Mission: Impossible - Dead Reckoning Part One

Fortunately, I can still say I don't hate any of the Mission: Impossible movies, and say that there's a certain amount of merit to all of them. Unfortunately, Dead Reckoning's merit isn't as prominent as the series has achieved; and more unfortunately, it doesn't have the fallback that Mission: Impossible 2 takes advantage of, where you can call the melodramatic silliness "fun" (if so inclined) and "different" (to point out that the movie certainly does try its own thing.)

It's nice when a movie can slip and still be enjoyable. But right now, a movie that doesn't slip at all is worth its weight in gold.

Dead Reckoning. Part one. One complement I can get out of the way is, even though it's a "Part One," it doesn't leave us hanging as far as feeling like we've seen a complete movie. We know there's more to see, but the movie does fulfill everything it sets out to accomplish. Director Christopher McQuarrie and Tom Cruise have now done three of these movies together, and it's unlikely they'd take an obvious misstep. No; instead, what they should have been worried about was that the groove they established in the series with Rogue Nation would too quickly become a rut. Fallout didn't pack the thematic/character punch that Rogue Nation did, but the stunts and visual entertainment was so stunning that I was willing to brush it off as a natural ebb and flow of quality. The next movie would right it.

But it didn't. And, I'm sorry to say, the action element has dropped off now, too. First, thematically, the movie is about the kind of honorable duty involved in taking a job in a secret agency that will disavow you the second you get into trouble—while sending you off to get in trouble as your job. Ethan and Co. meet up with and befriend Hayley Atwell as Grace, a highly skilled thief, and through friendship and loyalty, tempt her over to the good side. The idea is nice. "If you're going to risk your life for something, risk it for your friends and the good of the world." But while that's a simplistic enough idea, it still doesn't come through the plot so much as it is told to us (and Grace) outright through dialogue. And in so doing, it's implied that every MIF agent used to do high-skill illegal activities, got caught for it, and joined the MIF after a subsequent offer. 

Little comedy is attempted in favor of drama—which fails to land, and yet is so benign that it neither moved nor irritated me.

This series has undone the choices of past movies before, but this, I'd call ret-conning. And unnecessary. It's a small thing, maybe, and ignorable. But I like the characters here, and find the implications annoyingly simplistic, verging on outright stupidity. Anyone who's seen M:I3 knows newbie Benji lacked the constitution for illegal activity! And from the start Ethan has always been the boy scout type. It's just doesn't ring true, and you don't need them all to be ex-criminals to make joining the IMF "the right choice." In fact, it lessens Grace's character, who was unique for being a lone wolf and amoral. If all of them made the switch, why should we wonder whether she will or not? So, if the plot had been constructed to better show Grace's conversion, they could've stayed away from that regrettable "backstory." 

But the plot has its own issues to deal with in a less than ideal manner. It's crafted more to implement action set pieces and struggles to find a dynamic way toward the goal. It's a McGuffin plot, which, I admit, I don't mind at all. The action was my favorite parts, but there's no denying it's a step down from the feats this series has pulled off in the past. Tom Cruise does his thing and hurls himself off a cliff on a motorcycle, but what isn't in-camera looks faker than I've ever seen M:I look. The "ramp" he takes the motorcycle off for one; and the set piece of the falling train also has some digital elements that dampen the relentless thrill that scene is meant to impart. A few liberties with physics are taken (which must be bad if I notice it!) and a handful of other head-scratching choices. 

It's like joining the M:I movies is the movie star version of going to summer camp or something. Try something new; get out of your comfort zone for a while. (I dunno, I never went to a summer camp.)

At home, when senseless things happen in silly movies and people ask why, I like to jokingly point out that the movie needed them to so the next thing could happen. Unfortunately, that thought occurred to me a few too many times here, too. It's just not inspired; the creative juices didn't flow, and so now the story doesn't either. As a whole, it's a mess, but in small bites of compartmentalized sequences, it can be fun. Ethan and Grace's car chase sticks out as a highlight because it does what I've come to like uniquely about McQuarrie's installments: playing action and character interaction off each other. Atwell pairs well with Cruise and seems game with the stunts. And while the car chase they tag team in gets a little Buster Keaton, that's part of the charm for me. 

I could happily see a movie every three years that is exactly that—fun, sometimes silly action performed in-camera by characters who are saving the world because their friends live in it. But that's not to say there isn't better and worse ways to do it. Dead Reckoning isn't the worst ever, but there's nothing better about it, either.

Joker

Spoiler-free!

What I expected to be a dark and disturbing downer meant to leave me unsettled and unhappy, is instead an intense and scrutinizing look at a descent into madness and villainy, so thorough and unflinching that one can't help but see a reflection of themselves hidden within the frames. In a day when movies about villains are just movies about anti-heroes, and comic book movies are more commodity than art, Joker reminds us of how relevant and uniquely valuable a medium they can be.

Directed captivatingly by Todd Phillips, written along with Scott Silver.

Joaquin Phoenix takes on the role of the iconic villain in the rich setting of late 70's/early 80's Gotham City. Arthur Fleck is clown-for-hire striving to keep smiling in a rough and messed-up world. In gradual progression, the film shows us what it takes to transform him into the Joker that we know and love. The journey is too long and complex to break down, but the important thing is the way it draws you in to start. Though we know his villainous fate, we must be invested in the decent -- to take the ride along with him -- for the movie to make the impact it desires. Two or three scenes hook you at the beginning, and then the slow reeling in process begins.

I think it's wonderful that this film is making people angry. I can only imagine it's a visceral reaction to having a mirror thrust so unexpectedly in their face and showing them something that they don't want to recognize. I found myself doing a little soul-searching last night, that's for sure. But though this film is politicized, it isn't political. It doesn't show left and right, but rather an up and down balance of right and wrong. Gotham politics are similar to the divide and unrest in the real world today, but they are grown in an organic fictional environment rather than being transplanted to invoke cheap parallels. The fictionalization and over-the-top comic book style makes the open exploration on ideas palatable to a potentially stubborn audience -- exploring all sides of questions that we might otherwise dismiss offhand.

This is not a Conservative film; it doesn't push propaganda of any kind. But it does feel out of place with Hollywood content common to today.

People keep saying they handled mental illness badly in this film, and I'm not sure what they mean by it. What I saw was the subject being handled with care, and like the rest of the film's subjects, being explored from all sides. I found Arthur's illness to be the most constant source of empathy throughout his descent. Particularly the condition that makes him laugh uncontrollably when he feels entirely different. Everyone asks him, "What's so funny?" never understanding his mind as we do. Makes you think twice about judging people based on assumptions and appearances. In fact, the film refrains from any kind of judgement altogether, counting on the audience's moral compass to draw the right conclusion. The movie itself embraces the madness -- but never glorifies it. Every beautiful moment has horror in it, and every horrible moment, tenderness. There is always a balance of tone and no idea is presented without being challenged.

Phoenix's performance is precise and extreme; he runs wild with an exact and calculated grace and balances the evil and the good side by side with great skill. No one could doubt that he can play a scene with honesty and complexity; what's remarkable about this performance is the characterization: The way he runs. The way he laughs. The way he dances. The way he sees himself in his imagination. The twisted glee that pokes through his shell before it bursts out of him like a shot and blossoms into the full-fledged character with immaculate timing. To be honest, I expected his take to be more of a twist on the character, so seeing him open into full Joker so effortlessly once everything was properly developed was nothing short of astounding. It's the best performance of the year, but it's also one of the most full and complete performances I've ever seen. It's immensely satisfying, heartbreaking, and glorious.

Supporting actors include Robert De Niro, Zazie Beetz, Frances Conroy, Brett Cullen and Shea Whigham. They are all great, but this is Phoenix's movie. 

The imagery of the movie is beautiful, as many movies are, but sets itself apart by serving to elevate the film beyond making it look nice. Framing is all about evoking a visceral response, and colors used to convey emotion. Sets and lighting play their part in setting the right mood too. Gotham has never been more beautiful, looming, bold, or grimy. Scenes are filmed with purpose behind the structure, and the effect is that the film feels richer, and more focused. Intentional. My favorite, and perhaps the most obvious example, is the huge flight of stairs Arthur must traverse to go home every day. He trudges up them in weighty gloom day after day -- until he snaps, and dances down them, having embraced the new life he's descending towards.

I've heard Joker declared to be not really a comic book movie at all, and though it isn't what is currently expected of CBM's, being free of action sequences and the narrative structure of good fighting evil, it's not true that it's a basic, "one man's descent into madness." Since when was being a popcorn movie a requirement of CBM's, anyway? DC especially has a dark richness to it that practically begs for serious and introspective character studies like this one. Iconic characters and fleshed-out fictional worlds used to examine truths, ideas, and perspectives -- without the baggage of reality -- in vivid color, and that heightened aspect that comic books provide so effortlessly. Through the lens of a comic book, this tragedy becomes art in a way it never could otherwise.

If DC continues in this direction instead of blindly following the MCU, we're in for a treat. 

Comic book films can be a lot of different things, and I'm glad to see that they haven't become completely pigeonholed yet. Joker is a difficult movie. Not so much because it's dark with disturbing aspects and a bleak ending. In fact, the ending isn't bleak at all, but you'd have to see the film to understand my meaning on that. Joker is difficult because it challenges you in ways you might not be prepared for; and connects with you in the same surprising manner. It moved me deeply, and I can't believe I'm saying this, but I cannot wait to go through it again. No, it's not bleak; it compels you to search for hope.

First Man

Spoiler-free!

With his third film, the undeniably talented filmmaker Damien Chazelle tackles the story of the first man to walk on the moon, and in the effort to bring his story down to earth, turns him and the NASA Apollo team -- the biggest, baddest, most brilliant rock stars of geekdom -- into "a bunch of boys making models out of balsa wood."

Oh dear. Here we go... It's like half the movie wanted to be in awe of them, and the other half wanted to tear them down and "show them for what they really were." The direction and the writing felt at odds.

My biggest issue is with the treatment of Neil himself. I know next to nothing about him, so I'll try not to speculate too far, but it seems to be that Chazelle's (but perhaps more the writer, Josh Singer's) intention was to humanize his story. To that end the film begins with the death of his young daughter, and Neil spends the next eight years of his life in what is presented as a constant state of depression. His goal of reaching the moon seems dangerously obsessive, yet oddly joyless, and his ultimate success more the result of mere luck than the kind of hard work, training, and discipline it certainly took in reality.

Part of this has to be attributed to Ryan Gosling's deadpan performance, which I'm sure was intended, but ultimately comes across as cold. There are subtleties there, but mostly I found that the filming style created performance out of little substance. Those eye close ups -- they convey an idea of what lies underneath an emotionless stare. However, the character is written to have so much instability that I would worry about NASA's vetting process if I were convinced his characterization were accurate. It's unfathomable to me that having already lost a child, and fully prepared to risk his life, he wouldn't value the chance to say goodbye to his children, no matter how confident he may be of his return.

This is going to sound meaner than I mean it to mean, but I felt equal connection to him when he was standing with his sun-shield up as I did when he was actively emoting. i.e., the film conveyed emotion FOR him, not THROUGH him.

It smacks of sensationalism -- and why not? There's a reason this story hasn't been told before. As magnificent and history-making an event it was, it was simply too by-the-numbers successful endeavor to make a compelling film. So an effort is made to make it seem as dangerous and duct-taped together as possible; even to the point of presenting factual errors and stretching the truth for drama. For his part, Chazelle literally shakes the audience, and goes deep into the visceral experience. Shot on film, grainy, handheld camerawork, high-contrast and glaring lighting; it's nothing if not dramatic. And to its credit this style makes the open and still photography of the moon's surface all the more striking later.

That sequence was by far the most grabbing of the film -- and it was all due to the contrast of filming style. Yet Neil's character has no such moment of contrast. With juxtaposition of highs, his lows may have been more deeply empathized with, yet he's consistently despondent and frustratingly aloof, to the point of returning to the very thing this film ran from: that the man was unrelatable; but it a way that paints him badly -- as immature and anti-social -- instead of the positive if unattainable status he's more deserving of, as an absolute legend of history.

Claire Foy is great because Claire Foy is always great. There has never been a time when she has been less great than she was at every moment in this movie. However, I didn't care for the role her character took in the story.

I know there has to be some who would disagree with me and identified with this character. It is a character piece, and is put on with subtlety and rawness classic to indie sensibilities. It lost me as a character study, however, and the loss was felt because there was no backup to keep me on the hook. As a science-fact space-exploration film, it hardly even tries. I had no expectation to start, but found myself again and again wishing for the audience-friendly science explanations and easy structure of Ron Howard's Apollo 13. That film is the perfect storm of understandable science, balanced characters full of emotional range, and true-story credibility.

It seems almost unfair to compare the two, but therein is exactly my point. First Man intentionally sets aside in-depth explanation of technical aspects to drill deep into the character of one man; and with that singular goal, still fails to capture my affection for that one character the same way Apollo 13 did for at least four characters, while spending half it time as an educational video about how to make a CO² filter out of duct tape and a sock. Still, Chazelle didn't set out to make Apollo 13, but his own creation -- and it is beautiful in his way. There were moments worth the frustrations -- mostly in the visuals which were remarkably great. Despite its failure to capture me, I'll certainly retain a level of respect for the work as a whole.

It's beautiful, and there's value and appeal to that. But it's the kind of value that will diminish and be replaced in time. I far prefer Chazelle's work when he writes for himself. Then the heart matches his style and tone.

First Man is undeniably a visceral, and carefully and artfully crafted film. From a fictional perspective it's handled well, feeling both massively epic and massively intimate. From a real-life perspective the efforts and heroism of its characters seems intentionally minimized. And from a personal perspective, that minimization edges on disrespect, the intimacy lacks attraction, and the epic scope conveys little more than a cool, clouded glance into one of the most impressive and awesome feats of mankind.

Kong: Skull Island

Kong is back, and literally bigger than ever. It's the 1970's, so you know the music is good, and the group of explorers, scientists, and soldiers that go to Skull Island is extra, extra large -- full of red shirts, and people who don't need to survive to the end of the movie. Mayhem is in the air. And it smells delicious.

And a bit like monkey breath?

The movie is directed by Jordan Vogt-Roberts, a name I didn't recognize at first, but his style I did. He directed The Kings of Summer, a movie that most are less likely to have seen than Kong, but a great movie with a love for nature and an eye for stylish macro shots. That style translates magnificently to this film, and is enhanced to epic proportions. As the steadily dwindling group explores the island we get to explore it too, through the camera's wondering eye. The beauty and the creativity is not what you conventionally see in a monster flick, but with how well it works you'd think it would be. 

Vogt-Roberts did not hold back on any visual aspect of the movie -- any. The location shooting and the attention to detail for the era made it almost impossible for me to shake the feeling that I was actually watching a movie from the 70's -- an unexpected but welcome feeling. Of course the special effects were miles better than anything 40 years old could give us, and in fact were a good distance better than what most CGI-heavy flicks crank out these days too. This movie was made to be a visual feast of epic entertainment, and there was no skimping on achieving that goal. 

Every sequence was a new array of colors and shapes and textures and immaculate focusing and sweet music...

I only have one question: how did they manage to collect this cast? A bunch of them hail from (or will soon join) Marvel movies -- Tom Hiddleston is the cool-and-collected tracker-for-hire, Brie Larson is the spirited war photographer, Samuel L. Jackson is the squad leader, John C. Reilly is oddball scene-stealing highlight of the whole movie, and Shea Whigham, and Toby Kebbell (yes I'm counting Fant4stic) are soldiers. (Kebbell also provided some facial mo-cap for Kong, though the vast majority of Kong was Terry Notary.) Otherwise, there's John Goodman as the expedition instigator, and his scientist colleges Corey Hawkins and Tian Jing. Jason Mitchell and Thomas Mann round out the soldiers with memorable roles. I said it was a big cast! And that's just the people who, if they die, you feel sad for.

The deaths are pretty sad too, in spite of the overwhelmingly fun tone of the film; or maybe because of it, with dramatic contrast. The characters were defined well by all having their little niche or quirk which made them memorable, but they were also underdeveloped in the classic action flick way. It seemed particularly as though Hiddleston and Larson's characters were purposefully being held back -- saving the development for sequels perhaps. Still, they were effortlessly charming together. I was on board with this film since Tom was announced to star, and he didn't let me down.

Even though he was a little pointless. I think the movie got a few conflicting rewrites. You can almost see the plot that was removed.

John C. Reilly stole the whole movie of course, was hilarious and simultaneously the backbone of the film's heart, which yes, it did have plenty of for its genre. Another who unexpectedly left a big impression was Toby Kebbell's human role. I've always been interested in his work but was so far unable to properly appreciate it due to disappointing role choices and lots of motion capture parts. Because of how expressive he is, he's great at mo-cap, but that means that without the CGI translation he's even better -- and here he is finally a live-action, well-written, sympathetic character, and thus he has finally turned my head. And he was the only character whose name I learned!

In my favorite scene he comes across Kong at a lake and watches the giant ape take a drink -- the excess water sounding like a waterfall as it pours back into the lake -- and then battle a giant lake-squid and eat it in a humorous manner. And that pretty much sums up the whole movie for me. It's odd, ridiculous, epic and funny, with realistic attention to detail, and there's a bunch of faces in the background who look really good under a macro lens. 

Pretty location, pretty filming, pretty people.

There were a few aspects that could have been improved without creating an imbalance. The ending was a bit sudden and messy, character's names are nice to know, and whenever the plot strayed from the basic goal it couldn't spend enough time away to satisfy and threads were cut short. But, mostly, the things you'd instinctively think are flaws were really conscious decisions for the sake of the tone and style of the movie. Focusing on character, or going deep into a moral themes or a complex plot is all well and good, but Kong included those things only as far as they didn't detracted from the beautiful, gleeful spectacle -- its priority. And considering that this is a movie about a fantastical island full of jumbo-sized monsters and wacky fantasy creatures that do battle with each other, I feel like the priorities were in the exact right place.

Take Shelter

Spoiler-free.

Jeff Nichols' second film, but the last one I saw of his four to date, cinches this writer/director's spot at the top of my favorites list, with a masterfully crafted, intimate look at fear and anxiety. The film stars and focuses on Michael Shannon as Curtis, a husband and father who begins to have vivid nightmares that seem to warn of an approaching storm. He feels that he must prepare for this storm, but also worries that it might all just be in his head.

A slow-burning, thrilling drama with a very rewarding payoff for patient viewers.

This film isn't personally my favorite of Nichols' work (the scale has a very narrow margin) but I do think it is his most precisely crafted film (another narrow margin). It's very focused and intent, and doesn't say a whole lot, but what it does say it says in a very affecting and moving manner. Going in, even with avoiding spoilers, I had a preconceived idea of where the film would go; and it did follow that for a while, but then it went beyond it in an unexpected very rewarding way.

All of Nichols' other films so far (Shotgun Stories, Mud, and Midnight Special) have had endings that required thought to know if I really liked them. But, with Take Shelter, I didn't need to think to know I loved it. It was immediately, intensely satisfying, especially considering the stressful drama it followed. But at the same time, I haven't done any less meditating on it. His other movies could have had slightly different endings and I probably would have still liked them, but Take Shelter's ending is the main quality that won me over. The whole film hinged on that powerful ending. It left one or two plot points open to interpretation by ending exactly when the story was completed emotionally. So it feels as resolved as any film can, but still leaves you thinking.

Nails the open ending shut with the best of them.

As he did before, did after, and will likely do again, Michael Shannon does a phenomenal job leading the film. His screen presence is something legendary, and he lines up with the film's tone and pace with matchless precision. Jessica Chastain impressively never lets him overshadow her. This is probably partly a credit to the writing as well, as Samantha is Nichols' largest female character yet, and is very well-written, but Chastain takes charge with her and holds her own against the powerhouse of Shannon.

Take Shelter focuses on character drama, but had one very impressively ticked mark on the technical side as well: the special effects. And because the film is very realistic with its general appearance and dialogue, the effects -- which were minimal and carefully done on a small budget -- come off in a spectacular way. I was beyond impressed with the scene where all the furniture in the room suddenly jumps into the air and floats there. It not the sort of thing you'd expect to see in a low-budget indie, let alone at the level of realism it reached. The quality was so high, I thought it might have been a practical effect at first. The effects were the final push that brought this film to the intense peak it needed to go to.

An all-around exceptionally well-done film.

I won't say much more. Partly because I don't want to explain too much of this film, and partly because I've really explained enough. This is a very simple film without a lot floating around in it, but it feels very big. It goes deep, and its depth is displayed visually, with assured grandeur, not just put into the plot and performances -- as commendable as those elements are. It's like an independent event movie; a profoundly rewarding experience to see, and to feel, and to understand.