Godzilla II: King Of The Monsters (2019)

The Low-Down: With Marvel raking in the cash and plaudits after creating the world’s most epic cinematic universe, every studio that can thread movies together – however tenuously – is hopping on the bandwagon. And so we have Godzilla II: King Of The Monsters: the third installment in Legendary Pictures’ MonsterVerse, following Godzilla (2014) and Kong: Skull Island (2017). It’s easily the most ambitious film yet, uniting several classic critters straight out of Godzilla lore and finding pretty much any excuse to have them fight one another. The final result is both bold and bonkers – good and bad, often in the very same moment.

The Story: Monsters break stuff, including people. It’s a fact of life that the broken Russell family must deal with after Godzilla’s epic battle leaves downtown San Francisco in ruins. Grieving and newly sober, Mark (Kyle Chandler) stalks wolf packs in another part of the world. Emma (Vera Farmiga), his ex-wife, continues to work on the Orca, a machine they created together that can emit soundwaves capable of calming or infuriating Godzilla-scale monsters. Madison (Millie Bobby Brown), their precocious daughter, is caught in between – especially when Emma’s decision to use the Orca sets off a chain of monstrous events that could lead to the end of the world as we know it.

The Good: The concept at the heart of Godzilla II, quite frankly, is off-the-wall wacky – so bold and audacious and weird that you have to give director/co-screenwriter Michael Dougherty some credit for effort, even if his execution of it is somewhat lacklustre. This is no mere story of monsters raining mayhem down upon mankind. Instead, the film moves its mythology quite firmly into the realm of faith; Godzilla, the film suggests, is as much god as monster. It’s actually quite remarkable to see a mainstream blockbuster movie embrace – rather than shy away from – religious iconography, folding in theologies and environmental philosophies from Greek myth to Thanos. As such, Godzilla and his arch-nemesis, King Ghidorah (a three-headed Hydra-esque dragon beast), aren’t just having their version of a bar-room brawl – their earth-shaking clash is a battle for the survival of humanity.

The Not-So-Good: It’s a shame that the film as a whole can’t keep up with its high-concept ideas. The writing ranges from inspired to insipid, with character motivations dancing ridiculously back and forth – dictated mostly by the rather demented plot. As a director, Dougherty exhibited some skill with subversive comedy in cult horror flick Krampus, but very little of that is evident here. It’s not just about sacrificing soul for scale – Dougherty occasionally struggles with telling such a massive story in visual terms. Some of the film’s action sequences are so choppy as to be downright confusing. It doesn’t help that Dougherty’s preferred aesthetic tends towards the grey and grim, which makes it even harder to figure out just what is going on while monsters are duking it out in frustratingly murky lighting.

The Monster Mash: The first Godzilla film in the franchise suffered for shoving its titular monster into the background, having him play second fiddle to human characters who weren’t all that well-written to begin with. Godzilla II tries to rectify that, somewhat, by flinging so many monsters at the screen that you’d be almost glad to get back to the human drama after a while. Apart from Godzilla and Ghidorah, fans will be glad to see old-school Toho favourites like Mothra and Rodan in action too. (If they could actually see them, that is. Seriously – the monsters are beautifully rendered, but the bruise-toned lighting does them no favours.)

God(zilla)-Level Casting: If Dougherty learned one thing from his predecessor, Gareth Edwards, it’s the importance of casting a bunch of top-notch character actors in an otherwise barmy creature feature. Veteran performers like Oscar nominee Farmiga, West Wing alumnus Whitford and Charles Dance (that’s Tywin Lannister to you) reel off awkward exposition and pseudo-scientific claptrap (“bio-acoustics”, “the Oxygen Destroyer”) like it’s actual real human dialogue. It’s quite remarkable to see Friday Night Lights’ Coach Eric Taylor in action anti-hero mode, but Chandler – just as Bryan Cranston did in the 2014 film – brings an everyman weight to a character whose narrative arc is muddled, to say the least. The MVP here, though, is Brown. She brings to Madison the same soulful blend of toughness and tenderness that made her such a breakout star in Netflix’s Stranger Things.

Recommended? It depends. Godzilla II is a hot mess… but it’s a fascinating hot mess, and surprisingly fun to watch and even think about.

Captain Marvel (2019)

The Low-Down: It’s been a long, slightly ludicrous time in coming, but Marvel Studios’ first female-led superhero movie is finally blasting into cinemas. Unfortunately, Captain Marvel is trailing plenty of controversy in its wake, largely generated by the same toxic, sexist segments of ‘fandom’ who have been venting their rage online about ‘their’ franchises being taken over by women. (See: Ghostbusters, Star Wars etc.) It’s quite wonderful, then, that Captain Marvel is (literally and figuratively) the most powerful response to these haters yet – not only is it a ton of fun, this film is unapologetically, explicitly feminist in a way that’s never before been presented on screen in such a mainstream blockbuster.

The Story: We first meet Vers (Brie Larson) as a promising new cadet in Starforce, an elite military unit dedicated to protecting the Kree homeworld of Hala from the threat of Skrull invasion. For what she lacks in memories of her own life and story, she more than makes up for in wit, courage and pure power – an energy that her commander, Yon-Rogg (Jude Law), constantly counsels her to keep in check. When a Starforce mission goes wrong and she winds up on Earth, she starts putting together the puzzle pieces of her past as former Air Force fighter pilot Carol Danvers – and begins to reclaim what she has lost.

The Good: All told, Captain Marvel is an absolute blast to watch. Like its titular heroine, the film is fun, fearless and thoroughly feminist: celebrating Carol herself, as well as the women in her orbit who (she will soon discover) helped make her who she really is. The film’s genre-hopping – stacking psychological thriller on top of buddy comedy and spicing it all up with some space opera – doesn’t always work when taken as a whole. But each element of the film is delightful, especially when Carol meets and impresses Nick Fury (a CGI-de-aged Samuel L. Jackson, dialling the goofy charm up to 11) and they embark on a road trip that takes them all the way to the stars. It’s worth pointing out, too, that the film quite ingeniously deepens the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU)’s mythology, both backwards and forwards in time, while giving us the miracle that is Goose, a cat Flerken who will steal your heart and also strike fear into your soul – the way all the best cats Flerkens do.

The Not-So-Good: The first act of Captain Marvel is its weakest – it’s almost as if the film, like its title character, hasn’t quite figured out what it is or wants to be. That can make for a mildly puzzling first viewing experience, compounded by a script that makes no allowances for those who can’t keep up with the murkier politics of Kree-Skrull warfare. Due to the deliberately fractured narrative structure (mirroring Carol’s identity crisis), even Marvel aficionados, who can readily tell their Krees from their Skrulls and Marvell from Marvel, might find it challenging to follow the plot at first.

O Captain, Our Captain! Kudos are due to Larson for making all the disparate elements of the film and her character work. For one thing, she makes kicking inter-galactic butt look easy and effortless. But it’s in finding Carol’s heart and soul that Larson truly shines – a particularly impressive feat since she’s essentially playing a character who barely knows who she really is. Somehow, somewhere, in the midst of Carol’s snarky comebacks and fierce smackdowns, Larson promises us a real human being – one we’re excited to get to know better as the MCU continues to grow.

Nevertheless, She Persisted: One of Captain Marvel’s purest delights is its unabashedly feminist heart. In the film’s most emotionally affecting sequence, we see Carol getting up – over and over again, through the ages, over decades, all her life – when she’s told (particularly by the men around her) to stay down, to smile, to please others, to live a life that is nothing like the one she deserves to make for herself. It’s an electrifying moment that will resonate with women and girls everywhere, whose lived experiences are of a world that has them constantly questioning their worth and value. Carol’s true triumph isn’t against hordes of shape-shifting aliens or an imminent inter-galactic attack – it’s against the insidious horrors of toxic masculinity and gaslighting. What makes it all work doubly well is that the film also proudly celebrates the women in Carol’s orbit, from Annette Bening’s brilliant maverick scientist, Dr. Wendy Lawson; to Lashana Lynch’s fiercely competent fighter pilot/single mom, Maria Rambeau.

Fan Fare: Marvel fans, of both the film and comic-book variety, will find themselves very well-served by Captain Marvel. MCU devotees will be rewarded with origin stories for fan-favourite characters – not just Nick Fury, but also Phil Coulson (Clark Gregg), both of whom are decades away from their destinies with S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers. The script is canny enough to use and subvert fan expectations gleaned from decades of comic lore – testing our sympathies most notably in the form of charismatic Skrull leader Talos (Ben Mendelsohn). And be warned: this might well be the first movie ever that has you tearing up even before the opening credits, with Marvel having re-designed its production logo in honour of the late, great Stan Lee and the words he wrote that changed the world.

Recommended? Yes! Captain Marvel pulls off the rather incredible feat of being properly entertaining and enlightening. A film that will reward multiple viewings, it’s an essential addition to the canon of superhero movies.

 

Bumblebee (2018)

The Low-Down: You’d be forgiven for thinking that Bumblebee is yet another shameless cash-grab by the powers-that-be behind the Transformers franchise. There isn’t much incentive to improve, after all: money keeps pouring in at the box office (especially in China), even as the films – and scripts – have gotten progressively worse and more nonsensical.

And yet, Bumblebee will have you buzzing with delight. In this blockbuster prequel (reboot?) centred on everyone’s favourite sidekick Transformer, everything stale feels fresh again. Most importantly, this film about giant mutating machines has its heart and soul in the right place.

The Good: The Transformers franchise takes a page from the hugely successful Marvel playbook, entrusting Bumblebee to a visionary director who’s as comfortable with telling a story as creating jaw-dropping visuals. (Apologies to Michael Bay, but explosions do not a movie make.) Travis Knight – who gave us the sublime Kubo And The Two Strings – makes his live-action debut with plenty of heart and flair. He lavishes time and care on the film’s emotional beats, grounding it effectively in the tender friendship between Bumblebee and Charlie (Hailee Steinfeld), the mechanically-minded teenager who saves him from a salvage yard. Even with this almost arthouse focus on character development, Knight still delivers no shortage of expertly-choreographed explosions and action sequences.

The Not-So-Good: Bumblebee’s action-packed climactic showdown isn’t half as consequential as it wants to be – indeed, it’s the least interesting thing about the film by far. And it’s not helped by the fact that Charlie and her friends and family seem to be the only humans on the planet worth saving. Jack Burns – played with intermittent charm by John Cena – just barely works as a character, while everyone around him is either forgettably bland or memorably idiotic.

The Nostalgic: Fans of the original Transformers cartoon from the 1980s will lap up all the references and re-designs in Bumblebee. When first stranded on Earth, for instance, our titular hero finds refuge in a familiar form: a canary-yellow 1967 Volkswagen Beetle.

Knockout Performance: Steinfeld hasn’t really managed to find a movie role deserving of the talents she displayed as a young child actor in True Grit (2010) – a performance that nabbed her an Oscar nomination. Who’d have thought that role would come in a Transformers movie? Steinfeld is quite wonderful as Charlie, allowing us to peek beneath her character’s tough exterior to see the oceans of hurt and heartbreak she’s hiding – from her family and herself. She’s remarkably good at playing the hero and the human in Charlie, often at the same time.

Script Tease: There are a ton of eye-popping special effects in Bumblebee, including a fantastic moment in a tunnel when he shrinks and stretches to protect his human cargo. But the real special effect in Bumblebee is the script by Christina Hodson. By injecting heart and humour into her words and characters, Hodson has helped create the first Transformers film that might actually make you laugh and cry. Unlike later installments in the series, you’ll actually root for her characters to live on in the sequels. And, as if all that weren’t reason enough to celebrate Hodson’s script, Bumblebee manages to be fun, funny and also feminist: establishing Charlie as a person and hero first, before giving her full control over when and whether she’ll be anyone’s love interest.

Recommended? Surprisingly, unexpectedly, unreservedly – yes. Bumblebee is the best Transformers film yet, so full of warmth and character that it will leave you wanting more.

Spider-Man: Into The Spider Verse (2018)

The Low-Down: Does the world really need another Spider-Man movie? In just over 15 years, we’ve already had three different Peter Parkers, each one with the same basic origin story. It’s a reliable formula that’s been run into the ground… hasn’t it? And yet, Spider-Man: Into The Spider Verse will have you clamouring for more. This fresh, funny, fantastic film proves that there’s entire universes of mileage left in all things Spider-Man – introducing us to brand-new hero Miles Morales, while also dissecting (and reinforcing) our love for good ol’ Peter Parker.

The Story: Miles Morales (voiced by Shameik Moore) is a high-school kid just trying to figure out his purpose in life – which sharpens somewhat terrifyingly into focus when he’s bitten by a radioactive spider and finds himself literally climbing the walls. Suddenly, he’s forced to assume the mantle of Spider-Man, battling to save the world from the heartbroken insanity of Wilson Fisk (Liev Schreiber). It’s a tall order for a half African-American, half Puerto-Rican kid from Brooklyn but, fortunately, Miles soon discovers that he isn’t alone in the universe…

The Good: Where to even begin? Into The Spider Verse is a delight in practically every way. First and foremost, it’s remarkably refreshing to see a character like Miles – a young man of mixed-race descent – get his own superhero origin story. It helps enormously that the screenplay, credited to Phil Lord and Rodney Rothman, is equal parts sweet, sharp and snarky. Some superhero movies (*cough*DC*cough*) can take themselves too seriously, but Into The Spider Verse skewers Spider-Man’s cinematic history with a cheeky charm that’s impossible to resist. Miles also leads a cast of enormously appealing characters, including clever twists on fan favourites like Peter Parker (Jake Johnson), Aunt May (Lily Tomlin), Gwen Stacy (Hailee Steinfeld) and Doctor Octopus (REDACTED).

The Not-So-Good: There’s almost too much going on, all the time. Into The Spider Verse is stuffed to the brim with multiple characters, multiple universes and multiple plot-lines – so much so that the emotional weight of Miles’ fraught relationships with his dad (Brian Tyree Henry) and uncle (Mahershala Ali), which should tear audiences apart, comes close to getting lost amongst the shift and shuffle of the plot. It’s hardly a deal-breaker, though: the narrative beats are all there, ready to be savoured and rediscovered on a rewatch.

The Gloriously Geeky: Comic-book fans, rejoice – this one’s for you. There’s a soul-deep love for Spider-Man lore threaded through every gorgeous frame of this movie. Naturally, it’s right there in the plot, as alternate universes collide and truly cult characters tumble into Miles’ life. But it’s the medium of animation that makes the real difference here. It’s why Into The Spider Verse can embrace its comic-book roots in a way that live-action movies can’t. In some of the film’s most visually arresting sequences, Miles leaps and soars in and out of frame, trailing sound effects and narration in his wake. This living, breathing comic-book effect is the crowning achievement of Sony’s animation arm – not only is it fluid and stunning, it’s ridiculously inventive, mixing and matching animation styles to further plot and develop character.

Watch Out For: Easter eggs galore! Spider-Man and Marvel aficonados should keep their eyes peeled for references peppered throughout the film. The late Stan Lee’s cameo will break and warm your heart in equal measure. Meanwhile, Brian Michael Bendis and Sara Pichelli, who co-created Miles Morales, are name-checked, as are concepts and terms well-known to fans of the comics (Earth-616 and all). Stay through the credits for a series of of wonderful, silly rewards, including a song off Spider-Man’s novelty Christmas album and some intriguing scenes that hint at where this new animated franchise might go. (A sequel and spin-offs have already been greenlit! 🙌) ALSO, this film features possibly the best use of Nicolas Cage in a movie since National Treasure!*

Recommended? YES. Into The Spider Verse isn’t just the best Spider-Man movie that nobody asked for – it’s one of the best Spider-Man movies ever made, period. It’s also a top contender for best animated film of the year.

*Okay, fine, having Cage voice Superman in this year’s Teen Titans Go! To The Movies was genius too – a nod to his life-long goal to play Superman. Maybe Cage should stick to voiceover work… 🤔

 

Mortal Engines (2018)

The Low-Down: For a period of time a decade or so ago, steampunk was all the rage in young-adult fantasy novels. ‘Steampunk’ novels blended past and future, taking inspiration for futuristic technology from the steam-powered machinery of the 19th century. Philip Reeve’s Mortal Engines series is a prime example – his characters battle to survive in a broken future, in which people now live in moving, mechanical, almost monstrous cities. The original source novel (published in 2001) was adapted for the screen (and produced) by the same creative team behind The Lord Of The Rings: Fran Walsh, Philippa Boyens and Peter Jackson.

The Good: The Mortal Engines features some of the best world construction (though it might be more accurate to say deconstruction) in a fantasy movie in a generation.The visual effects and production design – including a thoroughly reconstituted London and a city built on clouds – are fantastic, so remarkably rendered that it’s impossible to tell where reality ends and imagination begins. Before they wear out their welcome, the characters are reasonably diverse and appealing: Icelandic actress Hera Hilmar adroitly finds the toughness and tenderness in driven protagonist Hester Shaw, and Hugo Weaving is so good as fairly one-note villain Thaddeus Valentine that you’ll wish he had more layers to work with.

The Cleverly Subversive: There’s a clever thread of political commentary running throughout the film. As the predatory city of London storms smaller cities to steal their resources and energy, the obvious reference is to colonialism: our real-world history repeating itself in the form of fiction. There are even barely subtle allusions to some of the most bewildering policy decisions of our times: Brexit and Donald Trump’s border separation initiative.

The Not-So-Good: The movie doesn’t end half as well at it begins – it tries desperately to be exciting but winds up being exhausting. The final 45 minutes are packed with so many moving parts that most of the emotional beats get lost in the melee, including an actual ‘Luke Skywalker vs. Darth Vader’ moment that misses both the heart and the mark. It’s nice that Jackson is mentoring Christian Rivers in the latter’s directorial debut, but you might find yourself wondering what the film would be like if Jackson had directed it himself. Separately, Jihae cuts a cool figure as rebel leader Anna Fang, but she can’t seem to express emotion through all of her character’s swagger and glower.

Scene Stealer Extraordinaire: Shrike – played in motion-capture by Stephen Lang – is a marvel. More machine than man, he steals pretty much every scene he stalks grimly through. Ironically (but also fittingly), this mechanical man’s hunt for Hester lends the film most of its dramatic and emotional weight.

Watch Out For: Cameos by Jackson and Reeve, if you’re not too busy trying to keep track of everything that’s going on.

Recommended? If you want to see some of the best visual effects put on screen since Lord Of The Rings, yes. But the muddled plot never quite lives up to its promise. So be warned – you might be disappointed if you’re in it for the story.

Widows (2018)

The Low-Down: Hailed as a classy crime thriller with a feminist twist, Widows sees Veronica Rawlings (Viola Davis) gathering her fellow widows to pull off a heist after their husbands die in a mission gone badly wrong. The film boasts a pretty impressive pedigree: it’s directed by Steve McQueen (12 Years A Slave, Hunger) and co-written by McQueen and Gillian Flynn (who wrote Gone Girl – both the book and the film).

The Good: Widows has both style and substance, which don’t always co-exist in crime thrillers. Apart from scenes and moments shot with delicate flair by McQueen, the film powerfully weaves heartbreaking real-world violence into the backstory of one of its lead characters. When Widows is good, it’s very good – its myriad characters and plot lines hint at the very thin line that separates crime from politics, and not many movies can pull off equating victory with comeuppance.

The Not-So-Good: For all that is good about the film, Widows is weighed down by an identity crisis. Its tone is all over the place, meandering from heist thriller to soap opera, by way of a political drama. This slows the film’s pace down considerably, when it should zip and zing. Lavishing so much time on the film’s politicians and antagonists also means that some of the ostensible leads get short shrift. Michelle Rodriguez’s Widow, in particular, is so slight that even a last-minute addition to the heist crew (played by Cynthia Erivo) fares better in terms of character development. And it’s hard to shake the feeling that McQueen shot a bunch of great scenes that he couldn’t bear to cut (pretty much any moment featuring Daniel Kaluuya’s thug), even though they don’t actually help move the story along very much.

Knockout Performances: In an insanely good cast, Davis, Kaluuya and Elizabeth Debicki are the standouts. Davis wrings strength and vulnerability out of an underwritten role. Kaluuya flips his everyman charm on a dime and is truly terrifying as a henchman from hell. Debicki is effortlessly charming as the best Widow of all: the one who discovers she’s much more than the trophy wife she’d always believed herself to be.

Watch Out For: The cannily cast husbands of the titular widows – some have so little screen time that they might well qualify as Easter eggs. Shoutout to Liam Neeson, who gamely sends up his geriaction hero status while reminding viewers that he’s actually a pretty good actor – even with contrived material.

Recommended? Yes, but not without some qualifications. McQueen’s films can be harrowing and alienating – this one is neither, but it’s also strange to watch. There’s a lot about it that’s good, and quite a bit of it that doesn’t work. But it’s an interesting mess that’s worth a look.

 

Ralph Breaks The Internet (2018)

The Low-Down: Ralph Breaks The Internet is the sequel to 2012’s Wreck-It Ralph, one of Disney’s most inventive and beloved films. The first movie mined comic gold from nostalgia, bringing to life a host of video-game favourites from the ’80s and ’90s. This new film addresses the technology we have today: Ralph (voiced by John C. Reilly) and Vanellope Von Schweetz (Sarah Silverman) head into the crazy wilderness of the Internet in a bid to save her game from being unplugged for good.

The Good: The film smartly keeps its emotional focus on the wonderful friendship between Ralph and Vanellope, and is all the better for it. There’s a great deal of wonderful comedy in Ralph’s desperate efforts to save Vanellope (who, as it turns out, might not want to be saved anymore) – including going viral. Ralph Breaks The Internet is unexpectedly mature in reminding audiences about the value of unconditional love between friends – that your friends can make you better, smarter, and more loving than you ever thought possible. You might find yourself sobbing at the grief and the growth that both Ralph and Vanellope experience as their friendship deepens.

The Not-So-Good: Much of the film’s commentary on the social-media age in which we love works quite well, from over-eager search engine Knowsmore (Alan Tudyk) to sassy algorithm queen Yesss (Taraji P. Henson). But why are some well-known elements of the Internet given new names (Buzzfeed and YouTube merged into BuzzTube, for instance), while others aren’t? It ends up feeling like product placement – for eBay, in particular. Also, the sub-plots for new character Shank (Gal Gadot), as well as old favourites Fix-It Felix (Jack McBrayer) and Calhoun (Jane Lynch), work, but also feel somewhat inconsequential.

Knockout Moment: The Disney Princesses win the Internet! This is definitely product placement but it works beautifully because it’s done with so much tongue-in-cheek affection for the entire Disney Princess franchise. The first Wreck-It Ralph film introduced Vanellope as the Mouse House’s most intriguing princess yet – full of spunk, fire and a refusal to abide by the usual princessy tropes – but didn’t really do much with it. Here, Disney deconstructs itself: gifting Vanellope with her own ‘I want’ princess song, while giving its other princesses (from Elsa and Anna to Mulan, Belle, Snow White and more) the chance to comment (and act) on the not-always-very-feminist stories of which they were a part.

Watch Out For: The easter eggs in the credits – the one at the very end is pure genius.

Recommended? Absolutely. It’s not as utterly wonderful as the first film – the script is a little clunkier and the nostalgia factor replaced with a world-wide-web-weary cynicism. But the big, beating heart embedded in this story is a true delight. The Princesses alone will be worth the price of your ticket.

First Man (2018)

There’s no denying that Damien Chazelle is one of the most interesting directors working today. His two most recent credits, which he wrote and directed, were breakout hits. You could practically sense Chazelle himself living and breathing in every frame of Whiplash and La La Land – two films that were, on the surface, quite different, but which married complex character work with intense musicality to quite remarkable effect. With First Man, he turns his hand to the prestige biopic: a rich historical drama inspired by the life and achievements of legendary astronaut Neil Armstrong. The final result is a strange beast: it mostly works well when shooting (quite literally) for the moon, but falls short at getting to the heart of its subject.

We first meet Armstrong (Ryan Gosling) in 1962. Already a renowned test pilot, he and his wife, Janet (Claire Foy) have created a picture-perfect nuclear family, with one son, Eric, and one daughter, Karen. But tragedy strikes: he’s forced to watch, helpless, as his beloved little girl wastes away from an inoperable brain tumour. Although her premature death shakes Armstrong to the core, you would never know it: he returns to work almost immediately, and signs up for America’s space programme. Instead of dealing with the oceans of grief within him, he channels his intense stoicism and iron discipline into his new mission: taking leave of the surface of the Earth.

On this count, the film is a marvel – both in technical terms, and as a resurrection of a relatively distant past. The 1969 moon landing has passed into legend and lore: it’s a fact we learn from history books, its accompanying dangers and follies fading with the passage of time. First Man brings all of that context back to vivid, shuddering, blood-and-guts life, reminding us that we somehow catapulted a man to the moon without any of the computing technology that most of us carry around in our pockets nowadays.

This point is driven home as Armstrong and his compatriots – including Ed White (Jason Clarke) and Buzz Aldrin (Corey Stoll) – take turns being shot into space. Through close-ups tighter than Tom Hooper’s and deliberately shaky camera-work, Chazelle invites us to join these men inside their spacecrafts: glorified tin buckets, held together by a dream and a prayer, that might as easily serve as their coffins as their shuttle to the stars. The human cost of the entire space-faring effort weighs heavily on the film and its title character, forcing Armstrong to grapple with loss every time a mission fails – occasionally, before it even begins.

All the emotional beats that land (and there are quite a few that don’t) come courtesy of Chazelle’s first-rate cast. Gosling has made a career out of playing grimly determined men, whose hearts are beating wildly beneath veneers of impenetrable impassivity. He’s very good as Armstrong, though he’s hamstrung by the very role he’s playing. Foy makes the most of a rather underwritten part, unearthing genuine rage and heartbreak as Janet’s life revolves around the constant possibility of her husband’s death.

Less successful are First Man’s attempts to give us a sense of who Neil Armstrong was. It admirably avoids transforming him into a cliché or a lie: this is no charmingly airbrushed portrait of a genial aw-shucks American hero.

What the film does do, unfortunately, is swing almost too far towards the opposite extreme. At every turn, Armstrong refuses human connection: rebuffing his wife, his friends, his living children, while stewing in his own angst. Josh Singer, who consulted with Armstrong’s first wife and sons in writing the screenplay, stands by the version of the man we meet in the film: so pathologically reticent that he would rather risk his life travelling to the moon than spend one evening talking honestly with his family.

But therein lies the problem. Sure, Armstrong could have been hard and cold and emotionally inaccessible (at least at the time) to those closest to him. It still takes a conscious narrative decision, however, to make one particular interpretation of the man’s inner turmoil the emotional pivot of the entire film. When this Armstrong stares at the moon (which he does a lot), the film practically yells at us that he longs to escape there. Making history is incidental; it’s all about processing his grief.

It’s also why the film’s climax – a scene that should be filled with awe and wonder at the superhuman feat achieved by distinctly unsuper humans – undercuts itself. We barely get to experience the joy that should accompany this remarkable achievement, because Armstrong’s face remains obscured by a reflective visor as he takes his first steps on the moon. We only get to see his face at a moment so nakedly sentimental that it will have you rushing online afterwards to find out how much of it is fact and how much fiction. (Spoiler alert: it’s fiction, which Singer will argue is grounded in fact. But it’s still fiction.)

In effect, First Man ends up trapping itself by its own ambition. It wants desperately to avoid painting Armstrong as a noble, flaw-free hero – but focuses so much on his personal misery that his accomplishments are devalued. The historic moon landing becomes part of the weight of one man’s sorrow, bleeding it of the enormous scientific and cultural significance that Armstrong himself would have fiercely defended. If Armstrong wasn’t a real person, it might have worked. But because he was, First Man’s awkward blend of documentary and melodrama – as relentless as it is reductive – feels tone-deaf. It aims for the stars… but winds up crashing to the ground.

Basically: Shoots for the moon, and misses the heart.

Solo: A Star Wars Story (2018)

Han Solo, as played by the incomparably charming Harrison Ford, is one of the most iconic action heroes in all of cinematic history. There’s no denying that: it’s simply a fact of life, an immutable truth. You have to give LucasFilm and Disney some credit for having the balls to re-imagine so beloved a hero – re-casting him, giving him a love interest other than Leia, filling in gaps in his backstory – all at the risk of alienating a devoted fanbase that has loved one incarnation of Han Solo for decades. It’s a gamble that doesn’t quite pay off, unfortunately. This origin story is fairly entertaining as outer-space adventures go, but it lingers almost permanently in the key of too safe and too slow.

We first meet Han (Alden Ehrenreich) on his grim home planet of Corellia. An orphan and a petty thief, he’s been living the proverbial hard-knock life on the streets with his partner-in-crime, Qi’ra (Emilia Clarke). When the pair make an ill-fated attempt to escape, only Han manages to get away. He spends the next few years honing his craft as a pilot, while doing his best to get back to her side. Along the way, Han meets several individuals who will prove instrumental in shaping him into the charming rogue we already know and love: future first mate Chewbacca (Joonas Suotamo), pragmatic outlaw Tobias Beckett (Woody Harrelson) and suave smuggler Lando Calrissian (Donald Glover).

For both Star Wars novices and aficionados, there’s enough in Solo to enjoy. The stand-alone nature of this film makes it a decent jumping-on point for the uninitiated. There isn’t a ton of dense Star Wars lore that you need to know in order for key dramatic moments in the film to work. At the same time, life-long fans will finally get to see just how Han pulled off his legendary Kessel Run in 12 parsecs, even as the deepening bromance between Han and Chewie proves to be one of the film’s purest delights. Solo also boasts another scene-stealing droid (Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s spunky L3-37) and a few spectacular action sequences (particularly a mid-air train heist that defies both gravity and expectations).

The trouble is that the film, as a whole, lacks the energy and inventiveness that ran through practically every frame of The Force Awakens and The Last Jedi. The heist at the heart of Solo is never quite as exhilarating as it seems to think it is. We should be swept along in the sheer epic adventure of it all. Instead, the interstellar journey feels like it’s checking off boxes (befriend Chewie, snag Millennium Falcon, survive Kessel Run) rather than letting loose and having fun. As a result, the film’s middle section sags and practically plods along. At least 20 minutes could have been sliced out of Solo without detriment to the story or its pace.

It’s no secret, of course, that Ron Howard came to the rescue after Phil Lord and Christopher Miller, the film’s original directors, were fired after almost five months of principal photography. That may be another reason for Solo’s comparative lack of spark. The unifying vision here isn’t the screwball anarchy of Lord and Miller’s The Lego Movie and 21 Jump Street – more’s the pity. This is by-the-numbers filmmaking, competently executed because Howard is one of Hollywood’s most reliable journeyman directors. It works, sure, but very little of it actually inspires or intrigues, apart from a doozy of a final-act character revelation that arrives almost too late to make its mark.

The same could be said of its main cast. Ehrenreich is serviceable as Han Solo, largely because he doesn’t try to slavishly imitate or channel his predecessor. (That’s a wise choice, by the way – only Harrison Ford can do Harrison Ford.) But he doesn’t pop off the screen the way he does in arthouse films like Hail, Caesar! It’s almost as if he got the same studio note that was handed to Howard when he joined the production: play it safe, or else. Clarke is just barely okay as Qi’ra – she goes through the motions just fine, but doesn’t really manage to colour in the depth and darkness of her character beyond what is already there in the script.

At least there’s fun to be had where Solo’s supporting cast is concerned. Glover and Harrelson both have charisma to spare, and you might be forgiven for wanting to watch films centred on their characters instead. Paul Bettany – a last-minute addition to the cast when reshoots prevented Michael K. Williams from returning – gives excellent villain as Dryden Vos, a snarlingly avaricious crime lord with a mysterious connection to Qi’ra. As Tobias’ wife, Val, Thandie Newton is fantastic, but tragically underused.

It’s odd to come to Solo: A Star Wars Story after the overwhelming success of the latest entries in the Star Wars cinematic franchise. All of these films have their detractors, of course, but The Force Awakens, The Last Jedi and Rogue One each demonstrated narrative courage: a willingness to commit to the fresh and unexpected, in order to tell an old story in a new way. Solo marches off resolutely  in the opposite direction. This is a product hobbled by its heritage: cobbled together on the basis of and in tribute to past successes, with precious little insight of its own to offer.

 
Basically: A competent and watchable Solo adventure, but this incarnation of Han is unlikely to run away with your heart.

Justice League (2017)

What would you do if three out of four films in your blockbuster superhero franchise aren’t particularly good? When going forward with the fifth film (the all-important one that ties everything together and launches it into the stratosphere), do you stick with what you know? Or do you try to learn from the outpouring of love and acclaim that greeted Wonder Woman, the outlying fourth film? Do you add more humour and a dash of fun to the generally dark, dour proceedings? Do you refine your script to focus a little more on character and less on bombastic spectacle? In the case of Justice League, the answers – and corresponding results – are mixed. (Kinda, kinda, yes, kinda, by the way.)

Justice League opens in the wake of Superman’s (Cavill) death. The world – and his erstwhile frenemy Bruce Wayne/Batman (Affleck) – are in a dark depression. But cataclysmic sieges on a planetary scale wait for no man (or woman). Steppenwolf (played by Hinds via motion-capture), an ancient, alien evil that once tried to claim Earth as his own, has returned with an army of fear-fuelled parademons. Bruce realises that, without Superman as the first and best line of defense, he needs to assemble a team (a ‘justice league’, as it were) to save the world.

Consequently, the first half of the film is rather exposition-heavy, as it busily sets up its characters, relationships and stakes. Bruce reunites with Diana Prince/Wonder Woman (Gadot), just as she’s begun to step out from beneath the shadow of grief. We also get to know the other potential League members that we’ve only glimpsed in passing – snarky speedster Barry Allen/Flash (Miller); sassy fish-whisperer Arthur Curry/Aquaman (Momoa); and surly human machine Victor Stone/Cyborg (Fisher).

Thankfully, Justice League isn’t as relentlessly dark and joy-free as director Zack Snyder’s previous entries in the DCEU. While there’s nothing wrong with going full grim when putting superheroes on screen (Christopher Nolan’s Dark Knight trilogy proved that you could do so with depth, flair and intelligence to burn), Snyder’s Man Of Steel and Batman V. Superman were curiously bleak pictures. Stuffed with bombastic spectacle and testosterone-charged face-offs, both films were more or less dreadful, displaying a fundamental misunderstanding of their main characters. (Cavill’s broody Superman, in particular, is a painfully misguided interpretation of DC Comics’ most iconic superhero, a literal and figurative beacon of light.)

In contrast, there’s a brighter vein of hope and humour threaded throughout Justice League, though it’s unclear just how much of that can be credited directly to Snyder. The main reason for that is the involvement of Joss Whedon, who wrote and directed Marvel’s two enormously successful and largely acclaimed Avengers films. Initially brought on to doctor the script, Whedon wound up overseeing post-production on the film (including significant reshoots), after Snyder chose to take some time off for very sad personal reasons.

Without question, the final film benefits from the injection of Whedon’s signature banter and his ability to effectively juggle multiple character narratives. Whether it’s Barry and Victor bonding in a graveyard or Arthur’s big speech before the final battle, Whedon contributes some of the most purely fun – and funny – moments in the DCEU to date.

Characters and relationships, though more sketched than fleshed out, work well enough. As the film progresses, each member of the fledgling League works out who they want to be, as people and as the earth’s self-appointed defenders. The newcomers are all decent, though not quite the breakout successes the studio is no doubt hoping for. Miller’s Flash starts out adorable but ends up annoying. Momoa is underserved by the script, but nails the swagger. With just half his face to work with, Fisher amps up the angst while buried beneath some oddly ugly character design.

As for DC’s Big Three, it can be tough to buy into Diana’s decades-long descent into grief following the character-defining climax of Wonder Woman. But, given that her arc is necessarily dictated by earlier narrative decisions, Gadot finds some lovely emotional beats to play as Diana chooses to lead and share her light with the world. The film also nudges the hitherto badly-botched relationship between the late Superman and Lois Lane (Amy Adams, still criminally underused) in a better direction.

The biggest surprise of Justice League is how Affleck’s Batman – almost rabidly xenophobic in Batman V. Superman – grounds both the film and the team. There’s something hauntingly poetic about watching this taciturn loner, who could so easily hide himself away in a fortress of wealth and power, trying to atone for the world’s loss of Superman. Embracing the fact that he’s by far the most mortal member of the League, the film finds the heroism in Batman’s humanity.

For all that it gets right, though, Justice League suffers for being what it largely still is: a Snyder blockbuster. He tends to favour overblown spectacle and one-dimensional villains, both of which culminate in the peculiarly unmenacing Steppenwolf – a CGI-drenched creation that manages to be hammy and fake all at once. The plot is, somehow, stupidly convoluted and insultingly simple at the same time. (‘Mother Boxes’ must be another way of spelling ‘MacGuffin’.) And, while absolutely everything about this film is better than what Snyder has produced before, it still never quite grabs the heart.

Nonetheless, Justice League is a step in the right direction. It doesn’t reach the glorious heights of Wonder Woman, but it doesn’t regress to the murky depths of Batman V. Superman either. With its story and characters turned firmly towards the light, there might be hope for this franchise yet.

Basically: It’s far from great, and not always very good, but at least it steers clear of awful.