I_Ailurophile

I'll be honest, I was rather skeptical about this from the outset. All of the first three films are modern classics, but the very notion of a fourth entry in the franchise felt a lot like Pixar getting roped into Disney's propensity for cash grab sequels. To read a bit about the development of the picture one certainly gets a sense that those involved were genuinely excited about the new story, yet could joy for the creators translate into joy for the spectators? Well, take it from this jaded cynic who had considerable reservations from the outset: as it happens, 'Toy story 4' is utterly fantastic, and in fact may well be one of Pixar's very, very best, and possibly the very top. Considering all the tremendous success the animation titan has enjoyed in the past thirty years, that's saying a lot.

Wherever the credit lies either respectively or collectively between the large writing team, the producers, and director Josh Cooley, it can't be overstated what an absolute treasure this is. In writing and in execution this is smart, clever, and thoughtful beyond all expectations, and frankly beyond most any nearest point of comparison. One runs the risk of tripping over their words in gushing about the cheeky plays on the human world in the toy world, or the intersection of the two, let alone tiny nods and references; the abject silliness, more adult-oriented bits, the sly twisting of expectations, the gags and sharp dialogue, the willingness to stretch out a joke, and more; and the magnificent, fluid, dexterous blend of genres, from comedy and drama, to fantasy, adventure, and action, to even touches of horror and psychological or existential exploration. This is to say nothing of the marvelously meaningful, insightful, heartfelt plot, the robust and versatile scene writing - or, to my utmost pleasure, the outstanding character writing. Even the first installment of 1995 was delectably shrewd in giving us figures with personality, intelligence, flaws and virtues, and discrete arcs, but while I may be biased insofar as I've not seen the prior features in a long time, I'm inclined to think this 2019 release goes further than ever before in making these "toys" living, breathing characters that we can relate to, empathize with, and learn from. Some of the toys are built for comedic relief more than others, or maybe more for dramatic focus or action glee, but from one to the next the characters are all gratifyingly rich, and moreover essential to the saga being imparted in these 100-odd minutes. We get to see Woody, Bo Peep, and others in ways that we haven't before. All these years later, that means something.

And that's still not all. Of course the movie is as well made as we'd expect of contemporary 3D animation, including crystal-clear image and audio, and there's no mistaking that the animators turned in top-notch work. The original music of Randy Newman is a fine complement, naturally. Yet the keen cinematography of Patrick Lin and Jean-Claude Kalache catches our eyes at points, with some shots being particularly ingenious. Whether the mood in a given moment is primed for action or adventure thrills, big laughs, truly tear-jerking emotional heft, a little shock, or anything else, there isn't a single scene that isn't crafted with the greatest of meticulous, loving care, and to maximal effectiveness; I was delighted and entertained here more than I have been with many other titles, and yes, it definitely made me cry, too. But among all else, there are plenty of times when watching animation that we may be inclined to sort of take the voice cast for granted, and passively acknowledge them, even when there are notable stars and ensembles on hand. This is not an example that we should take for granted.

Yes, we have the returning cast members, and we have a slew of newcomers. But we shouldn't just leave it at that, nor at "they do a fantastic job." To the same extent that the storytelling in 'Toy story 4' runs the gamut in terms of genres and mood and a veritable smorgasgord, however well organized, of fabulous odds and ends, the actors who participated here are equal to the task and adeptly match that variety. Tom Hanks gives life to Woody beyond what he has before; just as Bo Peep is expanded upon as a character, Annie Potts is given more room to illustrate her skills in that role. Tony Hale is a total blast as Forky, bringing the same madcap energy that many will recall from Buster in 'Arrested development'; Christina Hendricks gets to stretch her legs more than one may assume at first blush. Jordan Peele and Keegan-Michael Key threaten to steal the show with the dynamics they carry as Bunny and Ducky. And so on, and so on, with many others including Lori Alan, Jay Hernandez, Joan Cusack, and Keanu Reeves all getting time to shine. Never let it be said that voice acting isn't an art form unto itself, and this is a good demonstration of just that.

This is not what I would have ever expected from a fourth installment in an animated series, least of all from the United States, and Disney. There are too many examples in the world of characters, settings, and properties that were stretched to and past the breaking point, being allowed to become empty shells designed only to collect cash from parents catering to the whims of their young children. Thankfully, 'Toy story' is not one of those properties. There is no arguing how very protective Pixar seem to be of their flagship creation, and for all the doubts I bore, it now seems apparent to me that the studio wouldn't have ever allowed this flick to come into the world unless it was fully deserving and worthy. And it is. Mind you, even as I say that I am unsure of the prospect of a fifth entry, but for as stupendous as this is, I'm willing to believe that I'll be pleasantly surprised once again. So many years into the life of the studio and of the ongoing saga that started it all, Pixar has delivered once again - and in my opinion, probably more than ever before - with the release of 'Toy story 4,' and I'm very happy to give it my very highest, heartiest, and most enthusiastic recommendation!

If I'm being honest, I know next to nothing about Bob Dylan, Pete Seeger, Woody Guthrie, or any of their contemporaries or fellow folk singers. I've heard only bits and pieces of the music over time, in turn not realizing how many songs such as those included here have ever had a presence in folk; I've gathered only a broad and piecemeal understanding of how admirable these figures have tended to be over time. For that matter, Timothée Chalamet isn't particularly well known to me, and while I changed my mind after learning of the premise, the notion of a movie about Dylan didn't outwardly speak to me. As a cinephile I'll watch pretty much anything, but I was in no rush at any point to see 'A complete unknown.'

On the other hand, all the word of mouth that I later gathered about this was nothing but positive. And to sit and watch, it's clear to me how mistaken I was to have had any misgivings, or to have mostly missed out on the music of Dylan and his peers for all the previous years of my life. True, there was a long time when I would have been unable to appreciate it, and now that I'm at a place where I can I'm not generally so invested in music, yet the tunes spotlighted in these two and one-half hours are an absolute blissful pleasure - and it's all the more gratifying to learn that the stars, including Chalamet, worked hard to be able to perform themselves. Just as much to the point, as filmmaker James Mangold and screenwriter Jay Cocks shape a cinematic adaptation of Dylan's life and times, the saga is low-key fascinating; these people boast a stature more closely akin to legends, but we see here how complicated and relatably human they were, or are. To that point, I understand Mangold to have been very upfront about his picture being a tableau, and a weaving of a story, much more than a strictly factual documentation, or a dazzling musical showcase, but I think it's safe to say that the spirit of the figures and events has very capably been captured. To the extent that there is any historical accuracy the whole is informative, and to the greater extent that music is suffused throughout the length, embodying a deep love for singing and songwriting, the whole is plainly stupendous. Through it all, Mangold, and Cocks, do a fine job of keeping the proceedings grounded and focused.

Emphasizing the point, in my mind: with music being so integral here, there are many scenes or little moments that don't necessarily add to the "plot" such as it is, but which in their thoughtful execution are beautiful and/or immensely pleasing as we watch characters react, or the power of the music simply take characters away. If there was ever any doubt as to Mangold's skill and intelligence as a director, his work here should surely lay those to rest, for there is deliberate patience in his orchestration of shots and scenes that shows indifference to the shaping of a "narrative" while allowing each small beat to carry its own weight. That same exacting care subsequently comes across in the rich, tasteful cinematography of Phedon Papamichael - and at least as much if not more so in all the acting. Chalamet is the key star, and he has altogether altered his posture and mannerisms in a fashion beyond what most roles call for, yet much the same could surely be said of his co-stars. No matter how big or small their parts, the likes of Edward Norton, Elle Fanning (remember when she was a child actor?), Monica Barbaro, and all others shine with a deep, personal, heartfelt subtlety that's all but intoxicating, making even something like a fleeting rude gesture a delight in its own right, let alone a duet that contains multitudes only over just a few minutes.

I dare say the result is that individual scenes bear more gravity, and do more to impress, than the film in its entirety, yet all the while a tapestry is being woven that threads together all the particulars. Between the shrewdly measured dispensation of the music, the mindful cinematography, the incredibly sagacious direction, and not least the transformative, captivating acting (and singing and playing), it's rather as if writing takes a back seat, and the participants have instead discovered the story spontaneously by letting the creative process take them where it will. Of course that's not how movies are made, and there was a clear thrust intended here from the beginning, but if a flick is so enchanting and engrossing - and its contributors so outstanding - that it can allow a viewer to suspend disbelief of whatever illusion it is presenting, then it can only earn the utmost praise. Usually such potency is reserved for storytelling, and not for the fundamental construction of a piece, but here we are.

And all this is to say nothing of the impeccable sound design, the excellent hair and makeup, the fetching costume design, the fabulous production design, and all the other nuts and bolts that make this what it is. Yes, I had some reservations before watching, and I entered with a deficit of relevant experience or knowledge. To step away regretting that deficit, and to have all my expectations far exceeded, speaks to how superb 'A complete unknown' really is. It won't outwardly appeal to all comers, just as it did not to me, but take it from a skeptic who has become a believer: this is a phenomenal picture, and it is fully deserving of all the award nominations it garnered, and for that matter all the awards that it did not win. Everyone involved should be very proud of what they achieved. I'm so happy with how good it actually is, and can only give 'A complete unknown' my very high, hearty, and enthusiastic recommendation!

Even before a global pandemic changed the cinematic landscape, and the rise of Disney's subscription streaming service, there were a lot of animated pieces from Disney and Pixar that I missed out on. Not only did 'Luca' slip me by in 2021, but to be honest I didn't hear or see much about it in the next few years, either. To sit and watch, from the start this doesn't make a big impression, and it doesn't seem all that special, not least as the story plays with some familiar ideas for family-friendly fare. It is nevertheless firmly enjoyable, though, and as well made as we'd suppose of the animation giants, and there are plentiful little moments of ingenuity all throughout that provide sparks of joy and help to keep the proceedings fresh and engaging. More than that, though, before all is said and done the heartfelt storytelling that Disney and Pixar are known for really does shine through, and at length it's safe to say that this is another fine success for the famous partnership.

Between filmmaker Enrico Casarosa and the inspiration he brought, and the contributions of his co-writers, there is a bounty of solid material in these ninety-five minutes. It's true that much of it may toy with notions that are fairly common for the space this plays in, but there's nothing wrong with that save perhaps for needing something more to then stand out. We're greeted with a young boy whose curiosity is piqued by a world he's told is too dangerous for him, and parents who in looking out for their child may somewhat stifle him; prejudice arising from misunderstanding and fear, and jealousy and disagreements between friends; a discrete antagonist who must receive a comeuppance, additional parental troubles, and secrets that must be closely guarded; and more. That the centered protagonist is a sea monster whose appearance becomes that of a standard human on land is just a little twist that flavors the film - although, at the same time, some of the greater wit and worth we see here also stems from that unique aspect.

It's the details in how that story develops and is fleshed out that ultimately makes 'Luca' the treasure that it is. The scenes that show us the vivid imagination and youthful, carefree exuberance of Luca and Alberto draw from a wellspring of adult nostalgia and childhood memories; the playful moments of sea monsters discovering, interacting with, or fiddling with elements of the human world are clever, and tend to reflect the sillier portions of the feature. Darker, heavier moments in the plot, namely one between Luca and Alberto, and the presence of self-absorbed Ercole, threaten to work against the overall lighter tenor here - but the former does feed into some nice touches that round out Alberto's character through to the very end, and the latter is essential to the welcome, pointed realization of a key theme in the last stretch as old prejudices fall away. And as the narrative culminates in the resolution of the climax, and in the denouement flowing into the ending, make no mistake that the meaningful, emotional magic that Disney and Pixar so adeptly weave is fully present here, too, providing for a heartwarming finish that does much to paint over the subjective concerns of a lesser first impression.

It's not just the writing, either. Of course the 3D animation is terrific in general, not least the fluid transformation sequences, but I'm kind of more enchanted by the setting, and the deep consideration that went into it, than I am by the specific visualization of it. Casarosa envisioned a title that brings us to a small town on the Italian coast in the 1950s, and the picturesque beauty and color of these streets, buildings, props, and people - cartoonish and exaggerated though they may be - is rich and tantalizing in a fashion rather matching the best of the writing. I'll go one step further and say that the music in this picture is surely one of its standout qualities. A scattered selection of period Italian pop songs greet our ears throughout, and they are an absolute pleasure; whether one grew up knowing hits on U. S. radio from the 50s and 60s, or has some glimmer of familiarity with contemporary Italian tunes, the songs are catchy and invigorating, and I can't imagine this without them. To that same point, composer Dan Romer draws in no small part upon like sensibilities in his original score, and the result is an aural tapestry that only ever deftly complements and fantastically enriches the viewing experience.

Further benefiting from splendid voice acting and all the other high quality we anticipate from these studios, all told this really is an excellent picture. There are matters that one could reasonably scrutinize and criticize more thoroughly, but for my part, past the relative weakness of the beginning, I don't think anything herein is significant enough to earn a demerit. With all the warmth and intelligence that was poured into 'Luca' where it mattered the most the more average or unremarkable facets are quite outshone, and at length the impression that this leaves us with is so superb that I wouldn't hesitate to put this on much the same pedestal as what so much of the studios' collective works deserves. I had some doubts when I first sat down, yet I am so very pleased with how good 'Luca' is, and I'm happy to give it my high recommendation!

With the rare pairing of two actors as great as Ralph Fiennes and Juliette Binoche, it's surprising to me that this wasn't met with a bigger reception upon release. Many actors are fantastic when it comes to drama, but few more than Fiennes and Binoche - and this title, with its premise zeroing in on a less fantastical and less remarked chapter of 'The odyssey,' is ripe with potential for hearty exploration. Thankfully, filmmaker Uberto Pasolini has not wasted that potential, but has instead ably risen to the challenge. It has been a very long time since I read Homer's epic but much of it remains fairly fresh years later, and as Pasolini and co-writers John Collee and Edward Bond adapt that portion in which Odysseus returns to Ithaca as Penelope fends off suitors, they blend the ancient verses with universal themes and some notions more commonly seen in the cinematic medium. I wouldn't go so far as to say that 'The return' is some revelation, or a total must-see, but it's unquestionably excellent, and anyone who appreciates the ponderous drama that the scenario portends owes it to themselves to check this out.

For all the whimsical adventure that 'The odyssey' portends with its witches, monsters, transformations, and gods, what is typically overlooked is the very human and emotional core of the saga. That is what Pasolini fervently focuses upon as we see a queen who is loyal, faithful, and hopeful, but desperate; a king who in body, mind, and soul has been lost for many years, and who bears the deep scars of that journey; and a kingdom that has fallen into ruin, devastated equally by its lack of leadership and by the thugs who take advantage of that perceived vacuum. Even more to the point, there is hard emotional depth and nuance to this telling of the tale that is far removed from the often glorious but superficial treatment of the fancy that typically characterizes these beats and those that precede them: moments of beauty, grace, catharsis, relief, and love are arguably outnumbered and threaten to be overwhelmed by those of resentment, regret, festering self-loathing, pain, and ugliness. Emphasizing the point, the anticipated climax gently shifts from serene, to triumphant, to horrific, and the ending allows the whole to conclude on an optimistic note while refusing the concrete satisfaction that moviegoers are largely accustomed to.

Through it all, every inch of these two hours was crafted with the unmistakable care of commensurate professionals and experts of their trade. True, we might say that the "vibes" of Ancient Greece are more important here than any thought toward period-appropriate accuracy, but either way there's no getting around how gorgeous the filming locations are, and how detailed and lovingly shaped the production design, art direction, props, costume design - and even the hair and makeup. Those stunts and effects that are employed are superb. The audio is robust and crystal clear, and Rachel Portman's warm, dynamic original score is a deft complement to the proceedings through every mood. However, not to discount the splendid work of all who contributed, but these are almost a given, something we might easily take for granted. More significant and even more gratifying, here, are those aspects in which we can see the utmost expertise and finessed, delicate hand of artists in cinema.

I speak to the cinematography of Marius Panduru, vivid and striking; this is beautifully shot, and some moments are especially eye-catching. I speak to the acting, primarily that of Fiennes and Binoche, who can so powerfully express multitudes with their eyes and facial expressions alone, and who with any more discrete outburst or movement carry all the gravity of the story along with them. (Of course that's not to count out co-stars like Charlie Plummer, Marwan Kenzari, or Claudio Santamaria, each of whom has their own time to shine, but there's no doubting who bears the most weight here.) And I speak not least to Pasolini's direction, for there is flawless fluidity, mindful restraint, and thoughtful deliberation that catches my attention again and again in the execution of any given scene. Whether Odysseus is briefly greeting a familiar face early on, for example, or much later exercising the strength of a much younger man or the anger of a bitterer one, with the help of his foremost stars Pasolini orchestrates shots and scenes with a wonderful subtlety and underhanded sophistication that's immensely rewarding. In turn, no matter how ugly the feature may get at some points, at all times it remains a highly engaging, captivating, and fulfilling viewing experience.

Based solely on the involvement of Fiennes and Binoche, and the premise put forward before release, I had every expectation that I would enjoy this. Those expectations have been handily exceeded. I can understand how the doing here will not appeal to all comers, but I am so incredibly happy with how smart and careful 'The return' is in its writing, direction, and acting above all. This boasts more complexity than any of countless adaptations of 'The odyssey' that have been rendered over the years, and it does so quite specifically by dispensing with any but passing mention or recollection of other events that precipitated this literary finale. For my money I could hardly ask for a better film, and I find myself remiss that I didn't have the chance to see this any sooner. In my opinion 'The return' is a grand success for Pasolini, Fiennes, Binoche, and all others who participated, and I can only give it my very high and hearty recommendation!

I admit I find myself surprised. I was aware of this by name long before watching, and I recognize the esteem in which it is held in various regards. For as much as I do enjoy 'Klute,' though, I don't think I can say that it makes much of an impression with me. All the right parts are there, but between the broadly honored original screenplay of brothers Andy and Dave Lewis, and the direction of experienced director Alan J. Pakula, to me the picture comes off rather softly much more than not.

In general the narrative seems quite loose in following private investigator Klute and beleaguered sex worker Bree, not least as Klute's investigation into the disappearance of a businessman and his seeming connection to Bree doesn't seem to particularly be going anywhere for most of the length. It's like that until all of a sudden the underlying plot is laid bare as one piece of information in the back end unlocks the whole case, and that tenor is maintained through the climax. In being so plainspoken, the resolution of the climax in particular comes across to me as hasty and disjointed, and though I appreciate the elegant manner in which the denouement is executed, what preceded it stands out more to me.

Those issues of storytelling are perhaps more unfortunate owing to the tack that Pakula adopts in realizing the material. Not in the slightest do I mind the low-key, understated tone here, for some incredible films have been crafted in much the same way. "Low-key" and "understated" are one thing, however, and "dispassionate" is another. Bree is a very troubled woman, and she is frightened and harassed, but for my part I just don't think those feelings come across through Pakula's direction, and because of Pakula's direction they struggle to be conveyed even in Jane Fonda's award-winning performance. I can discern that investigator Klute is designed to come off as dull and somnolent in his mannerisms and speech as an extension of the notion of the small town man in a big city, but to me Donald Sutherland is kind of just a set piece here. With these factors well in mind, I believe the feature has a hard time cultivating any of the thrills, drama, or noir vibes that it intends. To whatever degree it does so, that's mostly owing to the superb original music of Michael Small, a collection of shrewd, delicate themes that communicate the ambience of Something Very Wrong.

Oh yes, at large the movie is well made. Even as I say that, however, I'm not so keen on the choices of lighting and cinematography wherever scenes take place in dim light or at night; like other titles throughout the years, 'Klute' runs into the problem of making the goings-on difficult for viewers to see at all, and that's simply not necessary. And all told, for as promising as the premise is, and for all the potential in the story, the cast, and in other bits and bobs, I just think the sum total feels sort of common and unremarkable. It's a good time, and the whole is duly satisfying; it's worth watching on its own merits. It's just that "duly satisfying" is not a phrase that carries significant enthusiasm, so while I would suggest watching 'Klute' if one has the opportunity, I would also say that recommendation falls on the lighter side of the spectrum.

It's been a while since I've watched a Lifetime original movie, but I have a special fondness for them. By all means, the network has a reputation for cheesy, melodramatic tripe, but I also firmly believe the network is misunderstood. When it comes to Lifetime thrillers, some are very earnest, and carefully made, and in turn genuinely good. Even better are those examples that audiences at large apparently fail to grasp: the wild, blustery B-movies that are outwardly played perfectly straight while ramping up the drama to the point of cheeky, underhanded absurdity. Lifetime is an absolute blast at its best, and some of my favorites among the latter group include 'Pom poms and payback,' 'My killer client,' 'Wheels of beauty,' and above all 'A deadly adoption.' As writer Stephen Romano and filmmaker Curtis Crawford look to take on the singularly modern topic of "influencers" in this 2019 flick, what tack would 'Deadly influencer' take - and in the eyes of a fan of Lifetime, how successful would it be?

We start to get some answers right away as the opening scene shows us a big party dominated by alcohol, held in honor of a young rising influencer, among peers who turn out to be... oh, okay, they're all high school students. High school students who seem to have the unfettered mobility and independence of adults, and none of the structure or delegated responsibilities of teenagers. The plot kicks up immediately in those first minutes with no trace of exposition, and the pacing quickly proves to be steady and a little forced. Movie Magic And Logic allows main character, antagonist, and killer Skylar to take whatever measures she needs to progress her agenda after the first spark of violence in that opening scene, and that's to say nothing of achingly, deliberately thin and overbearing characters, dialogue, and scene and narrative writing - and massive helpings of extraordinary kitsch wherever a beat calls for bubbly socializing, general levity, or even sentimentality. Of course the actors are often guided into appropriately gauche performances, not least Abby Ross as Skylar's new protégé Jessica, while on the other hand, Crawford enforces a decidedly severe tone as director, and Richard Bowers' original music is similarly stark and darkly ambient, kind of more appropriate for a horror-thriller.

Sure, in more sober moments, actors further including Avaah Blackwell or Anne Dudek ably meet the demands of a scene. But that brings us to star Morgan Taylor Campbell, portraying Skylar. One of the great joys of Lifetime thrillers is how they allow those in villain roles to completely let loose, overact, chew scenery, and fly off the handle in whatever way the feature requires. Consider Allison Paige in 'My killer client,' Nana Visitor in 'Killer grandma,' Jessica Lowndes in 'A deadly adoption' among others, and so on. In that same tradition, Campbell is an outright pleasure as she unabashedly leans into the relentlessly biting personality of a girl who is swift to anger with a propensity toward violence, and who has a cruel, pathological need for control (by whatever means necessary) following a history of abuse. In her crocodile tears, in the facade of normalcy she puts on, in the moments of downright instability, and above all in her most unremitting anger and disturbed intensity, Campbell carries herself with a wholehearted commitment that's honestly pretty startling to some degree. Campbell conveys so much with her eyes alone, and her facial expressions, and as she throws all her acting skill into going overboard, the result is so much fun from top to bottom.

Lest you think all these factors portend a total romp, though, the overall tenor of 'Deadly influencer' is a tad less clear-cut. At the same time that the writing, direction, and so much of the acting - and that music, and even Jordan Jensen's editing - entirely embrace the more purposefully unhinged corner of Lifetime, the root storytelling is just sincere enough that the sum total sort of rides a line instead of completely falling on either side. Despite what the premise may suggest, meanwhile, this isn't so much a joyride in which we expect to cheer a killer slaying vapid, superficial "influencers" as it is an ordinary thriller about a deeply troubled young woman (or rather, teen, I guess) who seeks to dominate others, with the tableau tailored to weave in influencers and social media. To that point, the script does weakly play with the good and mostly the bad of the modern Internet. But at the same time that the title seems primed to say something meaningful and authentic about social media, at the psychological moment it turns around and sideswipes us with an ending that's altogether hilarious as the full brunt of Lifetime melodrama and sentimentality is poured into the most mundane and unremarkable of actions.

With all this said, for as much as a ride as this takes us on, I for one quite love it. It's not as cheerfully entertaining as something like 'Secret lives of college escorts,' but it's close enough when all is said and done. And whatever we may think of the slant that this and its brethren adopt, nothing about it is accidental or sloppy. The tone is severe, but it's meant to be, just as the writing is meant to be so ham-fisted in its exploration of the core plot. The pacing is brisk, but it's meant to be. The acting is over the top, but it's meant to be, and not only do I firmly believe that the cast would show themselves to be very admirable if given an opportunity in a more widely accepted type of movie, but when it comes to Campbell especially, I truly want to find more of their credits. This is well made by all the contemporary standards of the medium, and special, undeniable commendations must be awarded for the impeccable, gorgeous hair and makeup work, and the keen eye of the wardrobe department.

Listen, I get it. Lifetime isn't for everyone, even when they're being earnest. When it comes to Lifetime B-movies, I can understand why folks don't get the joke, for it's the same variety of sly, winking humor as, say, what John Carpenter applied with his deeply underappreciated 'Ghosts of Mars.' For those who are open to all the wide possibilities of what film and television have to offer, though, there is so much to enjoy from this network that is so commonly (and wrongly) maligned, and as far as I'm concerned 'Deadly influencer' fits right in. Him and haw as we may about the particulars, I had such a good time watching, and if you're open to what Lifetime has to offer, I'm happy to give this flick my hearty recommendation!

Material preceding the menu on the DVD includes one of those anti-tobacco ads of the sort that someone thought was hip and creative while in fact being overbearing and tiresome; a trailer for one of Roland Emmerich's heedlessly overcooked disaster flicks; and a fantasy romp from Guy Ritchie (remember him?) so hyper-charged as to look like what would happen to 'Game of Thrones' if it were produced by the same entrepreneurial genius behind 'Empires of the deep.' But I wasn't about to let Legendary or Warner's marketing departments deter my enthusiasm and excitement. From the time it was released I gathered positive word of mouth, the promotional imagery was tantalizing, the premise was promising, some very big stars were involved - and I've loved King Kong, and specifically the original 1933 classic, since I was very young. I sat to watch 'Kong: Skull Island' eight years later with no especial foreknowledge and rather high expectations.

I'm therefore aghast that it's only the existence of 1986's 'King Kong lives' that prevents 'Kong: Skull Island' from being the worst Kong film made up to this point. This is astonishingly bad. As I watched with friends our reactions varied from mocking laughter, to appalled silence, to stunned disbelief, and only with fleeting, scattered, irregular rarity did this ever elicit the slightest of positive responses. I love the cast. I think there were some really good ideas in the screenplay, including the premise, some parts of the plot, some scenes, and some characters. The songs on the soundtrack, in and of themselves, are great, and Henry Jackman's original score is a fine complement to the proceedings. The designs for the creatures that we see are terrific. Such praise is all that I have to offer, however, and to be blunt it's simply not substantive enough to do anything except to arguably save the whole from sinking to the absolute bottom of the barrel. For the level on which this operates, the distinction means so little that maybe we should just let it fall there anyway to dwell evermore.

It turns out that those ads preceding the DVD menu were an ill omen of what I should have anticipated. So was the fact that some stars, like Tom Hiddleston, Brie Larson, and Samuel L. Jackson, came to this fresh from stints in the Marvel Cinematic Universe; that Jackson starred in 'Cell' one year before; that John C. Reilly made several movies with Will Ferrell doing his tired one-note man-child act; that cinematographer Larry Fong has worked a few different times with Zack Snyder; and so on. The opening minutes made a terrible first impression as the stylized presentation of studio logos led into an extra frenetic, chintzy, overblown action sequence and a very early glimpse at Kong, yet I held out faint hope that maybe the remainder wouldn't be so ill-considered. The unfortunate truth is that it is. The pointless style lent to the studio logos is echoed in the stylization of any text that appears on-screen; the early frenetic feel is mirrored in a far too swift pace that disallows any scene from bearing any weight; the chintziness continues in most every regard; the action is pretty much uniformly gaudy and overblown, a hollow effort at razzle dazzle that does nothing to ingratiate the picture to we viewers. This is so roundly vapid.

Dialogue is achingly awful. There are but scarce moments that a hint of cleverness comes across, including in the humor. There may be good ideas among the characters, but the greatest extent to which any of them are fleshed out is with a veneer portending flat mimicry of tropes, and for all the deaths we'll see on-screen, all of them are utterly meaningless. There is potential in the narrative as a scientific expedition receives permission and a military escort to survey a mysterious island in the last days of the Vietnam War, but far more than not that potential is squandered in how the writers fill out that concept, above all with scene writing that whips past us with little to no rhyme or reason, thought or care, stakes or impact, or consideration for audiences whose demands for engagement are more substantial than jingling keys. Even the very first scene in which this troupe of characters violently encounters Kong is so carelessly considered that pretty much all hopes for subsequent improvement are dashed.

I like the songs we hear, but at least two-thirds of them are the same songs that appear in every Hollywood movie that's set during or involves the Vietnam War. The filming locations are lovely, and the production design tends to be nice, but as with other facets of the visuals, even the most static sights to greet us portend how completely full of themselves everyone was in making this. Overzealous cinematography, overly brusque and snappy editing, rapid pacing, harried action, snarky humor, references both subtle and overt, forced and hokey acting even in something as small as a passing reaction, and grandiose flourishes and embellishments at every possible opportunity all speak to the agonizing Marvelization of modern cinema, and of blockbusters in particular, as the runaway success at the time of an MCU just turning nine years old made every suit in every studio's executive suite think that imitating the formula of almost every MCU installment was the key to success. Well, I guess giving us an iteration of Kong that drinks freely from the same poisoned well of contemporary action pieces was a choice that could be made, but it wasn't a good one.

Then there's the computer-generated imagery - the scourge of cinema. With infrequent exception digital falsehood ages rapidly and looks worse the more we see of it, and the more it's relied upon. It's no small part of why black and white adventure films of ninety years ago, with their stop-motion animation, continue to stand tall while yesterday's latest superhero swill is already forgotten. Even at that, where it's used sparingly or judiciously, post-production visuals can be great; the lightsabers and laser blasts in 1977's 'Star Wars' are now outdated, for example, but though they're not seamless they still look fantastic because of how they were exercised. Immense care can boast immense results. As technology and techniques continued to develop after 2000, however, too many filmmakers seemingly got the notion that it didn't matter if CGI was used well, because CGI can do anything, and therefore CGI should do everything. Yet this rot is a premier example of why that's plainly not the case. A major studio budget of $185 million bought muzzle flashes that are on par with those of The Asylum. Regular green screen artifice looks no better here in 2017 than it did in 'The Phantom Menace' in 1999, including an aurora in the night sky. There is an inane, self-indulgent obsession with distinct colors in many scenes; death scenes raise a skeptical eyebrow, and one in particular looks downright rancid. And as to Kong and the other creatures, well, I really do like the designs. Yet what comes across to me throughout these two hours is that the production was trying so desperately to craft monsters that looked Realer Than Real that they came full circle and come off as too detailed to be real, and therefore sorrily fake. "Just look at all this detail, guys! Isn't it so real? It's so real, right? Please tell me it looks real! We spent so much money on this, please tell me how real it looks!"

And we're still not done, because I don't know how in the world Jordan Vogt-Roberts ever got hired as director. Just as the CGI monsters try so desperately to look real, Vogt-Roberts tries so desperately to make every passing moment Slick And Cool that only the absence of Milla Jovovich tells me that Vogt-Roberts isn't secretly Paul W. S. Anderson in disguise, listening the same brain worm that created the abhorrent 'Resident Evil' sequels 'Afterlife' and 'Retribution.' Why, the interesting setting and fun creature designs might have made this a better 'Monster Hunter' adaptation than Anderson's, if not for the fact that this is, in fact, a Kong feature. Some shots and scenes are grossly ham-handed, others are exhausting as they imitate other pieces, and as if the material weren't already beneath the actors, Vogt-Roberts' direction forces them into overdone, contrived performances that are. Whether we blame the screenwriters or the director, or both, many scenes, plot points, and character choices to greet us are all but senseless, and the actions that characters take at any time - or the precise flow of sequences - absolutely are. Factor in the editing, cinematography, and all else, and I can't for the life of me fathom how 'Kong: Skull Island' ever earned as much as it did at the box office, or earned such a generally positive reception.

I feel like there's still more I'm neglecting as I write this. There's certainly the dubious satellite image we see of Skull Island, and the seemingly changing scale of Kong. There's the inconsistency in one late action sequence, and the questions that are repeatedly raised at the climax. I couldn't possibly have counted how many times I wanted to scream in disbelief at the poor creative choices made again and again throughout the length. I will say that for all that, the sum total IS nevertheless entertaining - but not because it's genuinely worthwhile on its own merits. I'm astounded by just how badly this flounders, and unless one is a completionist, or that type of cinephile like me who will watch anything and everything, I can't imagine ever recommending this to anyone. There are worse things you could watch, and I repeat that one of them was a predecessor of this feature, but that simply isn't saying much. Whatever it is that has made 'Kong: Skull Island' catch your attention, I urge you to just avoid it altogether. If you do watch all the same, you can't say you haven't been warned.

I can't lie, I had a very jaded and cynical outlook on this before I sat to watch. Shudder has lain claim to some great films, and to some terrible ones. More than that, "influencers" represent a very low form of life, often being vapid, materialistic, vain and self-absorbed, exploitative if not outright manipulative, greedy, and both beholden to and part and parcel of the worst that modern society has to offer. As if it were possible, "influencer" "managers" are possibly even worse. In turn, the idea of a movie centering an "influencer," even a horror movie, at best raises a skeptical eyebrow. All that's to say nothing of the question of whether or not a genre piece can succeed with its core intent of thrills, fright, and/or sinister delight. With presuppositions like these in mind, could filmmaker Kurtis David Harder get past my armor and impress me with 'Influencer?'

Gratifyingly, he could, and he has.

First of all, it's well worth observing that Harder, co-writer Tesh Guttikonda, and their fellow producers clearly share my disdain for what such folks outwardly represent. The writing is as clear as day in showing the "influencer" to be someone who is spiritually and morally bereft - even if some examples may carry superficial airs as an empty shell of a person while in fact privately tiring of the charade, and while struggling with the same personal troubles as anyone else. Harder and Guttikonda also plainly have no love for social media and modern technology at large, for they zero in on how such modern inventions and conceptions can easily be weaponized by any creative individual with the means of any average consumer (let alone anyone with still more resources), and against anyone who has a significant presence online. In fact, this is a major component of what the picture has to offer, not least as chief character CW so readily embodies that venom.

To that point, the first third of the title - mostly preceding the opening credits - is very upfront, suggesting very swiftly that CW is the antagonist in this story, and one wonders if the remainder will also be that stark. It's not, though. One's first impulse is to presume that we'll cheer for a killer who slays influencers, and later in the length we do sympathize with CW as she echoes reasonable sentiments and is belittled by others. Yet her characterization is not so straightforward, for it's just as easy to see her as a cold-stone killer, or as someone with a complex psychological profile to explore. Frankly, much the same could be said of other characters. What Harder and Guttikonda have done is to take common thriller ideas, modernize them and make them grittier and more violent in keeping with darker genre fare (the horror-thriller), and make the characters more complicated and twisted, as we see with a rarer variety of such works that play in this space.

The result of all this isn't a joyful riff on a modern technological scourge as one may suppose sights unseen, but it is sometimes cheeky and fun (through to the very end) while taking an unexpectedly serious, thoughtful approach to the subject matter. Consider me pleasantly surprised! Nothing about this says "must-see," but 'Influencer' is solid, enjoyable, and far more well done than I'd have guessed from the outset. Mind you, I see it's not a "must-see," but various aspects throughout are altogether excellent. That includes Avery Kentis' original music, moody ambient themes that very much bolster the vibes at any point. That includes Harder's firm direction, and the lovely cinematography of David Schuurman; some shots and scenes are especially well done, and so is some of the editing, a credit to Harder and Rob Grant. This is as well made as we'd anticipate of anything made in the 2020s, for that matter, and it benefits from beautiful key filming locations in Thailand, not to mention fetching wardrobe, hair, and makeup, and splendid stunts and effects.

Not to be outdone, though, I have to give a hand to the cast. I appreciate the small supporting cast, shining as they do with limited time on-screen. Emily Tennant and Rory J. Saper have much more presence in these ninety-odd minutes, and with the bigger roles they have to play and the tenor of the writing, they are given an opportunity to demonstrate more of their skills. Above all, however, Cassandra Naud is without question the chief star here, and very simply, I hope to see more and bigger themes come her way in the future. CW is, again, a rather complex character, and having the most time on-screen of anyone here, Naud has the chance to show keen range and nuance, and a fluid physicality that allows her to mold to the demands of any scene. I'm not saying this should have made Naud a break-out star, but I am saying that I look forward to whatever she may do in the future.

It's neither essential nor revelatory, and it bears repeating that all told this does play in familiar territory. For all the things that this feature could have been, though, what I didn't expect was that it could be so smart and sharp with its writing and characterizations. Harder and Guttikonda have impressed me, and I will definitely look to see what they may do next. By one measure or another this won't appeal to all comers, but if you're open to all that the medium and the horror genre have to offer, in my opinion 'Influencer' is a little brighter and more effective than some of its brethren, and I'm happy to give this my recommendation.

Mark this as another movie that just totally passed me by when it first came out.

At first, and also since, if I'm being honest: the COVID-19 pandemic didn't help matters, but in terms of Disney and Pixar productions, 'Onward' has been all but a ghost among its brethren, and the scarcity of any word of mouth would also seem to say much. Add some dubiousness about how the feature was altered for release in markets dominated by oppressive governments, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't have mixed expectations before sitting to watch. Mind you, I don't know if the two entertainment giants are actually capable of churning out animated films that are outright bad, but there's a wide range of quality that exists between "terrific" and "not outright bad." With this in mind: on the one hand, call me a cynic, but it doesn't take long before I begin to discern a smidgen of trouble here. On the other hand, though at times the sum total is possibly too ambitious for its own good, rest assured that the sum total is highly enjoyable and worthwhile on its own merits.

There's no mistaking the heartfelt earnestness in the root concept of filmmaker Dan Scanlon, writing as someone who grew up knowing his father only from photos and a single voice recording. Fashioning a story about two brothers who seek a magical opportunity to meet their late father is staple material for family-friendly fare. Much the same goes for those two boys, who are a little at odds in their relationship, going on an adventure in the process; a single mother who embarks on her own escapade for their sake; and other minutiae like the mom's new boyfriend who is more than a bit of an oaf. The older of those two brothers is brash and kind of boorish, albeit in a manner that's both nerdy and compassionate; the younger brother struggles with self-confidence, and with not knowing his father, and is more prominently centered as a classic kids' cinema protagonist. Many flicks have been built from such notions alone, and though it may take some ingenuity to make another stand out, that's not to say that a new iteration couldn't also be worthy.

On top of all these reliable foundations, the extra point of interest that would help 'Onward' to stand out is in the setting that Scanlon, Jason Headley, and Keith Bunin whipped up. This fictional world is kind of brilliant, really, as initial exposition tells us about an ancient world of pure sword and sorcery fantasy, filled with mystical creatures; those unskilled in the arcane arts, however, developed technology, and over time magic faded as technology grew, leading to a "modern" civilization much like that in real life. With fanciful history mostly relegated to past lives, old tales and borrowed imagery, and niche hobbies like collectible card games or tabletop role-playing games, rediscovering the secrets of long ago will be the key to the brothers' journey and to revitalizing a society mired in its own structure.

For better and for worse, that setting might be the crux of the matter for me. The bad news is that this title sometimes gives the impression of being overfull. Both in and of itself and as a commentary of sorts on the real world, there are thick books that could be written delving into all the ins and outs of magic disappearing from the world; a society that has grown comfortable while losing touch with something richer and more personal; the endless consumption and need for unsustainable need for growth of the modern world, compared to a past that was far more balanced and in tune with the natural world; and so on. These 100-odd minutes are but one story of countless many that could be told to further explore the same setting, and though it's no fault of Scanlon, I can't help but think at times that the doing here is too small for ideas that are too big. What it comes down to in my mind is that it's a picture that maybe tries to weave too much together. The core saga is one thing, and giving it such a promising, wide setting is another.

The good news, however, is that there can be no mistaking how fun the film is overall. From backgrounds and environments, to character and creature designs, to active effects, the 3D animation is as superb as one would suppose of Disney and Pixar in 2020. The voice acting is solid (not least from Tom Holland), the original music of Mychael and Jeff Danna is a splendid complement to every mood, and altogether this is as well made as one would suppose of such works. And however much we want to scrutinize the writing, by and large there is much to love in the screenplay. The themes at play are meaningful and admirable, the characters are actually very smartly written with complexity and big personality, and the plot is truly more engaging, compelling, satisfying, and rewarding than it seems at first blush. The scene writing is wonderfully varied, bringing us slivers of modern life and family drama, big action sequences and personal accomplishments, plentiful humor and gags, riffs on both modern life and classic fantasy material, and a bounty of gratifying sincerity. At its best I would dare say 'Onward' stands shoulder to shoulder with the best of Disney and Pixar, including the short but magnificent "Rise to Valhalla" scene, and the climax, including the cheeky reveal and design of one last creature. At its best, 'Onward' earns big laughs, draws upon some minor thrills, and is also a very capable tearjerker.

In fact, when you get down to it, it's not that this movie in and of itself is flawed in any way. At least, I'm not inclined to think so. What problems we may ascribe to it mostly come down to the treatment it was given for international release, censoring and altering the nature of one character and a single line to appease homophobes; the size of this narrative as compared to the scope of the world we're given in which it is set; and, perhaps more subjectively, a weak start that fails to make a major impression. These are not matters to be trivialized, but they are no severe mark against what Scanlon and all other participants have achieved. All told the picture may not be an absolute must-see, yet for the level on which this operates and the company it keeps, being as sure-footed, fulfilling, and entertaining as it is is no small feat. For all the reservations I may have had from the outset, I'm pleasantly surprised by how good 'Onward' turned out to be. Don't necessarily go out of your way for it, but if you do have the opportunity to watch and like the space it plays in then it would be a sore mistake to pass this up.

I don't think it's unfair to say that this feature faced an uphill climb to gain favor even from conceptualization. Disney's 1992 animated film is an esteemed classic, but as is routinely the case with the entertainment giant, even on paper any sequel or remake smacks of an empty cash grab more than earnest care for storytelling. There is also the looming question of cultural sensitivity: where are the lines between sincere effort at representation, misguided appropriation or stereotyping, and outright bastardization? How well will the more fantastical visuals come off when portrayed with modern computer-generated imagery? Will all due care be taken with the casting for this story set in a fictional land modeled off of very real ones? And could we trust the direction of Guy Ritchie, who - even as he continued to make movies, a couple of which I had even seen - had quite fallen off my radar after the abomination that was 2002's 'Swept away?' How would 2019's "live-action" 'Aladdin' really measure up?

I trust that the cast are capable and that it was the producers who decided that almost no one should speak with an accent remotely authentic to the Middle East, India, or points in between, which were the inspiration for these fictional landscapes in the first place. Or perhaps the reasoning was that without a cast uniformly and specifically drawn from the real-life region, it would be inappropriate to try to adopt that affectation. Regardless, it's frankly jarring to hear Aladdin, Jasmine, The Genie, and other characters speak, and sing, with the most bland and unremarkable of American vocal inflections, and where star Mena Massoud is concerned, it's altogether distracting. There is at least something to be said for the superb choreography that fills any sequences where dance may be involved, and indeed mostly firm direction and acting, and the costume design, hair, makeup, production design, and art direction that are rich with detail and color to bring this fanciful kingdom to life. It certainly seems as if the feature takes some cues from the cinema of the other side of the world, where spectacles of song and dance are very common, if not also inherent and essential - though by the same token, those tangible visuals that are a part of it sometimes come across as more plain and less meticulous, an overall facade instead of a lush and natural component, and the choreography also less robust. Some scenes, like Prince Ali's entrance into Agrabah are meant to be spectacular, but for all the splendor that did go into them, they still feel a little bereft.

I am a tad cautious about how the production approached the notions of Agrabah culture that are so palpably drawn from very real lands, but in fairness the particular setting is fictional (in the same way that, say, a character in Critical Role doesn't truly have a German accent if there's no such thing as Germany in Exandria); the setting here is less important than the adventure that takes place in it; and anyway, I'm not the person who should be judging the cultural sensitivity at hand. A bit more concretely, I think there are times when the writing works a smidgen too hard to instill messaging into a scene, such as the late use of Jasmine's song "Speechless"; most all art tends to struggle with balancing the essence of a medium and any intended messaging, no matter how admirable, and Disney is no exception, least of all as they endeavor to rework classic tales for modern audiences (see also 2025's 'Snow White'). Yet apart from the very American accents that most characters have, what stands out to me most here is that computer-generated imagery, for it exists on a curious spectrum.

Across all of film and television it's routinely the case that digital falsehood looks worse the more we see of it or the more it's relied upon, and it ages rapidly; at the same time, some plainly outdated post-production visuals, such as laser blasts or lightsabers in 1977's 'Star Wars,' still look good because while it's obviously artificial, it's used sparingly and smartly. In this picture the issue is not just the range of quality, but where that range of quality is seen. When The Genie exercises his powers in the most grandiose way possible, for example, including his introduction and around the climax, the visuals are obviously fake but demonstrate tremendous care, and look good enough to draw us in and dazzle us. In smaller instances of that same whimsy, like The Genie himself or the magic carpet, the more sparing usage is also quite careful and is blended well into the filmed footage; the same could be said for the depiction of background scenery, whether Agrabah or The Cave of Wonders. Weirdly, though, there are other facets that very simply did not benefit from that same level of care, and the disparity is sorely glaring when Aladdin and/or Jasmine are riding the magic carpet - or when we look at Iago, Rajah, or especially Abu. How does cartoonified Abu, manipulated by The Genie's sorcery, look better than the Abu that is meant to be a real animal? How do the animals in this 2019 flick (or for that matter, in 2021's 'Jungle cruise') look less convincing than CGI animals we saw fifteen or twenty years prior?

Be all this as it may, provided that one doesn't get completely bogged down in the minutiae, the fact remains that 'Aladdin' is, gratifyingly, a roundly enjoyable film. Scrutinize or nitpick as we may, all those operating behind the scenes turned in excellent contributions to bring the world to life, including those costumes, the sets, and most of the digital wizardry. I don't like the choices made with regard to accents, and there is some occasional chewing of scenery - presumably at Ritchie's behest, or the producers' - but the cast in and of themselves are swell, including Massoud, Naomi Scott, Will Smith, Marwan Kenzari, Nasim Pedrad, and those in other supporting parts. While his career has had its ups and downs, at his best Ritchie does know how to craft a solid title, and this one gives us the fantasy-adventure we want, with tinges of romance and heart adjoining some welcome themes. And to that end, while I may disagree with some choices (including even the inclusion of some songs), by and large I'm very satisfied with John August and Ritchie's screenplay as they work from the progenitor of more than twenty-five years before, and of course from still older folktales. The story is certainly familiar as a beggar falls in love with a princess after a chance meeting, stumbles into magical power and a greater opportunity to win her heart, and along the way must outsmart a cruel-hearted political advisor who thirsts for more power. I admit that I haven't seen the 1992 flick in a very long time, but there's no mistaking that this does a fine job of continuing to bear the torch of the overarching themes, like the corrupting influence of power, the importance of being genuine, and so on. And there's also no mistaking that this gives better treatment to Jasmine as a character; it's not as if the writers in the 90s downright failed, but they were still constricted by traditional notions of how a Disney princess must be depicted, and how she must be rescued by the male hero. Years later that just doesn't fly, and so Scott's Jasmine is given a little more agency and personality, though of course one always wishes she had been given still more.

When all is said and done I can't imagine anyone engaging honestly with this film and stepping away without citing any faults or shortcomings; the only question is how numerous and how big they are. For my part, though, even as some issues stand out quite a bit, none are so severe as to heavily detract from the viewing experience. This only wants to have a good time while telling a story - updating a story - with some important notions, and which lightly exposes audiences to the idea of other cultures. Flaws and all, that's all it needed to be. I don't wish to take anything away from those who enjoy the sum total still more, nor from anyone who takes a much harsher view with it. All I know is that I had fun watching, and considering all the ways in which the movie could have gone wrong, that's no mean feat. Don't necessarily go out of your way for 2019's 'Aladdin,' but whatever your impetus for watching, this is worth checking out as something fairly uninvolved if you have the opportunity.

The first lesson of this film, reaffirmed intermittently throughout, is that All Cops Are Bozos (to sanitize the vernacular). The second is that if someone is looking for atypical names to assign to a pet, this is a hot bed in the first several minutes. Also in the first minutes, the third lesson is that male lead Mark is all but fully saturated with strains of sexism, paternalism, and toxic masculinity - sometimes casual and underhanded, sometimes very straightforward, and sometimes passive-aggressive; sometimes directed specifically toward his wife Fran, and sometimes expressed through his disdain for "unmanly" dachshunds as compared to "champion"-worthy Great Danes. As the minutes tick by, every time I think Fran is coming across as inconsiderate toward Mark, Mark turns around and says or does something so mean and ignorant that he makes Fran seem like a flawless angel of a woman. I don't think Fran deserves to be saddled with a creature like Mark, but to the extent we might say she does: yikes, what an awful marriage.

Oh yes, 'The ugly dachshund' is a family-friendly comedy. The dynamics in Fran and Mark's relationship are straight out of any number of sitcoms that have aired on television over the years, the dogs are lovely, and the antics they get up to are splendidly silly. Dean Jones and Suzanne Pleshette give vibrant performances befitting the sharp, frankly severe personalities of their characters, and I commend the trainers who prepared the canines for their scenes. These ninety minutes are filled with situational humor, plentiful gags, and the tomfoolery of outrageous characters. Fran and Mark also, however, demonstrate carelessness and thoughtlessness as pet owners; as someone with multiple cats I totally understand that living with animals of other species will mean shenanigans, yet Fran and Mark never seem to give any consideration to managing their home with a mind for either the safety of their dogs, or the tidiness and keeping of their household. It's outright negligence, really.

Sure, Norman Tokar's direction is solid, and the crew operating behind the scenes turned in excellent work. The production design and art direction are fetching; the costume design, hair, and makeup are impeccable. George Bruns' original music is a tasteful complement, and there are nice touches even in Edward Colman's cinematography. The stunts and practical effects that we see amidst the canines' tomfoolery (with subsequent madcap goofiness for the humans) are finely executed. On the other hand, we also have to stop to think about the racism that defines a sequence around the two-thirds mark: in dialogue both given to and describing Japanese-American characters, in the way that these characters act, and to a smaller extent, in how the picture handles touches of Japanese culture that are included. No, this wasn't trying to be racist, and it's only a product of its time when sensibilities surrounding race - and animal care, and gender relations - were not nearly as forward-thinking compared to today. That doesn't specifically make things any better, though, and director Tokar, writer Albert Aley, and producers Walt Disney and Winston Hibler should have all known better in the first place.

Don't get me wrong, it's not that this feature is altogether bad. It is lightly amusing, and it even occasionally earns a laugh. But also, the first time I ever heard of it was in discussion with friends who spoke of how poorly it has aged, and boy were they right. 'The ugly dachshund' IS a comedy about dogs, but it's also about gender relations, and as a production of the 1960s, at best we can say in the spirit of generosity that what may have been commonplace and acceptable sixty years ago is and should be frowned upon today, or at least greeted with a far more discerning, critical eye. Enjoyable in some measure, these days this is a movie that mostly stands as a curiosity, a relic or time capsule, or maybe even a novelty. That doesn't mean that it's not worthwhile, but it does mean that one should take the viewing experience with a grain of salt and be ready to analyze it for better and for worse.

The Godzilla franchise has had more than its share of ups and downs. Over seventy years and two countries' respective film industries, entries have ranged from the truly outstanding to the perplexingly terrible. With that in mind, it's not specifically disparaging to say that any given title may fall somewhere in the unremarkable middle: the series is primarily made to entertain, and if any instance can accomplish that on at least some modest or passive level, we can call it a success to one degree or another. Indeed, no few examples can be described in this way - and I think it's safe to say that this counts among them. 'Godzilla against Mechagodzilla' is enjoyable, for sure, but there are also definite faults and shortcomings that limit what we may get out of it.

To be very clear, nothing about this flick is altogether bad. Most every contribution is good, or at least satisfactorily capable. The acting is solid, and Shaku Yumiko in particular commands the lead role well. The designs of the titular titans are gnarly and imaginative, revising the classic visions we've gotten in the past; Godzilla, specifically, has had versions that were notably better or worse, and I'm generally pleased with how good he looks here. Stunts and practical effects are excellent, including lighting, explosions, fire, models, miniatures, and general destruction of sets as heavily detailed as the creatures that stomp around in them. Of course the computer-generated imagery is more variable in quality - digital falsehood almost always ages rapidly, and looks worse the more we see of it - but at its best it's blended well with the filmed footage and adds to the viewing experience. Oshima Michiru's original music is a strong, flavorful, dynamic complement for the feature, and from filming locations to production design, to costume design, hair, and makeup, and more, the sum total is pretty much as well made as we'd suppose of something from the early 2000s.

Still, in those ways that are most important to the series, much also needed to be refined and more carefully considered. Tezuka Masaaki is technically capable as a director, for example, but the plot feels forced as we see it, from how characters are introduced, to how they interact, to how the story develops. Even the precise sequencing doesn't help, and the editing of Fushima Shinichi and Natori Shinichi is at times brusque and overzealous. Meanwhile, the narrative is full of swell ideas, and scribe Mimura Wataru gives us firm foundations: the ever-present threat of Godzilla, and a program by the Japanese government to develop a countermeasure on the beast's own level; a skilled but troubled young female soldier who feels the need to prove herself after past difficulties; a precocious young girl who misses her mother, and who is neglected by her scientist father as he works in the same program. The minutiae of the screenplay, however, are much less sure-footed, for some touches of intended humor land, and others awkwardly raise a skeptical eyebrow; the connective threads between ideas, beats, and characters, or even within single scenes, are loose and unconvincing, such as an rooftop respite shared between Akane, Sara, and Tokumitsu, and the characters' arcs don't seem to have been fully written out on paper before filming commenced. All these notions and others are present, but they were not given all due treatment, which is maybe even more unfortunate as there is an underlying theme of the value of life and what we do with it. In turn, the cast aren't given as much substance to work with as they ideally should have had.

Granted, in this case the overarching tale is more than anything else just a vehicle for the action violence. Nevertheless, some thoughts that directly feed into that action violence, like the conclusion of the first encounter between Godzilla and Mechagodzilla, perhaps needed to be fleshed out more. There's also the matter of those post-production additions, for they exist on a spectrum ranging from as commendable and as seamless as we could hope, to clearly artificial but in a way that ably serves the sci-fi saga, to plainly outdated and sorely underdeveloped. The latter represent the least of the visuals, in fairness, and even at its worst the CGI arguably holds up better than what we get in some brand new releases today, but the disparity is still notable. On a side note, adding to the flaws in the sights to greet us, Toho somehow never did seem to figure out how to make a waterproof Godzilla suit that looks as good as those reserved for land sequences. And on top of all else, I believe this is still another example in the franchise's long history of struggling with pacing. For basically the first two-thirds of the runtime, while all the other matters of writing and direction catch our attention, the proceedings come off as a little rushed, disallowing any scene or idea, or the intended mood, to truly flourish. On the other hand, as the last act is dominated by a mighty clash between the two giants, it somewhat becomes a slog that's more exhausting for we viewers than it is for the combatants as the fight just keeps going while simultaneously moving too quickly from one point in the conflict to another. I can understand the issue of sustaining the vitality of a long cinematic battle, especially between colossal kaiju, but other installments in the series managed it just fine. This isn't one of them as the stakes of the bout - the devastation of a city, the personal journeys of the characters, and the hope that Godzilla has finally met his match - are diminished over the better part of twenty to thirty minutes.

What we have, ultimately, is a picture that tries to impart a compelling story, but which has a hard time doing so for how flimsily scenes, characters, and ideas were treated. It's also a picture that aims to be an exciting action romp, but the violence is roughly executed in both the rapidity of the sequencing and editing, and in the very length of that violence. Don't misunderstand: I had fun watching. All involved turned in fine work more than not, further including some excellent shots, like those to greet us just as the end credits begin to roll, and for that matter the climax is fantastic. If it's a Godzilla movie you want, it's absolutely a Godzilla movie you'll get. Be that as it may, all the splendid ideas that this has to offer didn't quite come across as well in the final product, and one can't help but to feel the weight of those problems. By all means, watch 'Godzilla against Mechagodzilla' if you have the chance, and have a good time - just don't go out of your way for it, and keep your expectations in check, and maybe that's the best way to get the most out of the experience.

I've been looking forward to this from the time it was first announced. The cast is fantastic, and I'm a big fan of filmmaker Rose Glass' first feature, 'Saint Maud.' Granted, on the face of things a romantic thriller would seem to be fairly well removed from psychological horror, and I unfortunately didn't have the opportunity to see 'Love lies bleeding' right away as I intended. How would it stack up, though? Was it worth the anticipation, and the wait? Thankfully, I think it absolutely was. I might stop short of saying it's a total must-see, and it's a rather curious approach that was taken in a few ways, but the skill and intelligence of those involved is only ever affirmed, and whatever one's impetus for watching, this is well worth checking out as far as I'm concerned. I'm eager to see what Glass does next!

What catches my attention at first is a discernible split between aspects that routinely reflect having been handled with a delicate, mindful hand, and those that are deliberately forthright, and even forceful, almost to the point of gaucheness. The latter notably includes early plot development that is fairly straightforward, including introductions to our characters and scene writing; any shot and scene that accentuates muscles or bodybuilding; any scenes of sexuality, of course primarily those between our chief stars; and the most gnarly or fanciful imagery, and the unexpectedly stark violence. This is definitely not to disparage anything that is more upfront, and in fact there's an underhanded subtlety in how they are woven together with all else as the length draws on; the disparity is intentional, and pointedly jarring, connoting certain wry, cheeky sensibilities much like those that ultimately defined the filmmaker's debut. Still, even as it's nice how the flick doesn't shy away from sapphic sequences, surprising brutality, or winking whimsy, such moments may catch one off guard, and some additional brusqueness early on doesn't help matters.

Yet even if we subjectively balk at some inclusions (through to the resolution of the climax), all the while Glass and her collaborators demonstrate an expert hand. For one thing, this is broadly as well made as one could hope, including sparing computer-generated imagery as solid as in most any contemporary title (take that as you will); superb stunts, practical effects, and special makeup; excellent filming locations and production design; vibrant, aesthetically pleasing cinematography, and robust, clear sound; and sharp editing. I completely treasure the original score of composer Clint Mansell (as if his work on Darren Aronofsky's 'Requiem for a dream' with Kronos Quartet didn't ensure I'd be a lifelong supporter) as he toys with synth-driven themes and a hint of modern faux-retro synthwave, at times suggesting John Carpenter. At every turn Glass' direction is practiced and impeccable, bringing out the potential of every mood and idea and instilling nuance even where it may be lacking on paper. I really appreciated her attention to detail in 'Saint Maud,' and this picture undoubtedly benefits from the same; I repeat that I look forward so much to her future endeavors.

Meanwhile, from start to finish I altogether adore the cast. Jena Malone only has a supporting part here but she has grown from a young up-and-comer into a highly dependable stalwart who remains underappreciated, and she nails the complicated personage of Beth. Ed Harris, likewise, needs no introduction nor any buttering up, and his presence is most welcome. I can't say I know Anna Baryshnikov but I admire the frantic energy she carries as Daisy. I'm an unabashed fan of Kristen Stewart, having enjoyed all her performances even when the movie she was in had troubles, and we again see the splendid nuance, range, emotional depth, and physicality that she brings to her roles; call me a fangirl, you're not wrong, but I'll always see something she's in. And then there's Katy O'Brian. She, too, is a new face to me, and let it also be known that her material sometimes calls for the chewing of scenery. To whatever extent Stewart worked on herself for her role as Lou, though, O'Brian entirely transformed herself, and one can't help but to applaud that commitment. Just as much to the point, there's an intensity in O'Brian's acting here that itself is kind of jolting, and she shows that she can easily hold her own alongside Stewart, Harris, and Malone. I hope to see more of her very soon.

And that brings us back to the writing, for "intensity" is a very apt word for the saga as a whole. To whatever degree some early inclusions may have left some doubt, they still make an unmistakable impression. As the story develops, it grows in ways that I didn't anticipate, and which endear Glass to me all the more, and co-writer Weronika Tofilska. The core lies in the immediate attraction and developing relationship between bisexual drifter and bodybuilder Jackie, and put-upon lesbian gym manager Lou, and this is the gratifying, sturdy tent pole around which the rest is written. It's where 'Love lies bleeding' takes us from there that's especially tantalizing, as that fateful meeting results in seedy neo-noir ramifications, personal drama with Lou's family and in Lou and Jackie's relationships, a deepening well-spring of violence that really does provide a feast of earnest thriller airs - and, to my pleasure, a certain sinister psychological element as Lou and Jackie find their lives upended. Really, for as dark as this film gets it sort of borders on horror at points, which makes it all the better that Glass further serves up a twist of morbid humor at just the right moment. To all this add the sleepy, isolated setting of the late 1980s, the themes and ideas that feed into and propel the raptly compelling narrative, the strong and flavorful scene writing, and the characterizations that show themselves over time to be ever more complex. There is, in fact, a whole lot to love here, and for whatever expectations or early impressions I may have had, this is overall a terrific feature, as genuinely absorbing as it is entertaining.

There are little tidbits throughout that I think are a bit much, including some hyperfocus on muscles and some of the more fantastical visuals, especially at the climax. I get what Glass was doing even with these, however, and they do obliquely fit alongside what she did with 'Saint Maud.' Any reservations were mostly washed away well before the fun ending, and for as marvelously well done as this is all around, I can't bring myself to bother with harder scrutiny. From the writing to the direction, to the acting, and to all the contributions made from behind the scenes, I'm so happy with how good this turned out to be, and I'm remiss that I didn't get around to it sooner. It may not hold equal favors for all comers, but whatever brought you to take a look, if you like the general space the title plays in then 'Love lies bleeding' is a fantastic thriller, and I'm all too glad to give it my hearty recommendation!

On the one hand, I have mixed experience to date with Abbott and Costello, and I'm aware that later examples of their horror-comedies with Universal are regarded less highly. On the other hand, writer John Grant returns from the previous efforts of 1948 ('Frankenstein') and 1951 ('The invisible man'), both of which I thought were great, and filmmaker Charles Lamont also returns from the immediate predecessor of two years before. I sat to watch 'Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde' with mixed expectations but high hopes, and not knowing anything specific about it beforehand. Unfortunately, to be frank, I don't think this particular film is very good. Maybe I should give it another try some day, but with so many other things to watch, I'm in no rush. I'll grant that I was in a horribly foul mood in the first place when I pressed "play," and it could well be that this had undue, unfair influence on my viewing experience. Yet shouldn't a good comedy be able to dispel such misery, if only briefly or temporarily?

The first intended humorous scene to greet us, a suffragette rally that turns to chaos, has altogether aged poorly at a time decades later when oppressive, violent misogyny runs rampant and powerful people actively seek to disenfranchise women among countless others. Later, a sequence in a wax museum is too frantic and harried for its own good, disallowing the humor to particularly land. As the minutes tick by too much of the intended levity otherwise feels forced and empty, as if many instances are being utilized because the participants know it's what the audience expects, and they knew what has worked in the past, but they weren't able to care about it, or to make us care about it in turn. We get excitable characters and spirited performances, plentiful gags, quips and one-liners, clever exchanges of dialogue, situational humor, upended expectations and so on - all the tricks of the trade, finely executed in a mechanical sense - but the feature struggles to even elicit a smile. Here I think the incidence feels tiresome more than amusing, and instances of sped-up footage or extra cartoonish performances exemplify the issue. Even the bit of transformations wears thin very swiftly, and these are an increasingly regular occurrence throughout the length.

There's half the problem right there. The other half is that the writing sometimes comes across as overfull and busy, and quite at odds with itself, and I'm at best unsure if various aspects of the material receive all due treatment. The core premise of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, adapting elements from Robert Louis Stevenson's novel, is adjoined with less convincing tidbits about the suffragette movement, a running thread of romantic entanglement, and to a lesser extent, the incompetence and violence of police. There are times when Boris Karloff is given the spotlight to accentuate the measured theatricality of his performance, and in these times the script either emphasizes the science fiction and horror and/or waxes poetic about the ideas at play. Notably, the latter times seem to have received the most care in writing and in execution; the facets that portend more sober, dramatic storytelling are more sure-footed than the would-be comedy. Yet this IS also ostensibly a comedy, of course, and so to squeeze it in, not only do some of the nuances of the horror get questionable treatment (e.g., the notion that the doctor allows himself to transform so that vicious Hyde can act on what proper Jekyll thinks or feels; any scenes that could have been exercised for thrills), but the comedy is weaker to begin with, and in this case kind of clashes with the central conceit. The thoughts are there, but the whole has a hard time gelling. It comes across that those involved knew what they were doing, but they weren't really invested.

Sure, the production design and art direction are swell. The costume design, hair, and makeup are fetching. I appreciate the special makeup, and the stunts and practical effects. Broadly speaking this is well made by contemporary standards. But I didn't laugh once. Maybe that says more about me than about the movie, and only a repeat viewing some day would provide that answer. Being less than enthused once, however, I'm just not inclined to bother returning in the future. The iconic duo enjoyed success in their career together, and others who worked on this had certainly made a name for themselves, yet as far as I'm concerned 'Abbott and Costello meet Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde' is never more than passively enjoyable. It's not bad, but there are also better ways to spend your time. Do with that information what you will.

Though it wasn't a total laugh riot, the comedy duo's 1948 classic in which they meet Frankenstein is a terrific gem that only gets better as the minutes tick by. While I'm given to understand that subsequent entries in the series weren't as successful, and I have mixed experience with Abbott and Costello in the first place, it's hard not to get one's hopes up for subsequent features, not least given the icons' lofty general reputation and dependable dynamics. Thankfully, whatever our exact opinion, I'm pleased that this 1951 follow-up is also very reliably fun, and I'm rather of the mind that it's just as strong as its forebear - and actually, for where this shows improvement over the prior effort, maybe even stronger. I still may not go so far as to say that 'Abbott and Costello meet the invisible man' is a total must-see, but for as consistently good as it is, there's not much going wrong here.

At its core the plot twists together the science fiction of an invisibility formula with honored film noir territory as boxer Tommy Nelson is accused of murder, escapes, and drags newly minted private detectives Bud and Lou into investigating the case while the police pursue him. From that firm foundation is developed a superb frolic with a bounty of clever dialogue, quips, and one-liners, situational humor, silly characters and energetic performances, and a steady stream of gags, further including an increasingly weary psychiatrist and some sports shenanigans. I actually wonder if it's not the case that scribes Robert Lees, Frederic I. Rinaldo, and John Grant distinctly learned lessons from their work on the 1948 picture, for it seems to me that the narrative and scene writing are tighter and more solid, with characters that are more well-defined and comedy that's a tad sharper. To the same point, maybe it's a reflection of the according difficult production with 'Frankenstein,' but it also comes across that Charles Lamont's direction is more crisp and confident than was Charles Barton's three years before.

This is to say nothing of the fetching, flavorful production design and art direction, and costume design, hair, and makeup that are equally easy on the eyes. Even more than that, the effects that bring the invisible man to bear - and many of the gags - are simply marvelous, and Stanley Horsley is to be congratulated for visual spectacle that constitute a fine successor to what Universal and James Whale gave us eighteen years before. Why, even as plenty of subsequent titles have played with invisibility to various ends, might it be the case that the effects here hold up better than countless other examples in all the years after? Sometimes the old ways are the best, and just as 1933's 'King Kong' continues to reign supreme with its black and white stop-motion animation over later appearances of the giant ape, elaborate modern computer-generated imagery has a hard time holding a candle to the methods of the 50s that made Arthur Franz disappear and objects move on their own, and frankly, the same could be said with regards to the premier sci-fi horror of years before.

And there's still the matter of the vivid, spirited performances of the leads, and the keen acting of even those in smaller supporting parts like Nancy Guild, Adele Jergens, Sheldon Leonard, or William Frawley. The material requires a finessed balance between the genre roots and the outrageous frivolousness that come with Abbott and Costello, and not only is that blend ably achieved in the writing, and in the direction, but I very much think that the cast just as capably meet the demands of both sides of the proceedings. In all earnestness, this movie and all involved could have played it straight if they wanted to; that the concept is bent toward a cheeky romp only heightens the entertainment. Rounded out with some swell cinematography and editing, I'm all so happy with how good this is; I had mixed to high expectations, and I think it's decidedly better than I had supposed.

Even still it's not necessarily something to go out of your way to see, and there may be a few points where the steam dies off a little. Curiously, I think the last couple minutes are the weakest point of all, with one bit that hasn't aged well and another that's too goofy for its own good. Him and haw all we want, however, by and large this is fantastic. If you have the chance to watch then 'Abbott and Costello meet the invisible man' is very funny and enjoyable, and I'm glad to give it my very high recommendation!

I must give credit where it's due, for the collective writing team of John Norville, Josh Goldstein, Glenn Ficarra, John Requa, and Michael Green put together a very fun story and screenplay from little more than a vague idea. It's been a very long time since I've been to Disney World, and longer still since I went on the Jungle River Cruise (if ever?), but there's definitely something to be said for crafting a solid tale of fantasy adventure from the broad concept of a placid theme park attraction, as others had done for 'Pirates of the Caribbean' in 2003. To whatever extent direct inspiration was taken from the ride, such as with some of skipper Frank's jokes, the dialogue is overall wonderfully sharp and witty, and frankly may be one of the top highlights in these two hours from the quips and one-liners to the more substantive bits and beyond. That's hardly to discount the characterizations, which do perhaps rely on some familiar tropes but are a blast all the same. Dr. Lily Houghton exemplifies the smart, capable, accomplished woman who is often overlooked or even painted over in history, as others falsely claim her achievements at best or outright dismiss her solely because she's a woman. Brother McGregor is a man of refined taste and little practical sense or knowledge - and also someone who feels deeply yet contrarily to predominant culture, and who is therefore a social pariah, and he is ever loyal to his sister who refuses to forsake him. Skipper Frank is a bit of a rogue and a rascal, but incredibly clever and resourceful, with hidden depths behind the sardonic facade. Prince Joachim is despicably cruel and indifferent to life, a villain in the truest sense, but also eccentric in a fashion that makes the figure more palatable for what this title otherwise represents. And so on, and so on. All this is to say nothing of strong, flavorful, entertaining scene writing, and an engaging, compelling narrative that draws upon the same highfalutin, whimsical vibes as 'Indiana Jones,' Stephen Sommers' 'The mummy,' Gore Verbinski's 'Pirates,' and other kindred fare. With a bountiful blend of humor, adventure, action, and fantasy, sometimes broaching darker airs that border on horror (especially as secrets are revealed later on, and as the plot develops), 'Jungle cruise' is primed to be a good time even just in its writing. To my pleasure, I think it handily succeeds.

That's particularly impressive since I had such grave doubts in the first place. Yes, 'Pirates' was a joy, but even having so little experience with the "source material" in this instance, making a movie out of "Jungle River Cruise" outwardly seems absurd, like Disney was desperately straining for ideas. Moreover, meaning no offense to Dwayne Johnson, but he has become such a common face to see in major releases that one begins to tire of him. One also has reasonable concerns for what kitschy flourishes may be included (we certainly get some, through to the very end), and the tiresome obligatory romantic inclinations (i.e., if a man and a woman appear on-screen together, OF COURSE there must be mutual attraction), and what treatment may be given to other cultures. There's also no mistaking how much direct influence this flick sometimes takes from like-minded genre works. And in one aspect that continually gnaws at me, we must talk about the elephant in the room regarding modern film production, for the entirety of the entertainment industry must soon reckon with the future of what film, television, videogames, and even books will look like. Filming on location carries inherent dangers, is often a logistical nightmare, and presents definite ecological risks, and crafting tangible sets, props, and effects expends many resources. Then again, heavily relying on computers to shape the imagery we see on-screen also drains substantial energy resources, and the impact on the planet of servers thrumming in a room that must be kept at a consistent temperature may well be worse than the consumption involved in building physical sets, or setting off a real explosion, or, say, printing a real book. All these is rather immediately relevant to a picture set in the jungles of South America, in which we get glimpses of various wildlife - and to finally get to the point, the simple fact of the matter is that with rare exception, computer-generated imagery ages rapidly and looks worse the more we see of it, even when it's the top of the line among contemporary examples. The black and white stop-motion animation of 1933's 'King Kong' will always be stellar; the digital wizardry in more recent iterations is already more variable in quality. And for as proliferate as CGI is in 'Jungle cruise,' it ranges from "very good, as realistic as one could hope for" to "really? A $200 million budget, and this is what we get?" In some instances the visuals herein are on par with 'Pirates' of nearly twenty years before; in other instances, including in the depiction of animals, it's worse. Outdated post-production additions (e.g., 1977's 'Star Wars') can still look outstanding if they're selectively employed; the best of modern cinema (like Yamazaki Takashi's 'Godzilla -1.0') may well stand the test of time for how carefully they were shaped. So how is it that the predominant CGI in today's Hollywood tentpoles, churned out by the likes of Marvel or Disney, sometimes flops the moment we see it? Have these studios so little care for their own products?

Still, however much we may be inclined to scrutinize the end result, the troubles aren't so severe as to specifically, significantly dampen our enjoyment. Some facets are more questionable or glaring, yes, but the writing is rather excellent overall, with some welcome themes touched upon amidst the fancifulness, and director Jaume Collet-Serra does a fine job of bringing it all to life. I adore the cast in these roles, and they have fantastic chemistry together. Johnson is reliable, and Emily Blunt continues to prove herself marvelously versatile; Jesse Plemons is clearly reveling in the chance to chew some scenery as Prince Joachim, and while I'm not familiar with Jack Whitehall, he does a great job of capturing all the complexities of McGregor even as he's only in a supporting part. That's to say nothing of those in still smaller roles, including Édgar Ramírez, Verónica Falcón, and Dani Rovira. Though the CGI is variable I do appreciate the visuals in general, and to the extent that we see them behind the artificiality this includes the filming locations and sets, the costume design, hair, and makeup, and those practical stunts and effects that we do get. James Newton Howard's original score doesn't especially stand out in any way but it is a splendid complement all around, and as someone who effectively grew up with Metallica the instrumental arrangement here of "Nothing else matters" is a nice touch that really is used effectively. When all is said and done the feature is just about as well made as any like fare off the 2020s, and to whatever degree it falters, I think that almost says more about the film-making and storytelling sensibilities of suits in studio executive suites than it does about the contributions of anyone who participated more actively in the creation. It's hardly perfect or essential, but it is a very good time - and that, after all, is the only thing this wanted or needed to be in the first place. I won't begrudge those who engage honestly and judge more harshly, yet for my part I sat to watch with mixed expectations and step away happy with how fun 'Jungle cruise' actually is. With some more adult-oriented jokes sneaking in amongst the family-friendly frivolity I can see how much intelligence and hard work did go into the sum total, and if you're looking for something on the lighter and more uninvolved side of things then I'm glad to give this my warm recommendation.

I was nominally aware of this film long before I ever knew what it was about, let alone watched it; the name is deeply evocative. To know what it is about is to raise a skeptical eyebrow, not because of the fictionalization of historical events (though that is also a concern), but for worry of what treatment will be given to the culture, people, and land of Africa, to the time of European colonization, to day laborers from overseas, and frankly, to animals. Sure enough, there's no disputing that much is gravely simplified and reduced in all these matters and still others - though in fairness, this is an adventure movie, and its aim is to tell an outwardly rousing tale, not to delve into the complexities of wealth, power, class, culture, religion, exploitation, the plundering of resources, and so on. Suffice to say that 'The Ghost and The Darkness' is a title built for entertainment, not for thought or literacy, and we can successfully derive entertainment so long as we're fully cognizant of the indelicacies, and acknowledge and discuss them, further including how indigenous African people like the Maasai are exoticized, as if the very idea of the existence of another culture is nothing more than an amusing mystery for the intended audience. (Sadly, that's not too far from the truth.)

There is also perhaps the matter of some embellishments that are overwrought in their reach for dramatic flourish or for amusing kitsch. We see this in instances of direction, cinematography, editing, dialogue, characters, scene writing, costume design, and more. Even the score of master composer Jerry Goldsmith, excellent in and of itself and icon that he is, is not immune from such touches. Though he's not alone, to be blunt no small amount of all such questionable stylization is centered on game hunter Remington as portrayed by Michael Douglas. I'm given to understand that screenwriter William Goldman took issue with Douglas' decision to take the role himself, in turn making an enigmatic and imposing figure a bit of a goof - and in all honesty, in little time at all after he is introduced, I have to agree. Douglas is a fine actor, yet his Remington comes across less as a striking, demanding figure who is all but a legend, and more as a localized interpretation of lovable scamp Jack T. Colton ('Romancing the stone') with his attitude, crossed with a fragment of the scornful bite of Gordon Gekko ('Wall Street'). There is a place for such a character, but I'm not sure that it's here. Ultimately, in addition to the simplification of complicated subjects, the picture suffers from tonal inconsistency as it wavers between the inflated pomp and swagger of more plainly joyful adventure pieces, and the grim, bloody violence, high stakes, and urgent drama of those works that want their viewers to truly feel the stakes of the saga. Accentuating the point, there are scenes that are meant to be harrowing and dramatic, but what really happens is that they inspire laughter. And Douglas/Remington only exemplifies the problem at hand.

Provided one can accept all this, and still appreciate such a feature on its own merits, the good news is that I think 'The Ghost and The Darkness' is still worth watching to one degree or another. I disagree with many creative choices, but even if the ends to which they were guided are more questionable, most every aspect in and of itself is excellent. I really do like Goldsmith's music, flavorful and dramatic across each scene and further being informed by the setting. Stephen Hopkins' direction is solid overall, with some scenes being particularly well done, and much the same goes for the cinematography and editing; with further consideration of the lighting, this is very easy on the eyes. Though they may not stand out all that much the cast are swell no matter the size of their parts, including not just Douglas and co-star Val Kilmer but other recognizable names and faces including Bernard Hill, Om Puri, and Henry Cele. The filming locations are unbelievably gorgeous, and I love the detail that went into the production design and art direction, the costume design, and the hair and makeup. The practical stunts and effects are a joy, including blood and gore, and at its best this really does foster some fine atmosphere commensurate with the narrative being imparted.

Moreover, even bearing in mind the less favorable elements, by and large Goldman penned a commendable screenplay in adapting the actual book of John Henry Patterson. Yes, traces of it toe the line and mostly skirt the edges of the heartier substance to be drawn from this setting, and these figures, in this time period, and historical accuracy doesn't enter into the equation. But again, that's not what this title was ever intended to be. It's the story of an ambitious engineering project waylaid by natural predators in the landscape, of the man in charge of that project whose romanticized notions of Africa are starkly demystified, of the career hunter who enters the state of affairs, and of the people who support them. It's the story of two lions who are so vicious and brutal, by whatever quirk of nature, that they defy all knowledge, logic, and reason, ostensibly becoming fantastical beasts all their own. And it's the story of a fight for survival, and of the bonds that form between the men who go through it together. Wherever we wish to lay blame for the final product it's surely the case that a lot of this could have received better treatment (see again the tonal problems), but when all is said and done the plot is duly engrossing, the scene writing is firm enough - and nitpick as we may, the sum total achieves its goal.

It's troubled or even flawed in ways that are easily delineated, and I can't begrudge those who sincerely engage with the material and take a harsher view. Still, for all my criticism, I had a good time here, and at length that's all 'The Ghost and The Darkness' wanted to be. It's no must-see, and there's no need to go out of your way for it, but so long as you're open to what this picture is doing and the foibles aren't an absolute obstacle, this is good enough to earn a soft to mild recommendation.

1974's 'Godzilla vs. Mechagodzilla' was a good time, but there were certainly a lot of curious creative choices that held the romp back, or which raised a skeptical eyebrow - like new powers bestowed upon Godzilla out of nowhere, some inspiration taken from 'Planet of the apes' for the true appearance of the aliens, or a score consisting of a lot of peppy jazz. This sequel isn't entirely free of foibles, either, as among other things some of the editing is kind of rough, some instances of post-production additions especially show their age, and our last glimpse of Godzilla is of the water-proof suit that unfortunately boasts one of the goofier designs in the franchise: an enormous mouth, big white eyes, and spines that look a lot like Mylar balloons. Among the less sure-footed aspects it's the latter that sticks out most, for it's one of the very last things we see in these eighty-three minutes. Few installments in the franchise are free of flaws, and whatever else is true of this one, it's not perfect, either.

Yet frankly, any subjective issues we may perceive in 'Terror of Mechagodzilla' ultimately feel pretty minor. Our last glimpse of Godzilla is a tad sorry, but mostly the suit that Kawai Toru wears has been touched up, with some nice, small alterations to the spines, eyes, and face to make our favorite giant lizard a tad more gnarly. Some of the "special effects" have aged poorly, but even as the better instances are cut from the same cloth, in the heat of a big kaiju fight the array of color is honestly rather dazzling and impressive. The editing is brusque at points, but the incidence is less notable over time - and meanwhile I'm sort of stunned by how smart Tomioka Sokei's cinematography is; there are shots here that are altogether brilliant. Furthermore, there's no arguing that this title greatly benefits from the return of iconic director Honda Ishiro, who made such a huge mark with 1954's progenitor among other tokusatsu fare, and legendary composer Ifukube Akira, whose somber, dramatic themes are as tremendously important to the atmosphere here as they have been throughout his oeuvre.

And all that's just for starters. Godzilla looks good overall, and Mechagodzilla has gotten an upgrade, too, with more detail and a design that's both sleeker and more imposing. Titanosaurus is frankly more impressive still, outstanding in both conception and design, with little facets like his tail or eyes readily, well, standing out. Bolstered by Honda's direction and Tomioka's cinematography, the fight choreography hits a bit harder here than it has elsewhere, feeling decidedly violent even without the blood effects we got the year before. Even more than the post-production additions, the practical stunts and effects are a blast as Nakano Teruyoshi gives us plentiful models and miniatures, fires and explosions, water and wind effects, significant general destruction, and more. The production design and art direction are terrific; I really like the sound effects, and this is generally well made by the standards of contemporary pictures.

Still, no matter how excellent, all the above is fairly superficial. And while those outwardly fun-loving tidbits tend to be the forte of much of the series, the fact is that this feature has a different vibe. It begins with scribe Takayama Yukiko, whose screenplay is honestly notably sharper, more complex, and altogether darker than can be said for a lot of its brethren. Though nominally following on the events of the immediate predecessor and falling within a more lighthearted period for Godzilla, this sees most any levity excised as the story involves aliens seeking to conquer Earth, a plot for revenge, and a victim of manipulation, exploitation, and mind control also being forced to perpetrate those same violations on another innocent. Just as the kaiju battles keep us firmly locked in, the violence and death in the human side of the narrative is impactful and compelling to an extent not seen since Toho's signature creation first hit the screen twenty-one years earlier, and frankly seen rarely in the series at large. Takayama provides a fine foundation for the flick by rounding out the saga with unexpectedly strong characters and scene writing, emphasized by how the fighting of the monsters is genuinely important to the plot.

From that unusually stark foundation, with all his expertise, Honda crafts a film that very ably brings to bear the weight of the grimmer elements. Don't get me wrong, 'Terror of Mechagodzilla' is entertaining, yet even as it allows some happy little neurons to fire off in our brains, there is a solemn streak running throughout the length that makes one sit up straight and earnestly pay attention to the proceedings. The death and violence, the gravity of each beat and underlying notion, and even tiny minutiae like a captive bloodying their hands through their bonds, or a particular move by the kaiju, carry a vitality that is sorely missing from too much of the wider world of cinema, let alone a niche genre in which actors wear rubber creature suits to tromp around sets. As the filmmaker who gave us the sincere slice of sci-fi horror that was the very first 'Godzilla,' Honda knows well how to capture his audience's imagination, and he does so splendidly well here. That's to say nothing, again, of the thunder brought by his longtime collaborator Ifukube - a panoply of themes that pointedly mirror and bolster the solemnity found in the storytelling.

And that's still not all, for while I don't think any Godzilla movie has ever been marred by bad acting, it's also only infrequently been the case that the players have ever stood out in any way. Gratifyingly, this is one of those cases. For as heartfelt and dramatic as the writing and direction are, turning the anticipated amusement of the franchise to more serious ends, the actors deftly follow in kind. Everyone here is superb as far as I'm concerned, with even those in smaller parts like Sawamura Ikio getting time to shine, in this case as a silent but tough (and unnamed bodyguard). Above all, though, I'm so incredibly pleased with the acting that Sasaki Katsuhiko turns in as marine biologist Ichinose, and even more so Ai Tomoko as troubled Katsura. There is nuance and emotional depth in these performances that is sometimes lacking even in would-be prestige dramas, and alongside everyone else who contributed here, it can't be overstated how much the actors help to elevate the sum total to another level.

It's still a creature feature, sure, something broadly made to be lightly enjoyed alongside its kin. And it does provide just that; I don't think anyone who enters with those expectations will be disappointed. Nevertheless, for my money 'Terror of Mechagodzilla' capably hits on the much more ponderous notes that are the hallmarks of the best entries in this now 70-year old series, like the original, or Yamazaki Takashi's 'Godzilla -1.0,' or Anno Hideaki and Higuchi Shinji's 'Shin Godzilla.' If that's not high praise, then I really don't know what is. I sat to watch admittedly not expecting much considering the antecedent, and I have been very pleasantly surprised by just how marvelous the end result is. As 'Terror of Mechagodzilla' closes out the Showa era for Godzilla I firmly believe it stands shoulder to shoulder with the finest of its peers, and I'm glad to give this my very high and enthusiastic recommendation!

I was very pleasantly surprised by Gareth Edwards' feature full-length debut, 2010's 'Monsters,' a more thoughtful and dramatic take on the classic sci-fi horror monster movie. Where I had mixed expectations in that instance and was immensely rewarded, however, to be blunt my expectations for this sequel could hardly have been lower. If pictures centering the contemporary military, and soldiers, aren't themselves extra careful and deliberate in how they are written and crafted, they run an especial risk of being low-brow, bone-headed, empty shells of hollow violence and deeply regressive sociopolitical values. With this well in mind, I will allow that I do not know filmmaker Tom Green, nor co-writer Jay Basu, and it's very possible that if they were given ample opportunity to do so, they would impress me elsewhere with a work of more value. 'Dark continent,' however, is not that work. From the moment it begins this flick raises my hackles and nearly as swiftly earns my ire. I hope Edwards was well compensated for nominally showing up as executive producer, because frankly his involvement puts a stain on his career that I can forgive but not forget.

The dialogue is rotten. The characters are terrible. I'm not religious, but if I were I would pray that the representations herein of soldiers weren't remotely accurate to real life, for I'm not sure that I've ever seen fictional figures that were more boorish, mindless, obnoxious, and unlikable except in the likes of 'Bio-Dome' or 'The pest.' Much the same descriptors can be applied to Green's direction, to the use herein of any music, in too many cases to the scene writing, and intermittently to Christopher Ross' cinematography and Richard Graham's editing. Even the opening credits bear all the same marks, and it's hard to recognize the actors' skills beyond the poisonous crudeness of the people they're portraying. Basu and Green have faithfully nailed the well-worn template of the frantic modern action flick in the age of the Internet when anyone can make anything and have it seen by the masses, and more so of the modern war film which is much less about the complexities or madness of war or the dehumanization of the military (see 'Apocalypse now,' 'Full metal jacket,' or even 'Born on the 4th of July') and much more about chest-beating jingoism and "boom, bang, look how much death we can wreak, haha aren't we so cool!" This is not a compliment.

That's unfortunate, because I do recognize that somewhere in what Basu and Green conceived, there are ideas that are meaningful and which could have been made so. Just as Edwards drew upon notions from our real world to explore a fictional one with new, giant beasts, there are thoughts in this title which could have borne real weight. As monsters have proliferated and spread around the globe, the unending tentacles of the United States army place soldiers in far-flung regions to confront the organisms and bring them down. At the same time, the imposition of the army on local populations has led to extensive loss of innocent life, bred resentment, and fomented rebellion. Amidst this tableau of sprawling, oppressive hegemony and the response it garners, we're greeted with a handful of young men who have known each other since they were kids, and we're supposed to care about them as much as they care about each other; we're supposed to find profundity in the stark gravity of the violence that meets these characters, well beyond their ken. Very lightly touched upon is the natural behavior of unusual organisms that are in fact just new animals in the world (something more judiciously rendered in 2010); barely a blip on Green and Jasu's proverbial radar is the indifferent cruelty and ignorance of how humanity handles their new neighbors.

Yes, there are notions of real import which to some small extent lie at the heart of the screenplay, and which could indeed have been fashioned into a compelling, absorbing film. But that's not the film we get. These characters are so unlikable - moreover wrapped up in sexist, "Daddy knows best" paternalism and machismo, and sheer gung-ho toxic masculinity - that we're more like to cheer when one of them dies, even though we're supposed to feel their loss, heartache, and hard emotions just as keenly as they do. The complications of the far-reaching military presence, and interactions with local populations, are mostly reduced to a reckless, feckless dichotomy of "Americans are good, even when they're outright ghouls, sympathize with the Americans" and "brown people are bad, even if they have good reason to be mad, hate and fear the brown people." Any more mindful considerations of the monsters are all but lost; Roland Emmerich's infamous 'Godzilla' of 1998, with Matthew Broderick, dispensed more impactful rumination on atypical lifeforms than this does. In fairness, in the latter half the narrative opens up more as our troupe of troops is significantly reduced, and we're supposed to see the survivors' humanity come to the surface as their horizons are broadened. It's too bad, then, that we saw who they were in the first place, and moreover that they deign to open their mouths and let their soupy, smooth brains pour out with dialogue that betrays their core flaws, and not least that Green is unable to shape the feature with the delicate hand necessary to bring such nuance to bear. It's like an ugly, nauseating pie in which the outer crust is repulsive, the welcome filing is a vanishingly thin layer like a veneer on woodwork, and the bottom, inner crust turns out to be pretty much just as off-putting. Maybe Green and Jasu wanted to make a more thoughtful piece like Edwards had, but 'Dark continent' is trapped so heavily in its ideations of the modern action flick and war film that it's not possible for it to accomplish anything more substantive.

The actors do try to act, and where some scenes occasionally allow, they ably do so. I feel bad for Sofia Boutella, for while I really like her as an actress, her list of credits is a very mixed bag, and this emphasizes the point. Where composer Neil Davidge is allowed to play with softer, more dramatic themes the music is in fact quite excellent, lending tremendously to the ambience and mood of select moments. Though I question too much of the writing, direction, cinematography, and editing, this is well made overall, including robust audio, clear imagery, beautiful filming locations, and nice consideration for costume design, hair, and makeup. Stunts and practical effects, including blood and gore, look great; I'm actually a big fan of the computer-generated imagery in this instance, for it is exercised to make the creatures as gorgeous as the landscapes they inhabit. Some scattered shots herein are downright fantastic, and some fragments of the writing are notably better than others, particularly as private Michael is given more intelligence, compassion, and humanity than all the other characters combined.

And still we return to the difficulty Green faces in making something of import, and not just An Action Flick, or A War Film. The thoughts are there, but they are not treated well; the substance is lost amidst the style, and the function amidst the fashion. Why, the monsters are just a collective set piece! If the material had been developed more studiously from the outset then this might have stood a chance of being far better than it is, yet where 'Monsters' was a drama lovingly carved from genre territory, the dramatic notes here are overwhelmed by the nearly unyielding tendencies toward dubious genre bluster. I see what the title could have been, but "could have been" is not "is." I do hope that the writer and filmmaker impress me some day with their efforts elsewhere, but this just doesn't cut it. 'Dark continent' can claim sufficient worth in the back end to keep it from entirely floundering, and there are far worse things out there that one could watch - but no matter what it is one hopes to get out of this I think the end result is disappointing, if not frustrating or even aggravating, and one's time is probably better spent elsewhere to begin with.

His 2014 'Godzilla' film was surprisingly good for a non-Toho entry in the franchise, cautiously renewing prospects for Hollywood's future with the property. 'Rogue One' is surely one of the very best 'Star Wars' films; 2023's 'The Creator' is a beautifully crafted, solid sci-fi flick. This, however, is decidedly different, not only coming much earlier in his career but reflecting an extremely different, rather low-budget style of film-making. To read of how 'Monsters' was conceived, written, shot, and edited speaks highly of filmmaker Gareth Edwards and his passion for the medium, his work ethic, and his ingenuity, and I dare say one has high hopes for the piece just on that basis. Gratifyingly, I believe those hopes are validated fairly swiftly. It's not that this is necessarily perfect, and there are some critiques one could make, but considering how it was made, and the fact that it's his full-length feature debut, I'm very, very pleased with how this turned out.

It's all well and good to craft a monster movie with a mind for emphasizing the spectacle, the destruction, and the violence, and there are indeed many fine titles of this variety. Yet some of the best examples zero in at least as much on the human drama, telling a compelling story in which monsters just happen to play a part. That is the real strength here: partly the focus on chief characters Andrew and Sam, sure, as they navigate the danger of a land infested with unprecedented organisms, but more so the focus on the world they inhabit, and what it has become in the wake of otherworldly changes that aren't so different, after all, from real life. This picture is rich and absorbing to some degree because of the creatures and their fascinating, unknown biology as they occupy relatively little time on-screen, but just as much if not more so because - like other pieces including Anno Hideaki and Higuchi Shinji's stupendous 'Shin Godzilla' of 2016 - it thoughtfully considers what our piece of Earth might really look like if such monstrosities emerged. We see a vision in which colossal beasts roam free at night, only just contained (if at all) by the barriers that have been erected. In addition to the destruction left in their wake, there's also the matter of the presence they subsequently have in culture and daily life (such as in graffiti, or on television), the changes they force in how people live (e.g., safety gear), and the more devastating sociopolitical considerations. Pointedly echoing the treatment by the United States of non-white immigrants, Sam and Andrew face a perilous journey that's less than completely above the board just to reach safety; mirroring the relationship of the U. S. to nations with which it has any manner of antagonistic relationship, a significant amount of the danger presented to Mexicans by the existence of the monsters comes from the deadly bombings the U. S. military carries out as a control tactic. People have learned to adapt to these threats, and continue to live in risky territory, not because they choose to, but because there isn't actually any other option for them, and we see all this as Andrew and Sam become aware of it, too.

With all this having been said, I find Edwards' screenplay to be roundly fantastic in its narrative, scene writing, and dialogue, bringing these intricacies to bear with wonderfully smart, judicious consideration. True, the characterizations are perhaps less noteworthy, as Sam and Andrew are fairly ordinary figures with fairly ordinary backgrounds and personalities. They serve their purpose well, however, and illustrate some welcome growth and development over the length and through to the end - and anyway, if the characters are weaker, in some measure this feels appropriate as the substance herein is much more about the grave and altered circumstances of the world than it is about them. 'Monsters' is a slice of sci-fi horror, but it is a drama in at least equal part, with a ruminative tale that's firmly engrossing and impactful in and of itself, and with the more sparing scenes of action made more meaningful in turn. Kind of accentuating the point, when all is said and done, I wonder if the weakest part of these ninety-odd minutes isn't the action-packed opening scene (the true chronological ending), as it feels tawdrily rushed and overbearing in the manner we conventionally anticipate of kindred modern fare. With that lone distinct exception the writing is grounded and mindful in its approach to the material, and to my pleasure, so is Edwards' direction. I am not familiar with stars Scoot McNairy or Whitney Able, nor others appearing here, but I think they give splendid performances of earnest range and subtle depth befitting the totality of conditions. For the most part Edwards sagely eschews unnecessary dialogue, preferring to quietly show us the reality of this universe, and each example is a breath of fresh air compared to too many counterpoints in modern cinema. The result through Edwards' vision and guidance is an honest mixture of fear and awe as we explore a region that has entered a new epoch in its history.

And that's still not all, for while we can and should admire the writing, direction, and acting, this was so brilliantly shaped in every other way, too. Edwards may not have had the benefit of major studio financing to create this film, but he plainly didn't need it - and frankly, he shows that most anyone else shouldn't need it, either. The filming locations are gorgeous; the production design and art direction are flush with nice detail. Edwards' cinematography is as capable and attentive as his direction; accordingly working from a massive glut of footage, Colin Goudie's editing is altogether superb as far as I'm concerned. The audio is impeccable, and I love the sound effects given to the organisms we see or hear; Jon Hopkins' music is only selectively employed, but the ambient pieces are a stupendous complement to any given scene no matter the mood. Those practical stunts and effects that are exercised come off very well. Above all, however, special mention must be dedicated to the computer-generated imagery that rounds out the presentation. Something is to be said for the lengthy, painstaking process that Edwards engaged in to construct the digital visuals for this movie, and still one has to wonder how sights conjured with such modest resources might hold up in the finished product. The sincere answer is "better than what we get in some brand new releases from the biggest studios in the world." So much deliberate, patient care went into the creature effects to blend them into the footage of our real world, and I would without hesitation place the outcome on a higher level than most anything we get in the average modern blockbuster; what we see of the beasts look outstanding. Granted, in general we see them and the other more explosive effects only in passing, but that's just it: CGI almost invariably ages rapidly and looks worse the more we see of it; molded and dispensed carefully, it will stand the test of time. The least seamless examples here are in the last stretch, where the creatures also have the most presence on-screen, yet Edwards neatly gets around the possible hurdle by shrewdly playing with light and shadow both in the surroundings, and in how the creatures are represented in the first place. For all their money, big studios are rarely this intelligent in how they use post-production artifice.

Well and truly, I'm so happy with how good this is. I sat to watch with mixed expectations based on what I've known of Edwards since, and I walk away deeply appreciating what the man conjured as his first step into the wider world of the medium. Viewers seeking the usual violent joy ride may be put out, but that's not what 'Monsters' was ever meant to be in the first place. By delicately pondering the ins and outs of a universe that has given rise to such entities, Edwards makes the audience's outside experience of it alongside Andrew and Sam an almost breath-taking venture; by delivering only occasional wisps of the entities themselves, whether by sight, sound, or suggestion, their presence carries more weight than in some other works in which fantastical creations are seen more prominently. For my part I find this to be a highly enjoyable, highly satisfying genre flick, and for anyone open to the more dramatic side of sci-fi and horror, I'm glad to give 'Monsters' my hearty and enthusiastic recommendation!

Even in death Bud Abbott and Lou Costello can claim a reputation in comedy that exceeds most all predecessors, contemporaries, and successors; their baseball routine is as famous as Buster Keaton, Charlie Chaplin, and Laurel and Hardy were as performers. And who more recent can one even name? Their work in cinema is also well known, though, not least those ventures that paired them with classic Universal monsters. For one who is broadly unfamiliar with the duo, however, how might an esteemed classic like 'Abbott and Costello meet Frankenstein' hold up? Once we start watching we have our answer in no time at all, and I'm glad to say this is a very fun movie that remains well worth checking out.

To date I've seen only a couple of the duo's other films, and one of them didn't impress me very much. One also has to wonder about the sum total when one learns of the discord on-set, especially between Abbott, Costello, director Charles Barton, and producer Robert Arthur, and of how some of the stars regarded the whole affair to begin with. For whatever difficulties the production may have faced, however, no one allowed them to impact the quality of the end result, and the writing, direction, acting, and comedic sensibilities remain splendidly sharp even decades later. I'm not saying this is a total riot, and for my part I think the efforts of Abbott and Costello's forebears and contemporaries are more vibrant, yet this flick only wanted to provide a good time, and over seventy years later it still ably does so.

The occasional post-production additions vary a little in their lasting value, but the transformation animations are terrific, and in general one readily recognizes how much hard work went into this feature even at a difficult point in the studio's history. The production design, art direction, costume design, and not least the hair and makeup are utterly outstanding, full of detail and completely bringing to bear the same magnificence viewers are accustomed to in classic genre fare, above all in the honored exemplars that first gave us Dracula, Frankenstein's monster, and the wolfman in the medium. Between the script of Robert Lees, Frederic I. Rinaldo, and John Grant, and the according improvisations of our leads, the humor tends to be relatively soft, earning smiles more than laughs - yet there's plentiful wit here, too. Delightful situational comedy, clever dialogue, a panoply of gags, the keen dynamics and bright energy among the characters and cast, and lively performances of vigor and personality all serve to make the picture solidly entertaining as Abbott and Costello get mixed up with spooky creatures. Of course it's Bud and Lou who do the most in making this such a success, but that's not to discount the contributions of anyone else involved, and it can't be overstated what a gem this is overall.

Mind you, the plot could have stood to be tightened, and the strength of the material varies; some scenes are much more likely to earn a reaction, and on the other hand, some might even test our patience. Yet I can't get over how gorgeous the sets are, and the props; the practical stunts and effects are fantastic. Frank Skinner's original music lends all the flavor we might want. Barton's direction is rather tight, and even as the pairing of Abbott and Costello is the most vivid and striking of all, there's no denying how excellent their co-stars are, including not just icons Lon Chaney Jr., Bela Lugosi, and Glenn Strange, but also Lenore Aubert, Jane Randolph, and still others. We can him and haw about the particulars, and debate how funny the entirety may be, but any discussion is one of semantics more than substance, especially as the writing grows stronger in every regard as the runtime elapses. No matter our precise opinion there's no mistaking how firmly enjoyable 'Abbott and Costello meet Frankenstein' is even after so much time - whatever one's impetus for watching, this is a treasure, and I'm happy to give it my hearty recommendation!

While there are plentiful exceptions, the 1950s aren't exactly known as a hotbed of quality sci-fi and horror, and the ethos of ham-handed direction and narration, cheesy music, bad effects, and cheap productions extended well into the 60s if not beyond. The very name 'Frankenstein meets the space monster' doesn't exactly inspire confidence, though in fairness, the same could be said of Toho's 'Frankenstein vs. Baragon' - released only one and one-half months before in Japan - while it is in fact an unexpectedly superb film. Prepared for the worst but hoping for the best, how might this 1965 release stack up?

Futurama Entertainment is definitely not Toho, and director Robert Gaffney is no Honda Ishiro. I'm not about to put down this flick outright, but it's readily evident within the first minutes that this was made with the knowledge and intention that it would be a B-grade romp. Ross Gaffney's music immediately ranges from smart and tasteful to overt and flavorful, the acting and delivery to greet us right away are pointedly overwrought and/or melodramatic, and the writing swiftly impresses as direct, forthright, and unsubtle, if not also forced as R. H. W. Dillard, George Garrett, and John Rodenbeck push the story through a grinder to entertain us. Mind you, none of this inherently means that the sum total is bad, only that any prospective viewers should know, and will right away, what sort of movie they're entering. (As if the name doesn't give it away.)

Stock footage, juxtaposed with contemporary pop music. Instances of surprisingly shrewd scene writing, and some surprisingly gritty imagery, occupy much the same space as baseline adequate production design and art direction, and costume design, hair, and makeup that probably look as decent as they do only because this was filmed in black and white. I really do appreciate the music, but it ranges from keen and tasteful, to sly and somewhat cheeky, to "I'm sorry, what now?" At the same time, Lawrence C. Keating's editing often feels a tad rough and brusque - applying equally to the sound - and there were some curious choices made in the direction, whether in terms of pacing or just the precise orchestration of a given moment. I suppose I can't fault the cast for their acting, whether we look to what they had to work with by the writing or direction or the tenor of the feature, but it still comes off as a bit peculiar.

For what it's worth, I do admire the imagination that was poured into this with regards to both the story (in concept) and the the production at large, and I recognize the earnest work that went into it. The filming locations are lovely, and even if we make the assumption that they wouldn't hold up under scrutiny, the visuals are quite good. To that point, it comes across that the most consideration was given to the appearances of the titular figures, with some special makeup that's pretty fantastic. This is much more questionable in the details of the writing and execution - I have issues with the Martians' "Phase II" both on paper and as it is presented herein - but again, 'Frankenstein meets the space monster' only wants to have a kitschy good time. This isn't great, but it's mildly enjoyable, and unlike the worst of like-minded fare from previous years, the worst that I think we might say about this in general is that some facets were given notably less or weaker consideration than others.

All told this is a mishmash of some gratifyingly splendid aspects alongside many rather strange choices, and this is reflected in the varied music, in the use or declination of sound, in the visuals including stunts and effects, and in the writing that twists together a terrestrial android, a Martian invasion, a beast from another world, and the abduction of bikini-clad women that the camera is then allowed to dote upon. From one moment to the next we don't know if we're going to get something that's weirdly excellent, or something that will bewilder us with the oddball decisions that were made to piece the whole together. The end result is definitely no exemplar of cinema, yet I can't deny that I had fun watching, and really, the conglomeration is so scattered that it more closely resembles B-movies of the 70s, 80s, or 90s than it does the 50s or 60s. I can understand that titles like this won't appeal to all comers, but if you're receptive to all the wide, wacky possibilities of what the medium has to offer, I genuinely think this is more worthwhile than we're naturally inclined to assume from the outside looking in, and I'm glad and pleasantly surprised to find myself giving 'Frankenstein meets the space monster' a soft, warm recommendation.

On the one hand, Disney and Pixar tend to be very, very reliable for great storytelling in animation, with only occasional counterexamples that are less stellar. Then, too - who doesn't love red pandas, adorable as they are? And this flick did earn a lot of award nominations, after all. On the other hand, the first word of mouth I'd actually heard about 'Turning red' wasn't so rapturous; what still sticks out to me was criticism that suggested it was one of the studios' lesser creations, if not an outright failure, with less than the usual amount of earnest, heartfelt storytelling compared to kid-friendly, lighthearted entertainment. And outside of those award nominations, and that harsher verbiage, to be honest I've not particularly seen people talking about this at all. So in sitting to watch this 2022 release, how does it truly stack up?

Unfortunately, in all frankness, I'm swiftly inclined to agree pretty firmly with the more biting assessment. Call me a cynic, and jaded; you're not wrong. Yet for all the potential this boasted, and all the welcome sincere thought that did go into it, I think the execution reflects to too great an extent a sort of frivolous entertainment that matches or possibly even outweighs the substance to be found herein. I did enjoy this, yet for all the lasting value it truly does offer, the lighter side of the material threatens to undo it.

Don't get me wrong, there is a lot to love here. Filmmaker Domee Shi, and co-writers Julia Cho and Sarah Streicher, give us a story full of meaningful thoughts, and even as the script is unexpectedly forthright about its themes and ideas, I admire the tenacity to pursue them under the umbrella of a media giant who generally refuses or at least plays down anything of a more delicate or difficult nature. This picture is very plainly all about puberty, and speaks directly to menstruation, while addressing for both gravity and merriment notions including high emotions and mood swings, sexual development and changing social pressures, and changing relationships within a family. That's on top of themes of tradition and heritage not just having importance but possibly holding sway over a person's life, conflict and the weight of expectations between generations, helicopter parents denying their children agency out of a sense of overprotectiveness and the limitations of their own experiences, asserting one's individuality and finding one's own path forward, and more.

And that's not all. On top of the hardiest portions of the writing, this represents a terrific blend of comedy, drama, and fantasy, with some slight musical sensibilities laid on top. It definitely earns some laughs, with no small amount of wit on top of broad silliness; at the same time, other moments are surprisingly impactful, and there are some lines so pointedly sharp that I just want to outright cheer Shi (one line given to Mei in the last minutes is as brilliant and cutting as it is now, in light of current events in real life, thoroughly depressing). Shi, Cho, and Streicher clearly poured a lot of care into these characters, their personalities, and the relationships between them, further taking into account modern Teens, and Chinese heritage, and still much more. Of course the 3D animation of Disney and Pixar is dependably outstanding, and the voice acting is great. I appreciate Ludwig Göransson's original score, and the original songs of Billie Eilish and Finneas O'Connell are a blast in and of themselves, and I say that as someone who doesn't particularly go in for pop music. All this culminates with a climax that's rather spectacular - personally somewhat reminding of the underappreciated 1983 classic 'Rock & rule' with its combination of enchanting music, visual fancy, character stakes, and drama - and a satisfying ending. On a side note, I award proverbial bonus points for the cheek of kind of toying with furry sensibilities, and again as a cat lover for a passing sequence where I wouldn't be able to contain myself if I were in Mei's place.

If all these aspects of the feature are so excellent, where does it go wrong? Why am I not more enthused? Right from the start 'Turning red' tends to lean hard into cutesy, brash, noisy childishness for its own sake that I find off-putting. There's a type of silliness that's clever and raucous as it upends expectations, or so brazenly leaps into outrageousness as to dare you to hate it - and then there's silliness that's simple-minded and boorish, worst of all when it caters to the most base and low-brow of audiences, or condescends to appeal to young children for whom it is believed that more shrewd humor would fly over their heads. As Mei exuberantly talks directly into the camera, as she and her friends dance and sing, as they ogle every boy in sight, as they devolve into giggling immaturity that I found tiresome even when I, myself, was thirteen years old, and not least wherever fictional boy band 4-Town are spotlighted, I have a hard time believing that any adults could get on board with the juvenility, and I have to assume that even viewers of the appropriate age would sneer at the worst instances as "baby stuff for babies." Older viewers will appreciate core substance, as I have, but there's no guarantee that the intended younger viewers will. Wherever the flick favors fun and frivolity it threatens to wholly overshadow the substance, to say nothing of those times when the presentation before us is nothing but such playfulness. There's much to love here, yes, but I don't think it makes a great first impression, and there's imbalance all throughout the length.

I'm glad for those who get still more out of this movie than I do. It's very possible that I'm being too strict and judgmental, and looking at the title from a perspective that fails to grasp what kids really like, and the significance this would have for the communities and demographics being depicted. I grant these allowances, and note that it IS very gratifying to see the diversity and inclusion 'Turning red' can claim even in passing visuals, let alone in the filmmakers involved and in the writing. Still, something is sadly off-kilter here as the film tries to be both a giddy good time and a heartfelt rumination on sober topics, and when all is said and done I do think it's one of the weaker productions among all those that Disney and Pixar have churned out. I still like it by all means, and I think it earns a soft recommendation; may others find it more roundly absorbing and rewarding than I have. For my part, however, 'Turning red' just isn't quite the exemplar that we have come to anticipate from studios of such deserved renown, and I would suggest somewhat tempering one's expectations before sitting for it.

There were some Choices made in making this film, and they don't all necessary serve the whole well. Composer extraordinaire Sato Masaru was famous for good reason, yet while the music in and of itself in this instance is enjoyable the themes range from some that are quite suitable for the sci-fi adventure herein, and a panoply of peppy jazz that raises a quizzical eyebrow. Speaking of music, I presume that when Princess Numi sings a song of her ancient bloodline to awaken King Caesar, it's the lyrics instead of the rhythm or notes that are important in the featured contemporary pop tune. King Caesar looks pretty good, by the way, with a lot of splendid detail in the suit, and we can say the same of Mechagodzilla. On the other hand, the Godzilla suit we see here isn't the best of the franchise, but it's also not the worst - yet I can't get over the spines on Godzilla's back, which here fall somewhere on a spectrum between (a) the shimmery, glittery fabric used on plush toys for, say, the golden or silver horns of unicorns, and (b) Mylar balloons. I also find some choices of editing to be quite curious, and the post-production visuals are far from great, but I suppose there are worse sins one could commit.

We're not done yet, though. The root story of Sekizawa Shinichi and Fukushima Masami is decent enough for a kaiju romp like this as aliens unleash a weapon to conquer Earth, and it's up to keen-minded humans and the monster saviors of the world to save the day from the invaders. The subsequent screenplay of Yamamura Hiroyasu and filmmaker Fukuda Jun, however, sometimes leaves a bit to be desired as it brings that story to the screen, and so does Fukuda's direction. Further impacted by Ikeda Michiko's sometimes questionable editing, it seemed to me that early exposition was pretty messy in trying to establish characters, introduce the scenario, and draw all such elements together. Unfortunately it's not just the exposition, however, for much of these eighty-five minutes reflected similar trouble, almost struggling to attain cogency at points. This is to say nothing of how the giant beasts are strangely absent from a large portion of the picture, then all of a sudden - oh look, there's only twenty minutes left. Factor in some sufficient but so-so dialogue, scene writing, and characterizations, and bizarre posturing movements for Godzilla especially, and part of the entertainment that this 1974 release has to offer is in bewilderment at what presents to us, or good-natured mockery thereof.

Still, 'Godzilla vs. Mechagodzilla' only wants to have a good time, and one way or another, it achieves exactly that. And while we may scrutinize or criticize various aspects, none of them are so severe as to fully dampen the lasting value this has as a fun-loving monster flick. In addition to the designs of King Caesar and Mechagodzilla, the practical effects and stunts here are as excellent as we tend to assume of the series, including fire, explosions, general destruction, lighting, fight choreography - and, in a rare move, surprisingly stark blood effects to accompany some unexpectedly strong violence. No one in the cast specifically stands out but they are all capable enough; some of the sound effects seem a tad rough to me, but mostly they're just fine, like Sato's music. Broadly speaking Fukuda's direction is solid, and I really do like the plot, light and frivolous as it may be. And while we don't necessarily get as much kaiju action as we may want, rest assured that the movie does check off all the boxes for the spectacle we anticipate of this genre and this franchise.

With all this firmly in mind, it's a title that sits fairly squarely in the middle of the pack among its brethren. It's nowhere near the bottom of the barrel, but it's also far from the top. Like other Showa-era selections beyond the progenitor this is a rather unserious joyride; we know what to expect, and what is apt to be admirable and what is apt to fall short. At length the sum total isn't anything super special, but I really did enjoy watching, and I only wish that various odds and ends had been tightened, or more carefully considered. If that's the worst I have to say about a feature that's plainly built for amusement in the first place, then it's done pretty well for itself. Don't go out of your way for 'Godzilla vs. Mechagodzilla,' but whether you have a particular impetus to watch or are just looking for something uninvolved by which to relax, this is good enough to earn a modest, warm recommendation.

I feel a little bad for Ishana Night Shyamalan. To read of the press surrounding this film, her directorial debut, she apparently thought the foremost question on people's minds was one of nepotism, whether or not her career received undue benefit from the fact of her parentage. In truth, the top question asked before this was released was "can the daughter make better movies than the father's slop?" That's kind of the opposite of nepotism. For my part I didn't get an immediate answer because I didn't see it in theaters, and because from my outside perspective 'The watchers' came and went in June 2024 without any buzz at all; I couldn't even tell you what the word of mouth was, because I gathered none - speaking, perhaps, to small attending audiences. Only in the past week or so, months later, did I finally see someone give a concrete statement as to the picture's quality, and when I say that it piqued my interest as a cinephile, do not make the mistake of thinking that statement reflected positively on Ishana. To at last sate my curiosity and watch this for myself: how is it, actually?

I'll allow the possibility that when expectations are low we may be especially prone to scrutinizing a picture for any possible flaw. At the same time, if there weren't flaws readily available to scrutinize, the question would never be raised of whether our judgment is too harsh. So when in only the opening scene I ponder the usefulness of what feels like needless opening narration, needless lines of dialogue, and questionably overt music, editing, and direction, it's because these thoughts came to me all too easily. So did the question of wondering how, in making a feature at this level - produced by M. Night, picked up for distribution by New Line Cinema, and released in 2024 - Ishana fell into the trap that I thought had all but vanished from cinema of shooting scenes at nighttime or in dim light, in the forest, in such a manner that it's difficult, as a viewer, to entirely see what's happening. Unfortunately, such issues will come to dominate the viewing experience, further reflected or borne out in additional information or development of characters, development of the story, and even during very early exposition.

I'm not familiar with the novel of A. M. Shine, though of course now I would be curious to compare. I recognize in Ishana's screenplay, presumably derived much more than not from the novel, a great deal of potential weaving together horror, dark fantasy, folklore, the tragic, and the psychological. Part of the trouble with Ishana's adaptation - which I hope is not also reflected in the novel - is that we are given considerable background for Mina as a character, but the story does nothing meaningful with it. It was a solid thread that could have been pulled to sinister, dramatic ends, but ultimately "Mina" doesn't need to be anything except a person who had a reason to drive through the forest. More pervasive than this, however, is that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, and like her father, Ishana has not crafted a title with any subtlety. There were plentiful opportunities for her to do so, but from the start it kind of feels as if the presentation is being shoved in our faces: gently, perhaps, but shoved nonetheless, and maybe a bit carelessly. This extends through the second act, for example draining power from the appearance of the creatures since we see them so clearly in all their digitally-enhanced artificiality, and all the way through to the climax and finale when the chance is missed to strike upon emotional weight and themes that are simply absent.

With all this said, I don't think the flick is outright bad. Most everyone contributing turned in swell work, including the production design and art direction, and vivid sound. The cast are perhaps bound by the heavy hand with which Ishana directs, but at large their performances are fine; I think the computer-generated imagery used here already shows its limits upon release, meaning that it will age poorly and rapidly and that more practical effects should have been exercised, but it's not terrible. I don't necessarily like how Abel Korzeniowski's original score was employed throughout the length, but I do like that score in and of itself. And seeing as how this is Ishana's debut, I have hopes that she might yet learn the lessons that her father has not over his career; she is young, and her writing and direction are not outright bad either, in my opinion - just in need of further development beyond the influence of a key figure in her life. May she grow in her skills, and impress some day in the future.

No, this isn't rotten. But it's very upfront in how it tells its story, therefore offering no dynamics by which thrills, awe, or gravity might manifest, and therefore quashing the potency of any notions to unfold later in the narrative. Any ideal of what the material could have been was not unlocked, and in turn the whole makes no major impression at all at any time. I repeat my wish that Ishana Night Shyamalan take what she has already learned as a filmmaker and grow beyond it, for 'The watchers' illustrates baseline competency, and it will next be time to shape a movie into a form that best serves its moods and plot. As for this in and of itself - well, there are worse ways to spend your time, but there are certainly better ones, too. Unless you have a special impetus to watch, save it as something light and uninvolved for a quiet night, and keep your expectations in check, and maybe that's the best way to get the most out of 'The watchers.'