Despicable Me 4: DiMinionshing returns

Despicable Me 4 (2024) • View trailer

3.5 stars (out of five). Rated PG, for silly action and mild rude humor

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 7.7.24

Producer/director Chris Renaud and the rest of the Illumination team need to be careful, lest they steer this franchise into treacherous waters.

 

Teenage Poppy Prescott (voice by Joey King), determined to become a super-villain,
blackmails Gru (Steve Carell) into helping her with a "big heist." They're accompanied
by Gru Jr. and faithful Minions Phil and Ralph.

Although the Minion-laden hijinks and rat-a-tat pacing are just as much fun in this sixth entry — a list which includes the two Minions films — the core storyline leaves much to be desired. Ken Daurio and Mike White’s script is sloppy; the primary plot seems an afterthought driven by Minion gags, rather than the other way around. That’s an important distinction ... and potentially fatal for the series, in the long run.

There’s also a strong sense of familiarity and “borrowing” from other sources, which suggests scarcity of original thought.

 

To cases, then:

 

Events begin as Gru (again voiced by Steve Carell) and his Anti-Villain League task force infiltrate a reunion party at his alma-mater, the Lycée Pas Bon School of Villainy, in order to arrest long-time nemesis Maxime Le Mal (Will Ferrell). The operation nearly goes awry, when Maxime transforms himself into a human cockroach — complete with six nasty, jagged limbs — but Gru and the AVL team win the day.

 

(Maxime’s makeover is this film’s first serious flaw. It isn’t maintained consistently, during what follows; more critically, Maxime never again is as ferociously strong and scary, particularly during the third act climax, as he is in this initial confrontation.)

 

With that assignment out of the way, Gru settles into new parenthood; alas, baby Gru Jr. prefers the company of his mother, Lucy (Kristen Wiig), and wants nothing to do with dear ol’ dad. Although these father/infant tussles are amusing — particularly with respect to Gru Jr.’s lightning-swift changes of expression — they feel an awful lot like the similar difficulties Bob Parr had with baby Jack-Jack, in The Incredibles.

 

Then, catastrophe: Maxime breaks out of AVL’s supposedly escape-proof cell, with the help of condescending girlfriend Valentina (Sofia Vergara) and his army of armored (regular-sized) cockroaches. Determined to avenge his capture, Maxime promises to kidnap what is most dear to Gru: his infant son.

 

AVL head Silas Ramsbottom (Steve Coogan, mirthfully stuffy) acts swiftly, and places Gru, Lucy and their family — including daughters Margo (Miranda Cosgrove), Edith (Dana Gaier) and Agnes (Madison Skyy Polan) — into a safe house in the picturesque community of Mayflower. They’re joined by Gru’s three most loyal Minions — Ron, Phil and Ralph — while all the others are taken to AVL Headquarters, where Ramsbottom has “special plans” for some of them.

Bullet Train: One helluva ride!

Bullet Train (2022) • View trailer

Four stars (out of five). Rated R, for strong bloody violence, gore, relentless profanity and brief sexuality

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang

The first 10-15 minutes of this film are remarkably off-putting.

 

We’re dumped into the midst of a story in progress, with numerous characters muttering sotto voce dialogue that gets buried beneath a shrieking pop score soundtrack. A gory and unpalatable flashback illuminates a running argument between two posh assassins over whether they’ve thus far killed 16 or 17 people.

 

Ladybug (Brad Pitt, left) believes that he has made an easy score, when he quickly
locates the metal briefcase he's been hired to snatch. Then he encounters Wolf
(Benito A Martinez Ocasio), merely the first of numerous assassins on this
bullet train run from Tokyo to Kyoto.

Elsewhere, Brad Pitt wanders amid the cacophony of late-night Tokyo — bewildered but purposeful — following instructions from a cool, soothing female “handler” at the other end of his phone.

Honestly, you’ll be tempted to bail …

 

… but that would be a mistake.

 

Once this film settles into its groove — and, more importantly, once viewers embrace that groove — this stylish, gleefully violent romp is a lot of fun.

 

Due in great part to Pitt’s increasingly amusing “Who, me?” performance.

 

Director David Leitch’s heavily stylized, unapologetically brutal thriller is a mash-up of Guy Ritchie-style crime romps and bloodthirsty Japanese yakuza epics, replete with wrathful assassins who go by code names, and have various scores to settle. Pitt’s character — dubbed “Ladybug” for the purposes of this snatch-and-grab assignment — swans not-quite-helplessly through this increasingly lethal chaos: the ultimate (comparative) innocent in the wrong place at the wrong time.

 

He has been tasked with retrieving a certain metal briefcase on the Töhoku Shinkansen Hayate bullet train run between Tokyo and Kyoto. It should be simple: Find the briefcase, depart the train at its next stop, liaise with his unseen handler.

 

What poor Ladybug doesn’t know — what we also don’t know, and learn only in fits and starts, as he does — is that the case is in the possession of the useless, wayward son (Logan Lerman) of White Death (Michael Shannon), a reclusive and much-feared Russian kingpin within the international crime scene.

 

White Wolf’s son is being chaperoned by professional killers Tangerine (Aaron Taylor-Johnson) and Lemon (Brian Tyree Henry). The former is a Savile dandy with slicked-back hair and a penchant for erudite, long-winded speeches; the latter has a guileless demeanor and an uncanny ability to “read” people honed from (I’m not making this up) a lifelong study of Thomas the Tank Engine.

 

Ah, but this is a very busy train. The passengers also include Kimura (Andrew Koji), an alcoholic, low-level Tokyo criminal who has hit rock-bottom after failing to stop the unknown culprit who shoved his young son off the roof of a tall building. With family honor at stake, Kimura has concocted a mad scheme that will put him face-to-face with his target.

 

Then there’s Wolf (Benito A Martinez Ocasio), a rage-fueled assassin with a score to settle against Ladybug; The Hornet (Zazie Beetz), a master of disguise with a lethal sting, who travels beneath the radar of every job she accepts; and Prince (Joey King), a seemingly angelic young woman whose sweet looks and tender voice conceal torturous tendencies.

 

Oh, and let’s not forget the boomslang, a highly dangerous snake stolen from the Tokyo Zoo, whose highly toxic venom causes victims to bleed out from every bodily orifice within 90 seconds.

 

And off we go…

The Princess: Bold and bodacious

The Princess (2022) • View trailer

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

Available via: Hulu

By Derrick Bang

Guilty pleasure time.

 

Director Le-Van Kiet’s fast-and-furiously paced action thriller is a snarky Me Too riff on fairy tales, with 21st century gal power cheekily re-writing a “woman’s role” during medieval times. 

 

The Princess (Joey King, left) and her friend Linh (Veronica Ngo) prepare to fend off
another wave of enraged mercenaries.

The result is both fun and quite satisfying, thanks in great part to Joey King’s bruised, battered but never beaten performance in the title role.

Ben Lustig and Jake Thornton’s script blends back-story and character development with all manner of ferocious swordplay and hard-charging ass-kicking. Fight choreographer/coordinator Kefi Abrikh makes imaginative use of the mostly confined settings, with Kiet and editor Alex Fenn moving things right along.

 

The result is a thoroughly enjoyable 94-minute roller coaster ride: perfect for a rowdy movie night.

 

The film opens with a droll nod to once-upon-a-timing, as cinematographer Lorenzo Senatore’s camera slowly pans toward a tall castle tower, and then through a window to reveal the Princess — she’s never named — sleeping in this top-most chamber. But illusions of tranquility are shattered when she awakes with a start, her hands shackled in cuffs.

 

Worse yet, her locked room suddenly is invaded by two thuggish guards sent to “check on her.” Whatever the reason for her confinement, it ain’t good, and we get a sense of the Princess’ gritty determination when — fearing the worst from the guards — she deals with the cuffs. Painfully.

 

What follows is an eye-popping display of cool moves and adrenaline-fueled rage, which compensates for the woman’s diminutive stature. Exit two guards, one of them quite dramatically.

 

King is a modest 5-foot-4, but Kiet and Abrikh actually turn that into an advantage, as the subsequent melees and skirmishes become increasingly aggressive.

 

(I must admit, it’s a bit jarring to see King in such a role; I still remember her fondly as Beverly Cleary’s mischievous Ramona Quimby, in 2010’s Ramona and Beezus.)

 

As we soon learn via occasional flashbacks, her parents — the realm’s King (Ed Stoppard) and Queen (Alex Reid) — birthed only daughters: the Princess and her younger sister, Violet (Katelyn Rose Downey). Because of this absence of a male heir upon whom to eventually bestow the crown, the King agreed to let his daughter marry a neighboring noble, the opportunistic Julius (Dominic Cooper).

 

Ah, but Julius is a bloodthirsty, power-hungry sadist, which the Princess — a young woman who refuses to “know her place” — recognizes all too well. Tradition and family loyalty notwithstanding, she’s too headstrong and independent to tolerate such nonsense; she jilts Julius at the altar.

 

Going in Style: A stylish romp

Going in Style (2017) • View trailer 
3.5 stars. Rated PG-13, for drug content, mild sensuality and fleeting profanity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 4.7.17

Remakes rarely live up to their predecessors.

This is one of the exceptions.

Once Jesus (John Ortiz, second from right) realizes that his three new "friends" — from
left, Willie (Morgan Freeman), Joe (Michael Caine) and Albert (Alan Arkin) — are serious
about their desire to rob a bank, he does his best to save them from rookie mistakes.

Director Zach Braff’s re-booted Going in Style charms from beginning to end, thanks to scripter Theodore Melfi’s savvy update of the 1979 original. That film seriously misled audiences with an advertising campaign that promised droll hijinks from its veteran cast — George Burns, Art Carney and Lee Strasberg — when, in fact, it was a serious downer that became progressively more depressing.

Braff and Melfi learned from that mistake. Their new Style makes ample comedic use of its fresh trio of veteran scene-stealers — Michael Caine, Morgan Freeman and Alan Arkin — while supplying some trenchant social commentary, which was absent the first time around.

It’s also obvious, in the wake of the Wells Fargo scandal and other recent examples of greedy, soulless financial skullduggery, that banks — and bank officers — are likely to spend the next several years competing alongside Nazis, as go-to movie villains. I can’t imagine a more fitting punishment.

Best friends Joe (Caine), Willie (Freeman) and Albert (Arkin) live across the street from each other in a fading Brooklyn neighborhood. Willie and Albert share one home, their combined pension and Social Security payments just enough to keep them in modest comfort. Joe has taken in his daughter and beloved granddaughter, Brooklyn (Joey King); his monthly pension check is barely enough to meet the mortgage.

Or it was, back when the checks still arrived. They’ve been absent of late, thanks to “restructuring” by the company that has absorbed Semtech Steel, where the three men spent their working careers.

The first body blow comes with a warning notice that the bank holding Joe’s mortgage is about to foreclose; the killing punch follows quickly, when a (very brave) Semtech flack gathers employees and retirees, and announces that the new corporate owners have moved all operations overseas. And that all pensions will be dissolved in order to help cover outstanding debt.

Adding insult to injury, this heartless financial rape will be overseen by the very bank holding Joe’s mortgage.

Wish I Was Here: Are you sure?

Wish I Was Here (2014) • View trailer 
Three stars. Rated R, for profanity
By Derrick Bang 

A little of Zach Braff goes a long way.

He directed and co-wrote this film, sharing scripting credit with older brother Adam. The brothers also can be found among the 15 producers, co-producers, line producers and executive producers — just in passing, can we finally admit that the jockeying for “producer” credit has well and truly gotten out of hand? — and Zach also stars.

Traditional teaching doesn't accomplish much when Aidan (Zack Braff) decides to home-
school children Grace (Joey King) and Tucker (Pierce Gagnon). Aidan has much better
luck when he involves them in home-repair projects such as a long-neglected back yard
fence: a shared endeavor that allows plenty of time to discuss weighty topics.

Perhaps more tellingly, crucial funding was provided by the 46,520 backers who contributed to a Kickstarter campaign, so that Braff had the creative freedom to cast, shoot and cut the film precisely to his specifications. He likely found it reasonable to assume that the lion’s share of these crowd-funding supporters were fans who’ve followed his career since TV’s Scrubs: No surprise, then, that Braff has rewarded this loyalty by playing a character whose mannerisms and line readings look and sound much like that show’s Dr. John “J.D.” Dorian.

Which isn’t a bad thing, as long as one enjoys the by-now-very-familiar Braff shtick.

Braff has been dubbed the New Jersey Woody Allen, and with ample cause; the younger actor/filmmaker delivers a similar blend of chatty social ineptness and Jewish angst. Much of Braff’s dialogue has the cadence and timing that one would expect from a stand-up act: less a dramatic performance, more like stepping out of the character in order to make a wry observation about life, the universe and everything.

But not consistently, in the case of this film. At times, we get the Zach Braff from Scrubs, delivering a line with the wheedling, precious, little-boy inflections of an adolescent trying to talk his parents into serving ice cream for supper. Alternatively, Braff retreats from that artifice and attempts to be stern and serious, now wanting to persuade us that he really is capable of handling this script’s solemn topics with an appropriate level of thespic skill.

Doesn’t work. Braff’s signature tics and hiccups are so thoroughly a part of his performance, that he never succeeds in becoming anybody other than himself. Which is a shame, because when he gets out of his own way, Wish I Was Here makes some thoughtful observations about family estrangement, seizing the day, and death with dignity.

Braff stars as Aidan Bloom, a 35-year-old struggling Los Angeles actor who relies on wife Sarah (Kate Hudson) to keep things together financially. He’s blithely unaware that she chafes under the soul-sucking sameness of her public service job, believing instead that she’s cheerfully content to keep supporting “his dream.”

They have two children — teenage Grace (Joey King) and grade-school Tucker (Pierce Gagnon) — who attend a private Jewish day school courtesy of tuition payments made by Aidan’s father, Gabe (Mandy Patinkin). Aidan’s long-estranged bachelor brother, Noah (Josh Gad), lives a withdrawn life in a house trailer by the beach, and is regarded as a total loser by their father.

White House Down: Slick summer heroics

White House Down (2013) • View trailer 
Four stars. Rating: PG-13, for fleeting profanity and relentless action violence
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 6.28.13

You gotta give ’em credit: Despite an invasion premise that confines the primary characters to the labyrinthine White House interior, this crowd-pleasing action epic manages to work in a car chase.

And a reasonably plausible car chase, at that.

Having worked their way through secret tunnels that lead beneath the White House,
Cale (Channing Tatum, right) and President Sawyer (Jamie Foxx) are dismayed to
discover that the bad guys have blocked the way with a complicated bomb. Worse
yet, irritated thugs with guns are right behind them...

Director Roland Emmerich and writer James Vanderbilt actually deserve credit for far more than that. Despite arriving late to this high-profile copycat party, White House Down is superior to spring’s Olympus Has Fallen: a much smarter script, vastly better characters and a superior blend of action and hell-for-leather humor.

THIS is the way I expect our heads of state to behave: defiant and resourceful in the face of death, rather than the cowardly, impotent weenies who populated Olympus Has Fallen.

Granted, both films offer the same sort of quasi-political hokum, but White House Down delivers the (mostly) one-man derring-do with far more style. Despite a self-indulgent running time of 131 minutes, Emmerich and editor Adam Wolfe keep the pace crisp, the tension coiled and the heroics more or less reasonable.

Vanderbilt’s narrative is a series of clever teases, with every small triumph offset by a newly discovered setback; we therefore cheer each cathartic victory while remaining invested in the primary goal that, vexingly, remains out of reach.

Best of all, we have a solid quartet of villains to boo and hiss: a turncoat mastermind and three delectably unscrupulous associates, each playing his part with gleefully malevolent brio. After all, heroes are measured by their adversaries.

John Cale (Channing Tatum), a capable D.C. policeman, is less successful on the home front, having let down his young daughter, Emily (Joey King), once too often. This comes as no surprise to ex-wife Melanie (Rachelle Lefevre), who, while sympathetic, doesn’t put much stock in Cale’s insistence that he’s trying to atone for past mistakes. Emily, also not impressed, prefers to call her estranged father by his first name.

Hoping to recover some ground, Cale scores a second White House pass so that Emily can tag along when he applies for his dream job, as a member of the Secret Service staff assigned to protect President Sawyer (Jamie Foxx). Alas, Special Agent Finnerty (Maggie Gyllenhaal) also knows too much about Cale’s various character flaws, in part thanks to a long-ago affair with him. She thus denies him the shot.

Oz, the Great and Powerful: Enchanting trip down the yellow brick road

Oz, the Great and Powerful (2013) • View trailer 
Four stars. Rating: PG, and rather generously, for considerable fantasy peril, scary scenes and brief profanity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 3.8.13

Disney got it right this time.

The Mouse House’s previous attempt to sequelize L. Frank Baum — a high-profile release in the summer of 1985 — was a dark and dreary affair, its rich Oz-ian landscape sabotaged by a grim atmosphere and a level of peril that bordered on child abuse. Opening Return to Oz with a sequence that finds little Dorothy sent to a primitive psychiatric ward, and nearly subject to electro-shock therapy? What the heck were the screenwriters thinking?

Having worked out a plan to steal the wicked witch's magic wand, thus removing her
ability to fight back, Oz (James Franco, right) and his two companions — Finley and
China Girl — wait for the proper moment to strike.

Oz, the Great and Powerful, in pleasant contrast, is a rich, imaginative and droll delight from start to finish. To be sure, its protagonists face their share of peril — the winged monkeys were the most terrifying part of 1939’s The Wizard of Oz, and that’s still true in this new film — but the tone is more appropriately adventure-scary, rather than psychologically twisted.

More to the point, scripters Mitchell Kapner and David Lindsay-Abaire — drawing from more of the rich material in Baum’s 1900 novel, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz — have fashioned a prequel that cleverly imitates the style and formula established by the beloved 1939 musical, while also laying the groundwork to anticipate key events in that earlier film’s storyline.

That’s no small accomplishment. Better still, director Sam Raimi and editor Bob Murawski pace their film perfectly, alternating essential character development with fantastical encounters both exhilarating and unnerving.

And — as was the case with Tim Burton’s recent re-boot of Alice in Wonderland, also for Disney — Raimi doesn’t slow the pace by pausing and calling attention to Oz’s myriad wonders; they’re simply present to be enjoyed, if even noticed the first time through. I predict hot home-video sales and plenty of repeat viewings, in order to spot and savor everything that production designer Robert Stromberg and visual effects supervisor Scott Stokdyk have packed into this film.

Heck, when a dozen or so “horses of a different color” graze quietly in a field — not even noticed by our main characters, let alone commented upon — you know that we’re in good hands.

The story, set in the early 20th century, begins roughly a generation before the events in the 1939 film. We’re once again in a small Kansas community — displayed in time-honored black-and-white, in a squarish, standard-frame image — this time in the shabby, sepia-toned “tent city” of a worn and seedy traveling carnival. Its various sideshow attractions include Oscar Diggs (James Franco), nicknamed Oz, a flashy stage magician and rake of dubious ethics who likely has a woman at every stop ... with an angry father or husband right behind her.