Avatar: The Way of Water

Spoiler-free!

It's been years since the original Avatar, and same goes for Jake Sully, who's formed a family and a comfortable way of life with the Na'vi. But the sky people return (surprise surprise) and a few of them are out for revenge (dun dun duun). The Avatar sequels were announced once the novelty of the original had worn off, when it was cool to trash James Cameron's space fantasy world. But this "unasked for" sequel has value which only its creator could have dreamed up—which is why it's good that he's the one telling this story and not your average cynical nitpicking filmgoer... like me.

There's nothing quite like a filmmaker who's excited about his own work.

The word that first comes to mind as I think about The Way of Water as a whole is "romantic." That might give the wrong idea, but it's the only word I have. James Cameron jumps back into the world of his own making, gushing—like a kid with a crush—hurrying to catch us up of the Sully family's life so he can bring them into a new sandbox to explore. He dutifully exposits about the status quo and sets up new characters, but despite the movie's 3-hour runtime, we get into the plot fast. He doesn't want to tell us any more than necessary, he wants to show us. To dig into the clay and sculpt and create. He has a storyteller's sensibilities and gleeful care for his story, and that excitement rubs off into every inch of the work.

That's why it's the first half of the second act that shines so well. This is the part we're all here for—the exploring of the world and culture of Pandora. It's especially fun because it focuses on the Sully kids character-wise. We get to know the second oldest, Lo'ak, as he befriends an outcast whale-like creature, and the older girl, Kiri, who's the adopted offspring of Sigourney Weaver's Avatar from the first movie. They don't explain exactly what happened there, leaving a little mystery to reveal in later sequels. She's a young teen, played by Sigourney Weaver, sulky insecure childishness and all. It must have been great fun for her. The magic of motion capture. The other new character standout for me was Spider—one of few exclusively human characters in the movie. He's a kid who "went native" and is always interacting with mo-cap characters—who are designed to be bigger than him. Another logistical and performance challenge. 

I don't care, I'll always enjoy the "making friends with animals" trope.

Despite the technology, the most impressive part for me is the worldbuilding. It reminds me of the little worlds I'd construct in my head as a child in a very specific way that I can't quite articulate. Contributing to the sense of romance? At any rate, the worldbuilding works so well because it's part of the story, not just the place in which the story takes place. Underwater exploration is accompanied with the Sully kids dipping their toes into the social hierarchy of their new peers and discovering their unique strengths. And Lo'ak's whale friend is not only vital to the plot, but serves as a character foil for him, and is introduced through a thrilling underwater attack sequence from what must be Pandora's only non-pacifist creature. At every turn, Cameron rewards our patience in sitting through 3 hours of his imagination brought to life, by using that imagination, and his skills as a filmmaker, to entertain us in return.

Even when the stakes rise and the third act rolls around, the imagination doesn't quell, and the inevitable sea battle had all the built-up character, stakes, and creative set-pieces in play to keep me from checking out as I so often do when a film's final battle starts up. Then things quiet and culminate in a more emotional, dramatic climax, which serves the theme over the movie's gleeful penchant for CGI explosions. I might say I'm surprised—that the movie won me over fast and never lost me to the end—but it's more that I'm relieved. More than relief even, it's rewarding my hope. I knew James Cameron was a filmmaker of the classic breed, but so many of his ilk have traded in their creative passion for an agenda. But no. He made a movie, and told a story. And he hits the beats of his medium with care and craftsmanship, not as a checklist around which to structure a pandering sermon.

This movie is proof then, that storytelling and movies aren't dead.

As time passes, the refreshed novelty may fade again, and I may come to see more of the flaws—which do exist here. Some was too melodramatically silly even for me to take seriously. But for me, Avatar has never been about being flawless, or high art. That's not what's valuable about it. Take away the motion-capture, the CGI, the blue people on an alien planet, and you have a simple story. The first one was about a broken man finding his place in the world. This one's about a father trying to keep his family together. Jake's world shrinks, but becomes more personal, and so feels huge. This sequel is rare in that way—it doesn't retread old ground. It adds to what came before. Not ignoring it. Not retconning it. Genuinely building onto it. Complementing it, and growing deeper. The original Avatar increases in value because of it, rather than being thrown aside to make way for the new. And room for further expansion sits out there, waiting.

I don't know where on Pandora James Cameron will go and explore next, but as long as he's in love with his world, I will be too. I can't help it. His reliable craftmanship, high imagination, and creative romance sweeps me up into the fantasy every time.

Thirteen Lives

Ron Howard and true-life stories are a match made in heaven. Instead of reshaping the true and the real into fiction while adapting it to the innately fictional medium of film, Howard takes stories like this one—where a soccer team from Thailand gets trapped miles inside a cave when an unexpected rainstorm causes it to flood—and showcases what is already astonishing about the true story. 

As a rule, I don't care for movie based on true stories. Ron Howard overcomes that rule.

He changes as little as he can. He doesn't push fake emotions. He doesn't add drama to the situation. He finds the subtle drama in the true moments and points a camera at it—highlighting the right moments in the right order to bring out the natural story arc and themes that are already there. And he hires actors who can show that nuance in a casual and honest way—like Viggo Mortensen and Colin Farrell, playing two British rescue divers who fly in to lend a hand. Later they recruit Joel Edgerton, and Tom Bateman, and together they make an unfathomable plan to swim the boys out before monsoon season floods the entire cave.

My memory of when this happened in real life is brief. I heard they were trapped, and that people were working to get them out. Then a few weeks later I heard they'd been rescued, and I wondered why it took so long. Now, to see exactly how impossible the situation really was, and how great a feat it was that they all survived, how hard everyone worked, even the entire concept of how they were rescued—it completely blew my mind. I was still reeling from the fact that each day of swimming to the boys and back was a 12-hour dive when they threw out the rescue plan as the only and best option, and I still can't quite wrap my mind around everything it entailed.

There were many instances that made me protest aloud because of how crazy it all sounded.

People who are capable and willing to do difficult things astonish me. And I guess that's a universal thing. We have stories with heroes in fiction who do the impossible for a noble cause all the time. Superheroes, though, have superpowers. The men who swam hours and hours through muddy water in narrow tunnels just to have a chance at saving a few people they never knew—they were normal human beings. They simply had the drive, the skills, and the will to put themselves at risk for a good result. They did a job, and they looked at it as a job. And the movie understands that. It doesn't make them out as superheroes. It shows their weakness, and the mundane aspects of their humanity, and then it shows them do heroic things—impossible things—and then (and this is what I loved most about the movie) it shows how their experience affects them. 

The part that hit me the hardest was the first day they bring some of the boys out. The volunteers rush in and haul each kid away, leaving the diver alone and watching them go. Each actor they show do this has an incredible look on their face that tells of the physical and emotional gauntlet they had just come through, though they remained professional and stoic during the task. It absolutely broke my heart, and I love it because it wasn't shoved at me. Or slammed over my head. I just saw it. I know it was intentional, but the reservation of those moments is remarkable. Shown at a distance; not lingered on too long; or punctuated by overwrought music. You could almost think you're seeing something you're not meant to see. 

What must it be like, to volunteer your skills, your time, and your very person to become the difference between life and death for another human?

Any director can have style and flair, but it takes a master to create art that leaves no fingerprints. Howard's hand is invisible in this film, yet we still see what he's pointing to. Through his deft and discreet craftmanship, and cast full of equally dedicated performances, we get a beautifully nuanced glimpse of real-life heroes, and from the comfort of our homes, experience the mountain of hardships they willingly faced down for the chance to achieve something good. I'm grateful for men like that, and for the artists who, through their invisibility, make them visible.

The Cursed

Not your grandad's werewolf story. Actually, it's more like your great-great grandad's werewolf story, and that's exactly what makes it stand out. Watching it, I could almost believe that it was adapted from some gothic horror story written in the late 1800's, when the story is set.

Sean Ellis wrote, directed, and did his own cinematography work. 

Originally titled Eight for Silver, referencing the old nursery rhyme, because silver naturally plays an important role. But changed to the more mundane The Cursed because the plot also heavily features a curse set on an old English estate by a band of gypsies who are murdered when they try to stake a claim on the land. The movie takes its time in getting started, establishing the Laurent family and showing the ill-advised murders in grisly detail, as well as the set of silver wolf's teeth a gypsy witch fashions for the curse. It's not until the children dig up the teeth and one of them gets bitten, subsequently disappearing, that the story's hero comes on scene—McBride, a pathologist, who has experience in these strange circumstances.

From there McBride drives the story, the setup so thorough and detailed that the plot glides along effortlessly on its strength. We know many beats of the story already; people will be attacked, the survivors changing too, until McBride closes in on the beast and discovers how to stop it. A classic in many ways. There's appeal in a classic story told well for me, but there's also a fresh appeal in this one's approach. Details of the creature design, origin and behavior which bring out the eerie and bleak style of horror. The character of the family involved. And most of all for me, the period setting, and location. The house, the village and the surrounding woods all make for a memorable, creepy, and gorgeous visual for the story to live in—a crucial element for gothic tales.

The imagery of the silver teeth was a great touch. There are many good details like that.

I have a soft spot for the sort of low-tech horror that happens here. Someone taking the time to load their muzzleloader rifle before firing an important shot brings the same sort of suspense as a modern-day scene wishes it could when it makes characters suddenly clumsy in their panic to load something that should take two seconds. The army takes days to arrive unlike modern cops, so there is no need to fabricate a reason why outside help doesn't come. Suddenly a single threat becomes so monstrous that you wonder how it will ever be dealt with. A great example of how less is more. Without having to overblow the horror element to get attention, the film has plenty of spare time to spend on character and lore development. 

While it's not my new favorite movie or anything, I'm at a loss for any significant flaw here. The one thing that comes to mind is that Boyd Holbrook isn't British, and that is apparent when he speaks next to his British castmates. He errs on the subtle side mostly which is smart, but sometimes he'll say something that just plain sounds wrong. I enjoy watching Holbrook far too much to care though. And as far as performance goes, everyone hits the spot. Besides the spotty accent, Holbrook feels every bit the gothic horror hero, balancing that simple and able determination of old-fashioned leads with the undercurrent of past wounds that keeps audiences engaged. Kelly Reilly's soft strength is perfect for the mother, as is complex coldness Alistair Petrie brings to the father. The children are excellent, and the supporting cast a vital and winning addition.

The daughter's old timey accent was flawless.

The slow, depressed gothic approach to the horror element won't be for people looking for a more intense, action-heavy, or scream-inducing horror experience, but it gets the tone exactly right for my tastes. It's the sort of movie you can dig into—and one that digs into you right back. The ending seals it all into a neat and emotionally resonate package, leading me to the observation that this is a story of singular vision; written, directed, and even shot by the same man. And with minimal interference, his vision comes through with deft skill and purposeful heart. I would praise it for that even if I didn't find much personal worth in the story itself. The Cursed or Eight for Silver, whatever it is called, this monster movie of old-fashioned sensibilities is worth seeking out.

Top Gun: Maverick

Spoiler-free!

The phenomenon of Top Gun: Maverick isn't that it's an exceptionally good high quality summer blockbuster—it's simply that high quality summer blockbusters haven't existed for about five years. (And even then they were a dying breed.) Likewise, the magic of Top Gun: Maverick isn't that it's the greatest gap-sequel ever made—it's more that no other sequel made so many years later has ever been able to boast of having a worthy reason to exist.

And yet here we are, our socks knocked off by another one of Tom Cruise's filmmaking efforts. He may be the last person making movies who actually cares whether his products are entertaining or not. Here, he returns as his original character, Pete Mitchell, callsign Maverick, assigned back to Top Gun to train an elite batch of aviators for a specific, daring, and possibly deadly mission. One candidate, callsign Rooster (Miles Teller) is the son of Maverick's old co-pilot who died in the first movie, and tension rises between them as Maverick struggles between his job of picking the best team to risk their lives on the mission, and his own personal mission of protecting his friend's son.

It's a pretty sweet set up, ripe for drama, but not so complex as to take away time from the entertainment of training exercises, which range from aerial dogfights to playing football on the beach. For a side plot, Maverick takes up a romance with a former flame, Jennifer Connelly, and before you know it, I was wishing Tom Cruise wasn't in the movie so much—because the one thing left unfulfilled is the dynamics between the candidates. The loose definition of their unique personalities made me wish for more. And then Hangman, the Iceman equivalent, and his antagonistic relationship with Rooster is rendered pointless by Rooster's more convincing antagonistic relationship to Maverick—but even that is put on hold for too long. When it comes due is when the movie starts to really shine.

I would have liked the movie to split time between Maverick's antics and what the candidates are up to when he's not around, but at the same time I get it. It's the Tom Cruise show because the film wouldn't exist without him. You can't begrudge him taking the spotlight, or deny that everything he does is entertaining. I just can't help but wonder if it would have been better had it been more balanced. Just a tad. In that light, it was the third act that sold the film for me. When everything comes to a head, and it starts to feel like an equal character match-up between Maverick and Rooster. This section also has most of the thrilling flying action (on which a Tom Cruise movie will never, ever skimp) and the most real stakes and tension as they take on the deadly mission.

The whole movie builds to this point, and it doesn't disappoint in any aspect. It has the realness that Cruise is known for to make you feel it—the thrill that can only come when there's also a notable lack of CGI. I got a big kick out of seeing the actors react while inside actual, actually flying fighter jets. And because everything was set up previously, the whole act is a neat series of payoff after payoff after payoff, each one more satisfying and rewarding than the last. Character drama and fun action mix together to splendid results, and an old-fashioned magic of storytelling comes to life. It's all so simple and won me over so easily that I wonder how the art was ever lost in the first place.

So, if Top Gun: Maverick is great and a phenomenon just because every other modern film is bad and worthless, that doesn't change the fact. It has the magic, and it is a phenomenon. It's dastardly entertaining in ways I thought films had forgotten to be. Not exceptional in the big picture, but certainly exceptional for its time. My hope is this: that this rare blockbuster isn't a throwback to good and entertaining movies at all—but the instigator of a resurgence.

Flashback

Spoiler-free!

Saddled with the news that his mother no longer remembers him and will die in a few days, Fred (Dylan O'Brien) begins to fall away from his normal life, wife, and boring office job, going on a mental odyssey through his past to find out what happened to a girl he forgot he knew in high school, who vanished after they took a perception-altering drug the night before finals.

Written and directed by Christopher MacBride.

This unexpectedly wise and thoughtful film is a drug trip movie—and it GOES FOR IT. Its focus on mentality and non-linear structure reminded me of Charlie Kaufman's writing. (I'm Thinking of Ending Things, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind) But instead of Kaufman's fantasy-like quirkiness, here it feels like science fiction, and goes so far into the weird, the trippy, and the unreal, that it touches on horror. It genuinely frightened me in a way a horror movie never has. It plays like suspense and drama, with nothing explicitly scary happening, but because of how hard in leans into the creepy side—this semi-scifi underworld that's down the rabbit's hole—it becomes effectively terrifying and disturbing on a mental level. Watching it felt like entering a shifted state of reality, or a nightmare that you think is real.

There is this glorious, relentless use of match cutting that I absolutely love. The plot tends to stay with two main timelines, and with the constant use of matching as the movie cuts from one time to another, the plotlines of past and present are tied closely together, to the point where they become one plotline rather than two. The bleak, subdued tone helps the suspense get under your skin, and the muted colors brings out the subtle ethereal quality. There's a masterful balance of information reveal. Though the plot is complex and ungrounded in physicality, it's intentional about the information, clues, and details it's giving you. I always knew what was happening, yet was always confused enough to want to understand more. It never explained itself in so many words, yet I always felt in sync with what it was saying.

Dylan O'Brien's acting skill continues to impress. I have this perception of him as an action lead, (which he cultivates, obviously) and certainly he's great at those, but that makes him an unusual choice for a movie about a mental journey. He brings his innate physically and high energy to this more subdued role, and it adds another whole layer to the project. His pressurized performance heightens what might become dry and flat under someone more low-key. Even though the movie is ethereal and bleak, there is an underlying sense of immediacy and urgency throughout, and O'Brien brings that out in a natural way while still being able to play into the dull discontentment of the character. 

I got a lot out of it. Its themes and moral arguments, from my perspective, were brilliantly presented and never for one second preached. I felt like I was discovering it myself, as if I shared in Fred's revelation. Someone else may find the point or the main idea to be slightly different because of the subtlety, but whatever you may see, I think it is universally an encouraging conclusion—and emotionally rewarding to a degree few movies achieve. Even if you don't pick up exactly what I did, or exactly what it was laying down, there is clear intentionality behind the presentation. It was thoughtfully and indistinguishably woven into the story. The set-up hidden until the payoff, so we don't see where it's going until it gets there. And wise in choosing a destination. 

Wise. It seems odd to use that word to describe a drug trip movie, but here we are—and I mean it. There is not only smarts and skill used in crafting this freaky, creepy, and heartfelt film, but wisdom, too.

Love and Monsters

Spoiler-free!

Seven years after the earth is accidentally turned into an apocalyptic wilderness inhabited by giant, mutated insects and reptiles, survivor Joel (Dylan O'Brien) finally reestablishes contact with his long-lost girlfriend, Aimee (Jessica Henwick). He's useless as far as monster-killing goes, and her underground colony is 80 miles away from his, but he's determined to be with her again, and rekindle what they had. So off he goes, braving the monsters for love.

Don't settle for an unfulfilled life. Even if it's the apocalypse!

I'll put it simply: it's a refreshing adventure, and a blast of entertainment. Joel meets a friendly dog who joins him, then joins in with an old man (Michael Rooker) and his unofficially adopted daughter (Ariana Greenblatt). He meets and runs from many gleefully-rendered scifi monsters, eventually learning how to survive them. It has everything I could think to ask for in an action/adventure film. It's brightly colored. Fun to watch. With engaging action sequences that don't exist just to fill a quota. And moments of wonder, which every adventure film needs to be complete. It doesn't forget the heart, and has sweet genuineness to hold it all together. It's not breaking new ground on its genres; it's just filling the established mold with high quality material.

I don't even have a "but" to add to that. It's not gonna be my new favorite movie or anything, I just don't have any complaints. There was one thing I was expecting the film to do that it didn't and felt like a loose end, but I think it was mostly me projecting that made it a thread at all. The characters are archetypal, but that's not a problem when they're done with enough dedication. And by my calculations, dedication is Dylan O'Brien's greatest feature as an actor. If a script gives him something solid, he seems incapable of squandering it. He always plays a variation of himself, but who cares—he's clearly gunning to be the next Tom Cruise, and I think he's got the job in the bag.

Not everyone can channel entertainment so effectively.

Movies like this ride on charm and how high the entertainment quality can go. And O'Brien isn't lacking on leading man skills but to that end he still gets charm backup in the form of an unrelentingly adorable dog actor. They worked so well together that it makes me wonder why more movies don't include talented doggies. It's not like he was vital to the plot or anything. He simply made the movie better by making it more entertaining. The CGI wasn't anything to write to your long-distance girlfriend about, but it wasn't bad either and far from bland visually, which makes it actively good in my book; adding to the entertainment. As does the creature designs. And the good-natured comedy. And the way it steps into serious, dark drama, but doesn't wallow in it.

Ah, entertainment. Sometimes you need an escape, and this movie is eager to give it to you. Unexpectedly, it has more to give on top of that. Everyone knows you can't make a film these days without a nice, fluffy message to make it feel complete. Some universal truth to reiterate in a positive way, so we can walk away from our entertaining escape feeling reinvigorated toward real life. Accidentally, this little flick hits the nail on the head with a universal message that it couldn't have known, at the time of writing and filming, would be so relevant to the state of humanity circa 2020.

This movie knows what's up more than it realized it knew.

Love and Monsters doesn't shy away from the fact that there's danger in the world. It openly acknowledges it, and shows how painful it can be. Then, it wisely points out that being afraid of said danger is only a hinderance. It says there are things out there worth braving the danger for—personal, and communal. It shows us that the world isn't as bad as rumors and built-up fear sometimes makes it seem; and that hiding doesn't exclude you from danger. It values freedom over safety, and suggests that freedom leads to true safety, rather than a false illusion of it. Then it literally says, "There is a great big, beautiful, inspiring world out there. Go. Live your life. It won't be easy but it'll be worth it."

Leave it to some unassuming little adventure flick about giant bug monsters to remind us to have a little courage in this real world. No matter how scary or dangerous life gets to be, there's no excuse for not living it to its fullest—let alone not living it at all.

The Vast of Night

Spoiler-free!

What if... a 50's era scifi B-movie... but artistically?

That's the question that serves as pitch and premise for The Vast of Night. It introduces itself like an episode of The Twilight Zone. Then the camera moves into the TV world and we meet Everett (Jake Horowitz) and Fay (Sierra McCormick). It's the night of the big basketball game in small-town New Mexico, and everyone's going but them. Everett is the local radio station DJ, and Fay is manning the telephone switchboard. The two are friends because of a mutual fascination with sound, and the technology that allows them to record and broadcast it. When Fay hears a strange sound interrupt Everett's show, and then come through the phone lines, they team up to find out what it is, where it comes from, and what it means.

An Amazon Original, available on Prime.

And the movie delivers exactly what it promises -- an artistically built scifi tale that feels like it jumped straight out of the 1950's. The first thing you'll notice is that there is constant dialogue, particularly in the opening and set-up, as important information is fed through casual conversations. Packed full of 50's jargon, and delivered at speed. Second thing you'll notice is that the camera is very particular. It follows its characters as is it were an invisible entity stalking them, with many long takes and tracking shots, often keeping its distance. And the third thing, is that the lighting is dark. Really dark. The movie seems interested to highlight the audio element -- and why not considering its premise -- and to that end, it cuts to a black screen at least twice so that we have no choice but to exclusively listen to what's being said.

The dark, and the stalking camera are for me, both admirable and frustrating. For one, I love when the frame is allowed to open up and isn't always right on the characters faces. I like to see where they are (in the world and in relation to each other) and be able to observe body language. I also like when characters feel slightly obscured so that I'm naturally compelled to pay closer attention to see and understand them. If it's possible to go too far with that, this movie may have found the line. There was no moment that didn't feel obscured. Both leads wear thick-rimmed glasses that seem intended to hide their eyes, even in closeups. But the camera knows what it's doing. There's always a glint; a flash; and just enough light to show you what you need to see.

And as an admirer of details I appreciate that careful dedication.

This method would fall flat if the acting weren't up to snuff. Good thing it is. And not just passable; the performances, characterization, and casting -- though it's a smaller movie and the leads are unknowns -- are all quite frankly fantastic. The thing that impressed me the most. It took about ten minutes for me to fall in love with Everett and Fay. Their developed personalities, the way they're written, the way the bounce off each other, and the easy-going, full-bodied performances the actors give all adds up to what won me over about this tale. Even though I kept searching for more, the movie never failed to convey what it wanted, and without ever going overboard. No slamming ideas on your head. No blatant exposition. No overacting. The craft is undeniable.

The movie is as perfect as it set out to be. It achieved what it intended, and I applaud it for that. For me though, there was something wanting. Something that's hard to pinpoint. I watched the movie over again to think it through, and liked it even better, but it was still there. Or, not there. What it lacked for me, was a moment of truth. A thematic conclusion; a reason for the story to have been told. And I think the movie did intend there to be one. It's spoilers so I won't say, but like the rest of the movie, it was subtle, and implied, but clear. Still, I felt a lack. I wanted more. Because the movie holds your attention so well and because the characters are so lovable, that lack doesn't destroy the film. Still it frustrates me to think of what might have been.

If it had been made more for my sensibilities, this could've been a new favorite. But in a way, it still is. 

2020 is an oddball year to put it lightly, and this is the first new film in a full two months that I'm certain to remember by the end of the year. Personal lack or not, this movie gave me joy and is extremely welcome. There are some technical aspects to it that I'd like to see how it was done. The tone is both familiar and old-fashioned. It builds smoothly to a visceral climax, always with a frantic undercurrent that keeps you engaged. And though I still want more out of the conclusion, I can't deny that it fits with the rest of the film and the goals it set for itself. So -- what if a 50's era scifi B-movie, artistically? That sounds like a sound worth hearing!

For Those in Peril

Spoiler-free!

Continuing my mission to impart my strange love for random obscure films onto people who don't much care -- that would be you, so thanks for reading -- I now come to For Those in Peril. A modern folktale that straddles the psychological line between fantasy and reality. It tells of a small Scottish fishing village in the aftermath of a mysterious boating accident where 5 of the 6 crew members were lost at sea.

Written and directed by Paul Wright. Streaming free on Amazon Prime.

The survivor is Aaron (George MacKay), younger brother of one of the lost. While the village mourns and raises questions of a "Jonah," Aaron becomes consumed by the idea that his brother and the other men are not dead at all -- but that he can somehow get them back. This idea stems from a tale told commonly in the village of a Devil that lives in the sea, stealing people and happiness away, and must be killed to restore everything to the way it was before. Aaron believes he's right, but is he? Or is he simply going crazy, as the town, and even his mother (Kate Dickie) thinks?

Oddly, that's where I feel like leaving you. But I don't suppose I can fully recommend a movie on premise alone. For Those in Peril is a tough sell, though. Not for the easily bored, as it spends much of its meager run time crafting a tone almost separately from its plot. It compiles dramatic, artistic shots that don't convey much of substance, but do effectively bring a sense of the weird and the unsure which is greatly useful as we go deeper into the uncertainty that the plot brings as well. The movie is also small and small budgeted, though it doesn't lack anything for being so. It accomplishes what it needs to, and often accomplishes it beautifully.

I love when small movies know how to use a budget. There's no lack of style or impact here. 

If the film did have a bigger budget or loftier goals in its technical elements, I can only see that being a distraction, not something that'd do the story or characters any good. A handheld camera and rural Scottish landscape may have been all that is used, but many shots are stuck in my head, due to the raw impact they bring. There are also brief interludes of camcorder footage used for flashbacks, and the intentional low-quality becomes ingrained into the style of the picture. It's used at first alongside soundbites of narration to get information out. Then later, the grainy footage reveals information and connects dots in a more disembodied way that is eerily effective.

I found this one when I was on the lookout for George MacKay movies, and though this film impressed me and has stuck with me beyond his involvement, I think he is the standout, and the most important element. No one does the decent into madness deal like he does, and his extremely internalized performance here is both frightening and endearing. The balance is important. Kate Dickie as his mother is equally as strong, perhaps even more so, and with less than half the screen time. Together they carry the film, while Michael Smiley and Nichola Burley round out the vaguely recognizable cast.

The sea-themed hymn, Eternal Father, Strong to Save gives it its title: "Oh, hear us when we cry to Thee, for those in peril on the sea!"

With a well of disembodied details to unpack at leisure, memorable imagery, two rich and feeling performances at the center, and a bold ending that doesn't hold back, one thing For Those in Peril manages without a doubt is to keep away from the middling. You might find it boring and bad, or you might find yourself thinking about it for days afterward as I did, pondering the questions it raises, and falling a little bit in love. I went out searching and came back with a gem; so who knows? You might could, too.

Onward

Spoiler-free!

In a fantasy realm where magic had faded from popular existence, two elf brothers, Barley and Ian, get a present from their father, who died before Ian was born. In the package, a wizard staff, a Phoenix Gem, and instructions for a spell -- a spell that will bring their dad back for 24 hours. Barley is a history buff and obsessed with magic, but it's Ian who makes the spell work... well, halfway. The gem explodes and their dad is just a pair of khakis, so the boys set out on a quest to find another Phoenix Gem and finish the spell before their time is up.

DID SOMEONE SAY "QUEST"??? SIGN ME UP.

I've been tired of Disney Pixar for about ten years, so it's about time for a revival! I knew the moment I saw the poster -- where high fantasy is blended with urban fantasy -- that I had a great chance of loving it, and I was right. Even if the story wasn't great I would have still enjoyed the distinctly fantasy world building, down to things like small dragons kept as pets instead of dogs, Valor being a van model, and angry fairies in motorcycle gangs eating Pixy Stix by the straw-full. That stuff was creative and fun, and the exact kind of attention to detail that I love to see in Pixar, but this is, in my opinion, the best Pixar fare since 2008, and has more working for it than an exciting and fleshed-out world.

Tom Holland plays Ian, and Barley is Chris Pratt. Two charming and talented actors, and their characters are the main reason this film works as well as it does. The way they're written and played. Pratt has first-rate hilarious line-delivery, and if anyone can make awkwardness likable, it's Tom Holland. The way the two characters' personalities clash and complement each other is heavenly, and you get lost in their easy conversations, whether they're arguing, having fun, in the middle of action, or anything in between. Ian is the main protagonist, and he makes a check list of things he wants to improve about himself.  Then, each stop along their quest pushes him unaware toward his goal.

I found it pleasantly predictable in many ways, but it had some wonderfully unexpected moments too, when it needed them.

And Barley could have easily fallen into the comic relief character trap (considering how effortlessly hilarious he is) but instead the character is fleshed out in some unexpectedly mature ways. He seems like the kind of guy that doesn't take anything seriously, but then there's the bridge scene -- or the hilariously epic "Rise to Valhalla" moment -- where his seriousness is truly serious, but still funny. Humor isn't something you turn on when it's comedy time and off when it's serious time. He's just genuine, and therefore can be both. And that's how the whole film is. It never announces it's time to switch gears; it's a constant flow of adventure, with all the ups and downs it needs present, but not showcased or ballooned to unnatural proportions.

Pixar has finally come up with an original story that appeals to me as an adult. Sure, it's still a kiddie film, not intellectually complex, and follows a basic and straightforward story structure, but every beat it hits is earned. It got a toe in the door with the fantasy world, then swept me up for the ride in a way I haven't allowed myself to go on with Pixar since Toy Story 3 introduced me to the gross feel of emotional manipulation. But Onward feels right in every way: The quest-style structure of little adventure vignettes built on top of each other... the way every detail is set up for later but not in an obvious way... a conflict that comes naturally from the core of the characters -- and a resolution that hits home because the story speaks for itself and doesn't need to be forced.

I see people dismiss it as "B-tier Pixar" and wonder when they forgot to value stories for the joy they bring.

I'm happy to know Pixar is still capable of winning storytelling along with its usual features of unique premises and beautiful animation. Onward is everything a great and worthy adventure should be -- full of Heart's Fire, you might say; and light, charming humor; and warm characters; and sweeping glorious fun; and inspired world building. And no, perhaps it won't appeal to everyone as strongly as it does me. But that, I think, is the great thing about Pixar. At their best, they send risky, niche stories out into the wild, and every once in a while, we wind up with something magical.

Color Out of Space

Spoiler-free!

This is a weird one, and that makes me happy. Modernizing the horror short story by the master of cosmic horror, H.P. Lovecraft, Color Out of Space tells of a mysterious event that takes place on an alpaca farm, where a meteorite lands and begins to alter the life around it.

Directed by Richard Stanley.

The event is witnessed by Ward (Elliot Knight) who stumbles across the farm as he does a survey of water tables in the secluded woods of Arkham County. The farm residents are the Gardner's, father Nathan (Nicholas Cage) mother Theresa (Joely Richardson) daughter Lavinia (Madeleine Arthur), and two sons, Benny (Brendan Meyer) and Jack (Julian Hilliard). After the meteorite crashes in their front yard they begin to experience an exponential growth of strange and disturbing happenings, that we know will lead nowhere good.

We don't get many straight-up H.P. Lovecraft movies, so I knew I was going to watch this no matter how bad it was, but I am genuinely impressed at how good an adaptation this is. It's set modern-day and there are a handful of other detail changes done, but with Lovecraft, the appeal isn't in exactly what happens, but the feel evoked -- and this felt every bit like the Lovecraftian menagerie of epic unknown terror that it should. The horror has that insane edge to it, and it creeps up slowly, focusing on the way the mystery effects the characters' mental states.

I loved this wobbly effect visible in the background.

It also withholds, but not so much that you feel cheated. You imagine, and then you get to see for yourself. And the effects are pretty darn fantastic. Sometimes in the vein of John Carpenter with practicals, sometimes with almost experimental digital -- rendering madness, and the indescribable. And it is cool. Violent and cosmic cool -- both in the concept and the way it is pulled off. As someone who doesn't like to be actively scared during a film, it was ideal for me. When you see how terrifying it must be for the characters, but are amazed, amused, and entertained yourself.

Despite having a fairly low budget, the movie doesn't lack anything, due to the original story dictating a remote location and tiny cast of characters. The woods and farm in the area are beautiful, and are made up in small ways to have an otherworldly vibe even before the changes begin. A lot of thought was put into the layout and details of the sets -- they stick in your mind with clear and unique imagery. And besides Nicholas Cage, no one is a big name, but they all sell the weird and the horror plus some. My favorites were Lavinia and Ward. Cage is like the cherry on top that brings out the crazy. Like he was born to play Lovecraft characters.

I would love to see more adaptations in this vein.

This film goes for it. The changes made are only to modernize, and to make the happenings film-able. Though Lovecraft's stories are not very cinematic, the solution, this film knew, isn't to try and "fix" the story. It fleshes out the characters and has to make up narrative scenes, but they are all in service to doing justice to the tone and nature of the story -- which is what's important. I was in awe by the end. It was wild and beautiful, disturbing and gleeful, and epic, and mad -- a true Lovecraftian film.

Richard Jewell

This drama tells a story that some know very well and other may not have heard of at all. It's the true story of how Richard (Paul Walter Hauser), a security guard in the Atlanta Olympic games in 1996, spotted and reported a bomb on his shift. How his actions saved hundreds of lives. And how he then came to be unfairly blamed for the attack by the media.

The story would be too unbelievable if it weren't true. 

It's directed by Clint Eastwood, and as such, comes from a perspective that's uniquely his. See, Clint Eastwood is an established and confident director, who's not out to hone his craft, or advance an artistic style, or even to win awards for himself. He wanted to tell this story because he thought it was worth telling the world what kind of a man Richard Jewell really was; and so that's exactly what he did, plain and simple. The narrative isn't experimental or from some fresh new perspective; it tells the story straightforwardly, without fuss. Moment to moment, it lays down the facts of the case, and slowly we watch as a life is built up, torn down, and rebuilt again.

It's deceptively simple, especially in a day when studios feel the need to force-feed emotion to their audience, to the point even, where the audience has come to expect it. This film isn't built on emotion but information, and yet I found it to easily be one of the most emotionally powerful films released in the 2019 year. I've always held that the best way for a film to craft its tone is to reflect its lead, and that's what it does, matching Jewell's steadfast, focused, and simple way. He's the kind of person whose core is hard to get to, who doesn't wear his heart on his sleeve, and who has strict ideas of the world around him that dictates his actions.

Oh and did I mention that Sam Rockwell is in this movie?

Like Watson Bryant (Sam Rockwell) the brash but genuine lawyer that Richard hires when his life turns upside down, this movie sticks by his side longer than most would bother to, and eventually, we get to see who he is. Paul Walter Hauser plays him in such a minutely precise way, that to look at him it's near-impossible to see anything but the character, who feels like, and is, a real person. He's certainly not a typical movie hero type, but through the film's patient eyes we sympathize with him, are angry and frustrated for him, and root for him to win the day and overcome the impossible. It's an immaculate performance that hits every right note to win us over but still make the character real and flawed and honest.

If you know me, you know Sam Rockwell is one of my favorite actors, and here he does his usual fantastic job. Hauser may be the main character, but it's Rockwell who drives the film. He's the only one who has the energy to pull entertainment out of the situation which is reality was nothing short of a waking eternal nightmare. Kathy Bates is also there giving an award-worthy performance as Richard's mother. She is also fully submerged in the role. Jon Hamm is the FBI agent in charge of the bombing investigation, who leaks the story to the press, namely Olivia Wilde, whose cynical, careless character was a delight to hate, with a surprise or two later on that impressed me greatly.

Despite this scene being as remarkably moving as it was...

The only slight problem is one that was insurmountable: the conclusion just isn't as satisfying as it should have been. That's life. If the real-life story had a great end point where everything wrapped up perfectly I'm sure it would have been made into a film before now. But life's not fair, even when people fight hard and justice wins. Mr. Eastwood wanted us to know that I guess. Maybe so that we would do our part to prevent injustice in the first place. The story of Richard Jewell is already worth telling; that makes it a story worth remembering too.

Jojo Rabbit

Spoiler-free!

I hesitate to start this review of Taika Watiti's latest project, a hilarious and sad dramedy that satirizes Nazism, because I don't want to talk about Marvel anymore -- too late already. And anyway, I can't think of any better way to describe the way this movie succeeds in walking a thin and unexpected tightrope that even Waititi himself has previously failed to traverse.

No, I'm not going to compare the Marvel Cinematic Universe to Nazis. 

Maybe you liked Thor: Ragnarok, and the way Waititi used Marvel Brand humor in it. If so, go see this movie. If you thought Ragnarok was funny, you'll think this film is hilarious. What I'm here to say though, is a slightly more shocking revelation: that even though I hated the humor in Ragnarok, I still thought Jojo Rabbit was not only wonderfully hilarious, but also incredibly moving and upsetting, without forcing the comedy to give way to the darkness, or vice versa. It's a black comedy, but usually dark comedies don't make me laugh out loud. And usually laugh-out-loud comedies don't make my heart ache. So this little rabbit is a strange beast indeed.

Starring Roman Griffin Davis as Jojo, a nine-year-old Nazi Youth recruit who dreams of being best friends with der Führer. An imaginary version of Adolf (played by Waititi) appears to him from time to time to council him in the ways of the Reich. Jojo's mother (Scarlett Johansson) is hiding a Jewish girl (the one-and-only Thomasin McKenzie) in the walls, and when Jojo discovers her, his loyalty to the Nazi ideology is tested in life-changing ways.

He comes of age and must chose a path as he is slowly taught what Nazism really is.

This film's greatest feature is its unique style of comedy. Everyone in the film does cheesy German accents, and most of the jokes, as expected, are about Nazism and WWII. But because Waititi writes with his very specific New Zealand-style comedy, the two elements blend in an inimitable way. The result is winning. The jokes are often dark, yet presented with such good-natured sincerity that the films stays light. Now comes the Marvel comparison. Because this movie, much like they, and specifically Thor: Ragnarok, attempt to blend humor with serious drama -- sometimes within the same moment.

If you know me, you know that this is one of the things that bothered me most about Ragnarok (and the MCU of late in general). Because when you put humor and seriousness together, the result always seems to be that the humor undercuts the serious drama and renders it null and void. I won't say that Jojo Rabbit's drama is equally as effective as it would be as a straight drama, but it is, without a doubt, as effective as it meant to be. It can hit hard. I think this movie does two things that the MCU has yet to try to make the mixture work: One, that it is a dark comedy in the first place, so even in the "pure" humor scenes there is always an undercurrent of the horrors that occurred in Germany during WWII.

From the horrors, it admirably refuses to shy away.

And the second thing that makes the mixture work is that it's done at a higher rate of swapping tones. The MCU (I'm sorry to write it this many times) will usually have a serious moment that is capped by humor. Jojo Rabbit, within the same amount of run-time, will have switched from humor to serious, to humor, to serious, to humor again -- and I think most importantly, it ends the exchanges with seriousness. That lets the audience know that ultimately, it's the real things; the heart and the drama, that is most important in the film. That makes a world of difference.

On that note, Sam Rockwell stole the show for me, being his usually brilliantly hilarious self with a role catered to him, that melts into poignancy later on. Stephen Merchant also hits a perfect balance of tones. Archie Yates as Jojo's Hitler Youth friend is a scene-stealer. Johansson tips toward drama as she's meant to and performs her heart out. McKenzie has that special, sweetly tough quality about her, and it works wonderfully. Waititi limits himself, which sharpens his wild-card character. And 11-year-old Roman in his introductory role carries the movie, despite all the seasoned acting strength that surrounds him. The movie is about him, and the focus on Jojo, his mind, his arc and his struggles, is sharp.

And it does it all while being riotously funny!

I'm glad the berating of this movie for making fun of Nazis didn't last long. Turns out there's clearly nothing wrong with making fun of evil, and neither does this movie forget that evil is what it's making fun of. It doesn't pull its punches but also never loses sight of the light that it wants to promote while it beats down the darkness. Its laughs won't soon grow old, but neither will its tender heart. Jojo Rabbit is a brave little film.

The Man Who Killed Don Quixote

Spoiler-free!

When Toby (Adam Driver) was in film school, he made a student film in Spain and cast locals to act. Among them was a shoemaker (Jonathan Pryce) who really became Don Quixote in the role, and a girl (Joana Ribeiro) with whom Toby had an innocent fling. Ten years later Toby is in Spain again, filming another iteration of Quixote -- this time for a vodka commercial. He's having an affair with The Boss's (Stellan Skarsgård) wife (Olga Kurylenko), flirting with the script girl whose name he can't remember, and is, on the whole, a careless money-obsessed cynic.

I guess that means it's time for life-restoring adventures!

He happens upon a copy of his old film, discovers that the village he shot in is nearby, goes for a visit to revel in the simpler, more romantic time in his life, and discovers that everything's changed and it's all his fault. For one, the girl, encouraged by his insistence that she could make it big, set off to do so and instead fell into prostitution. And the old shoemaker? He went crazy and never stopped acting like he was Don Quixote. In fact, he really believes he really is Don Quixote de la Mancha -- and when he sees Toby again, he mistakes him for his squire Sancho. Next thing Toby knows, he's off having quixotic adventures with the old man, in the bizarre and fantastic fever-dream style of Terry Gilliam.

I'm no expert on Terry Gilliam's writing/directing style, but this feels like him through and through -- and whether you'll enjoy it probably rides on whether or not you enjoy that specific style. You might enjoy it a little more of you like, say, Adam Driver, who's great, and why wouldn't you like a movie more for his presence? But Gilliam's style is so present and has to be the ultimate deciding factor. If you've seen Brazil, it felt like a modern fantasy version of that to me. There's darkness and comedy, relentless craziness, and brief, valuable moments of sincerity; all tightly packed together. It honestly did feel like experiencing a fever-dream.

Like. Honestly. It's WEIRD.

I enjoy fever dreams because they're completely bonkers logically, but you accept their premises without a second thought. But they also get frustrating easily, and this film lines up there, too. I did watch it twice because my rental was for a week, and so I should say that the second viewing was much more relaxed. I noticed great details embedded in the hectic frames. Still, besides the initial crazed vibe, most of the episodic adventures of the second act give off a persistent ambling feeling -- like all the pointless rabbit trails that prevent you from getting to your dream's goal. Once the third act gets going though, everything focuses again and delivers on all the first act's promises.

And even in that middle section there are great moments, both of the comic and the dramatic variety. The comedy is mostly the natural result of the extravagant and ridiculous situations Toby gets into, but there were a few particular lines or visual gags that felt like real comedy and made me laugh. Everything happens a such a relentless pace, it often verged on losing me completely -- but right before that would happen it always seemed to stop for a quiet moment, just brief enough do I could take a breath and it was off again. It was impressive how it kept up energy, but at the same time runs the risk of losing the less determined viewers along the way.

Yeah, it's crazy. Decidedly crazy. But it's distinctly charming too.

Funny Adam Driver is a blast. He's the straight man to Jonathan Pryce's dramatic lunatic and their developing dynamic is both interesting and amusing. But sincere, romantic Adam Driver is why I'm here. Toby's arc of restoring chivalry to his life is what holds all the wacky adventures together, and Driver sometimes turns on a dime from silly to deep, and then back again. Anyone who's seen the new Star Wars series knows he has talent, but he's seriously wasted on action-heavy blockbusters. This movie is physical and practically the definition of "hijinks ensued" but because of the small scale, it never distracts too much from the characters involved. 

It was great seeing him and Pryce pair up and constantly dominate the screen. And while Driver is fantastic, Pryce absolutely gets lost in the role. I technically knew it was Jonathan Pryce of course, but there was never even a flicker in which I saw him as such. He was this bizarre old man, Don Quixote. And he was the shy and weary shoemaker. I'm sure the appearance and costumes helped his cause, but no matter how you slice it, this is character acting at its finest. Joana Ribeiro as Angelica the girl impresses too, and Stellan Skarsgård and Olga Kurylenko plenty fun, but don't have particularly intricate roles. 

This is the Driver and Pryce show. 

Not a film that will appeal to all. It's crusty and covered in dried mud -- like Toby's face -- but it seems the more I familiarize myself with it, the less the relentless craziness feels abrasive and overwhelming, and the more the sweetness and character moments feel warm; and the more the detailed humor becomes apparent. I guess it's the sort of movie that you have to be willing to invest a little time into. There's a lot to unpack, a lot to love, and a lot that's just overly prominent packaging. A facade that tones down as investment deepens.

Not everyone will be willing to put the time in, and the rewards may vary. But hey, Terry Gilliam was invested for thirty years, bringing this story to life. After all that, the two hours and twelve minutes it takes to experience the result is nothing short of a grand, adventuresome privilege. 

Monster Trucks

Spoiler-free!

Hear me out on this one. I promise, I'm being serious!

When it released in 2016, Monster Trucks -- featuring the premise of tentacled monsters who exist inside and drive trucks -- was clearly for kids. If you saw the trailer you probably got a great sense of the ultimate ridiculousness. And why would it be anything more than literal monster trucks crashing into things? Nothing more is needed to sell its target audience. But this little gem undersold itself in marketing, and I'm here to set the record straight.

Directed by Chris Wedge (the Ice Age movies). Screenplay by Derek Connolly (Kong: Skull Island and the Jurassic World series). Combine the best and craziest aspects of those movies and you get an idea of what this is like!

Starring Lucas Till as Tripp, the high school kid, Jane Levy as Meredith the girl, Barry Pepper as the mom's boyfriend, Amy Ryan as the mom, Thomas Lennon as the scientist guy, and Rob Lowe as the evil bad guy oil tycoon -- oil drilling goes so deep that they hit an underwater pocket of water and three monsters who feed off the oil are launched up to the surface. One escapes and is found by Tripp who just so happens to have a truck sans engine. He discoveres that his oil guzzling new friend is a pretty awesome engine substitute. Meredith joins the gang. Next thing you know they're in full blown chase sequences running from the bad guys out to get "Creech."

And the chase sequences are AWESOME. But back up for a sec because the setup is on point. It's silly --duh-- but it hits the marks and doesn't fudge anything. There's no messing around, and it knows what we're here for, but it also knows what makes a story work and doesn't skimp in the build-up. The bad guy's bad character is established. It teases us by not showing the monsters during the drilling incident. The scene where Tripp meets Creech is actually two scenes -- one that plays like a horror movie, and then another where he and we see how he really is. And how is he really? ADORABLE. Like if Toothless from How To Train Your Dragon was a dolphin/octopus hybrid.

SEE??? He can be pretty scary if he wants too, and the whole species is a cool, thought-out creation.

Things get established. The movie understands quality and how to craft it; but it also understands that it doesn't\ need a plot like The Dark Knight in order to be a good action/adventure film. It plays to its genre, and its audience. Things are straightforward, utilizing established tropes as shorthand to get to the meat of the matter fast. The action is designed for maximum entertainment per square inch, and to that end, it doesn't pretend to be realistic. If it did, its whole existence would be hypocritical. Instead it embraces the natural parameters of its heightened, silly, and fantastical existence and plays into it, being the best it can be within that, and doing a stunningly good job at every aspect it tackles.

Like, I kinda hated Meredith at first because she was a too talkative Smart Girl, and underestimating the film's intelligence, I figured she'd stay annoying. I was wrong, and liked her by the end. Tripp and Creech's friendship is at the center of the movie, and they take their time showing us how the meet and get to know each other. Creech's species is quite intelligent and though he doesn't talk they understand each other and have a dynamic that's more than easy to get behind. Tripp has a contentious relationship with his mom's boyfriend, who's the town sheriff, and that takes some good turns too. And I particularly loved Barry Pepper being there. Also Danny Glover in a small role!

It so unabashedly embraces itself that it unironically plays Home by Phillip Phillips at the end -- and owns every bit of it.

Most of the movie is extremely predictable. A wonderful thing in this case. When watching it, you think, "What would be the most awesome thing that could happen right now?" You think of it, and then it happens, every bit as awesomely as you hoped. Subverting expectations may have its place, but it certainly isn't welcome here. This movie aims to deliver the goods exactly as ordered. Its plot structure is incredibly clean and succinct, with traditional three-act rises and falls that feel like a smooth-sailing roller coaster of glee. It's time for action? Done, with a bang. Humor? It goes for it. Romance? Well, friendship first, this is a family film. Emotional beats? Kids, you'd better believe there are emotional beats in this movie because that's the fuel that brings stories to life!

Seriously, I went into this expecting something dumb to make fun of and laugh at. Instead I was laughing with it, having the biggest blast of gleeful action I've had since who knows when. And, I was impressed at every turn by the level of stakes, and the sweet little cheesy heart. A movie about monsters driving trucks had me invested. I can't emphasize this enough. There may have been plot holes. I wouldn't care if there were. You could pick apart its logic. I don't care. It doesn't matter. It's the kind of movie that earns its existence beyond the shallow depth of something Cinema Sins could detect. It's clean, family oriented, displays positive relationships and positive themes, and most importantly -- Monsters. And. Monster trucks!

I genuinely feel sorry for the people who can't enjoy it because it's silly. Silliness in itself isn't a negative, and this movie is the evidence!

Ridiculous, yes, but with effort and care as it should be, not in some cheap and lazy kiddie fodder way. A silly and quality movie simultaneously. Even the CGI and creature designs are top-notch. It looks amazing, is amazingly heartfelt, amazingly fun, cheesy, dopey, and that supremely heightened kind of unaffected cool that makes me burst out laughing to see. Popping with bright colors, palpable joy, cute little monster eyes, and giant truck tires bouncing across open plains and down the sides of mountains. Monster Trucks is everything a kid could want. And that includes your inner kid, too.

Currently streaming free on Amazon Prime.