Knock at the Cabin: Don't open this door

Knock at the Cabin (2023) • View trailer

One star (out of five). Rated R, for violence, dramatic intensity and profanity

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang

Would somebody please burn this man’s Directors Guild card?

 

M. Night Shyamalan continues to demonstrate an impressive ability to stretch a 30-minute premise to the point that it screams for mercy.

 

While young Wen (Kristen Cui) cowers behind Andrew (Ben Aldridge), and a similarly
trussed-up Eric (Jonathan Groff) looks on dazedly, Leonard (Dave Bautista) once
again explains — hoping to get a different answer — what is required of the three of them.

The result — here, as in so many of his films — is ponderous, overwrought, absurdly melodramatic and insufferably boring.

I initially held out a bit of hope, because unlike most of Shyamalan’s original scripts, this one is based on an existing book: Paul Tremblay’s Bram Stoker Award-winning horror novel, The Cabin at the End of the World.

 

But no. Although Shyamalan — and co-scripters Steve Desmond and Michael Sherman — have altered key details to make these events somewhat more palatable, their film remains ridiculous. (And, based of what has been changed, I’ve no desire to read Tremblay’s book any time soon.)

 

Eric (Jonathan Groff), Andrew (Ben Aldridge) and their adorable 8-year-old adopted daughter Wen (Kristen Cui) are a loving, mutually devoted family unit. They’ve begun a vacation at Ye Old Isolated Cabin In The Woods (a horror flick cliché long overdue for retirement) and, thus far, life has been nothing but laughter and joy.

 

Then, while Wen is collecting grasshoppers one morning, she’s approached by the imposing Leonard (Dave Bautista), who — despite the wave of menace that seems to shimmer from his skin — attempts to befriend her.

 

Right away, we’re dealing with a modern little girl who should be well schooled about how to react when confronted with stranger danger. And while immediately running into the cabin wouldn’t change the trajectory of what follows, her failure to do so is an early indication of the daft psychology that permeates this entire film.

 

Moments later, Leonard is joined by three others: Sabrina (Nikki Amuka-Bird), Adriane (Abby Quinn) and Redmond (Rupert Grint). At that point, Wen does run to her parents. They barricade the doors and windows; Leonard knocks on the front door and asks that they be let inside … otherwise, they’ll simply break in.

 

(Then why ask permission? It’s not like they’ve vampires, who must be invited across the threshold.)

 

This imposing quartet soon gets inside, each of them now carrying a large, nasty and impressively lethal weapon. (Leonard prefers the term “tools.”) Eric and Andrew resist to the best of their ability, and wind up tied to chairs.

The Matrix Resurrections: It's déjà vu all over again

The Matrix Resurrections (2021) • View trailer

Two stars (out of five). Rated R, for violence and profanity

Available via: Movie theaters and HBO Max (until January 21)

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 12.31.21

Charles M. Schulz sagely observed that a cartoonist is “someone who has to draw the same thing day after day, without repeating himself.”

 

Lana Wachowski, on the other hand, is a writer/director who makes the same movie time after time, while repeating everything.

 

Although not entirely convinced, Thomas (Keanu Reeves) instinctively senses that much
of what Bugs (Jessica Henwick) says is true ... and that his supposed life on Earth
isn't actually what he thinks.

Great gig if you can get it, I guess.

But the utter absence of originality in this fourth Matrix installment is both tedious and disheartening: in its own way, a contributor to the death of imagination. Wachowski — abetted by co-writers David Mitchell and Aleksandar Hemon — apparently can make the same movie ad infinitum, and fans don’t seem to mind.

 

What was novel and mind-blowingly audacious, back in 1999, has become familiar and boring.

 

A brief prologue introduces the feisty, blue-tressed Bugs (Jessica Henwick), a “white rabbit” on a covert mission in what clearly is a dangerous Matrix rabbit hole, seeking clues that will reveal more about “The One,” who sacrificed himself for humanity 60 years earlier.

 

Following that, we drop in on Thomas Anderson (Keanu Reeves), a wildly successful computer programmer who has made a fortune for himself, and his company, with a three-part immersive game called The Matrix Trilogy.

 

Given that Thomas — known in the “real” world as Neo — died nobly at the conclusion of 2003’s The Matrix Revolutions, his appearance here clearly indicates fresh bad behavior by the intelligent machines that control the Matrix. (As a quick recap, all of humanity unknowingly exists within a simulated reality of our familiar world, their physical bodies actually trapped within pods that suck their life force for energy.)

 

Thomas suffers from bad dreams, despite having shakily moved beyond a recent psychotic break that prompted a suicide attempt: a crisis expertly managed by his warmly sympathetic psychiatrist (Neil Patrick Harris). Worse yet, Thomas is confronted by his boss — Jonathan Groff, suitably smarmy and condescending, as Smith — and informed that they’re going to make a fresh sequel to the Matrix game trilogy: something Thomas swore he’d never do.

 

In a bit of cheeky meta, Smith explains that they have no choice; their corporate owners, Warner Bros., will do the game with or without them. 

Frozen II: Shouldn't have been thawed

Frozen II (2019) • View trailer 
Two stars. Rated PG, for no particular reason
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 11.22.19

I want to know what this film’s writers were smoking.

Granted, this sequel to 2013’s Frozen has its moments, almost exclusively those involving Josh Gad’s hilarious supporting performance as the relentlessly loquacious snowman, Olaf.

Having just penetrated the strange mist that conceals an enchanted forest, Elsa (foreground)
continues to hear a mysterious voice, although her companions — from left, Sven, Olaf,
Kristoff and Anna — do not.

The rest, however, is a mess.

Folks with a chronic aversion to musicals — and their numbers are legion — generally don’t shun classics such asThe Wizard of Oz, Singing in the Rain or West Side Story, or later genre refinements such as Cabaret and La La Land. No, such folks hate bad musicals: 1969’s Paint Your Wagon, 1975’s At Long Last Love, 1982’s Grease 2 and many others too numerous to mention.

Musicals with wafer-thin stories that usually make no sense, and which are interrupted constantly when the orchestra swells, an actor or two pauses in mid-sentence, stares heavenward, and we recoil with a sotto voce “Oh, gawd; they’re gonna sing again.”

Musicals with truly atrocious songs, not one of which is memorable enough to linger beyond the end credits.

Frozen II is a bad musical. A very bad musical, with genuinely awful, unmelodic and instantly forgotten tunes. Some of which are heard (endured?) more than once.

Songwriters Kristen Anderson-Lopez and Robert Lopez clearly felt they had to match the success of “Let It Go,” their inspirational, Academy Award-winning ballad from the first film. Ergo, most of these seven new tunes are similarly overcooked and overwrought power anthems, not one of which comes within shouting distance of “Let It Go.” The absence of musical variety — particularly during the film’s second half — becomes unbearable.

You could hear the clanking of eyeballs rolling in their sockets, during Monday evening’s preview screening, each time viewers muttered, “Oh, gawd; she’s gonna sing again.”

There’s such a thing as trying too hard.

Frozen: Thawed a bit too soon

Frozen (2013) • View trailer 
3.5 stars. Rating: PG, and quite needlessly, for action and mild rude humor
By Derrick Bang

Disney’s animated films haven’t been such a much of late, with little of note since 2010’s Tangled. The studio’s traditional animation department has been overshadowed by its Pixar colleagues, who’ve demonstrated a far better understanding of good storytelling.

As Anna searches for her sister, she's first joined by Kristoff and his loyal reindeer Sven;
they then encounter a loving snowman named Olaf, who has been brought to life via
the same magic that has brought a life-threatening winter to the entire land.

I therefore was delighted by the opening act of Frozen, which evokes pleasant memories of the Broadway-esque musical atmosphere delivered so well by Beauty and the Beast, Aladdin and the next several features that contributed to Disney’s lock on the 1990s. The prologue of Frozen feels much like Beauty and the Beast, as it establishes key character relationships and the underlying fairy-tale curse that will propel the plot, and this new film also offers several lyrically clever tunes by Tony Award-winner Robert Lopez (The Book of Mormon, Avenue Q) and Kristen Anderson-Lopez.

Best of all — at least, at first — these vocals are well integrated into the action, smoothly supplementing the drama in a manner that feels natural.

Alas, that deft marriage of story and song becomes increasingly contrived as we move into the second act, by which point each new tune is greeted with resignation. (“Seriously? Another one?”)

Director/scripters Chris Buck and Jennifer Lee — with an assist from Shane Morris on the story — also lose their narrative’s dramatic heft as we skate into the climactic third act. The suspense wanes, in part because their story lacks a stylishly conniving villain in the mold of Gaston (Beauty and the Beast) or Jafar (Aladdin); this film’s simpering Duke of Weselton hardly qualifies.

(Yes, I’m well aware of the climactic twist. But it’s too little, too late.)

Instead, the drama’s primary threat emanates from one of the heroines, who undergoes a reluctant transformation very much in the mold of Elphaba, in Wicked ... which may not be a coincidence, since that Broadway role was played by Idina Menzel, who also voices the character under discussion in Frozen.

Déjà vu, anyone?

Fairy tale fans who fondly recall Hans Christian Andersen’s The Snow Queen will be hard-pressed to find anything familiar in this narrative, except (to a degree) the core premise. Not necessarily a problem, of course, as long as the re-invention is similarly imaginative.