacy cinema.

He earned his third Academy Award nomination for 2015’s Spotlight, while portraying Pulitzer Prize-winning Boston Globe reporter Mike Rezendes, who led the investigative charge that exposed the local Catholic Archdiocese’s cover-up of child molestation cases. The film deservedly won that year’s Best Picture Oscar, and the viewing experience is jaw-dropping, as Rezendes and his fellow reporters uncover proof of the church’s ever-more-heinous behavior.

Dark Waters is even harder to watch.

Much harder.

This new film, also lifted from headlines, depicts defense attorney Robert Bilott’s heroic determination — over the course of two decades — to force DuPont to reveal that it had knowingly poisoned people for even longer. And not only had concealed such monstrous behavior, but defiantly maintained that it had done nothing “legally wrong,” and therefore could not be “blamed” for anything.

That last little detail comes well into a saga that already has become grim viewing. Director Todd Haynes’ approach is methodical and relentless, carefully fueled by the strong character dynamics that he delivered in Far from Heaven, Carol and other previous films. 

The information dump is considerable but not insurmountable. In effect, we gradually learn the degrees of DuPont’s perfidy along with Bilott, while he becomes a reluctant investigator in the mold of Rezendes and — reaching further back — Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein, in All the President’s Men.

Or, more closely linked, Erin Brockovich, in the 2000 drama named for that similarly righteous crusader. That case also started with water.

The Hustle: Small-time con

The Hustle (2019) • View trailer 
Three stars. Rated PG-13, and rather generously, for crude sexual content and profanity
By Derrick Bang

Office workers from the pre-digital era will recall that making copies of copies was an exercise in rapidly diminishing returns.

The results became increasingly smudgy. Less distinct.

Having agreed to a May The Best Woman Win grudge match, Josephine (Anne Hathaway,
right) seethes quietly when Penny (Rebel Wilson) blunders into a posh casino in the
guise of a blind American tourist.

Less acceptable.

Ergo, the news that we were getting a remake of 1988’s Dirty Rotten Scoundrels — which itself is a remake of 1964’s Bedtime Story — was greeted with a gimlet eye (at best).

In fairness, director Chris Addison’s modest little comedy has its moments, most involving the Laurel & Hardy pairing of Anne Hathaway and Rebel Wilson. The gender reversal is an inspired touch, with Hathaway and Wilson standing in for Michael Caine and Steve Martin (1988), and David Niven and — believe it or not — Marlon Brando (1964).

The core plot beats have been retained, with full acknowledgment to original writers Stanley Shapiro, Paul Henning and Dale Launer. Scripter Jac Schaeffer has punched up this new film’s incidental sight gags, in order to tailor them to these femmes most fatale.

The premise remains the same: Sophisticated con artist Josephine Chesterfield (Hathaway), a seductive Brit with a penchant for fleecing gullible wealthy men of their expensive jewelry, has fashioned a glamorous lifestyle that includes an opulent home in the French Riviera’s Beaumont-sur-Mer.

Half a world away, low-level grifter Penny Rust (Wilson) rips off neighborhood bar low-lifes (making a point of targeting shallow jerks with a visible antipathy to her plus-size presence).

Collectively, they’re a welcome switch in this #MeToo era. God knows there are plenty of piggish men — of all social standings — who deserve serious comeuppance.

But whereas Josephine’s stylish scams have been honed to polished perfection — with the assistance of her urbane butler, Albert (Nicholas Woodeson), and the cheerfully corrupt local police captain, Brigitte Desjardins (Ingrid Oliver) — Penny’s sloppier, smash ’n’ grab approach has its drawbacks. Forced to flee the long arm of legitimate law, she impulsively winds up in Beaumont-sur-Mer.

Where Josephine is less than pleased to see such a vulgar, low-rent opportunist on her turf.

Alice Through the Looking Glass: Not such a much

Alice Through the Looking Glass (2016) • View trailer 
3 stars. Rated PG, for fantasy peril
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 5.27.16

This film conclusively demonstrates that it’s extremely difficult — if not impossible — to replicate Tim Burton’s signature brand of whimsy.

Mere moments after having traveled through the looking-glass, Alice (Mia Wasikowska)
clumsily triggers a crisis that "all the king's horses, and all the king's men" will have to
repair. Which is par for the course, for this film's dim-bulb Alice.

It’s not merely a matter of Burton’s directorial finesse; he’s also a shrewd judge of source material, and how it should be shaped. Either he carefully selects equally talented screenwriters, or he’s actively involved in how a script reaches its final draft; either way, the result — time and again — is weirdly droll, oddly endearing and invariably, if improbably, entertaining.

And — here’s the important part — meticulously structured, and consistent within its own fantasy universe.

None of which can be said about Alice Through the Looking Glass. Linda Woolverton’s script is a mess; her slapdash plot begs, borrows and steals from sources as varied as H.G. Wells, Frozen and the Back to the Future trilogy.

James Bobin’s direction is uninspired and lifeless. Somebody apparently thought he’d be right for the job, on the basis of his having helmed the two most recent Muppets movies. At the risk of stating the obvious, human characters need more directorial guidance than Muppets, who get most of their personality from their unseen “muppeteers.” Alice (Mia Wasikowska) and her various co-stars get very little guidance here.

Granted, this sequel to Burton’s Alice in Wonderland looks equally fabulous. Dan Hennah’s production design is opulent, imaginative and richly colorful: no surprise, as he’s a veteran of all three Hobbit chapters. Oscar-winning costume designer Colleen Atwood is a carryover from the first Alice, and her efforts here are equally creative, often amusing and sometimes flat-out beautiful; Alice’s kimono-style outfit is particularly fetching.

And, yes, the special effects are excellent, if overused ... and that’s part of the problem. As just one example, Bobin wastes an awful lot of screen footage with repeated sequences of Alice sailing through the “oceans of time,” and repetition does not make such journeys more interesting. Quite the opposite.

The Intern: Definitely worth hiring

The Intern (2015) • View trailer 
Four stars. Rated PG-13, for suggestive content and brief profanity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 9.25.15

I love it when a sharp, savvy script converges with a talented cast able to give every line just the right reading.

Entrusted with a rather unusual "secret mission," Ben (Robert De Niro, far right) and his new
acolytes — from left, Jason (Adam DeVine), Davis (Zack Pearlman) and Lewis (Jason
Orley) — rush to their destination while discussing optimal approaches to this
challenging assignment.

Writer/director Nancy Meyers has built a career on cleverly sculpted romantic comedies that are smart and funny, while — here’s the best part — displaying subtle streaks of social commentary. Her best films have poked amiable fun at sexism, ageism and the gender divide, while simultaneously giving us utterly adorable, can’t-miss characters.

Meyers also has a knack for attracting top talent, whether in Something’s Gotta Give (Jack Nicholson and Diane Keaton), It’s Complicated (Meryl Streep, Steve Martin and Alec Baldwin) or the shamefully underrated The Holiday (Kate Winslet, Jude Law, Cameron Diaz and Jack Black).

Yes, Meyers’ films often veer dangerously close to sloppy sentimentality, but she unerringly stays on the right side of that line. She’s one of very few contemporary directors with an eye and ear for what made Hollywood’s Golden Age romantic comedies work so well, while simultaneously concocting stories — and droll situations — that are very much Here And Now.

Her newest effort, The Intern, is the best yet: a charming premise that brings the best from stars Robert De Niro and Anne Hathaway. And, as also is the case with a Nancy Meyers film, she pays equal attention to all the supporting roles — even the smallest walk-ons — granting us a rich and thoroughly entertaining tableau.

You’ll have so much fun, that you may not realize how cleverly Meyers inserts some gentle life lessons.

Ben Whittaker (De Niro), 70 years old and a widower, is finding retirement less than ideal. He has done all the traditional things — traveling, exercising, taking classes — but finds them ephemeral and unfulfilling. He’s lonely but not desperate, restless but not depressed. He just needs to feel needed.

Interstellar: Way, way out

Interstellar (2014) • View trailer 
3.5 stars. Rated PG-13, for dramatic intensity, perilous action and brief profanity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 11.7.14

Nobody could accuse Christopher Nolan of possessing modest ambitions.

His newest big-screen extravaganza is a grim sci-fi drama that could be viewed as a reverential blend of 1951’s When Worlds Collide and 1968’s 2001: A Space Odyssey, with additional nods to 1972’s Silent Running and Robert Heinlein’s 1956 novel, Time for the Stars.

When a solar-powered drone cuts across the sky above their corn field — a striking
reminder of science long absent from a decaying United States — Cooper (Matthew
McConaughey, left) attempts to hijack it while being watched by children Murphy
(Mackenzie Foy) and Tom (Timothée Chalamet).

Along with — and this is a problem — the bleak despair and distasteful human behavior found in the 2009 adaptation of Cormac McCarthy’s post-apocalyptic novel, The Road.

I had the same problem with 2012’s The Dark Knight Rises, Nolan’s final entry in his otherwise impressive Batman trilogy. He and co-scripter (and real-world brother) Jonathan have a harsh view of people facing large-scale calamity, a trait shared with novelist Stephen King, at his gloomier moments. All three tend to assume the worst from mob mentality, with little of the nobler instincts that might make our race worth saving.

Then again, perhaps I’m unduly optimistic, choosing to believe better of my fellow citizens.

Such philosophical musings aside, Christopher Nolan has, over time, focused more on high-concept narratives and visual pizzazz, and less on character development. That’s a bigger problem. His dream-within-a-dream-laden Inception may have been a jaw-dropping head trip, but its characters were flat, sterile and uninvolving: two-dimensional archetypes about whom we didn’t give a damn.

Nolan has become more puppet master than actor-oriented director, manipulating his characters solely to maximize unexpected plot developments, as opposed to allowing them behavior that seems recognizably credible. In a way, then, Nolan is akin to his dueling magicians in The Prestige — Hugh Jackman and Christian Bale — forever tricking each other for the sheer sake of one-upmanship.

That’s not as immediately noticeable with this new film, mostly because Matthew McConaughey delivers enough agonized angst to carry the first two acts. He has matured into a richly expressive actor, and several of his scenes here are heartbreaking: none more so than the manner in which his character’s face yields to uncontrolled sobs, while catching up with some long-distance correspondence.

But that comes much later.

Rio 2: Back to the jungle

Rio 2 (2014) • View trailer 
3.5 stars. Rated G, and suitable for all ages
By Derrick Bang

Next to co-founder Chris Wedge, writer/director Carlos Saldanha clearly is one of Blue Sky Studios’ most treasured assets.

Jewel, center, feels right at home in the Amazon jungle; her mate Blu, left, is reasonably
secure, as long as he's got his cherished GPS device. Their music-loving daughter, Carla,
couldn't care less ... until she discovers that the jungle birds have their own wonderfully
vibrant approach to samba and bossa nova.

After sharing credit with Wedge on 2002’s Ice Age and 2005’s Robots, Saldanha soloed on the second Ice Age entry, shared credit once again on the third installment, and somehow found time for a couple of hilarious shorts featuring the acorn-challenged Scrat.

All the while, the Brazilian-born Saldanha must’ve been building up to his own pet project: 2011’s Rio, a thoroughly enchanting, bird’s-eye-view valentine to the city of Carnival, samba and a culture every bit as colorful as the film's eye-catching avian stars. In addition to being clever, witty and suspenseful — not to mention serving as an anchor for a gloriously celebratory soundtrack — that film’s script also worked in a mildly subversive, conservation-oriented subtext regarding the heinous black market trade in exotic birds and animals.

Saldanha kept all those plates spinning with the élan of a vaudeville pro. I was impressed three years ago, and equally captivated when I caught up with the film a second time last week, in anticipation of the subject at hand.

To cut to the chase, then, Rio 2 isn’t quite as fresh as its predecessor, but it's still quite entertaining. That said, I miss the greater involvement of Sergio Mendes. Although he returns once again as executive music producer, it’s to a noticeably lesser degree; nothing in this sequel matches the first film’s breathtaking paragliding scene, which took place against an updated rendition of the joyous Brasil ’66 hit, “Mas Que Nada.”

The songs and score in this sequel function more as they would in a stage musical — as story hooks to advance the plot — as opposed to augmenting the overall atmosphere with the rich, seductive sounds of samba and bossa nova. That’s an artistic modification, and not necessarily a bad one; I lament it only because there’s no shortage of animated musicals (I’m looking at you, Frozen), whereas Saldanha and Mendes were more creative and original with their use of songs in the first Rio.

A minor issue, granted, but it does affect this sequel’s tone.

Events pick up a bit after the first film’s conclusion, with our nerdy hero Blu (once again voiced by Jesse Eisenberg) enjoying domestic bliss with his mate, Jewel (Anne Hathaway) and their three offspring: Carla (Rachel Crow), Bia (Amandla Stenberg) and Tiago (Pierce Gagnon). They’re comfortably situated at the Rio de Janeiro animal sanctuary run by Blu’s BFF Linda (Leslie Mann) and Tulio (Rodrigo Santoro), newlyweds themselves, and partners in wildlife rescue and preservation.

While releasing one of their winged patients into the wild, Linda and Tulio spot a familiar cerulean feather: certain evidence that other blue macaws exist in this part of the Amazon. This is marvelous, breathtaking news, since Blu and Jewel were thought to be the last of their kind.