Mortal Kombat (2021) - Review

Crappy washed-up MMA fighter Cole Young (Lewis Tan) finds out that his dragon-like birthmark actually designates him to be one of Earth's mightiest champions to save their realm from an interdimensional combat tournament called Mortal Kombat. Unfortunately for the pitiful pit fighter, he needs to quickly get up to snuff because the leader of Outrealm Shang Tsung (Chin Han) is dispatching some of his warriors out to kill the competition before the tournament officially begins. Yes, you read that right; MORTAL KOMBAT forgoes the easy layup of a violent martial arts tournament just so it can have a series of tepid fights and confusing warfare all in order to be nothing of substantial worth but to set up a sequel. Though this is far and away better than MORTAL KOMBAT: ANNIHILATION, the reboot does share some of the big problems that sunk that infamous sequel.

The script by Greg Russo and Dave Callaham is woefully poor, riddled with way too many cheeky references and in-jokes to cover up all of its shortcomings. Why complain about the shitty opening text screen or how all the heroes are assholes to each other when I can be a sheep and point and clap at the repetitive leg-sweeps, the usage of the famed uppercut, or cameos such as Shinnok's amulet? Wait, some of the people actually do their fatalities in all of their gloriously gory fashion? And there's also a random guy named Eddy Tobias?! That totally makes up for the absolutely stupid way all of the heroes have to find their hidden magical abilities. Or how a mouthy mercenary who is clearly evil is treated to be a savior of humanity until he "shockingly" might have a chance of allegiance for pathetically limp reasons. Or how the newly generated main protagonist is incredibly ineffectual on his own and utterly devoid of charisma to be the supposed prophetic leader of Earthrealm.

It further doesn't help that the script is filled with plot holes that would outstretch any portal generated by a thunder god or a soul-sucking sorcerer. I don't know what I suffered more from; Was it how a left-for-dead non-designated hero somehow arrived early and with ease to a secluded location than Earth's last remaining defenders of the realm? Or maybe it is how Earth's diety protector Raiden always has willy-nilly teleportation powers, including the ability to transport Earth's heroes into an ultra-safe void environment that Shang Tsung could never ever penetrate, but choses not to. Other written embarrassments include the eye-rolling pop culture laden insults (nearly all of whom just happen to be Warner Bros movies), an arcana power being easily defeated by modern medicine, and the rushed final third of the picture consisting of a big battle, a "major" death, then an immediate final series of brief fights. Then you have the fireworks factory that is Scorpion, one of if not the most popular character of the franchise. After an admittedly good prologue, the legendary hell ninja is goofily teased and teased until surprise, he pops up in time for one last fight. He also pops in to save the wimpy hero but we are supposed to not pay too much attention to that.  All of this would have been a fun shock if not for the sheer fact that he is all over the poster and all of the trailer and commercial media spoils nearly the entire fight.

Eerily similar to MK: ANNIHILATION, Warner Bros gave the film to an unproven director and it clearly shows. Simon McQuoid is adequate enough to make a couple of good scenes but they are all front loaded in the movie. He proceeds to go on auto-pilot for the rest of film when he isn't tanking a scene thanks to bad lighting or laughable editing. All of the actual combat scenes are often executed confusingly, due to bad camera placement or flat choreography or both, and are way too brief to be totally satisfying. The visual effects are a very mixed bag. Though I often hate CGI blood, I didn't really mind it too much here and the gory fatalities were pretty damn good at being gory. The effects crew also did a fine enough job with most of the special moves and a certain midboss character. On the other hand, one notable character is given robotic arms that look so fake and are so pitifully tiny that they immediately break the suspension and will cause you and your audience to burst out laughing every time you see them. And the less said about Raiden's eyes, the better. As for the acting, look: I spent a lot of this review ridiculing Cole Young and how he is written and shown on screen. It's nice that we got another non-white main character for this film franchise and Lewis Tan is probably a nice guy but he doesn't have the ability to shine past his character's bottomless shortcomings. The rest of the cast is serviceable enough but the only two to stand out at all are Joe Taslim and Hiroyuki Sanada as Sub-Zero and Scorpion respectively. Taslim does well as a total menace from beginning to end whenever the story remembers his character exists and Sanada brings some real gravitas as the tragic ninja when he's not distracting you with the fiddling of his mask.

As someone who's been in love with the franchise since its inception, still utterly adores the 1995 movie, warts and all, and continues to listen to its and the sequel's excellent house-and-metal soundtracks, I know that I will more than likely revisit this reboot more than once down the road and give far it more attention compared to better reviewed flicks. But time will not sand off the many harsh edges this disappointing reboot will forever have. To be honest, thanks to this being released via HBO Max, my time with it was actually more enjoyable even with all of the snickers and groans. If I saw this in theaters, I would have been more crestfallen and maybe even harsher against it.

FINAL REVIEW: 2 / 5

My Uncle John is a Zombie! - Review

It is barely two months into 2018 and already I have seen the absolute worst movie of the entire year. None of the junk coming straight out of Hollywood can match up with the putrid horror-comedy indie MY UNCLE IS A ZOMBIE! It's a mountain of shit created by a bunch of pathetic z-grade artists, all of whom refused to stop drinking the kool-aid and speak up against their writer/co-director/star/"living legend". John A. Russo has been banking on his cred as co-screenwriter of the 1968 horror classic NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD for his entire career, despite the sheer fact that (arguably) George Romero was the real vision of the project both in writing and directing. He also tries to proclaim how he helped shape one of the grandfathers of the zombie comedy sub-genre with THE RETURN OF THE LIVING DEAD, despite heavy evidence that he only shares credit on the story with two of his buddies and that famed screenwriter Dan O'Bannon was the auteur of the movie. His other films best explain who he really is: a hack filmmaker that enjoys sexy ladies and keeping his friends well paid rather than artistic integrity and making a well-shot, well-constructed, structurally sound movie. MY UNCLE JOHN IS A ZOMBIE! is no exception.


I should be explaining what the plot of the film is but quite frankly that's a tall order. Here's the short version: an elderly zombie named only Uncle John (John A. Russo), who can speak and really wants to fuck every pretty girl in sight, somehow becomes a celebrity and some rednecks want to kill him. Now let's break down the story some more so I can lay out how logic and common sense have no place in Russo's world of madness. The film takes place in the same world of NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD but then others say that it was just a movie, which is proved later on by the presence of its film poster. The zombie apocalypse is still going on but every normal human being still has electricity, can access their cell phones, drive their cars freely and/or produce a live television show. Some zombies are still brain dead minions shuffling around but then there's others that are like Uncle John and can return to somewhat normalcy and are now seeking fame in Hollywood as zombie extras. That little addition leads to the biggest plot hole of the film in that there's nothing that makes Uncle John special if other undead people can do the same. Instead of roaming the wilderness for free as a zombie-killing posse, the evil rednecks pay some fat mumbly Italian guy $2,000 for every zombie they shoot in the head at his so-called camp. But the biggest WTF moment out of this supreme clusterfuck is when George Kosana randomly pops up as Sheriff McClelland, the very same character he played in NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD. Footage from the 1968 film is shown, the same film that is not considered to be real by some characters in this film, and is used against him by a journalist. He's now suddenly labeled as a racist for killing and burning only black zombies, including Duane Jones' famed character Ben who is now named a hero despite the unequivocal fact that no one can declare that he was one because everyone died in that film! This massive migraine becomes further exasperated because any viewer of the Romero film knows that Sheriff McClelland wasn't the one who fired at Ben!


I could go on and on and spill my guts out just to elaborate on all of bad ideas that litter the script. From the random and pointless characters who suddenly get killed off to the severe lack of understanding how satire works (how can the fake Fox News channel be pro-zombie?), much can be discussed about the toilet paper scribblings that Russo thought of. But let's move to the true blue example of how awful this film is by looking at its visual competent. Russo has always been a hack but this film expertly displays in embarrassing fashion how much of a hack he truly is. Some scenes are in black-and-white for no reason other than elbowing you in the rib at how it "invokes" NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD. If that color change doesn't work for you, then Russo will just plagiarize the opening of the movie and have a couple little moments in Evans City Cemetery. Nearly all of the in-door segments are shot in a hotel, either in the private rooms or in the building's conference room. The zombie camp is literally a public park's tennis court and the bad guy's compound is a hunting cabin. Everything is stitched together with smash cuts or television static as in-between edits. The few moments of geninuely good low budget gore are heavily overshadowed by the extensive use of CGI blood, CGI muzzle flares, and intense closeups of plastic guns. The movie pads out its severely low running time with unfunny and out-of-focus fake commercials using a green screen, a plug of their very real movie website, repeated footage and flashbacks to events that just happened less than a minute ago, low grade video footage of real-life horror conventions and zombie walks, and an out-of-nowhere long cameo by Lloyd Kaufman, Toxie and others at Troma Headquarters. Bad audio capture, bad ADR, bad stock sounds being used, bad music, etc. Nothing god damn works! I have nothing really to say about the acting save for this: Russo is unbelievably uncharismatic and he put himself in the title role just so he can tell dirty jokes, talk about his dick, and try to fondle pretty women.


Many might say that being very critical about a grade-Z product is way too harsh. After all, I literally saw this at a special screening with John A. Russo and the cast and crew present, all of whom declared that they had a blast making it. As someone who has worked on professional movie productions, yes, it can be a very fun experience, especially your very first one. But working behind the scenes on a bad movie can never scrub out how objectively bad it is or how the final product will fall on deaf ears. I and the rest of the paying audience desperately tried to keep our utter disdain for Russo's new film out of his sight but it's quite hard when you're all dead silence during the Q&A. We all sat there, listening on as Russo just went on tangents or spewed out random lies about how zombies are so popular in 2018, how he nearly had one of his exploitation films selected for Sundance and how he used a rap song in a film in 1987 way before hip-hop was a thing. If I really wanted to be a jerk yet give a fair question to Russo, I would glad ask why there's no "in memory" credit for George Romero at the end considering how he stole from him and trampled on his legacy with this garbage. Don't seek this one out but honestly that will be quite easy in this day and age because this will not leave the horror convention circuit.


FINAL REVIEW: 1 / 5

The Fate of the Furious - Review

DSS agent Hobbs (Dwayne Johnson) and the Furious gang have a tall order this time around: they must work alongside their former foe Deckard Shaw (Jason Statham) in order to take down Dominic Toretto (Vin Diesel), who has gone rogue and teaming up with the cyberterrorist "Cipher" (Charlize Theron). Most viewers will use the old adage that THE FATE OF THE FURIOUS shows that the franchise is running on fumes but I feel that it just squeaks by as serviceable action entertainment. Make no mistake though, there's a lot of issues brought forth by the makers that make the running time of two and a quarter hours a slow ride. The film kicks off with a beautiful yet way too long prologue in Cuba simply so they can have the requisite street racing sequence the franchise is forever tethered to feature in each and every installment. This part ends with the grave decision to show Dom getting blackmailed by "Cipher" in person, thus immediately ruining the entire tension of the picture. The rest of the story then becomes a confusing juggling act fueled by the egotism of the film's lead star/producer. The good guys are often pushed to the side and treated as total losers, due to being constantly outsmarted by that super strong Dom and his magnificent brain and driving skills. Meanwhile, everything with Dom is spelled thoroughly out, from the early reveal of why he pulled a heel turn to what he has planned to take down the baddies. That latter element not only robs whatever tension the pic has left but will cause you to immediately think about all the other giant plot holes littered within the script. These unanswered questions include: how is "Cipher"'s plane forever flying in the air? How could Dom make some outside contact despite being under heavy surveillance? And finally, the big one, why is "Cipher" going to great lengths having Dom steal a bunch of things just to steal something that is easy to hack and literally out in the open and in the middle of nowhere?


F. Gary Gray should have been a great pick for this film due to his previous experience with car heist flicks with the 2003 remake of THE ITALIAN JOB and his recent critical success with STRAIGHT OUTTA COMPTON. Unfortunately, he slips and falls mightily in this endeavor. The mammoth amount of CGI work ruins any vision he had in mind and he has a terrible rampant habit of slow-mo shots in order to benefit the 3D patrons that are now and forever nonexistent. Worst, the climatic finale involves everyone literally driving in a straight line and yet there's no grasp on where everyone is, how many evil trucks are left, and where's the finishing line. Funny enough for this car movie, the best action sequences are the hand-to-hand ones, namely a prison riot chase between Johnson and Statham and an amazing and hilarious gunfight with the latter actor against an army of goons at the end of the film. These two moments do suffer from a little too much shaky cam but the testosterone is overflowing and the violence is sensational. The majority of the actors seem to be on auto-pilot, save for Johnson and Statham who have a rich buddy cop camaraderie between them. Diesel, on the other hand, is far too grumpy and boring to take serious this time around, save for one scene where he actually remembers to act. However, everyone's Stella Adler compared to Scott Eastwood; the film tries to openly mock his shortcomings by having the characters nickname him "Nobody" in order to curb audience rejection but he really sucks out all of the charisma in every group scene.


I'm only giving THE FATE OF THE FURIOUS a slight pass because the overall enjoyment factor is still slightly above average. I was not a fan of the mediocre script and direction, Diesel's insecurities on full display, the terrible trap music that floods the soundtrack, the entire act in New York City, or the flagrant sequel setup ripped straight up from a saturday morning cartoon. Seriously, it's so blatant, I was expecting voiceover legend Frank Welker to be ADR-ed in, scream vengeance and have his evil cat bellow out a meow. Nevertheless, I could still find excitement in the car chases, the pro wrestling fights and again, that Statham showcase at the conclusion that is sure to rank up as one of the best moments in the entire franchise. Hopefully Diesel will find some humor in his life and learn to play with others, letting his fellow actors look strong in the expected next two films. If not, the fate of this series is surely doomed.


FINAL REVIEW: 3 / 5

Beauty and the Beast (2017) - Review

A tale as old as time repeats itself as Disney continues its strong willed campaign to earn more money off their old properties with a modern live-action take of the beloved 1991 animated classic. As much as I really wanted for this remake to succeed with ease, making all of the previous Disney reimaginings to be the rough drafts they were, BEAUTY AND THE BEAST sadly doesn't excel beyond being just a serviceable distraction. The story stays close to the Disney version for the most part but screenwriters Stephen Chbosky and Evan Spiliotopoulos put some effort into updating the text. They spackle some of the glaring plot holes of the original film, bring more characterization to the characters and the townsfolk, and even have time to go straight to the source material and include the original conflict of the fairy tale with Belle's father taking a rose from the Beast's garden. Despite all of these welcoming new spins and turns to the story, the two writers instead create a whole new set of problems for the audience to swallow. Belle comes off as a total hipster, believing she's a "fearless" independent woman who likes to read yet she often changes her mind on the whim and is as vapid and shallow as the "little" people in her little town. Belle and the Beast now have even more tragic backstories that are eye-rolling at best, with the lame search for what happened to the heroine's mother oddly being a crucial subplot. The possible fate of the Beast's servants is now more horrific and disturbing, greatly overshadowing the fate of their master to remain a beast forever. But the most detrimental addition is the fact that the central romance is not something created organically but due to some divine intervention. I would like to continue ranting about more odds and ends in the story, such as how Belle's farm is strangely within the town, the very stupid new magical item bequeathed by the Enchantress, or the totally tubular version of Chip who skateboards on a saucer, but you get the point that this screenplay is even more flawed than what was presented back in 1991.


Bill Condon's direction is often quite beautifully extravagant, particularly the many crane shots and the scenes that greatly utilize the widescreen format. But the real beauty lies within the production design, which is just a magnificent achievement in terms of scope and detail. Unfortunately, both of these beauties are hampered often by the sheer dumb decision to color correct the film and make everything look dark grey, dark blue, and dark orange. The editing leaves a lot to be desired; this remake is 45 minutes longer than the original, causing the story to flow like maple syrup from the tap, and is heavily beset with a ton of terrible transitions and fade-to-blacks. The cast is filled with talents yet they are very hit or miss. Emma Watson is somewhat miscast and doesn't have a great singing voice, Dan Stevens' turn as a more flippant Beast is fine but layered behind CGI and an altered voice, the actors behind the servants are either underused or way too shrill, and Luke Evans and Josh Gad as Gaston and Le Fou respectively steal the show with their more nuanced and devilish cartoon figures. Of course, the real star of the film has to be the legendary score by Alan Menken and the songs he co-wrote with the late great Howard Ashman. Sadly, to accompany the new story changes, Ashman's legendary lyrics in nearly all of the songs have been crossed out and replaced by ones supplied by the dastardly Tim Rice. Once your ears hit upon these alterations first with "Belle", your enthusiasm for the music instantly drains and remain stagnant through the rest of the feature. As for the new incorporated songs that are solely here in order to earn Best Song Oscar nominations next year, they are all goofily overblown and lack a real soul. I will say though that I did like Céline Dion version of "How Does A Moment Last Forever", which plays over the imaginative first set of ending credits. And the less said about Ariana Grande and John Legend's take on the pop version of the title track, or hell even Emma Thompson's movie version, the better.


It would have been a tall, tall order for the 2017 version of BEAUTY AND THE BEAST to top the 1991 animated film, which is so beloved in this reviewer's heart that it basically has ownership of my right ventricle. Unfortunately, it misses wildly but not to the point of being a total failure or even as bad as Disney's THE JUNGLE BOOK last year. It's a must-see for art and design fanatics, an one-and-done watch for the hardcore Disneyheads, and something to burn a Saturday on for the general public and bored kids. If you somehow think I'm way too hard on it, at least I didn't say that I would rather watch the infamous animated direct-to-video sequels than this live-action remake again. Those ones were really bad at the time and continue to be terrible drecks, no matter how many times Disney tries to re-release them. This film, on the other hand, will have its time and place but will eventually be an afterthought as all will want to curl up with the original evermore.


FINAL REVIEW: 3 / 5

Batman: The Killing Joke - Review

BATMAN: THE KILLING JOKE has to be the very worst DC Comics animated feature to be produced by the comics giant and Warner Bros. That's really saying something when you have to remember that someone in the animation offices thought SUPERMAN/BATMAN: PUBLIC ENEMIES would be a good idea. Given a mighty opportunity to be seen on the big screen for a limited engagement through Fathom Events before its eventual home video release, it presents itself to be a flat, archaic retelling of the seminal yet still controversial Alan Moore story coupled with a new, ugly original opening half that was seemingly stripped from the fan fiction of a perverted mind. When the Joker declares "I didn't expect this to be boring" at one point, I was nodding in agreement. Seeing this in a theater filled with gullible fanboys might seem to juice up my ire and distaste for it but with a clear critical mind, anyone can see that this is an ungodly mess.


As stated, before you can get to the main attraction of the feature, you unexpectedly have to watch acclaimed comic book writer Brian Azzarello bequeath a shockingly gross section where nearly every misstep in screenwriting 101 is presented within the ink and paint. Batgirl (Tara Strong), a.k.a. Barbara Gordon, starts off with overbearing narration that of course does not pop back up in the latter half of the picture, nor does it ultimately make sense from a story standpoint because she is later placed on the sidelines while the men do all of the dirty work. Enjoyed that bit of sexism? Well, get used to it because this piece of the plot is purely toxic in its deeming attitudes towards women. Batgirl fails in apprehending a narcissistic gangster literally named "Paris France" and wants to chase after him. Bossy Batman (Kevin Conroy) says no and further goes on to say that she literally is not an equal to him. Not only is Batgirl angered by the strict rules of the caped asshole but she strangely also has intense sexual feelings for her way too old, fatherly guardian of the night. She obviously needs to confide and receive relationship advice instead of, you know, battling bad guys so she spends several scenes at her workplace and chatting with her gay best friend. I'm not kidding, this is all really happening in a superhero movie in 2016 and even after that great SNL skit of what a Black Widow solo pic would really be. I was waiting for some microwave popcorn and red wine to appear at any moment. Anyway, all of this trouble comes to a head when the two partners-in-crime-fighting have a repugnant, pointless, quasi-incestuous sex scene on a rooftop, with their cowls off. There you have it folks, a moment far, far worst than the "Hallelujah" porno scene in WATCHMEN. This forever-to-be-infamous lovemaking is immediately followed up with Batgirl going crazy as she's given the cold shoulder by Bruce and told to continue to sit out because she's "off the case!"


Though Tara Strong tries to give it her all to the classic heroine, just as she did during the later Batman animated seasons, and try to flesh her out into a real being, she can't overcome the vulgar work done to Batgirl here by Azzarello, director Sam Liu, and whoever else had a hand with the film. The makers might try to say that her bitter rivalry with Paris France is supposed to mirror Batman's relationship with the Clown Prince but they don't really explore it beyond Batman going on about "entering into the abyss" and being overcome by the horrors of what men do. Instead, they would rather bask in Paris' misogynistic cracks at Barbara and his clear obsession to pretty much rape her. The animators get in on this action as well, as there is a frivolous moment when Barbara goes for a run and the camera takes a second to get a good shot of her buttocks and breasts. You have to sit there and take in all of this tripe and betrayal of the Batgirl character, right before the film finally takes the inevitable turn to "The Killing Joke" storyline and her unfortunate meeting with The Joker.


For those not in the know with famous comic book tales, "The Killing Joke" has The Joker committing his ultimate evil plan: taking Barbara Gordon out of the picture, driving her father Commissioner Gordon to insanity, and seeking to cause Batman to kill him in order for Bats to break his code. It's a story tapped with the vast history of The Joker and his battles with Batman. It's also filled with ambiguous flashbacks to the creation of The Clown Prince and ends with one of the coldest codas put to paper which still is open to debate today. I have some minor issues with it but as it truly stands, it is a magnificent work of art. This famous story, however, is nearly marred by the unworthy makers, who besmirch nearly every major moment or act too faithful to a fault with the classic tale. The Joker himself doesn't not appear until halfway in the movie, never alluded to or mentioned at all before, so you need to come in with the knowledge of the character before watching this. Even though most of us already do know about him thanks to American pop culture and the legacy of past Jokers in movies, as a filmmaker, you still need to make sure that your viewer knows how evil The Joker can be and why Batman is always close to murdering him. Take BATMAN: UNDER THE RED HOOD for example, which literally starts with The Joker killing Robin and showcases the quandary of arresting or killing criminals to a far greater effect. A simple montage of The Joker's evil exploits right before Bats enters that fateful crime scene could have easily solve this structural problem.


Even if you forgive this issue, you still have to listen to Alan Moore's words coming from all of the characters' mouths. What works on the page, and helped along by Brian Bolland's amazing artwork, sadly doesn't really work on the screen, as every less-than-stellar animated scene becomes too wordy and overbearing with philosophy. On its own, the dialogue here could fine to the ear but you just sat through a badly written section that doesn't even try to match up with the grimness and dark wordplay of Moore. The pieces that really suffer the most, both in dialogue and animation, are the famed "flashbacks". They all retain the old 1940's look to them, colored in a grayish brown instead of black and white, which clash heavily with the far more modern setting this is all taking place in. Worse, everything is played absolutely straight, sapping all of the mystery of whether or not this is true to believe. Mark Hamill does his best to bring some ambivalence and he really does nail some key lines but he can't make every long paragraph about reality or the human psyche work. Despite all of this disappointment, the real kicker to this middling adaptation isn't the bland take on the ending or the "duh, of course she becomes Oracle!" mid-stinger tacked on but the unnecessary musical number that appears out of nowhere during the biggest genuinely disturbing moment of the entire story.


I could continue on about how this whole thing falls apart fundamentally since Batman does kill some people but I think you can get the gist. If this was just "The Killing Joke" story with some padding to make it feature length, I would still have my points of contention but would be fine with overall. Instead, I had to bare witness to the "fireworks factory" dilemma and horrible treatment of Batgirl. I really hated this picture, more so that BATMAN V. SUPERMAN. Zach Snyder may have expectedly flunked out with it but at least he was able to make a few bits of dark entertainment with Batman, let alone have a competent heroine. At least I can fall back on BATMAN: YEAR ONE or THE DARK KNIGHT RETURNS to see well made animated adaptations.


FINAL REVIEW: 1 / 5

Ghostbusters (2016) - Review

Two former friends/co-authors of a book on paranormal studies (Kristen Wiig and Melissa McCarthy) reunite when they are beckoned by strangers into investigating spiritual entities that are beginning to pop up all over New York City. They find sisters-in-arms in the form of an oddball techie (Kate McKinnon) and a MTA worker (Leslie Jones) and begin to establish themselves as the Big Apple's only known ghost-hunting force. After a year's worth of hysteria from all corners of the internet, GHOSTBUSTERS premieres to ultimately be seen for what it truly is: a fine, not great movie. The epitome of the word "meh", the film is a bitter clash of styles, as Paul Feig's improv-friendly direction collides with Sony's harsh drive to make a quick buck off of old material and bland CGI theatrics. Unfortunately for the audience, both fail in their individual endeavors. Feig snaps his amazing streak of female-led comedies here, mostly thanks to the sheer dumb decision to have the talented Wiig and McCarthy play straight for most of the film. The two barely have any chance to be funny during the entire film, as they are constantly settled with doing stale exposition dumps or flopping like dead fish when dealing with the severely undeveloped subplot of their damaged friendship. Feig himself is also at fault for the film's messy nature, from the the long ad-libbed scenes that are never humorous in the slightest to the poor editing and continuity. The biggest proof of mishandling, however, comes right at the end, when the film ends on a low "that's it?" note, only to deliver a barrage of mid-credit scenes and overlay the commendations of the cast and crew over a musical number that was clearly ripped out from the film's climax.


Sony is not off the hook for this less than stellar effort. They failed at handling the promotion of this movie but they really were at fault with the making of it. Not content with having a practically scene by scene remake of the 1984 classic, Sony's gross corporate hand left many oily fingerprints on the picture. Product placement is obnoxious and downright horrific, as our female heroes just love to operate Sony cameras and computers. The quartet also love to have Papa John's Pizza be in the center of the frame during one of their serious discussion scenes. But the one that drove me right up the wall is when McKinnon is munching on Pringles during her first encounter of a ghost and tells Wiig how utterly delicious they are. Can you imagine Bill Murray or Harold Ramis doing that with the librarian specter? I also believe that the production company, looking to gauge a lot of dough overseas, were the ones insisting on the ho-hum finale, where a sea of computer-generated human wraiths, conveniently hiding themselves behind a computer-generated fog, descend on the real-life protagonists. All of the action in this part is a complete blur and just leaves the viewer with too many unanswered questions, including how can the proton streams now be used to disintegrate phantoms and why is this taking place in a 1970's vision of Times Square?


Despite all of my anger and disappoint at the shameful behavior of the film's makers, I still found myself enjoying the completely average flick. In a world where ROBOCOP now is a bore in black and TOTAL RECALL now has a stupid train running through the center of Earth, this re-imaging of a landmark sci-fi film does little to no damage to its property because it fairly moves along and sprinkles in the occasion nugget of joy. But what really got me engaged with the film beyond the new ghost gear, mildly terrifying creatures and dark paraphernalia were three actors: McKinnon, Jones, and Chris Hemsworth. McKinnon is the only one who keeps making you smile, as she wildly contorts about and knows when to pull a funny face or talk in a funny voice. Her flamboyant take as the Egon of the group absolutely shines. Jones is also a nice revelation as the assertive and more than capable Patty. I frankly hate her work on SNL, where she often ruins skits due to her cue card reading, but her film work always is a joy, with this being her best role to date. And rounding up the rear is Hemsworth as Kevin, the group's dimwitted receptionist. Though he sadly never takes his shirt off, he scores major laughs whenever he messes up talking on the phone, has something "deep" to say, or simply giving a simple warm wink to his exasperated employers.


I may grow to dislike GHOSTBUSTERS little by little in time thanks to its head-scratching creative decisions. Hell, the movie honestly just faded quickly in my mind once I walked away from it. But I do feel that this is a movie I could sit through on a lazy Sunday down the line and be happy to see a modern picture where more than one main female character is a part-time ass kicker. If busting makes you feel good and you're freely willing to give it a fair shot, a matinee screening or a rental could be worth it.


FINAL REVIEW: 3 / 5

Star Wars: The Force Awakens - Review

The Jedi have not return as expected. Luke Skywalker has gone into hiding after a failed attempt at creating an academy for those with the force. His current whereabouts are locked away within a map stored on a memory chip, which is currently in the possession of cute ball droid BB-8, the robotic partner to Rebel star pilot Poe Dameron (Oscar Issac). The First Order, a military dictatorship risen from the ashes of the Empire, are seeking to obtain the chip by any means necessary. Stuck on a desert planet dubbed Jakku, the droid eventually meets up with two castaways: a resident scavenger named Rey (Daisy Ridley) and a former Stormtrooper named FN-2187 or Finn for short (John Boyega). Constantly on the run from drive-by TIE fighters and mercenary threats, the new trio of heroes meet with some certain mythical legends on the way to the headquarters of the Republic.


Even with that short summarization of the plot, you can figure out that STAR WARS: THE FORCE AWAKENS is pretty much a copy of the original STAR WARS movie, for better or worst. It's a very entertaining blockbuster that had me smile ear to ear, both for nostalgia and sheer amusement, but it does feel like J.J. Abrams and his comrades stuck so close to what made the STAR WARS flicks so good, as opposed to George Lucas' ill-thought-out prequels, in order to make it all work that they resorted to practical plagiarism. In its opening scene post-standard yellow exposition credits, you would think they just blow the load with all the parallels to the original film: a robot holding a Macguffin, a raid by the villains, the vicious intro to a black-clad masked nemesis, a slaughtering in the desert, a protagonist being captured for questioning, and a respected elderly actor (Max von Sydow) playing a former Jedi who sacrifices his life for the sake of others. After all that hubbub, you would think the makers would then just thankfully move to a new template of stories but no, further allusions continue to pop up and cause the viewer to be a little disinterested in the product, especially if they see it by themselves or with a cold crowd.


Though I rag THE FORCE AWAKENS for its rampant lip service to the original's ideas, its main story does fundamentally work, showing us that the cyclical nature of good and evil continues to plague this corner of a galaxy. The new crop of characters get to experience the same plight as past warriors, seeing their family and friends pull a heel turn or leave them as orphans of war. And from all of this repurposing, Abrams, Michael Arndt, and resident franchise screenwriter Lawrence Kasdan imbue the plot with some clever modern twists that refreshingly opens the world more up. Lucas' ancient theming and other two-step-back ideals in the preceding six films are thankfully ripped to shreds in order to craft moments that will shake up the blockbuster mold today. Additionally, there's genuine humor in the art, making the serial adventure more rollicking and the characters more likable and humanized.


John Boyega does a real bang-up job as the mighty but scared Finn, sharing the responsibilities of being the next Luke with Rey yet also coming into his own as a charismatic lead. Boyega being very charming is not hard to spot since he can generate it with ease ever since his debut in ATTACK THE BLOCK. What is surprising, however, is the virtually unknown Daisy Ridley, who break throughs with her role as Rey and ends up as the true star of the picture. She aces the conveying of a wide range of emotions Rey goes through at every turn, makes you smile whenever techno babble comes into the conversation, and handles herself as a heroine that has all the tools in fighting and mental knowledge but slips up occasionally or is tormented by what the stars have to offer her. Adam Driver, who plays the new Sith hotness Kylo Ren that I chose not to mention, does well with his low timber voice pattern and as a Dark Side resident who wrestles with his present state and the expectations of his past. Oscar Issac sadly doesn't have the same luxury of the his other fresh cast members as Poe's roguish and spritely demeanor is undercut by his low number of attention in the final cut.


Abrams did an amazing job in handling this behemoth for the future of the STAR WARS line and for new owner Disney. He diminished the plethora of CGI and lens flare nonsense in his past films for physical sets and clean beautiful camerawork. He worked with capable screenwriters to make sense of the ever-expanding world while planting some fan service for those who're too much in the know. And he created a large film that pops with excitement, edited magnificently, and makes the sci-fi epic feel like a real adventure instead of a bogged down tome. A wonderful start to a new era of STAR WAR films, with plenty of room for improvement and crisp insight.


FINAL REVIEW: 4 / 5

Aloha - Review

Cameron Crowe had been a beloved auteur of mine in the past, even when I lived through the pop-cultural overdosing of his most famous feature JERRY MAGUIRE. He was able to wrestle out and craft these funny yet moving tales led by what he dubbed the "battered idealist". I skipped out on him after the dismal response to VANILLA SKY and stood on the sidelines when his two successive features ended up being prime material for the internet community to bounce on. I return to the world of Crowe with ALOHA, only to find it to be an inhabitable island of dreck, littered with inexcusable dialogue and plagued by absurd storytelling. This movie is one of the most embarrassing big-time rom-coms to come out of Hollywood in quite some time. It also continues the trend set by THE DESCENDANTS in that films set in Hawaii are doomed to fail if the entire cast is nearly comprised entirely of Caucasian characters. While that unjustly favored drama went on to be an awards favorite, everyone from average Joe to the Academy can see that ALOHA is a complete and total mess.


Bradley Cooper stars as Brian Gilcrest. I would further explain what he does for a living but the film doesn't easily address it. During the course of many ludicrous events, he works as a military contractor, a rocket scientist, a negotiator, a hacker, a software engineer, and beyond. He's back in Hawaii working under the watch of billionaire Carson Welch (Bill Murray), who left him for dead in Kabul for a specific reason. Brian got better but now sports a surgical repaired right leg; I'll bring this note back up later and not just to mock Cooper for often forgetting to walk with a limp. Welch is working with the U.S. military to send up a private satellite into space and Brian is the man to help do it just because. He's assigned a partner/watch dog in the form of hot-shot fighter pilot Allison Ng (Emma Stone). Yes, Stone was cast to play a 1/4 Hawaiian, 1/4 Chinese and 1/2 Swedish character who lives and operates in Hawaii yet has a skin color of pure white. Things get further complicated when his ex-flame Tracy (Rachel McAdams) gets to be a little too friendly, much to the quiet chagrin of her ever so stoic husband (John Krasinski).


This all seems so easy to digest for the viewer, mild white-washing aside, but it is in the gross execution and creativity of Crowe that ultimately will drive you insane. The dialogue is practically incomprehensible, riddled with hipster wordplay and continuously flowing out of the actors' mouths like diarrhea. The editing structure has no sense of blend or tone, as it just cuts and cuts away any form of continuity and even parts of the story. The soundtrack is the usual bag of old standard rock songs that Crowe likes but it is ruined by the film's extensive amounts of ADR. The cinematography has a nice sun-bleached look to it, similar to the Hawaiian home movies of old as seen in the long opening credits, but Crowe wheels back any further creative ideas from the film's DP Eric Gautier. Most of the film is shot in standard medium and closeup framing; after all, it's Crowe's story that people came to see, not the hard work of others.


The very minor charm of the actors, Stone and Murray especially, can not hide any of the sheer amount of lunacy in Crowe's screenplay. Some of his story's true lowlights include: Brian being labeled as a cynic misanthrope despite acting like a charming, smooth operator from frame two; Danny McBride's character being nicknamed "Fingers" because he constantly rolls his fingers like he's Satchmo on the air trumpet; Brian has two big toes stitched together on his damaged leg and shows it to us out of nowhere; Tracy acts way too inconsiderate and has Brian hang around with her children like it's nothing; a kid breaks through a restricted area and videotapes top secret information off-screen for purely convenient reasons; a breakup scene takes place while a character is wearing an ugly hat that literally covers their face, similar to a bucket; and the non-climactic coup de grâce where a problem is stupidly solved by unleashing a bomb of random video clips and significant sound bites. I could go on further about other oddities and my personal favorites, including a dance scene that needs to be seen to believe, but you get the point. However, the most wretched design by Crowe is the Allison Ng character. Another one of his pathetic Manic Pixie Dream Girls, Allison is a not real adult but a petulant child. She huffs and puffs when she doesn't get her way, performs her morning run by jumping up and down and clapping her hands, and she somehow is unable to get a guy, especially as a fighter pilot. Even more worse, she is the film's resident Hawaiian folklore expert ("I'm Hawaiian!" she keeps saying), consistently acting like a crazy person that every small thing, including a wind breeze blowing open a window, is the work of the spirits. She believes that her and Brian's military mission is messing up with the "mana" of the island and she wants to preserve the sky. Oh, that great sky and and all of its stars; let Cameron Crowe go on and on about its so-called majestic power.


This mumbo-jumbo and pseudo spiritual side of the picture ties in with Crowe's horrific treatment of the Native Hawaiians. According to his vision, these non-white people live in the far off wilderness to themselves, protesting the U.S. occupation of Hawaii. They are all characterize as racist thugs, giving the stink eye to Brian and Allison and ready to beat them up for daring to step on their land and trying to broker a deal with their nationalist leader. Of course, when cooler heads prevail, they are then seen as beer-chugging citizens who like to sing folk songs. All of this is pretty heinous, especially since, again, there is a lack of non-Caucasian characters outside of this area. I would properly be more offended by it if the whole negotiating conflict didn't make me recall a hilarious running gag on the television show Parks and Recreations, where its resident Native Americans would jokingly play on their culture and stereotypes to scare white people.


From his poor handling in the technical department to the muck that is his screenplay, Crowe allowed ALOHA to be his absolute worst film and his potential career killer. His terrible artistry displayed here is unacceptable for current and future mass consumption. It begs the question of how did he not see everything that is wrong with the picture, most definitely when the film reaches its unintentionally creepy conclusion. I would say that he should charge up his batteries and get a new, updated set list but quite frankly, he has now sadly become the joke everyone labels him to be.


FINAL REVIEW: 1 / 5

John Wick - Review

John Wick (Keanu Reeves) is overcome with grief at the loss of his cancer-stricken wife. Despite a modest turnout at her funeral and a brief chat with an old co-worker (Willem Dafoe), he remains in his own shattered existence. One night, he is gifted with a dog named Daisy, specifically picked for him by his departed soulmate. Unfortunately, this sense of hope for him is curb-stomped on to his floor the very next night, as a trio of Russian punks attack him at his home and kill the dog. Their sole goal was to steal his '69 Mustang, a car their leader (Alfie Allen) spotted at a gas station and wanted to be buy off his hands, only to spurned by a Russian insult by Wick. But because they are designed to be total worthy-to-die dicks, and the makers wanted to win emotional points through a grim animal death, these three needed to go further into unlikability. Unbeknownst to the young Russkie, who just so happens to be the son of a major mob boss (Michael Nyqvist), he and his two buddies pissed off John frickin' Wick, alias "The Boogeyman", a legendary hitman who's able to make the odds ever in his favor and will stop at nothing to take him and his father's protective empire down.


JOHN WICK is incredible in its action but a little stiff in the story department. It's a basic revenge tale, hitting the standard points of every theatric bloodbath that graced a VHS tape or luckily enough to be projected on the big screen. However, the film tries to change it up a bit by speeding up the proceedings and reach its proper conclusion at the end of Act Two. The makers then seem to realize that they ate their appetizers and dessert first and quickly attempt to craft an entree, only to not give it the proper ingredients. The conclusion features another "killing in the name of" motivation for Wick, solely for an action-packed finale but it's such a sloppy hail mary pass and it isn't helped by the lack of characterization given to the martyr. Adding to the finishing problems is a series of hastily bowed subplots, which prove to be pretty unsatisfactory.


Despite these grievances with Derek Kolstad's script, the story did contain an amazing world that help give the movie a vibrant sense of style, amid all of the blue-gray lighting schemes and the odd subtitling. Doing justice to the term "honor among thieves", a good section of the film has Wick staying at The Continental, a narrow-in-the-streets hotel where all of the professional hitmen and assassins hang out in peace (or else) and get to lay low during missions. Here, Reeves gets to share some quality screen time with a great collection of actors: Lance Reddick, Clark Peters, Ian McShane, and Adrianne Palicki to name a few. In order to do business with the hotel management and other services, such as making a "dinner reservation" i.e. body cleanup, the gun-toting contractors spend and exchange gold doubloons, which are far more valuable than paper money and are a noble display of humility and prowess. But again, we get just a taste because Kolstad and directors David Leitch and Chad Stahelski know they have a goldmine with this material.


Other than this intriguing world-building, what makes JOHN WICK a good time in the theaters and a great time again and again later on video is its extravagant violence. With two stunt actors/directors at the helm, you know that there will be a lot of expert action choreography and some delightful gunplay, which Leitch and Stahelski have in spades. Their crown jewel is the long sequence at the Red Circle dance club, where Wick systemically takes out all of the goons from the basement to the second floor. Set to the EDM beats of Le Castle Vania, this stretch of film is absolutely breathtaking, overflowing with impressive takedowns, brutal deaths, and a few moments of black comedy. Some may be underwhelmed by the presence of CGI bloodshed but it's easy to forgive that slight when so much incredible feats are on display. Acting all around is fantastic, with Reeves getting some proper time to shine and allowing Nyqvist to portray a ruthless yet occasionally humble and humorous tyrant.


Will there be more JOHN WICKs to come in the future? Perhaps. Right before he leaves to embark on his revenge tour, attentive viewers will spot that Wick has several more rows of coin to go through. Should Reeves and his buddies continue on? It wouldn't hurt. I'm looking forward to further development of the world the makers have established here and the American public should be rewarded with more high caliber, superhero-less action movies. Plus, I can possibly see this potential series going the same way as my experience with THE RAID franchise: an entertaining, slightly above average first entry that then later spawns a magnificent opus. Good luck, gentlemen.


FINAL REVIEW: 3 / 5

Guardians of the Galaxy - Review

Thank the Star-Lord for a great soundtrack. GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY, the final installment of Marvel's Phase Two before the AVENGERS sequel next year, effortlessly makes its way into the viewer and strokes his/her pleasure senses routinely, due to the compilation of pop and rock songs assembled by director James Gunn. You may think that this creative decision is just an exploitative way to make us quickly care about the product and its motley crew; After all, didn't we as an American movie-going society decree that Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell's "Ain't No Mountain High Enough" is to be banned from further mistreatment? Well, Gunn read your book, you magnificent bastard. The licensed music often serves a crucial purpose to the space story and, more importantly, to the characterization of its human lead, as fully revealed in its closing moments. As an additional bonus, the audience-friendly soundtrack supports the movie's identity as a healthy alternative to the traditional tropes that STAR WARS set for all fantastical sci-fi films. Why bother trying to support another John Williams when you, like the lead during the opening credits, can walk your own eccentric path, put on a pair of headphones, enjoy the melodic grooves of Redbone, and forget the generic troubles of the galaxy for a change.


Of course, as best illustrated in the gut-wrenching prologue, an awesome mixtape is only a gift, unable to wipe away all troubles. GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY is the silver recipient of the Phase Two lineup but features a slew of faults that severely crippled its engines: Important exposition goes by too fast to grasp on to in the early goings. Various action sequences are muddled and near impossible to comprehend, made worst if you are a desperate sucker for 3D projection. But most distressingly, the main antagonists, though deadly and caked in impressively designed costumes and makeup, oddly twiddle their thumbs during the first half until a sheer dumb plot twist of "come at me bro" gets their butts in gear. Despite these heavy blows, the movie stays its course as an entertaining, nearly stellar ride, where the laughs greatly outweigh the thrills.


Peter Quill aka Star-Lord (Chris Pratt), a "Terran" thief that has a Mike Mignola-inspired helmet and the combined traits of Han and Luke, finds himself in a big pickle with his latest snatch-and-grab. He easily steals a barely guarded orb on a desolate planet, a job that he was to do with his blue-skinned father figure Yondu (Michael Rooker). Though an intruding third party tries to kill him over it, he spirits away just in time to avoid their weapons and the wrath of Yondu's army of Ravagers. Unfortunately for his fortunes, his buyer refuses to take it off his hands when news spread that Ronan the Accuser (Lee Pace), a genocidal extremist and a subordinate of the space tyrant Thanos, is the one also seeking the sphere. He sends out one of his borrowed talents to retrieve it: Gamora (Zoe Saldana), a deadly assassin and Thanos' adopted daughter. Yondu further twists the knife by placing a price on Quill's head, which draws the attention of raccoon-like bounty hunter Rocket (voiced by Bradley Cooper) and his plant pal Groot (voiced by Vin Diesel). A drag-out public melee between the four gets them all arrested and shipped out to a space prison, where they eventually meet up with a disgruntled muscleman named Drax the Destroyer (Dave Bautista).


The story does move beyond the prison, which is simply a small hiccup for the five; I just wanted to preserve the rest of the adventure for you, solely for the wonders of joy Gunn and co-writer Nicole Perlman have in store. The script, though troubled at times, alleviates its few errors of judgment and standard action set-pieces with a huge heaping helping of cartoonish anarchy and bonding buffoonery. The picture becomes fully alive every time the ragtag team communicate with each other, spewing out outrageous wordplay or unleashing a killer closer to a scene. It's pretty fair to say that you will be quoting many of these spoken treasures. You can even feel the inner joy in all of the actors, as they often keep a straight face while delivering lines that range from deliberately stilted to irrelevant nonsense.


All five main actors clearly got something out of the rich material. With this, Pratt gets to become a bonafide action star, showing off a mean streak and a muscular frame that many will be shocked to see. Thankfully, he retains and expertly uses the foolish side of his own demeanor to make Quill a well-rounded, lovable charmer. Saldana got to play another brave and defiant warrior but with a nice little feminist twist added in. Though the animators had all of the fun with Groot, Diesel does give the creature the same innocence and pathos as his Iron Giant. But the two that came away with more to benefit are Cooper and Bautista. Not surprisingly, Rocket is the true shining light of the picture, a darling furry scamp whose hard-edged personality is built from unchecked experimentation and rampant discrimination. Cooper's voice truly makes the character a dynamite presence, hitting the exact right notes when humor or turmoil is called for. On the flip side, semi-professional wrestler Bautista, who has etched a small career nabbing the spotlight in action flicks, is a shocking revelation. Given the arduous task of uttering the most dense dialogue while maintaining a brutish attitude, the big guy exceptionally pulls it off without breaking kayfabe. I would be remiss if I didn't also call attention to fine work put forth by Pace, Rooker, and Karen Gillian as Thanos' other adopted daughter Nebula.


GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY is a gratifying superhero movie that any person can view and not have to worry about things like continuity. It is also the anti-AVENGERS, for better and worst. It avoids weighing down the audience with team-building cynicism in order to make sci-fi fun again but its dramatic stakes border on total inertia. Regardless, in a genre overcrowded with more and more films each year, filled to the brim with brooding, angst-ridden outcasts and citywide destruction, it's nice to kick back and spend the entire time laughing out total bliss.



FINAL REVIEW: 3 / 5

The Purge: Anarchy - Review

In THE PURGE: ANARCHY, actor Frank Grillo plays The Punisher, the popular Marvel Comics vigilante. He may be credited in the end as playing "Sergeant" and sports a sweet pompadour but don't believe the hype. Writer-director James DeMonaco clearly wanted the protagonist to be Frank Castle: Sergeant has special forces training, lives in an empty apartment littered with heavy weaponry, fancies the clothing combo of a black trench coat and a bulletproof vest, pilots a battle-armored vehicle, and his vengeance is fueled by the death of a child. If DeMonaco wanted to make a test film for his version of the comic book character, all the while under the guise of being a continuation of his own baby franchise, then mission accomplished. Too bad that the nation as a whole have already struck out The Punisher after three failures on film, plus the sheer fact that Grillo is already too busy to play him, given a set role in the future of the Marvel Cinematic Universe as Crossbones.


Now that I have let my fanboy flag fly high, let's get back to dishing on this bloody affair. I seem to be one of the very, very few who was pleased with the preceding picture THE PURGE, despite its existence as an immoral bait-and-switcher. It pissed off every viewer by taking its killer premise of an annual event where crime is legal for 12 hours, and letting it recede in the background, instead giving focus to a politically tame home invasion thriller. Still, I was able to locate some morsels to feast on and walk away partially satisfied. That is, when the movie decided to pay its gaffers and the electric bill, able to finally show us what the hell is going on in the frame. Since the PARANORMAL ACTIVITY series is now at death's doors, Blumhouse Productions needed to keep the money and scares flowing by any means, hence why we have this arriving into theaters. Thankfully, the Founding Fathers have given us a nice gift for a change. THE PURGE: ANARCHY is a surprisingly good follow-up, a well-made horror-actionsploitation movie that routinely bounces between being entertaining, unnerving, and eye-rolling.


Sergeant's quest to purge, aka "to unleash the beast", is but one of three main stories in this sequel. The other players running around downtown L.A. include a waitress mother, her rebel daughter (in more ways than one), and a splitsville-heading white couple. Eventually, the five of them meet up at a crucial point and spend the rest of the running time trying to survive together. Despite all of the energy given to them, it is perfectly clear that DeMonaco only cares about Grillo and his story. The four mouth-breathers following his tracks are all utterly worthless, only present to keep repeating the same lines over and over again: "Purging is bad", "The Revolution is coming", "We need to tell your sister", etc. Further showcasing their ineffectiveness, the quartet are treated as jinxes for Sergeant; whenever the script needs to implement a new threat or heighten up the tension, one of them just so happens to do something like trip and fall or shriek at the sight of a rat. Even their prologue segments have them acting like dullards, like going to the grocery store two hours before the bell rings.


With this movie, DeMonaco was given a second chance to explore the idea of "The Purge" and the world that implements it. Spoiler: not much has been added or fixed. We are still stuck in Los Angeles and everyone spends the entire time-frame killing people. Why aren't other crimes being displayed? I'm not advocating to see something heinous on screen like sexual misdeeds, though one instance sadly pops up here, but there's more rules that can be broken than just plain murder. There could be a holed-up group of hackers draining bank accounts or a flock of car-jackers brave enough to steal some expensive vehicles. Of course, including these other crimes would lose emphasis on the franchise's strict anti-gun stance. There is an additional plotline where Michael K. Williams is a Malcolm X surrogate, orchestrating a guerrilla movement to take back the nation. It's intriguing but this inclusion leaves several questions left floating in the air, such as how come freedom of speech still exists in a land re-established by absolute tyrants?


I mock these elements of the movie chiefly because, other than being easy targets, they are the standard problems featured in a B-horror movie. As a viewer, I'm supposed to forget and forgive this nonsense and just relish in the blood and dread. For the most part, that's exactly what I did and was able to have fun. Though still questionable in the story department, DeMonaco is able to design a world full of disturbing material with the camera as his medium. There are many shots and scenes where horrifying things are introduced and then whisked out of sight, leaving the audience wondering yet shaken by the dark imagery. He even makes great use of jump scares, with one shocker at the end being a marvelous cruel joke. The sound editing and mixing are both expertly put together, often fleshing out the environments or informing us of dangers lurking right around the corner. Nathan Whitehead's score is tantalizing, a disconcerting march of industrial rock. The cinematography, however, is a mixed bag, once more being handled by Jacques Jouffret. The downtown exteriors are skillfully bathed in colorful lights, brighting up or highlighting the anxiety-ridden nocturnal violence. Unfortunately, Jouffret's faulty workmanship delivers an encore, as shaky-cam and scenes set in total blackness ruin some of the festivities. The latter problem plagues the third act, nearly ruining an important war scene.


THE PURGE: ANARCHY may be deliberately sickening for some to stomach and it does maintains its less-than-stellar story framework. But I wouldn't be true to myself if I didn't say that this sensually fulfilled my guilty pleasures. It's a scary, action-packed ride that I would like to keep going on till I barf twice. I must also reiterate that this movie wouldn't have been a fine product without Frank Grillo. A true blue late bloomer, the man here is an awesome ass-kicker with a soul. When not checking the corners or firing off some rounds, Grillo can easily show a range of emotions in a blink. He taps into some dangerous recesses of pain during the film's grueling moments, to the point where you might shed a lonely tear. An odd feeling to have in a movie full of Hollywood-made genocide.



FINAL REVIEW: 3 / 5

Winter's Tale - Review

WINTER'S TALE originally came out on Valentine's Day of this year, as counterprogramming to the usually flimsy romantic affairs attached to the date and to reach an audience seeking an adult-themed look at love. One can scan its movie poster in order to see its soap-boxing, as it mocks tripe like THE VOW for their heinous crime of using "a real story" to draw in flocks. Writer-director Akiva Goldsman, Warner Bros, and the rest of the makers thought mightily high of themselves, thinking they are the beacons of hope for the romance film genre. However, these foolish men and women who undertook the process of crafting this film did not once look inside the camera lens and see the giant black pan atop each frame of film. They also didn't see that their paychecks were bouncing all over the place and their buttocks were too tight to alleviate the problems. Shall I go on with a glass house metaphor as well? These people have created one of the most inaccessible monstrosities to be fathomed up for public viewing. Mock the movies of Rachel McAdams and Nicholas Sparks all you want, WINTER'S TALE; at least those are true blue love stories, not a series of insanely lucid sequences where the only heartaches are the ones being suffered by its audience.


Colin Farrell is miscast once again as a generic leading man, here appearing as Peter Lake, a thief on the run from NYC's top mob boss Pearly (Russell Crowe). How does he escape from his grasps? With a magic horse that can sprout ethereal wings, of course. Oh, and Crowe is a servant to Beelzebub himself, seeking to crush all miracles from happening in the Five Burroughs and keeping the skyline at night free of shining stars. Keep up with me, won't you? So, this pegasus-like creature plays Cupid for Peter, directing him to a dying rich woman named Beverly Penn (Jessica Brown Findlay). They exchange lame flirting and turgid dialogue, such as the beauty of seeing the light of objects when you are standing on Death's doormat. Pearly hates this courtship, trying with all of his might to prevent Peter from enacting his prophesied miracle involving a red-haired girl. If this means he has to headbutt Peter into the future on the Brooklyn Bridge, so be it.


Goldsman's fever dreams and repurposing of Mark Helprin's novel is never made fixed by the talented cast, largely because the polarizing screenwriter hardly gave any material to each and every one of them. He had Graham Greene, William Hurt, Jennifer Connelly, Kevin Corrigan, Kevin Durand, and a very special guest star on his payroll yet they all have an average screen time of two scenes, often spouting nothing that isn't already apparent. Goldsman really loved this strategy, as the details and backgrounds of characters are barely elaborated on or detailed, in favor of more long talking scenes with the same exposition repeated over and over again: Boy loves girl; Man hates boy; People always have hope.


His failure both as a writer and director can be seen in the first five minutes of the picture, where he tries to make us believe that Farrell is somehow 21 years old. If you can't easily spot that major error, there is this recurring element that drove me into madness: Beverly is often described as suffering from the disease known as consumption, a.k.a. Tuberculosis. This term for the disease was once used because the host body would greatly experience weight loss. Unfortunately for Goldsman, this term is no longer widely known today. You can't grasp the notion of Beverly being forcibly skinny because she routinely flaunts her nude body, particularly in one moment atop a tented castle tower, squarely in the sight of Peter, who somehow climbs said structure with ease without his grappling hook. If you do understand the disease's name and connection to TB, the film dashes that away too because the only side effect shown is that the disease makes Beverly look like a walking nuclear reactor, melting snow in seconds and leaving clear hand prints on window. No blood, no coughing, nothing easier to spot.


Once the film jumps ahead in time, it collapses further into its own abyss. A newly appointed major character is introduced to Peter, yet sits on the sidelines after two short scenes with him. Eva Marie Saint pops up as a smart, working woman at the age of 108. The dialogue becomes kindergarten level ("She has cancer. The doctors said she's dying!"). Past beings reappear without any explanation. People start dying off in the strangest of ways, such as turning to ice when struck by a metal emblem. And ultimately, the final prophecy not only completely dispels the notion of this being a romance movie, but it creates multiple unexplainable questions the makers refuse to answer. This is, when it isn't making the viewer shiver in their shoes with its queasy form of a kiss.


WINTER'S TALE isn't a romantic drama, it's a future midnight movie. No beaming smile delivered by Findlay can shatter its image as a film waiting to be watched when soaked in beer or with a pipe in hand. What else would expect from a company called Weed Road Productions? Watching this movie sober is a nightmare to a person's senses, causing laughter one moment, excruciating pain the next, followed by a state of total confusion, before repeating its vicious cycle once again.



FINAL REVIEW: 1 / 5

Godzilla (2014) - Review

Like the velociraptors of JURASSIC PARK, the marketing departments of Warner Bros. and Legendary Pictures have been clever girls. All of the promotion footage of this latest American attempt to reboot Big G have been completely vague, barely showing the dinosaur hybrid or much of the story. The studios instead focused on the citywide destruction, often beautifully organized in frame, and brief snippets of the characters. After sampling the final product, the marketers can party hard with a giant "Mission Accomplished" banner hanging above them because it paid off. They partially pulled off the arduous task of crafting a bait-and-switch that will not bomb with general audiences; I say partially because the diehard fans like myself will walk away with mixed results but at least be content that the movie is a magnum opus compared to what was spawned in 1998.


GODZILLA is more of an action-adventure epic than a giant monster mash. It often forgoes the sight of the kaiju pro-wrestling amid tumbling buildings in order to to maintain the strict human viewpoint of the disaster unfolding around them. Think more along the lines of last year's WORLD WAR Z or the singular structure of CLOVERFIELD. More fittingly, however, this movie is very much akin to director Gareth Edwards' previous feature MONSTERS, where the short flashes of the creatures are overpowered by the sheer scope of people struggling to physically and mentally survive.


The movie opens with a prologue featuring two back-to-back catastrophes in the alternate year of 1999: an underground mining collapse in the Philippines, which reveals a cavern full of huge skeletons and other mysteries, and a nuclear plant meltdown in Japan. The latter event severely impacted the Brody family, especially the gaijin son Joe, who later grows up to be a military bomb expert and be played by a bulky Aaron Taylor-Johnson. Joe is still trying to move on from the tragedy but is constantly incensed by the criminal actions of his father (Bryan Cranston), who continues to venture into the quarantine zone in order to find out what really happened. Script-wise, his conflict is a ludicrous overdose of Hollywood motivations: Daddy is mad because Mrs. Brody (an oddly fourth-billed Juliette Binoche) died during the radioactive breach, largely due to his split decision to send her down to investigate the seismic problem, then had to lock her out right at the containment doors. Oh, and all of this happened on his birthday; talk about a hat trick of anguish. Anyway, Joe decides to accompany his dad into the radiated area, only to be quickly swept into a series of bad circumstances and be a witness for every military operation directed towards a certain beast that decided to make its public debut.


I really, really must sustain myself from describing any more because the biggest fun of the picture is the many unexpected surprises that pop up. These developments constantly throw a mighty wrench in both the story and the expectations of the audience. They also allow this movie franchise to be given a new direction forward, a welcoming change of pace for the Godzilla character. Kaiju fanatics may be up in arms that Godzilla is now treading into the territory of one of his monster rivals but his character modifications will help allow the niche of monster movies to be given a fair shake with the public. To answer a few other fan questions: Yes, he does have his signature roar; Yes, he retains a key feature that was stupidly removed in the previous remake by Roland Emmerich and Dean Devlin; And no, Akira Ifukube's theme doesn't play. Alexandre Desplat does deliver a Zimmer-like musical score full of bombastic exclamations yet I still yearned for at least a music cameo during the credits. As for his redesign, I do really admire the chunky body and his more emotive face. By fattening him up, his durability and destructive force is counterweighed by his slow muscle movement and accuracy, making all of the battles fair and balanced.


Unfortunately, as stated before, 90% of the skirmishes here are obscured or quickly cut off. Edwards and screenwriter Max Borenstein wanted this to be more about humanity's story than Godzilla's, a sound strategy yet it's still an unnerving mood killer for those who want the elephant/lizard in the room to be noticed. To add further insult, the human despair is contrived or quite sickening. Standard blockbuster tropes like a dog in danger, a little girl in danger, and the good ole lost orphan who needs to find his displaced family for a feel good moment are all underlined for maximum exploitation. When not eye-rolling at that material, you're forced to engage with "homages" to real-life calamities like 9/11 and Hurricane Katrina; none of it is as torturous as what appeared in say MAN OF STEEL but it will soil the popcorn-eating. To be fair to the creators, some of their story elements actually pack a lot of punch, the best being a brief scene where the sounds of a Las Vegas casino drown out the televised warnings of a giant monster walking through the city. Even the original subtext of the 1954 Japanese film is pencilled into the proceedings but with a clever twist. Instead of just featuring the same past metaphors to Hiroshima and Nagasaki, this film includes the recurring dangerous threat of an EMP, a crippling device that shuts down all electronics in a given area and a weapon that is set off right before an atomic bomb lands on the ground.


GODZILLA's idea of prolonging all of the rock-em-sock-ems to build up the anticipation for the climatic finale certainly is a "fireworks factory" scenario but the movie does pull out all stops at the end, concluding with a moment that is sure to generate applause and be added to the highlight reel. It's just too bad that titled character had to be a supporting player to a bunch of humans. The actors are all serviceably good though the truly great performances are only regulated to the first act. Despite my personal heavy gripes, GODZILLA is a fun ride, has more depth to it than many of its competition (including some of the recent throwaway superhero films), and can be slotted right above all of the average Godzilla flicks. See it on the biggest screen and with the sound turned all the way up, as Godzilla will invigorate your goosebumps.



FINAL REVIEW: 3 / 5

The Other Woman (2014) - Review

When uninformed mistress Carly (Cameron Diaz) has a properly drunk sit-down talk with Kate (Leslie Mann), the wife of her formerly future boyfriend Mark (Nikolaj Coster-Waldau), she is put on the spot about how many times she and him made the beast with two backs. After much stalling, Carly blurts out 50 times, which of course Kate has to shout out repeatedly for public hearing because comedy. If you have been sadly paying attention to this picture as I have, you'll remember that Carly previously said to her personal secretary that they were going steady for 8 weeks. This means that Carly and Mark had sex nearly every single day of their time together, all the while hiding it from Kate, and also even during his other affair with dumb babe Amber (Kate Upton). Either Mark has a rabbit-like libido and the stamina of Hercules or screenwriter Melissa Stack is bad at her job and failed math class. Not too hard to figure out which one is correct.


THE OTHER WOMAN is such a dreadful film that I can't really call it a comedy. Not only are all of the laughs hollow but it often plays like a wannabe drama in the veins of WAITING TO EXHALE or AN UNMARRIED WOMAN. Much to the chagrin of director Nick Cassavetes, these three actresses are not Angela Bassett or Jill Clayburgh, nor can they ever be while playing characters who seemingly have no real lives or jobs and can party hard every time they convene. Instead of being classified as a sex farce, I must break out one of the most hated phrases ever invented and label it as a true chick flick, a female-starring work destined to be fully scuffed at in the coming years but suffice the stupid public in the present. It's rah-rahing for sisterhood could only get worst if it was delivered by the cheerleaders of the Washington Generals, conducted over by Katherine Heigl.


The craftsmanship is so paltry that auteur/enfant terrible Tommy Wiseau would scoff at its shoddy structure. Practically every scene has a quiet soundscape, causing every flat joke to land like a hydrogen bomb. When there is non-diegetic music, they are all inappropriate, such as "Royals" and a somber take on "Love is a Battlefield". Continuity is a non-presence, as everything from hands to wine bottles to hoodies often teleport in between cuts. My anger for this hatchet-job turned to slight remorse when I learned it was co-edited by Alan Heim, the man who helped shape masterpieces like NETWORK and ALL THAT JAZZ. But the majority of this disaster belongs to Cassavetes, who here shows that he loves the directing styles of television sitcoms and wants to cake all the scenes in cerulean blue. Characters often engage in generic shot/reverse-shot spats in the middle of restaurants, filled with background extras who were all instructed to never ever react or stare at the main action; Coster-Waldau at one point farts right in people's faces, thanks to some payback through laxatives, drizzling out streams of fecal matter down his pants yet the only concern from the other patrons is that there water needs to be refilled. When he does venture beyond the bland, Cassavetes goes completely insane: Diaz clearly takes a deadly fall when trying to escape from Mark's sight in one scene and the final comeuppance has things exploding all over the place.


This was designed to be all about female empowerment and camaraderie, so much so that there's an embarrassingly awful scene where the trio slow-mo walk to a beachside in order to hug it out. If that's the case, why does the camera love to focus on Upton's hungry bum, as it chews away on her bikini brief, or her chest jiggling? And why is Mann unbearable as a manic pixie ragdoll, a woman whose traumatic mental collapse is entirely undercut by her unchecked body flailing and unfunny ramblings? Not content with just insulting women, the movie also throws other demographics under the bus. Blacks are displayed through Nicki Minaj, a truly odd casting decision, as people who willingly adore cheating all the time. Asians pop up as subservient beings in a gambling den/brothel, who do all the "handiwork" while the man sits at peace. For its last middle finger, the movie informs the audience that transgender people are gross, a minority that are badly dressed, cherish three-ways, and reside in Thailand.


The only salvageable element I can say of this monstrosity is Kate Upton, who does an okay job playing the dullard of the group. She sadly isn't given the attention as the other two, nor does she really unleash any pranks on the man who has lied to her. Even when the smoke clears and life moves on, Amber doesn't learn anything and returns to being a play toy for scuzzy men. Stack and Cassavetes utterly spit on the spirits of Judy Holliday and Jayne Mansfield with this conclusion, refusing to budge from their regressive ideals. May neither of them be pencilled later into doing a movie about women's suffrage; the schmucks will think they need to come up with two hours of females in peril.



FINAL REVIEW: 1 / 5

The Raid 2 - Review

THE RAID 2 is not only an action masterpiece but a true spectacle to be enthralled into. This is one of the few movies playing now that truly makes you love the art of cinema while pleasuring all of your cathartic and carnal urges. It delivers more "holy shit!"'s than a church bathroom, overabundant with deliriously cool throw-downs and soaking in baths of visceral bloodshed. You might be dismayed by a few missteps, namely the use of some badly rendered CGI and the dreaded return of shaky-cam, but trust me when I say that it keeps getting far better and better with each elbow to the head, every gun clip emptied into a brain, and every meticulously planned out fight scene devised by director Gareth Evans.


Starting off several hours after the events of the first movie, rookie cop Rama (Iko Uwais) is the only one of the few survivors able to be labelled a future asset in the eyes of Bunawar (Cok Simbara); his injured buddy is mysteriously spirited away while the lieutenant responsible for the egregious apartment purge is executed on the spot. As head of the anti-corruption task force and one of the few men able to be trusted, Bunawar wants to bring Rama into his unit, first by eliminating him off the grid by submitting a false police report to his superiors that no one survived the previous engagement. After the paperwork has been filled and he's legally dead, Rama would then go undercover as a bumpkin thug, carted off into jail after beating up a corrupt official's son, in order to intertwine himself with a fellow prisoner, Uco (Arifin Putra). Uco just so happens to be the prodigal son of Bangun (Tio Pakusadewo), the mellow but still heinously ruthless kingpin of Jakarta, and who also has a strained alliance with a yakuza outfit. Once worming himself into the gang as Uco's comrade, Rama is to remain under their strict care, perpetrate every crime given to him under orders, until he can obtain hard proof of their dealings and bribes with the higher-ups in the police force. Rama is at first hesitant to embark on the dangerous venture but, like all stars in martial arts films, he is suddenly given a vendetta when his family drops one member, namely his criminal brother Andi. His depature is displayed in the prologue, where he's shotgun blasted into a hole by the true wildcard of the picture, a physically crippled but supremely methodical player named Bejo (Alex Abbad).


Evans has thankfully listened to the critics and made sweeping changes across the board for this installment. The biggest gripe of the first film was the entire plot, which possessed nil characterization and was never truly compelling when it came to the points of shallow family drama. Here, the scope has drastically changed, as it forgoes repeating its intriguing premise of busting down a single building of criminal activity for a city-wide narrative close to the veins of INFERNAL AFFAIRS/THE DEPARTED. Story elements that were once forever eye-rolling, such as the usual trope of corrupt police officers, now feel more grounded and toxic for the city environment. Even though it may seem that Evans has just traded in his crime and kung fu cliches just for a new set cut from the same breed, he still throws in some curveballs to the make the proceedings more fresh. For example, Rama wisely fears that his family will be targeted at any moment if his cover is blown. When something along the lines does come up towards the end, we aren't "treated" to the familiar sight of a wife/child-in-peril but a clever twist that shakes up the tradition of how final battles go.


Evans also expands on his craftsmanship skills, inventing a slew of striking visuals and, of course, violent skirmishes that will certainly dry out your eyes. He re-uses his taste for slow-burn/slow-motion tension before every set piece, making it less of an action romp and more of a horror film. But he also likes to toss in some heavy black comedy every once in awhile to defuse the situation or unnerve the viewer. Evans even seems to respond to those who can't grasp the notion of watching a movie where people refuse to use guns and instead kung fu fight; several sequences are enriched in surreality, through the artistry of lighting, editing, and sound design. A great sample of this is when a seemingly unimportant yet deadly mercenary is hanging out in a thumping discotheque, lulled by the beat into his own thoughts and personal demons. He then wakes up only to find that the music has stopped, the other patrons have all vanished, and a flock of bloodthirsty goons are coming out of the woodworks to get him.


The fights are all spectacularly marvelous, able to stand out in their own right. You have the prison-yard scene, where you can see the pains on the faces and bodies of the actors as they try to fluidly go through the motions while caked and treading in a sea of mud. There's the subtle throwback to the original, where the embedded Rama tags with Uco when making a package pick-up run at a porno hut/druggie apartment complex. Then, in the second half, you have the dazzling introductions of a series of future mid-bosses for Rama, each having their own weapon of choice and charisma. And just when it can't be topped, out comes one of the greatest car chases ever to be thought up. And if you think that the title is false, don't worry because this does end with a raid and it's too exciting to spoil here.


The actors all do a fine job on screen, often speaking with their fists and silent rage, but the real breakthrough is Arifin Putra. Featuring pretty boy good looks and serviceable marital art skills, his Uco is a true and true weasel that you can kinda enjoy, even when he starts to lose his cool demeanor or commits some dastardly executions. I also can't leave without expressing much praise for the musical score, beautifully spun by Fajar Yuskemal and Aria Prayogi, who were replaced in the first film by Linkin Park's Mike Shinoda, and Joseph Trapanese. Don't refuse to see this just because it features subtitles; check this out as soon as possible. Your joy will thank you later.



FINAL REVIEW: 5 / 5

Heaven Is For Real - Review

Who in the hell is Randall Wallace? Well, according to IMDB, he's the nameless director of such films as THE MAN IN THE IRON MASK, WE WERE SOLDIERS, and SECRETARIAT. He also bestowed on to the American public the script for Michael Bay's PEARL HARBOR, a story that famously caused every viewer to root for the Japanese to decimate an American love triangle. I asked this question not for the sake of starting off this review with a pun but for the fact that I couldn't accept HEAVEN IS FOR REAL as being a creation of any filmmaker beyond Jeff Nichols. Three years ago, he made a really good indie called TAKE SHELTER; this film featured a character actor in the lead role, a strawberry blonde-haired actress as his wife, people getting sick with multiple ailments in rapid succession, money troubles being a big plot point, a holiday venture ending with sheer consequences, but ultimately was about the struggle whether or not to accept visions that are experienced in some capacity. Guess what HEAVEN IS FOR REAL features?


This movie recounts the "amazing" true story of Colton Burpo, a 4-year-old boy from Nebraska whose father just so happens to be a town pastor. He suddenly is ailed by a case of having a burst appendix, so he's quickly pushed into emergency surgery. Some time after his operation, he begins to tell his dad Todd (played by Greg Kinnear) about what occurred during his hospital time, namely the period while he was under the knife. He states that he walked around Heaven, had angels sing to him, and got to sit on Jesus' lap. The medical reports reveal that he never flatlined on the table, so what happened to cause such an event? Could this have been a fantasy devised by his brain while unconscious or is it a true miracle, especially after further hidden secrets are revealed? And, could Mr. Burpo use such a story as to bring his community together while helping him pay off his debts?


Now let's stop being overtly critical about the believability of this story and focus strictly on this movie adaptation created in its wake. Unfortunately, I don't have any nice things to say about HEAVEN IS FOR REAL, so this train of negativity and cynicism will just keep on keeping on. You might respond that I should turn the other cheek and be nice to this supposedly wholesome movie. First off, I don't have to be because even the movie says its okay to fight and lambast: At one point, the other Burpo kid, a girl named Cassie, serves up a knuckle sandwich to two taunting boys on the playground, after they made fun of Colton. After she tells her parents of what she did, she's given a kiss on the head and the matters end right there. Not very Christian-like, huh? And secondly, this movie isn't wholesome at all. It is a gross production of standard Christian conventions, shallow craftsmanship, and tedious stretches of useless information and dialogue, all the while slathered with rampant product placement by Sony, who fronted the whole bill.


I'm going to start right off with the elephant in the room: Connor Corum, the child actor who plays Colton. He is very dreadful and seems to think that cuteness means to act like a shy Damien. His sole expression, which he utilizes whenever the situation calls for happiness, attentiveness, or sadness, can best be described as the "pissed in my pants" technique. Don't let his perky cheeks and cries for everyone to sing old Queen songs fool you, he is a very bad actor. Also, I have never seen a perfect four-year-old like this in real life, let alone in a church.


Now that I have cruelly mocked a little boy, let's move on to the rest of the junk present here. Though Wallace's previous films all had even a small sense of style and vibrancy, HEAVEN IS FOR REAL is largely lifeless and so incredibly boring to tolerate, especially with a running time of 100 minutes. It takes practically takes thirty minutes or more until Colton is finally sent off to the hospital, preceded by two full sermons, a series of cloyingly bankrupt scenes of family fun, and several useless subplots that go right in the garbage bin. Those money troubles I touched upon? Always brought up by the wife but never resolved. Todd's injuries that misfortunately pop up one after the other? Kinnear is later seen walking around fine with no trouble at all. Some shots devised by veteran cinematographer Dean Semler seem to invoke some kind of beauty but it is then negated by some repetitive tableaus and some frankly horror-like images, like Colton walking up from the basement in heavy shadow or Colton sitting on the stairs while framed in a dutch angle. Semler's work is also hampered by the highly questionable editing, which follows the script's nature by also randomly switching gears in the mood and tempo.


The movie does at least try to be objective in the debate over Colton's experiences but fails quickly on both ends. Colton's story is easily thrown out and labelled to be false because of a later scene where he re-enters into heaven "for a short time" by staring straight into the sun. That's not a joke, it's a real scene. But the other side of the debate isn't even better: The skepticism and jeering by the other townsfolk is such a turn on the dime from has been established before. You see these people listen closely to the sermons, all mingle at the local diner and play baseball together and then boom, people like Margo Martindale and Thomas Haden Church are now unexpectedly prudish towards the Burpos. This type of bipolar characterization is customary for a Christian film and screenwriter Chris Parker has some more to stupidly deal out. For example, Kinnear at one point meets and talks with a female college professor and she, like other higher learning figures in these movies, is depicted to be a harsh atheist, who may or may not lost a loved one and just needs one good sermon to win them back into the flock. Then of course, there is the good old Christian film cliche of flat-out lying to the audience: Kinnear searches on Wikipedia for "near-death experience", in order to continue to find out any possible answers for Colton's behavior. The website instead re-directs him to the page of "hallucination". Anyone with half a brain and a working keyboard can spot this goof.


This is labelled as being set in the present day, yet the real-life story took place in 2004. If you accept the established timeline, it doesn't explain why someone as busy as Kinnear's character is still carrying around a flip-top cell phone. But if you accept the time-frame of 2004, then you are treated to seeing everyone possessing a Sony Vaio laptop computer, which were popular at the time, and the fact that the Brupo family owns a Sony PS3, which wasn't even shipped out until 2006. The presence of Vaio computers everywhere is eye-rolling, plus the many mentions of Kinnear working for Overheard Door is a bit understandable, but the utterly despicable hard shill of Spider-Man is unfathomable. Spider-Man is everywhere in this picture, often seen as an action figure being carried all-around by Colton. When Colton is really sick and they want to show the dread of losing a child, the makers don't focus on the parents, they focus on the falling Spider-Man figure in slow-motion. But the crowning "achievement" comes when Dad talks with Colton one night in his bed. The camera is pulled way, way back in order to showcase Colton's "Spider-Sense" lamp shade, an Amazing Fantasy #15 poster, a generic Spider-Man poster, and a Spider-Man kids book on his bedside table. In case you forgot, Sony owns the movie rights to the Spider-Man franchise, with one coming in a few weeks, and they want to remain holding on to them. What a disgrace.


This isn't a movie made to support love for religious bonding or community togetherness. It was made to sucker in money by the barrel-full. I feel so bad for Kinnear, Church, and Martindale for wasting their talents in the piece of Christian filth. I just hope that God will forgive all those who were involved in this tedious cash-grab.



FINAL REVIEW: 1 / 5