The Garfield Movie: Frantic feline frolic

The Garfield Movie (2024) • View trailer

3.5 stars (out of five). Rated PG, for action/peril

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 5.26.24

I had doubts.

 

A few years after its 1978 syndicated debut, the Garfield newspaper strip quickly devolved into a coldly calculated product, tediously recycling the same dozen bland gags for the next half-century. And still does so.

 

Otto, far right, goes over the precise details of an extremely improbable infiltration plan,
while (from left) Vic, Garfield and Odie listen with a blend of disbelief, fear and respect.

Creator Jim Davis even admitted that Garfield was intended as a “marketable character.”

Point being, very little on which to hang a full-length feature film.

 

This became blatantly obviously when 2004’s Garfield: The Movie and 2006’s Garfield: A Tale of Two Kittiesdeservedly bombed. Bill Murray’s signature laid-back smugness may have been perfect as the voice of Garfield, but the scripts and direction were strictly from hunger.

 

Expectations for this new Garfield Movie therefore weren’t high.

 

Happily, director Mark Dindal and his three writers — Paul A. Kaplan, Mark Torgrove and David Reynolds — have gone in an entirely different direction, by re-inventing the sarcastic orange feline’s tone and world. Granted, this Garfield still hates Mondays, is insufferably snide, and eats 75 times his body weight in lasagna, pizza and spaghetti. Every day. (And somehow doesn’t gain a pound.)

 

But Dindal and his writers have adjusted the character dynamics — a vast improvement — while delivering a hilariously frantic adventure paced more like a 101-minute Road Runner cartoon, complete with clever animation, snarky one-liners, well-timed reaction shots and all manner of droll pop-culture references and inside jokes.

 

The best transformation: Garfield’s yellow canine buddy Odie, no longer the dumb and hapless victim of the cat’s nasty pranks, has morphed into a wise, resourceful and impressively ingenious sidekick. And, unlike all the other characters in this wild romp, Odie remains Buster Keaton-style silent, often with a tolerantly stoic gaze that screams, “See what I have to put up with?!?”

 

After a prologue that introduces Garfield (enthusiastically voiced by Chris Pratt), Odie and their hapless owner, Jon Arbuckle (Nicholas Hoult), the saga gets underway with the unexpected appearance of Vic (Samuel L. Jackson), our feline hero’s long-estranged father.

 

This prompts a flashback sequence that reveals how Garfield, as an adorably cute kitten — who could resist those saucer-size eyes? — is adopted by Jon, after being abandoned by Vic.

 

Argylle: Fails to knock our socks off

Argylle (2024) • View trailer

2.5 stars (out of five). Rated PG-13, and much too generously, for relentless strong violence and occasional profanity

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 2.2.24

I’m not the slightest bit surprised to recall that scripter Jason Fuchs’ early résumé includes 2012’s Ice Age: Continental Drift.

 

Because, after a promising first act, this new spy comedy devolves into an increasingly insufferable — and boring — live-action cartoon.

 

Having discovered a secret stash in an otherwise abandoned London safe house, Aidan
(Sam Rockwell) is surprised to see that Elly (Bryce Dallas Howard) recognizes some
of the concealed tech.

Director Matthew Vaughn has long favored violent, over-the-top material, from 2010’s Kick-Ass to the Kingsman trilogy (with, so it seems, two more on the way). But even by his outré standards, this film’s third act spirals totally out of control.

And not in a way that can be excused as “dumb fun.”

 

This one’s just dumb.

 

A revved-up prologue opens as stylish spy Argylle (Henry Cavill) meets a femme most fatale, who unexpectedly turns the tables on him. A rambunctious chase sequence follows, the woman finally captured with the assistance of colleagues Wyatt (John Cena) and Keira (Ariana DeBose).

 

But the mission has ended badly, and our good guys now are isolated from their agency handlers.

 

At which point the curtain pulls back, and all this is revealed as the visualized final chapter of book five in the popular Argylle spy series, read aloud at a bookstore event by author Elly Conway (Bryce Dallas Howard). Fans adore her and the series; one questioner wonders aloud how she’s able to so uncannily concoct stories that seem to anticipate real-world events.

 

Plenty of dull research Elly replies, with a modest smile.

 

Back at home with her beloved cat Alfie, Ellie has an intriguing “relationship” with her series character; when stuck for a bit of dialogue, or how to move the action along, she “becomes” him — Cavill obligingly reappears — long enough to find the right words. Indeed, she has just finished the sixth novel, which she cheekily intends to conclude on a cliffhanger.

 

(Oh, those merciless authors; they do love to torture us readers.)

 

But Elly’s No. 1 fan — her mother, Ruth (Catherine O’Hara) — having been sent a copy, can’t believe that her daughter would be so cruel. Let’s get together, Ruth proposes, and we’ll brainstorm a final chapter.

 

Bundling Alfie into the world’s cutest hard-shell bubble capsule pet carrier, Elly boards a train. (Flying terrifies her.) She winds up accosted by Aidan (Sam Rockwell), a scruffy fan who proves quite useful when everybody else in their train car suddenly tries to kill them both. 

 

Cue a lively fracas, which is well-staged by fight choreographer Guillermo Grispo.

 

The Marvels: Far from marvelous

The Marvels (2023) • View trailer

Two stars (out of five). Rated PG-13, for relentless action violence and fleeting profanity

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 11.10.23

Oy. What a train wreck.

 

This film is bad in the worst possible way: It’s embarrassing.

 

An embarrassing waste of its cast, and a new low for the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

 

Our heroes — from left, Ms. Marvel (Iman Vellani), Captain Marvel (Brie Larson) and
Monica Rambeau (Teyonah Parris) — watch with horror, as this story's Big Bad
embarks on planet-killing activity.

I cannot imagine what prompted Those In Charge to believe that director/co-writer Nia DaCosta — with only two small features behind her, most recently 2021’s dreadful remake of Candyman — had the chops for a project this ambitious.

Clearly, she doesn’t.

 

The so-called script she cobbled together with Megan McDonnell and Elissa Karasik is a mess: unstructured, uneven, random, laced with glaring hanging chads, and sporting a deus ex machina finale that I defy anybody to explain.

 

Which is a genuine shame, and a lost opportunity. Iman Vellani’s bubbly Kamala Khan was a delightful presence in 2022’s Ms. Marvel limited series, and Brie Larson’s Captain Marvel has been a high point in the MCU since her debut in 2019’s Captain Marvel.

 

Teyonah Parris’ Monica Rambeau debuted as a little girl (Akira Akbar), niece of Carol Danvers (aka Captain Marvel), in the 2019 film; Monica reappeared as an adult in 2021’s WandaVision miniseries, during which she gained the powers she’s still learning to control, in this new film.

 

DaCosta & Co.’s core plot builds on events from Captain Marvel’s 2019 debut, when she rejected her role as a ruthless member of the tyrannical Kree empire, and — wanting to ensure that the Kree never would threaten another world — later destroyed their home planet Hala’s Supreme Intelligence (AI writ very bad).

 

Alas, that supposedly righteous deed had dire consequences. Hala lost its oceans and breathable atmosphere, and its sun died, leaving the planet in perpetual darkness.

 

(Why taking out a super-computer would cause such celestial havoc is left unaddressed: merely the first of this script’s woefully under-explained details.)

 

This Kree therefore vowed revenge on Captain Marvel, whom they dubbed “The Annihilator”; their increasingly dire plight also exacerbated a long-festering war with the shape-shifting Skrulls, whom she helped find a new home world.

 

The story begins as Kree ruler Dar-Benn (Zawe Ashton) — known as the Supremor, wielder of a nasty-looking war hammer — finds a long-sought cosmic bracelet that further enhances her powers. A quick cut to Kamala — at home with parents Muneeba (Zenobia Shroff) and Yusuf (Mohan Kapur), and older brother Aamir (Saagar Shaikh) — reminds us that this is the twin of the bracelet that gave her powers as Ms. Marvel.

The Protégé: Solid action chops

The Protégé (2021) • View trailer

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

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang

Revenge thrillers are a lot more interesting when the characters involved have actual personalities, as opposed to being one-dimensional rage machines.

 

With respect to the latter, Wrath of Man is a recent case in point: sheer boredom.

 

With a successful assignment behind them, Moody (Samuel L. Jackson) and Anna
(Maggie Q) turn their attention to a long-dormant mystery ... little realizing the
consequences of this seemingly innocuous investigation.

Happily, The Protégé is cut from superior cloth. Scripter Richard Wenk understands solid character development — he gave us both Denzel Washington Equalizer entries, among others — and director Martin Campbell has two gilt-edged Bonds under his belt, in addition to 2017’s terrific Jackie Chan vehicle, The Foreigner.

If star Maggie Q were a better actress, the results here would be similarly noteworthy. Sadly, her thespic limitations are a distraction, particularly when in the company of seasoned scene-stealers such as Samuel L. Jackson and Michael Keaton.

 

Following a brief prologue that tips its hat to the core premise in 1994’s Léon: The Professional, we’re introduced to Anna (Maggie Q) and Moody (Jackson). They run a rather unusual extermination business, with high financial returns for the successful removal of two-legged cockroaches. They’re always successful.

 

Indeed, Moody taught Anna everything he knows. And she was an eager pupil.

 

By day, she’s an antiquarian book dealer — intelligent, refined and shrewd — with an adorable street-corner London shop. She also spends as much time as possible with Moody, whom she adores as a surrogate father. She’s troubled by the implications of his relentless coughing jags, but maintains a neutral face while (for example) celebrating his 70th birthday with a particularly special gift. (Guitar geeks will salivate.)

 

An old case has been nagging Moody; he asks her to investigate somebody who went off-grid back in the 1990s. Back in her shop, Anna is approached by a cultivated and sophisticated gentleman who introduces himself as Michael Rembrandt (Keaton). He also knows books; they quote Edgar Allan Poe to each other. Their banter is superficially flirty, but the undertone is tense. Deadly.

 

Keaton makes excellent use of his arched eyebrows and condescending, reptilian gaze. Campbell wisely lingers on it.

 

Rembrandt departs; Anna watches him thoughtfully. (Credit where due, Maggie Q does contemplative thoughtfulness pretty well. Her line deliveries, alas, are another matter.)

 

Hours later, all hell breaks loose.

Spider-Man: Far from Home — Sticky situations

Spider-Man: Far from Home (2019) • View trailer 
3.5 stars. Rated PG-13, for sci-fi action violence and mild profanity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 7.5.19

Life goes on, even for superheroes.

Particularly for superheroes.

Having helped defeat a massive elemental monster, Spider-Man (Tom Holland, left) is
gratefully surprised when his assistance is acknowledged with sincere respect by the
more flamboyantly super-heroic Mysterio (Jake Gyllenhaal).

In the wake of early spring’s Avengers: Endgame, fans have been curious about the direction subsequent Marvel Universe films would take. Spider-Man: Far from Home provides some answers, but mostly stands on its own as Tom Holland’s second starring outing in the iconic web-slinging costume (in addition to his co-starring appearances with Captain American and the Avengers).

At its best, the Chris McKenna/Erik Sommers script successfully evokes the geeky, angst-ridden vibe of the early 1960s Stan Lee/Steve Ditko comic books, when Peter Parker was a reluctant costumed hero, and mostly a nerdy, misfit high school teen forever questioning the slightest thought, word or deed. He epitomized the early Marvel archetype: a hero laden with insecurities.

Holland’s Peter Parker isn’t exactly burdened by doubt, nor is he the shy introvert that Lee and Ditko created. This Peter also isn’t completely friendless; he’s blessed by constant support from best bud Ned (Jacob Batalon), and the relationship with his Aunt May (Marisa Tomei) is much more a closeness of equals, than the comic books’ doddering parent/guilty child dynamic.

In this film continuity, both Ned and Aunt May know of Peter’s web-slinging activities, which allows for playful banter.

But Holland’s Peter is flustered in the presence of über-cool, tart-tongued Michelle Jones (Zendaya), the girl he has long worshiped from afar. (She more commonly goes by the initials MJ, evoking fond memories of the comics’ original Mary Jane Watson.) Holland is endearing as he spins increasingly silly scenarios about “the perfect moment” to confess his love for MJ, while Ned shakes his head in disbelief.

As the story begins, everybody in Peter’s high school continues to grapple with the disorienting aftermath of “the blip,” which returned half the world’s population following a five-year absence. Trouble is, that half — including Peter, MJ and Ned — came back at the same age as when they left, whereas those left behind are five years older.

The latter include Peter’s new nemesis, the arrogant Brad (Remy Hii), who has transitioned from a similarly uncool nerd into a heartthrob determined to make MJ his own. The perfect opportunity arises when a small group of students earn a European vacation, under the close (?) supervision of two clueless teachers (Martin Starr and J.B. Smoove, perhaps hitting the dweeb key a little too hard). First stop: Venice.

Shaft: Still the man!

Shaft (2019) • View trailer 
3.5 stars. Rated R, for violence, sexual content, drug content, brief nudity and relentless profanity
By Derrick Bang

Sometimes you can go home again.

That's my boy! After a long day of sleuthing — with a violent encounter or two along the
way — John Shaft II (Samuel L. Jackson, left) proudly drags his son, John Jr.
(Jessie T. Usher) to one of his favorite, babe-laden watering holes.

The humor is more frequent and deliberate than was the case back in 1971, and this new action thriller is unquestionably set in our modern world. And yet director Tim Story, along with scripters Kenya Barris and Alex Barnow, frequently evoke the feisty spirit and atmosphere of the half-century-gone blaxploitation era.

They also honor this film’s predecessors, with sly dialogue references, acknowledgments of past events, and — most crucially — generous nods to Isaac Hayes’ jazz influence. And not just the iconic main theme, but also several familiar underscore cues.

To be sure, this updated Shaft — as a character — owes more to Samuel L. Jackson’s 2000 revival, than to Richard Roundtree’s initial portrayal. The best one-liners are tailored to Jackson’s smug, sly delivery, and most of the plot gets its momentum from his ultra-cool presence. 

But Jessie T. Usher’s third-generation John Shaft Jr. definitely pulls his weight; he has been granted a personality engaging enough to carry a future series on his own shoulders, should fate (and box-office returns) move in that direction.

He’s introduced as an infant, during a flashback prologue which depicts the near-fatal ambush that proves one violent event too many for the baby’s mother, Maya (Regina Hall). Frightened beyond endurance, but still clearly in love with Shaft II (Jackson), she nonetheless begs him to leave them, and keep his distance. Which he does, reluctantly, his presence a reminder to John Jr. solely via a series of hilariously inappropriate birthday presents, as the years pass.

Along the way, Maya does everything in her power to groom her son into a sensitive, clean-cut, well-mannered and responsible young man: as unlike his father as possible.

Flash-forward to the present day, where John Jr. is the proud recipient of an MIT diploma, and is newly ensconced as a rookie FBI data analyst in an office overseen by short-tempered Special Agent Vietti (Titus Welliver, utterly wasted in an underwritten, one-dimensional role). John Jr. has retained two best buds since childhood: Karim (Avan Jogia), who always had his back; and Sasha (Alexandra Shipp), now a doctor at a New York City hospital.

Captain Marvel: Well titled!

Captain Marvel (2019) • View trailer 
Four stars. Rated PG-13, for sci-fi action and violence
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 3.8.19

Carol Danvers has endured more trauma, conflicting origin stories, alternate identities and just plain mean-spirited punishment than any other Marvel Comics character, likely because several generations’ worth of (mostly male) writers didn’t have the faintest idea what to do with a heroine who’d been created in the mid-1970s, as little more than a sop to the feminist movement.

Having traveled to Louisiana in search of Maria (Lashana Lynch, left), the friend who believed
her long dead, Vers (Brie Larson) finally begins to stitch jumbled memories into a coherent past.

All that finally changed in 2012, with the arrival of writer Kelly Sue DeConnick, who alongside artist Dexter Soy orchestrated a new series that firmly established Danvers’ Captain Marvel as a worthy figure in the Marvel universe.

And as an individual who can hold her own against heavyweight colleagues such as Thor and the Hulk.

That Carol Danvers has been granted similar respect by co-writer/directors Anna Boden and Ryan Fleck in the newest — and thoroughly enjoyable — entry in the meticulously crafted Marvel film universe. Captain Marvel manages the delicate balance of interpersonal angst, kick-ass action and whimsical snark, without succumbing to either slapstick self-parody or tedious cataclysmic excess (the latter a serious problem in many superhero films).

Credit also goes to Brie Larson, for her thoroughly engaging portrayal of a character who is equal parts pluck, resolve, intelligence, humor and (so it would seem) reckless stubbornness.

The result is just as entertaining as 2017’s Wonder Woman, which proves anew how much more satisfying the result can be — dare I say it? — with a woman playing a key role in the filmmaking process.

(Boden and Fleck have worked together since the turn of this century, initially on short subjects and documentaries, and later on features such as Half Nelson and Sugar.)

Panicked viewers who choked on their popcorn, while watching so many of their beloved heroes vanish in puffs of smoke at the conclusion of last year’s Avengers: Infinity War, may have wondered about that gadget Samuel L. Jackson’s Nick Fury activated before he, too, faded away. This film answers that question, while also bringing two long-established sets of Marvel’s cosmic players — the Kree and Skrulls — into the film franchise.

This is an origin story with multiple interwoven layers, thanks to a cleverly structured plot by Boden, Fleck and co-writers Geneva Robertson-Dworet (Tomb Raider) and Nicole Perlman (Guardians of the Galaxy). They keep us guessing during a complicated narrative that never becomes hard to follow, despite several unexpected twists.

Glass: Should be shattered

Glass (2019) • View trailer 
Turkey (zero stars). Rated PG-13, and much too generously, for gore, violence, dramatic intensity and profanity
By Derrick Bang

This may not be M. Night Shyamalan’s worst film — The Last Airbender will hold that trophy, forever and always — but damn, it runs a close second.

Restrained and shackled for a group interview, our three misfits — from left, Elijah Price
(Samuel L. Jackson), Kevin Wendell Crumb (James McAvoy) and Davis Dunn
(Bruce Willis) — await their next encounter with specialist shrink Dr. Ellie Staple.

Mind you, this is amid considerable competition; Shyamalan also is responsible for bottom-of-the-barrel dreck such as The Visit, Lady in the Water and After Earth.

Nor do these statements tell the entire story. Airbender isn’t merely a Shyamalan stinker; it was by far the worst big-budget studio film of 2010. And even though we’re only halfway through January, I feel quite confident in dismissing Glass as the worst studio film of this year.

Shyamalan has become an insufferably arrogant and self-indulgent filmmaker: one who feels that his cinematic contributions are akin to Moses delivering unto us the 10 Commandments. The signs are obvious: the measured, portentous line readings, with individual words separated by pauses so pregnant they could deliver; the needlessly weird camera angles, which serve no purpose save to call attention to themselves; the protracted, silent close-ups on cast members, as if to suggest they’re always Thinking Weighty Thoughts; and a torturously lethargic pace — and deadly dull storyline — that could make watching paint dry the height of entertainment.

I long ago grew suspicious of any film that opens in the office of a psychiatrist or psychologist; with very few exceptions, they’re inevitably bombs. And while it’s true Glass doesn’t do so, we spend an unbearable amount of time listening to shrink Ellie Staple (Sarah Paulson) prattle away, often with cinematographer Mike Gioulakis’ camera just this side of being jammed up her nostrils.

On top of which, poor Paulson spends most of the film buried beneath enough make-up to satisfy every member of the Radio City Rockettes. Honestly, she looks like an embalmed corpse, newly risen from the grave.

Is all this pancake, rouge and eye shadow somehow intended to be Significant? Who knows? Who cares?

Shyamalan would have us believe that Glass is the final installment in his so-called “Eastrail 177 Trilogy,” supposedly gestating ever since 2000’s Unbreakable. To borrow the phrase that has become the rallying cry of Florida’s Parkland teen activists, I call bullshit. Shyamalan’s merely re-writing history to grant his newest film even more cachet, when it deserves none at all.

Incredibles 2: Close, but not quite

Incredibles 2 (2018) • View trailer 
Four stars. Rated PG, for no particular reason
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 6.15.18

The frequently delightful and long-awaited Incredibles 2 (14 years!) has much to recommend it, and writer/director Brad Bird obviously used the time wisely; his sequel avoids many of the pitfalls that characterize the often dismaying “sophomore curse.”

When you're taking the baby for a family stroll, confronting a super-villain can be awkward:
from left, Mr. Incredible, Elastigirl, Dash, Violet and baby Jack-Jack decide how best to
handle the subterranean-dwelling Underminer.

That said, this second outing lacks the spark, snap and freshness of its predecessor. The pacing is uneven — the first act is particularly slow — and the balance is off. The numerous sequences with infant Jack-Jack are undeniably hilarious — a hyper-edited encounter with a raccoon could be extracted as a terrific cartoon short — but the baby steals too much focus from the rest of his family ... and, indeed, from the core plot.

As the first film made abundantly clear, the super-heroic Parr family functions best when it functions together ... and this story waits far too long to deliver on that promise.

Events kick off in the immediate aftermath of the previous adventure. Super-powered crime fighters remain illegal: The government and general public still are unwilling to overlook the collateral damage that results when the good guys do their best to bring down super-villains such as the Underminer and his massive conical drill (which broke through to the surface world in the first film’s final scene).

(Geek alert: Given that Bird clearly intended the Parr family as an homage to Marvel Comics’ Fantastic Four, the Underminer is a similarly droll wink-and-nod to the Mole Man, whom the FF battled in their debut November 1961 comic book.)

Despite the best efforts of Mr. Incredible (voiced by Craig T. Nelson), Elastigirl (Holly Hunter), teenage daughter Violet (Sarah Vowell) and adolescent son Dash (Huckleberry Milner), the Underminer’s drill takes out a massive swath of downtown Municiberg. Adding insult to injury, the villain escapes.

Worse yet, longtime colleague and “fixer” Rick Dicker (Jonathan Banks), whose Super Relocation Program has helped the Parrs — in their civilian identities — evade public censure, informs them that his division has just been shuttered by the government. Bob, Helen and their children are on their own ... and homeless, thanks to events in the first film. Dicker’s last bit of generosity is a two-week stay in the amusingly droll Safari Court Motel.

Kong: Skull Island — Plenty of thrills!

Kong: Skull Island (2017) • View trailer 
Four stars. Rated PG-13, and a bit generously, for intense fantasy violence and action, and fleeting strong profanity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 3.10.17

Every generation has its Tarzan, its Three Musketeers, its Sherlock Holmes.

And its King Kong.

Conrad (Tom Hiddleston) and Weaver (Brie Larson) discover — quite unexpectedly —
that Kong isn't the only massive creature to worry about, on Skull Island.

Kong: Skull Island is a rip-snortin’ monster movie in the old-fashioned mold: a thrill-a-minute B adventure that boasts A-level action and special effects. Sure, the script — by John Gatins, Dan Gilroy, Max Borenstein and Derek Connolly — is formulaic and familiar, but it delivers on all counts; you really couldn’t expect more from this sort of roller coaster ride.

And, as befits 21st century sensibilities, we also get a gentle reminder of the importance of bio-diversity and species management, and the crucial role played by a top predator. Rather heady stuff for an exhilarating monster flick, and certainly welcome.

Director Jordan Vogt-Roberts and editor Richard Pearson waste little time; they hit the ground running with a clever prologue, and then — after introducing the primary characters just long enough so we can bond — drop everybody into utter chaos.

Mention also must be made of the slick title credits sequence: always a good sign. (I’ve long believed that a director who insists on clever credits, will pay equal attention to all other aspects of his film.)

The action is set in 1973 in Southeast Asia, as the Vietnam war is winding down, leaving dedicated soldiers such as Lt. Col. Preston Packard (Samuel L. Jackson) somewhat adrift. Irritated by having been pulled out of a war that he views as “abandoned,” Packard — who commands a helicopter military unit — is delighted to receive one last mission: to escort a team of scientists who wish to chart a hitherto-undiscovered South Pacific landmass glimpsed by NASA’s orbiting Landsat 1.

Packard’s loyal, battle-hardened and tough-as-they-come “sky devils” include Chapman (Toby Kebbell), Mills (Jason Mitchell), Cole (Shea Whigham), Slivko (Thomas Mann) and Reles (Eugene Cordero).

They’re the most visible of several dozen soldiers, but we don’t get to know any of the others. Which, yes, is suggestive...

Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children: Enchanting fantasy

Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children (2016) • View trailer 
Four stars. Rated PG-13, for dramatic intensity and quite scary fantasy violence
By Derrick Bang

It would be difficult to imagine a more perfect marriage of imaginative picto-fiction and eccentric filmmaking sensibilities.

All dressed up and ready for ... we know not what: from left, Olive (Lauren McCrostie),
Claire (Raffiella Chapman), the invisible Millard (Cameron King), the Twins (Thomas and
Joseph Odwell) and Emma (Ella Purnell).

Author Ransom Riggs’ neo-gothic Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children was released to acclaim in the summer of 2011, spending well over a year on The New York Times’ Children’s Best Sellers list. It occupies a niche that blossomed with the 2007 arrival of Brian Selznick’s The Invention of Hugo Cabret, brought to the big screen with panache by director Martin Scorsese.

Tim Burton has just done the same with Miss Peregrine, and if the results aren’t quite as impressive, it’s a beguiling near-miss. This new film also plays to one of Burton’s career themes: the importance of responding with kindness and grace to the misfits in our world, as opposed to shunning or fearing them.

Scripter Jane Goldman — boasting oodles of fan cred for her handling of Kingsman, Neil Gaiman’s Stardust and two of the X-Men films — has faithfully retained both the core plot of Riggs’ unusual narrative, as well as its mythical, off-kilter and slightly morbid atmosphere.

That’s no small feat: As with The Invention of Hugo Cabret, much of Miss Peregrine’s appeal lies in the manner in which the story unfolds, and how Riggs chooses to tell it.

Both books also cleverly exploit actual world history, transporting readers to pivotal eras that are both simpler and more dangerous.

And, perhaps best of all, both books evoke the imaginative blend of words and images that was much more common in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, led by fantasists such as Lewis Carroll, H.G. Wells and Jules Verne. It would be nice if modern readers — of all ages — grew more tolerant of books with pictures.

Rather drolly, both film adaptations share the same young star.

Miss Peregrine begins in present-day Tampa, Florida, as teenage Jake (Asa Butterfield) discovers that his beloved grandfather, Abraham (Terence Stamp), has died — or been killed — under sinister circumstances. Jake finds the body in the woods near Abraham’s house, and is horrified to discover that his grandfather’s eyes are missing. Worse yet, Jake briefly glimpses a huge something lurking nearby, in the mist.

The Legend of Tarzan: The original jungle swinger is back!

The Legend of Tarzan (2016) • View trailer 
Four stars. Rated PG-13, for dramatic intensity, violent action and mild sensuality
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 7.3.16

The original Tarzan franchise ran an impressive five decades, starting during the silent era and continuing through the late 1960s, when Edgar Rice Burroughs’ famed character finally was silenced by the James Bond-influenced spy movie craze (which the final few Tarzan films attempted to emulate, with predictably awful results).

Having just returned to the African Congo that was his childhood home, John Clayton
(Alexander Skarsgård, right) and his wife Jane (Margot Robbie) take in long-unseen
familiar sights, while their new companion George Washington Williams (Samuel L.
Jackson) wonders what he's getting into.

No doubt hoping to revive what once had been a great thing, Hollywood subsequently mounted a fresh Tarzan roughly once per generation, with little success. Robert Towne’s highly anticipated Greystoke: The Legend of Tarzan, Lord of the Apes, with Christopher Lambert in the title role, wound up seriously compromised by behind-the-scenes squabbling, and died an ignominious death upon its 1984 release.

Even so, that was a better fate than that suffered by 1998’s dreadful Tarzan and the Lost City, Casper Van Dien’s stint in the loincloth not even a blip on the cinematic radar. Indeed, were it not for Disney’s wildly successful 1999 animated feature, I’m not sure the character would resonate in this 21st century, aside from the ongoing devotion shown by Burroughs fans.

How ironic, then — how pleasantly ironic — that just when the regal jungle lord seemed doomed to extinction, a fresh team has delivered a truly majestic Tarzan film.

We’ve not seen an entry this entertaining since Gordon Scott’s terrific double-header of Tarzan’s Greatest Adventure and Tarzan the Magnificent, back in 1959 and ’60.

Scripters Adam Cozad and Craig Brewer managed a truly impressive balancing act. On the one hand, they’ve faithfully honored the Burroughs template, acknowledging John Clayton as a feral child who grew up in the African wild, but later reclaimed his British roots as the fifth Earl of Greystoke, and a member of the English House of Lords. He’s a deeply moral and perceptively intelligent man (as greatly opposed to the monosyllabic dummy Johnny Weissmüller made him, in so many early films)

At the same time, Cozad and Brewer have addressed contemporary sensibilities, granting John and his wife Jane the enlightened awareness to recognize — and repudiate — the heinous late 19th century imperialism that arrogantly (and arbitrarily) “divided” great swaths of Africa between various European monarchs, who subsequently subjugated and/or enslaved the resident populations.

All that aside, this film also succeeds as an exhilarating adventure that pits the remarkable jungle lord against overwhelming odds orchestrated by a hissably evil villain. Everything builds to a (literally) smashing climax, which drew more than a few enthusiastic cheers from Monday evening’s preview audience.

This is a Tarzan to admire.