Lilo & Stitch: Maika'i loa!

Lilo & Stitch (2025) • View trailer

Four stars (out of five). Rated PG, for mild dramatic intensity

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang

I’ve not been a fan of Disney’s live-action remakes of its animated classics, many of which feel like bloated cash grabs — March’s Snow White being Exhibit A — but this one is a happy exception.

 

Bringing her new "pet" to a fancy luau, where her older sister is working, proves to be a
disastrous idea ... which Lilo (Maia Kealoha) is about to discover, to her dismay.

Director Dean Fleischer Camp has retained the buoyant energy that made this new production’s 2002 predecessor so much fun, while writers Chris Kekaniokalani Bright and Mike Van Waes have enhanced the Hawaiian cultural element.

That said, this film’s super power is the sparkling performance by young star Maia Kealoha, graced with impressively natural acting chops. She owns this film ... and that’s no easy feat, given the competition from her manic, blue-furred, deer-eared co-star.

 

This displaced extraterrestrial is brought to amazing life via visual effects supervisor Craig Hammack’s team, and the finely tuned skills of puppeteer Seth Hays (whose work we’ve enjoyed, as one of Grogu’s puppeteers on The Mandalorian).

 

Granted, I miss the lush, hard-painted watercolor animation of the 2002 film, which enhanced the lyrical beauty of the story’s Hawaiian setting. But credit where due: Camp and production designer Todd Cherniawsky have carefully given this (mostly) live-action romp its own island vibe, which gets additional dazzle thanks to cinematographer Nigel Bluck.

 

Even the animal shelter — which plays a key role in this story — was “dressed” in one of the buildings within the lush 700+ acres of Fong’s Garden Planation, in Kaneohe, Oahu.

 

But the story actually begins far, far away, during a United Galactic Federation tribunal on the planet Turo, conducted by the imperious Grand Councilwoman (voiced by Hannah Waddingham). The accused: egotistical, villainous scientist Jumba (Zach Galifianakis), who has violated all manner of laws by creating a dangerous biological creature known only as Experiment 626, intending it to be the ultimate weapon.

 

It's indestructible, lightning-swift, ferociously smart and adaptable, and incredibly strong, despite its diminutive size. Alas, it’s too smart; sensing the nature of these proceedings, 626 escapes its escape-proof cage, hijacks a small spacecraft and — by chance — sets the heading for an insignificant distant planet known as “Eee-rth.”

 

The pragmatic Grand Councilwoman is in favor of vaporizing the planet, once 626 arrives, until she’s reminded that Eee-rth is the sole habitat of a protected galactic species: the mosquito.

 

She therefore orders Jumba to head to Eee-rth, in order to “clean up his mess.” He’ll be supervised by the overly enthusiastic Pleakley (Billy Magnussen), a mid-level Galactic Federation administrator with unrestrained fan-boy interest in otherworldly life and culture.

Uncorked: A pleasant vintage

Uncorked (2020) • View trailer 
3.5 stars. Rated TV-MA, for profanity and mild sexual candor
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 4.3.20

Sensitive, respectful children never want to disappoint their parents.

The guilt can be deeply distressing.

Elijah (Mamoudou Athie, left) can't find the words to tell his father (Courtney B. Vance)
that he has no interest in taking over the family's barbecue restaurant business.

But a crunch point hits when a recently minted adult child embraces a career path completely at odds with what a parent has assumed, planned and counted upon.

Uncorked — a Netflix original — is a modest but engaging feature film debut by writer/director Prentice Penny, best known (until now) for writing and producing a popular string of TV comedies such as Scrubs, Brooklyn Nine-Nine and Insecure. This heartfelt little drama therefore is something of a departure, because — allowing for a for a few droll exchanges — Uncorked is mostly serious.

It’ll also feel very familiar to anybody who survived a similarly uncomfortable experience regarding parental expectations.

Elijah (Mamoudou Athie) has grown up helping his folks — Louis and Sylvia (Courtney B. Vance and Niecy Nash) — run the popular Memphis barbecue joint that was founded by the young man’s grandfather, and has been passed down since then. Although Louis has tolerated his son’s previous career flirtations, there’s no question that — eventually — Elijah is expected to carry on the family tradition.

Unfortunately, Elijah’s current fixation looks to be The One … and it has nothing to do with purchasing just the right wood to properly smoke ribs. Thanks to supplementing his income with a part-time job at a liquor store that specializes in wines, and the encouragement of its owner (Matthew Glave, nicely understated), Elijah has decided to become a master sommelier: an elite designation granted solely to the few able to pass its notoriously difficult annual exam.

Preparing for that challenge will require months of extremely intense — and time-consuming — study.

Louis isn’t the only one whose eyebrows lift, when Elijah confesses this desire during one of his family’s typically boisterous dinners; mishearing “sommelier” as Somalia, half the table wants to know why the heck he’d want to move to Africa.

And it isn’t merely the initial snickers of family members. We’ve already witnessed another, subtler hurdle, when Elijah joined a posh afternoon wine tasting … and its veritable sea of white faces. Penny (to his credit) never stresses this point, and Athie’s performance gives us no indication that Elijah views this as an obstacle; even so, we have to believe that it leaves the young man feeling somewhat isolated.

The Photograph: Nicely developed

The Photograph (2020) • View trailer 
Four stars. PG-13, for sensuality and brief profanity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 2.14.20

It has been so long between gentle, sensitively constructed relationship dramas, that it took a minor act of will to get back into their rhythm.

While trying to satisfy his curiosity regarding a famous photographer with humble
Louisiana roots, Michael (LaKeith Stanfield) encounters Mae (Issa Rae), currently
curating an exhibit of the woman's work.

Writer/director Stella Meghie’s thoughtful little film shares its charms without bombast. No car chases or explosions. No gun battles. No ironic catastrophes. No unexpected, life-altering freak accidents. No natural disasters or other indications of Mother Nature’s displeasure. (Well, OK; there is a hurricane. But it serves mostly as a backdrop that heightens the developing intensity between two characters.)

This is just an uncomplicated set of cleverly intertwined love stories between characters separated by time but linked by behavior.

How utterly refreshing.

Meghie has an unerring ear for naturalistic dialog — whether flirty or contemplative — all of which is delivered with persuasive sincerity by her well-sculpted characters. It’s always fun to watch such people fall in love; movies have excelled at that since the medium’s conception (but not so much lately, sad to say).

It’s equally engaging to fret over conflicted, angst-riddled individuals who put head above heart: to wonder whether they’ll see the light and take the offered shot at romance. Or, indeed, if instead we must acknowledge that some folks are destined for a path that doesn’t include the stability (confinement?) of conventional togetherness.

And whether they’ll come to regret such a decision.

Journalist Michael Block (LaKeith Stanfield), a rising star at a New York-based magazine, heads down to Louisiana for a feature piece on how coastal communities are recovering, post-Katrina and Deepwater Horizon oil spill. (Answer: Not well.) His local contact is crab fisherman Isaac Jefferson (Rob Morgan, nicely understated), a modest, easygoing fellow who never felt compelled to abandon the environment in which he grew up.

During an otherwise routine interview, Michael’s attention is drawn to a series of striking, black-and-white photographs, including one of the photographer herself: Christina Eames, a native daughter who broke Isaac’s heart a generation ago, when she left to seek fame and fortune in New York.

Ben Is Back: He should have stayed away

Ben Is Back (2018) • View trailer 
2.5 stars. Rated R, for frequent profanity, dramatic intensity and drug use
By Derrick Bang

It’s a shame to see a fine performance wasted on poor material.

Julia Roberts acts up a storm in this well-intentioned melodrama, but writer/director Peter Hedges’ increasingly contrived script ultimately defeats her. 

Ben (Lucas Hedges, center) is protectively flanked by his mother (Julia Roberts) and
step-father (Courtney B. Vance), as they watch his younger half-siblings participate
in a church Christmas pageant.

Part of the problem is familiarity breeding contempt, and raising expectations. We’ve recently seen Beautiful Boy, which is a far superior study of a family attempting to endure — and surmount — the anxiety-laden complexities of dealing with a drug-addicted young adult son. That film felt authentic, its various crises proceeding logically, one to the next.

Hedges, in great contrast, lards his film — which takes place during a single 24-hour day — with an escalating series of revelations, challenges and predicaments that ultimately become ridiculous. The compressed time period doesn’t help, since it calls greater attention to the escalating absurdity.

The morning of Christmas Eve is bright and cheerful, until Ben Burns (Lucas Hedges) surprises his family with a visit: unexpected — even potentially unwelcome — because the 19-year-old is supposed to be confined to a detox clinic. It’s okay, Ben smoothly insists; my progress has been excellent, so my sponsor approved this one-day visit, for Christmas.

His mother Holly (Roberts) is deeply conflicted, a duality that Roberts conveys superbly. Holly wants to believe him, but is doubtful; her daughter Ivy (Kathryn Newton), slightly younger than Ben, doesn’t trust him for a second. More to the point, Holly has built a new life, with a second marriage to Neal (Courtney B. Vance) that has produced their own two young children, Lacey (Mia Fowler) and Liam (Jakari Fraser). Their safety also warrants consideration.

(There’s no significant reference to Ben’s father, who plays no role here.)

Neal, patient and pragmatic, reminds his wife that they’ve been through this countless times before; rules have been established, which Holly agreed to. But it’s Christmas, and she desperately wants to share the holiday with her son. Ben, for his part, launches a charm offensive that quickly wins over his half-siblings.

But we viewers already know, emphatically, that Ben is lying. We watched him arrive at the house, while his mother and the other children were out shopping: witnessed his anger and impatience at not being able to get inside.

The Mummy: Should've stayed buried

The Mummy (2017) • View trailer 
Two stars. Rated PG-13, and generously, for relentless violence, scary images, dramatic intensity, partial nudity and mild sensuality
By Derrick Bang

Tom Cruise is on solid ground when he concentrates on straight action epics, such as the always entertaining Mission: Impossible series.

Nick (Tom Cruise) and Jenny (Annabelle Wallis) can't believe what they're seeing: probably
fresh script pages that make even less sense than what they've endured, thus far, in this
laughable mess of a movie.

But when he attempts to blend adventure with light humor, the results can be dire. He’s a far, far cry from the breezy comedic charisma of — to pull out an appropriate name — Brendan Fraser.

In fairness, Cruise can’t take all the blame for the lamentable mess of The Mummy; there’s plenty to go around. This debut entry in Universal Pictures’ highly touted “Dark Universe” classic monster revival series is a grave disappointment, from Alex Kurtzman’s lackadaisical direction, to a breathtakingly bonkers script credited to no fewer than six (!) people. It would appear that too many cooks spoiled the broth.

This is a kitchen sink mess, with elements borrowed (or stolen) from all over the place, then clumsily stitched together in a manner that only Dr. Frankenstein could love. Cruise swans about, one scene to the next, not even trying for characterization — not that he’s given much — and adding absolutely nothing to these daft proceedings.

Hell, co-star Jake Johnson gives a more engaging performance. And he’s dead most of the time.

This abysmal monster mash clearly was compromised by the need to serve too many masters. I’m surprised the ego-laden Cruise even signed up, because he isn’t the significant element in this ghoul-laden thrill ride; he’s merely window dressing, as the stage is set for future installments involving the Invisible Man, the Wolf Man, the Creature from the Black Lagoon, and the aforementioned Dr. Victor Frankenstein. Establishing all of that pulls focus from the adventure at hand, to its additional detriment.

Mostly, though, this Mummy simply isn’t well conceived. It’s one of those make-it-up-as-we go contrivances, with random, Perils of Pauline-style dangers interrupting microscopic moments of plot. The story also suffers from a malady quite common to modern adventure epics: a villain so strong, so evil, so world-manipulatingly powerful, that there’s simply no way our ordinary, flesh-and-blood heroes could prevail.

Except that the script says they must, and, well, that’s that.

Joyful Noise: An irritating din

Joyful Noise (2012) • View trailer
2.5 stars. Rating: PG-13, and too harshly, for brief profanity and a vague sexual reference
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 1.13.12


It must be January; Hollywood is serving holiday leftovers again.

Despite having its heart in the right place, this film is a mess: too long, too slow, too clumsily melodramatic and too old-school, with respect to its too many songs. Remember the worst 1960s and ’70s musicals, when the story simply stopped every 10 minutes, so that some other cast member could warble a tune?

The Pacashau Sacred Divinity Choir — featuring G.G. Sparrow (Dolly Parton,
center left), Olivia Hill (Keke Palmer, center) and her mother, Vi Rose (Queen
Latifah) — gets plenty of respect in their home town, but the competition is
much tougher during the annual Joyful Noise choir competition.

That’s what we have here: a total throwback. And not in a good sense.

Todd Graf definitely loves the let’s-put-on-a-show genre, having turned writer/director with 2003’s sweet and quite entertaining Camp, which translated the young folks’ performance school template from Fame to a summer camp setting. Graf waited six years before modifying the formula slightly for 2009’s equally appealing Bandslam — new kid in town assembles fledgling rock band, accompanied by his school’s two hottest chicks — and suffered the indignity of copycat bad timing, since TV’s Glee had debuted that same year.

Which brings us to Joyful Noise, wherein Graf has layered the same concept — with less success — onto a church choir setting in the tiny community of Pacashau, Ga.

Unfortunately, Glee has raised the bar on all such performer-wannabe musicals. And that’s the major problem here: An average 42-minute episodes of Glee delivers far more credible angst, integrated much more smoothly with the obligatory songs, than this lumbering, 118-minute behemoth.

Matters aren’t helped by Graf’s kitchen-sink script, which doesn’t overlook a single opportunity for tragedy or misery. He opens his film with a sudden death — an eyeblink cameo by guest Kris Kristofferson — and it’s all downhill from there. Resentful, abandoned wife? Check. With a son who suffers from Asperger’s syndrome? Check. And a daughter suddenly attracted to the newly arrived “bad boy” in town? Check. The small-town setting, with desperate residents losing homes and businesses left and right, due to the lousy economy? Check, check and check.

This is supposed to be a light-hearted, feel-good musical?

Indeed, that’s a serious problem: Graf can’t decide what he wants his film to be. These morose characters are bad enough; far worse are the occasional attempts at comic relief, as when one poor woman — Angela Grovey, as Earla — has a rather disastrous night of passion with a fellow choir member. I can’t imagine what Graf was thinking, with this subplot.