Reviews by PvtCaboose91

The sequel to 1985's cult horror classic Re-Animator, Bride of Re-Animator represents a loose adaptation of two of H.P. Lovecraft's Herbert West stories from the 1920s, bringing the prose to life with colourful visuals, hammy acting, and many, many litres of fake blood. With Brian Yuzna (producer of the first movie) helming this follow-up in the absence of original director Stuart Gordon, Bride of Re-Animator is an organic-feeling extension of its well-regarded predecessor, though a slapdash screenplay handicaps the production to a certain extent. Despite its flaws, this second instalment in the Re-Animator trilogy should appeal to viewers who enjoy horror from the pre-CGI era, when extensive make-up and prosthetics were the order of the day, and filmmakers were not shy about lathering on the (practically achieved) gore.

Originally planned as just another H.P. Lovecraft horror movie (after the same team completed 1986's From Beyond), Bride of Re-Animator works as both a standalone story and as a true Re-Animator sequel that references the events of the first movie. Nevertheless, it is noticeable that none of the original Re-Animator screenwriters returned for this follow-up, with the script this time credited to Yuzna as well as Society scribes Rick Fry and Woody Keith. Alas, Bride of Re-Animator's screenplay is not as airtight or as cohesive as its predecessor, with questionable character motivations and noticeable lapses in logic - most glaringly, West and Cain apparently avoided all police scrutiny after the Miskatonic Massacre, and Cain becomes involved with Francesca while trying to resurrect Meg, the supposed love of his life. Furthermore, the change in directors is equally obvious, with Gordon's deft directorial hand sorely missed. Directing his second feature film here (after 1989's Society), Yuzna's work is occasionally somewhat stilted, while the pacing is not consistently strong across the film’s 96-minute duration.

Whatever its shortcomings from a screenplay and directorial perspective, Bride of Re-Animator positively soars in terms of special effects, make-up, and sheer gory imagination, delivering the type of goods that fans of the original movie crave. Produced at a time before CGI became such a prevalent filmmaking tool, the film is old-fashioned in its execution, with optical effects shots as well as impressive make-up and prosthetics. Bride of Re-Animator is not exactly scary, with the gory imagery never outright terrifying, but this is more of a campy B-movie as opposed to a serious horror film. Indeed, the picture is a fun ride due to its sense of humour and goofy tone - Gale even reprises his role of Dr. Hill as a floating head with bat wings. Admittedly, some (not all) of the special effects work looks dated in 2019, with visible matte lines and some obvious frame-by-frame animation, but Bride of Re-Animator is a product of its time, and the technical imperfections add to the nostalgic charm. Moreover, the zombies - particularly the titular bride - still look outstanding, and several special effects shots do stand up to contemporary scrutiny. The film culminates with a large-scale set-piece involving the titular Bride's awakening, as well as reanimated zombies descending upon West's house.

Re-Animator composer Richard Band makes his return here, composing a flavoursome original score, though some of the prominent musical cues do sound strikingly similar to Bernard Herrmann's work on Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho. The winning pairing of Combs and Abbott is just as great here, with Combs again turning his role of Dr. Herbert West into a memorable, credible and likeable character, while Abbott is a charismatic straight man to all the madness. Combs fully commits to the material, and he's a pleasure to watch. Although Barbara Crampton was offered a cameo appearance reprising her role of Meg in the film's opening sequence, she declined.

All things considered, Bride of Re-Animator doesn't hold a candle (or a glowing green syringe) to the original Re-Animator, as the law of diminishing returns is in effect here. Nevertheless, those who enjoyed the first movie should find this to be an adequately entertaining watch, as it is nice to see West and Cain back in action, and the gory special effects almost compensate for the movie's other shortcomings. While not on the same level as horror greats like The Exorcist or Psycho, Bride of Re-Animator is a fun nostalgic horror offering that does not take itself too seriously. Moreover, the picture possesses a kitsch feel unique to this specific filmmaking era, leaving you eager to watch more forgotten horror gems from the '80s and '90s.

6.3/10

At face value, 2017's Suburbicon is an encouraging prospect, boasting a screenplay co-written by the Coen Brothers, an outstanding cast, a competent director in George Clooney, handsome production values, and slick visuals. Unfortunately, however, even though the resulting picture has its charms, it fails to come together cohesively or substantively, biting off more content than it can adequately chew. Thus, Clooney's sixth directorial undertaking amounts to a muddled, disjointed mix of dark comedy, social commentary and a crime-gone-wrong plot, yet Suburbicon is surprisingly entertaining despite major narrative issues, and it's more watchable than its harsh critical reception implies. Even though the Fargo-esque story is overly standard-order, Suburbicon manages to keep its head just above water, though it is not essential viewing and it's Clooney's weakest movie as a director to date.

Despite the Coen Brothers receiving writing credits, Suburbicon is more the creation of Clooney and frequent collaborator Grant Heslov, merging an unproduced Coen Brothers script from the 1980s with an unrelated story based on the true events involving an African-American family moving into an all-white neighbourhood in the 1950s. Including the racism tangent is an opportunity for Clooney to deliver an obvious societal commentary about using minorities and immigrants as scapegoats for our problems, in the process satirising the hypocrisies of this period's cultural values. It might make sense thematically and theoretically, but the execution is slipshod at best; consequently, Suburbicon is disjointed and out of tune. Ultimately, the two separate storylines lack an intrinsic link to cohesively tie everything together. Nicky does play baseball with the Mayers' son, Andy (Tony Espinosa), but the angle is not substantial enough - perhaps the link would be stronger (and the commentary would be amplified) if black criminals carried out the Lodge home invasion, or if the Mayers were blamed for the crime.

From a technical perspective, Suburbicon is a big winner, with eye-catching set design and high-quality production values convincingly bringing this 1950s neighbourhood to life. Additionally, the film opens strong, with a lively advertisement for Suburbicon that nails the intended satiric tone. Meanwhile, the cinematography by Oscar-winning veteran Robert Elswit (Inherent Vice, Nightcrawler) is downright stunning; slick and aesthetically pleasing, with smooth framing and gorgeously saturated colours. In keeping with the intended tone and style, Alexandre Desplat's accompanying original score is deliberately overdramatic, which is effective and suits the material. Furthermore, Clooney successfully apes the Coens' directorial style, at times achieving an admirable sense of authenticity throughout the adeptly-crafted set-pieces, which is understandable given his prior movies with the pair. Clooney also builds an eccentric, uncanny feeling throughout the neighbourhood, though Suburbicon is not as amusing or as quirky as it might have been if the Coens directed this picture themselves.

Perhaps if Clooney simply used the Coen Brothers' Suburbicon script in its original form, without adding the disjointed side story, this might have been a successful genre exercise about the vicious downward spiral for various characters after they participate in what seems like the perfect crime. As completed and released, though, Suburbicon is a true cinematic oddity that stumbles in its execution but is not entirely without merit. Indeed, it's not especially funny and the social commentary is ham-fisted, but it's also a strangely compelling Coen Brothers tribute which sometimes feels like the real thing.

2018's The Mule is the latest motion picture undertaking for Clint Eastwood as both director and actor, denoting his first big screen appearance since Trouble with the Curve back in 2012. Eastwood is surely one of the oldest filmmakers to pull off the double duty, yet he still has what it takes on both sides of the camera. With a screenplay by Gran Torino scribe Nick Schenk, The Mule is not the white-knuckle thriller implied by the marketing, but instead a pensive, often humorous character study that's not for all tastes. Admittedly, the narrative does consist of spare parts, incorporating clichéd story beats as well as familiar themes involving family and redemption, treading similar thematic ground as Gran Torino. Nevertheless, The Mule works in spite of the clichés, thanks in large part to Eastwood's astute, resolutely old-fashioned handling of the material.

A horticulturist in his late eighties, Earl Stone (Eastwood) was once hugely popular in his local community with a thriving plant business, but internet competition forces him to close up shop. Destitute and with nowhere to go, Earl tries to attend the engagement party of granddaughter Ginny (Taissa Farmiga), but his ex-wife Mary (Dianne Wiest) and estranged daughter Iris (Alison Eastwood) are unable to overlook the years of neglect, with Earl perpetually prioritising work over family. An opportunity presents itself, however, when Earl is approached by somebody connected to a Mexican cartel - he can earn many thousands of dollars working as a drug mule, with his spotless criminal record and cautious driving deflecting suspicion. Even though Earl only intends to complete a single run, he's constantly drawn back, with his success earning him the respect of cartel boss Laton (Andy Garcia). As the shipment amounts increase, Earl makes a fortune for himself, using the money to save his home, help local businesses and spoil Ginny, working to turn his life around. However, hotshot DEA Agent Colin Bates (Bradley Cooper) is desperate to make a bust, working with partner Trevino (Michael Peña) to stifle the cartel's drug deliveries by intercepting their primary mule.

Playing out like a fable, The Mule is loosely based on the true story of Leo Sharp, a World War II veteran who became a cartel drug mule in his eighties. There is a reason Sharp's name is not retained, as this is not a biopic and the narrative is largely fictitious, giving Eastwood and Schenk free rein to both have fun with the story, and introduce drama to make the picture more compelling and dramatically satisfying. As per usual for an Eastwood movie, The Mule is deliberately leisurely in terms of pacing, but it's nevertheless compelling thanks to well-judged editing by Eastwood regular Joel Cox. Perhaps another editor could have taken the movie down to a tauter runtime, but many of The Mule's charms derive from its unhurried nature, lingering on details and moments that other filmmakers would exclude. Not everything works, however. With Eastwood known for shooting first drafts and sticking closely to the script, The Mule does at times feel like a first draft in need of a polish, or a workprint waiting for some minor reshoots and trimming. Some dialogue is noticeably on-the-nose, including Ginny chastising Earl late in the picture, while scene transitions feel slightly skewiff at times, and the cartel is abruptly forgotten about at the end, with Schenk seemingly unsure about how to provide any closure on that front. Nevertheless, these are minor complaints.

Like Gran Torino, The Mule is unexpectedly humorous, earning more laughs than virtually any comedy released throughout 2018. However, the comedy is character-based, with Earl casually wielding offensive terms or simply saying unexpected things, though there is no malice behind what he says. Indeed, Earl is not exactly racist; he just has no filter and never adjudged to today's sensitive, politically correct world. Hell, Earl makes friends with several Mexican cartel members, and chooses to help an African-American couple with a flat tyre. Additionally, Earl encourages cartel members to actually enjoy life as he comprehends his shortcomings as a husband and father, realising the importance of family and even warning Bates not to make the same mistakes as him. Although familiar, this material does add dramatic heft to the movie, preventing it from feeling soulless or hollow. In different creative hands, The Mule could have been a PG-13 affair, but Eastwood uses the R rating to accommodate salty dialogue and infrequent bursts of brutal violence, bestowing the movie with flavour and credibility. Furthermore, this is Eastwood's first collaboration with cinematographer Yves Bélanger (replacing Tom Stern, who shot every Eastwood project since 2002's Blood Work), who gifts The Mule with terrific visual vitality, while one could be forgiven for assuming that Arturo Sandoval's effectively low-key original score was composed by Eastwood himself.

Unsurprisingly for a Clint Eastwood production, The Mule features a stellar cast of recognisable performers, all of whom are effective in their respective roles. Earl Stone represents another idiosyncratic character for the 88-year-old actor, who unleashes his trademark growl and badass disposition once again. Eastwood actually plays the role rather gently throughout the movie's early stages, relying more upon his softer voice, but as Earl finds himself drawn deeper into dangerous territory, there's a subtle shift in the performance as the character displays more grit. Chief among the joys of watching The Mule are scenes in which Earl sings along to classic tunes as he drives along the motorway, often forgetting the lyrics and singing off-time. In the supporting cast, Cooper is expectedly charismatic and captivating as Bates, while Peña makes a positive impression despite not having a great deal to do, and Laurence Fishburne is reliably solid as a DEA Special Agent. Also worth mentioning is Taissa Farmiga (The Nun), who's wholly believable in a small but important role. Beyond that, Eastwood's own daughter Alison is on hand to play Earl's daughter which gives the movie some authenticity, while two-time Academy Award winner Dianne Wiest is predictably strong as Earl's ex-wife. It's a treat watching the interplay between Wiest and Eastwood, and their late scenes together are genuinely touching.

In Eastwood's hands, The Mule is not needlessly dour or boring - on the contrary, the movie is seriously enjoyable and even rewatchable, making it a must-watch for fans of the director/actor. The easily offended will likely take issue with some of the dialogue, or with Earl's relentless womanising, but The Mule is a breath of fresh air precisely because it is not watered down for mass consumption. Gran Torino represented a thematically perfect end for Eastwood's acting career in 2008, and it is somewhat of a shame that it did not remain his final screen appearance. Nevertheless, The Mule is a more fitting end than the nothing-special Trouble with the Curve, and it's always a pleasure to see Clint on the big screen. It is also encouraging that Clint did not finish his directorial career with The 15:17 to Paris.

The third sequel to 1987's Predator (not counting the indefensible Alien vs. Predator pictures), 2018's The Predator was a promising prospect in theory. After all, this is a big-budget, R-rated continuation of the franchise helmed by Shane Black (who actually starred in the original film), with a screenplay credited to Black and the underrated Fred Dekker (The Monster Squad, Night of the Creeps). Despite Black's undeniable talents, The Predator is a complete dumpster fire; a messy, unfocused, obnoxious affront to a science fiction classic, devoid of the intrigue, tension, grit, exhilaration, and gripping action of the John McTiernan-directed masterpiece that spawned it. Suddenly, the two previous sequels - Predator 2 and the underrated Predators - seem much better and are easier to appreciate.

While engaged in a hostage retrieval mission in Mexico, skilled U.S. Army sniper Quinn (Boyd Holbrook) witnesses the crash landing of a Predator spacecraft, and diverts from his mission to investigate the wreckage. Before the government catches up with him, Quinn mails several alien artefacts to his Texas home, where they wind up in the possession of his autistic son Rory (Jacob Tremblay). After questioning, Quinn is placed on a secure bus with Group 2; a motley group of government captives consisting of Nebraska (Trevante Rhodes), Coyle (Keegan-Michael Key), Baxley (Thomas Jane), Nettles (Augusto Aguilera), and Lynch (Alfie Allen). Witnessing the Predator violently escaping from a government facility, Quinn and his newfound friends take it upon themselves to kill the alien, teaming up with evolutionary biologist Casey (Olivia Munn) as the Predator travels to the suburbs to retrieve his equipment from Rory. However, with a larger and more dangerous Predator arriving on Earth in pursuit of the Fugitive Predator, the situation goes from bad to worse.

It feels as if Black and Dekker developed several story ideas for The Predator, but resolved to jam them all into a single motion picture. Any of the narrative concepts - remaking the first film with a ragtag team of mentally ill veterans in a contemporary Earth environment, the Predators having different opinions about an Earthly invasion, further exploring the 'Super Predator' idea, a Predator in the suburbs, and basically Mercury Rising in a Predator setting - could sustain a feature of their own (not all of them necessarily good, mind you). The Predator should be focused on Group 2 battling Predators, which is easily the strongest idea here, but it's diluted with the family angle that serves no essential narrative purpose; it feels shoehorned in to appeal to a wider demographic. Furthermore, a subplot involving the government is equally boring, not to mention wrong-headed in its execution. This is to say nothing of other baffling inclusions, such as Casey managing to befriend a Predator dog, which occurs without logic or motivation. Additionally, the Fugitive Predator viciously kills everybody it comes into contact with and seems solely concerned with destruction, yet it is revealed that this is a traitor who is opposed to hunting humans and came to Earth to gift humankind with a weapon to defend themselves against Predators. This type of stuff demonstrates the movie's disjointed nature - The Predator exhibits the hallmarks of an ambitious reboot that was compromised by a nervous studio, leading to a bare bones final cut.

As demonstrated in 2013's Iron Man 3, Black's modus operandi with a pre-existing franchise is to deconstruct the property whilst creating a dialogue-based action-comedy. However, Black's treatment of The Predator is disastrous, ignoring tension and grit to create a cartoonish farce in which every character delivers quips and jokes, logic be damned. Even though the constituents of Group 2 grapple with real-world ills like PTSD and Tourette Syndrome, such conditions are merely used as punch-lines, making this feel closer to a parody than a legitimate franchise entry. Even more excruciating are the meta jokes, with groan-worthy call-backs to the original film's iconic dialogue which, again, makes this feel like Scary Movie. Hell, a Predator even uses a severed human hand to give a thumbs up. Even with the studio interference, The Predator is undeniably the silliest and most absurd Predator-related movie to date, and certain audiences might embrace the movie since it's so gleefully retarded and packed with "humour." However, if the comedic material is not to your liking, and the campiness does not appeal to you, The Predator is an insufferable endurance test, and fans of the original movie (this reviewer included) will find the finished product mortally offensive.

Almost inevitably, the actors severely lack the machismo of the original Predator cast, and are not even as memorable as the ensemble glimpsed in 2010's Predators. Even though Holbrook has made positive impressions in films like Logan or the TV show Narcos, he's easily the most forgettable lead in a Predator movie to date. Keegan-Michael Key (understandably) earns the lion's share of the laughs, though he eventually fades into the background, while this is one of Thomas Jane's most disappointing performances in an action movie to date. The Predator even recruits Jake Busey to play the son of Gary Busey's Predator 2 role, but the resultant dull cameo squanders a golden opportunity. Black's tone-deaf dialogue makes matters worse, with Quinn's wife (Yvonne Strahovski) even delivering an impassioned speech about her husband's military achievements and positive attributes.

Despite The Predator's countless glaring flaws, it manages to only just keep its head above water for the first hour, with occasionally amusing jokes and entertaining set-pieces, while the Predator carnage is satisfyingly violent. However, the third act - which was entirely reshot merely a few months before the movie's release - is a total mess: it's beset with terrible ideas, baffling character decisions, and some of the worst digital effects ever glimpsed in a motion picture (SyFy original flicks included). The phoney-looking mayhem, especially the finale aboard a spaceship, is studiously uninvolving, feeling rushed from every technical perspective, while reshoot seams are visible. Worse, there is a distinct lack of cohesion to the final cut as a consequence of the reshoots, with unresolved narrative strands and disappearing characters. Adding insult to injury, The Predator closes with a gratuitous sequel set-up which is not only wildly out of place, but is a further insult to the sci-fi classic which started it all. The sequel tease (which will never be followed through) verifies that Black and Fox were solely interested in an expanded universe, even though this intellectual property does not lend itself to such a franchise. This type of blatant Marvel-inspired excess and idiocy has no place in a Predator movie.

At the very least, Black stayed true to his promise to deliver an R-rated sequel (one can only imagine how much worse a PG-13 cut would have turned out), Henry Jackman's retro-flavoured score gives the material agreeable flavour, and The Predator even resurrects the same font for its opening and closing titles that was used in the 1987 original (a nice touch). Outside of the hastily-reshot third act, the movie is often visually pleasing, with slick cinematography by veteran Larry Fong (Kong: Skull Island), but it's still not enough to redeem this bottom-of-the-barrel piece of shit.

This is it for the Predator series; Black has ruined it once and for all.

An enigmatic, overlooked cult science fiction film originating from New Zealand, 1985's The Quiet Earth presents its own unique spin on the recognisable "last man on Earth" premise, and the end result is definitely not for the average mainstream movie-goer. Adapted from the 1981 novel of the same name by New Zealand native Craig Harrison, The Quiet Earth was produced on a shoestring budget with limited resources, yet this vision of a post-apocalyptic world is lyrical and haunting, beset with creative set designs and compelling ideas, while the narrative is capably driven by a small cast of sublime performers. Those seeking a tidy, Hollywood-esque science fiction action-adventure are advised to look elsewhere, as The Quiet Earth is the type of daring independent movie that could only be produced outside of the studio system.

In Hamilton, New Zealand, scientist Zac Hobson (Bruno Lawrence) leaves bed one morning to find that every other person on the planet has seemingly disappeared, and he is all alone. Added to this, Zac cannot help but feel he is perhaps partly responsible for whatever happened, due to his participation in a classified global energy project known as Project Flashlight. Clinging to the hope that other people might still be alive, Zac broadcasts radio messages and creates signs, all the while making a new home in a luxury mansion and helping himself to whatever he desires. As he descends into madness resulting from his isolation, he encounters a young woman named Joanne (Alison Routledge), who is equally ecstatic to find that she is not alone. With Zac and Joanne rapidly forming a friendship that leads to more, a third man joins their party in the form of Api (Pete Smith). As Zac continues to record his observations, he fears that another catastrophe might occur, and seeks to prevent it.

Harrison's novel was adapted for the screen by Bill Baer, Sam Pillsbury and Lawrence himself, presenting a post-apocalyptic world without gangs, marauders, vigilantes, segregated groups of survivors, or zombies - as insinuated by the title, the Earth here comes to its end with a creepy, frightening tranquillity; the entire human population has simply disappeared. The technical execution is remarkable, with convincing, harrowing images of deserted city streets where vehicles are overturned or outright abandoned, while a burst water pipe floods a portion of road. James Bartle's low-key cinematography ably captures these moments, while director Geoff Murphy (Under Siege 2: Dark Territory, Fortress 2) builds tension from the silence. Another scene in which Zac discovers the flaming wreckage of an aeroplane is impressive in both scope and scale, demonstrating the filmmakers' efficient use of the limited budget. Additionally, since The Quiet Earth was produced before the era of digital effects, Murphy and his team rely upon astute camera trickery and model work, and the result is frequently convincing. The film is further elevated by an outstanding original score courtesy of John Charles, whose compositions will linger in the mind long after viewing.

With Zac present in virtually every scene, and with the movie's entire first half-hour amounting to a one-man show, The Quiet Earth lives and dies on the strength of its lead actor. Luckily, the late Lawrence is up to the task; he's a magnetic, charismatic on-screen presence, ensuring the film is never boring despite its deliberate pacing and lack of action sequences. He is compelling company and feels real, giving audiences a protagonist they can identify with. Furthermore, at times Lawrence can convey what he is feeling purely through body language and facial expressions, which renders him all the more perfect for the role. Both Routledge and Smith also submit effective performances, though the latter is noticeably unpolished from time to time. Admittedly, the sudden animosity between the three characters in the third act feels out of place and too easily resolved. Although the intentions are understandable (and it does lead to a car chase), the execution is questionable, particularly with the movie ostensibly rushing through the perfunctory drama to get to the finale. The inevitable love triangle, meanwhile, is questionable and never makes much of an impact, though these are about the only downsides of an otherwise solid sci-fi gem.

Unfolding like an episode of The Twilight Zone, and closing on an ambiguous note, The Quiet Earth is definitely niche, and it may alienate viewers unwilling to engage their brain. Indeed, watching this movie for the first time may prove frustrating for many, though it holds up during repeat viewings and is oddly satisfying in its own way. Although The Quiet Earth is not exactly top-tier science fiction, it is worthwhile for movie buffs and genre aficionados, particularly due to its intelligence, style, moments of dark comedy, and uncanny sense of atmosphere.

7.7/10

Arriving mere months after the release of 2016's Patriots Day, Stronger is not just another film solely concerned with the 2013 Boston Marathon bombings. Indeed, whereas the Peter Berg-directed Patriots Day superbly covered the attack and subsequent nationwide manhunt for the bombers, Stronger traverses different territory to tell a more personal and intimate story; a biographical drama about one of the many people affected by the blasts. The material is more or less Hallmark "movie of the week" territory, but director David Gordon Green astutely avoids maudlin sentiment. Indeed, as opposed to overbearing music or cheesy, on-the-nose dialogue, Green's approach is sophisticated and low-key, relying on the strength of both the actors and the story. The R rating helps, as honest-to-goodness gravitas and authenticity permeates the production, with Green able to explore less savoury details whilst always displaying appropriate tact.

A blue-collar Costco employee living in Boston, Jeff Bauman (Jake Gyllenhaal) still lives with his alcoholic mother (Miranda Richardson) and spends most of his time binge drinking with his pals. Jeff's immaturity and unreliability frustrates ex-girlfriend Erin (Tatiana Maslany), whom he cannot get over or let go even after three break-ups. Following a brief meeting with Erin in a bar, Jeff hopes to definitively prove his worth by attending the 2013 Boston Marathon to cheer her on as she passes the finish line. However, Jeff is caught in a bomb blast, which instantly changes his life forever. Losing both of his legs, Jeff is confronted with a grim road to recovery as he adjusts to life confined to a wheelchair, relying on his extended family as he endures therapy and rehab. Jeff's relationship with Erin becomes stronger than ever when their romance rekindles, and he's lionised as a symbol of resilience by the city, but Jeff is reluctant to embrace his new existence - he perceives himself as a loser, and struggles to come to terms with his disability that will never heal.

Adapted from Jeff's 2014 memoir (which was co-written by Bret Witter), Stronger purportedly represents an accurate retelling of his story, hewing relatively closely to the real-life events. Scripted by John Pollono (his first feature film credit), the movie wastes little time getting to the marathon bombing, which actually occurs at the ten-minute mark. The build-up to the event is short and brisk, with no half-hearted attempts to cover Jeff's childhood (or life in general up until that point), and with the screenplay giving proper dimension to the characters in the aftermath of the attack. Furthermore, not much time is dedicated to the bombing itself, and Stronger subsequently remains focused on Jeff to explore how the event permanently affected both him and his family. Pollono's script emphasises the immense pressure that Jeff felt on his road to rehabilitation, doubting himself and struggling with internalised chaos, in addition to suffering from PTSD. The movie is realistic and at times uncomfortable, highlighting Jeff's recognisably human shortcomings and preserving his family's insalubrious qualities. Nobody here is a saint, and Jeff is not infallible (he is prone to aggressive outbursts of temper), but Stronger celebrates his spirit of redemption, showing the man coming to terms with both his disability and what he represents to the people of Boston.

Admittedly, there is nothing groundbreaking about Stronger from a narrative standpoint. This is a true story, but the list of recognisable clichés runs long: an arrested adolescent finally growing up, ex-lovers getting back together following a tragedy, a person overcoming adversity, and so on. Nevertheless, Green's treatment of the material is top-flight; he moulds the conventions into a powerful and compelling watch, eschewing manipulative melodrama and establishing a stark tone that rings true. Green may not be an obvious choice for this type of production due to such directorial credits as Pineapple Express and Your Highness, but this is not his first foray into low-budget drama (see George Washington or Snow Angels), and he directs Stronger with a confident hand. Smartly, Green does not revel in exploitation, minimising the bombing's gory details - rather, the rating permits effective yet tactful scenes showing Jeff's bandages being changed, or first responders tending to Jeff's legs after the blast. The dialogue feels authentic to boot, particularly with curse words allowed, while other details contribute to the feeling of realism, especially Boston's enthusiasm for their professional sports teams.

Gyllenhaal, who also produced the movie and was instrumental in bringing this story to the big screen, is arguably at his finest portraying Jeff Bauman, supported by seamless visual effects to sell the illusion of amputated legs. Stronger calls for a lot of the actor, but his handling of the dramatic material is outstanding; see the aforementioned scene of Jeff's bandages being changed in hospital for the first time, or an emotionally intense moment in a car with Erin. Speaking of Erin, she has a genuine part to play in the story beyond a simple romantic interest, feeling perpetually frustrated by the situation but internalising her annoyance. Maslany, who made such a positive impact in the cult television series Orphan Black, is sublime in the role, further demonstrating her immaculate dramatic chops. It’s a welcomely nuanced variation on the long-suffering girlfriend role. Rounding out the primary cast is Richardson as Jeff's brass tacks mother; she espouses a completely believable Boston accent, and does not glamorise the character. Every member of the cast feels wholly authentic, with Green even recruiting the actual medical professionals and rehabilitation team who helped in Jeff's recovery.

Nothing feels inessential within Stronger's two-hour running time, and each event receives sufficient breathing room to make a real impact, which is the major benefit of a biographical movie zeroing in on a short space of time. It does not exactly reach great emotional heights, and it is not pleasant viewing, but this is a worthwhile story that is well-told, even if the movie fails to acknowledge that Jeff and Erin filed for divorce in early 2017. Even though Stronger bombed at the box office and was completely ignored by major film award associations, it is worth your time and attention.

7.9/10

An adaptation of Kevin Kwan's best-selling novel of the same name, 2018's Crazy Rich Asians is more notable for its cultural significance than its story or screenplay. After all, this is a major Hollywood production featuring an ensemble cast almost entirely comprised of Asians, aiming to add an Eastern flavour and perspective to a conventional fish-out-of-water romantic comedy. Directed by Jon M. Chu, Crazy Rich Asians explodes with colour and visual opulence, with the flick looking technically accomplished in every frame, and with an appealing cast that includes a few familiar faces. It is unfortunate, then, that the film provides so little in terms of narrative invention - the only cliché subversion the material can offer is a gender swap on the usual Meet the Parents-style formula. Furthermore, Crazy Rich Asians is the definition of pandering, Westernised entertainment - the Asian characters primarily speak (perfect) English, stereotypes run rampant, authenticity is questionable, and it's pitched as a standard Hollywood rom-com to guarantee mainstream approval. There is a reason that the picture bombed at the Chinese box office.

A successful economics professor at New York University, Rachel Chu (Constance Wu) loves her job and maintains a relationship with the seemingly normal Nick Young (Henry Golding). But unbeknownst to Rachel, Nick's family in Singapore is insanely rich and highly esteemed, while Nick is one of the most sought-after bachelors in Asia. With his best friend Colin (Chris Pang) getting married in Singapore, Nick invites Rachel to accompany him to the wedding and meet his family. However, Nick's mother Eleanor (Michelle Yeoh) instantly disapproves of the coupling, while Rachel is scrutinised and judged by Nick's high-society family and friends. With the wedding drawing closer, Rachel receives guidance and friendship from former college roommate Peik Lin (Awkwafina) as she fights an uphill battle of perceived worth and charm, while Nick plans to pop the question before they return to America.

With a screenplay credited to Adele Lim and Peter Chiarelli, the narrative of Crazy Rich Asians is beset with recognisable ingredients, taking its cues from Meet the Parents and other rom-coms that follow the same formula, but at least such beats are executed in a unique, culturally specific way to justify the movie's existence. More problematic is the predictable angle exploring "what really matters" - you see, Nick marrying Rachel would mean turning his back on the family business, and he essentially needs to choose between Rachel and his family. The third act eventually devolves into a conventional break-up-to-make-up scenario to further remind us that Crazy Rich Asians is a cuddly Hollywood rom-com afraid to deviate too far from the ordinary. However, while the characterisations are mostly broad and Eleanor's disdain for Rachel is standard-order, the movie does manage some dramatic heft in its third act. Eleanor is given some surprising dimension, while Rachel's family backstory is a bit more thoughtful than anticipated.

Crazy Rich Asians runs too long at close to two hours, occasionally feeling like an assembly cut awaiting trimming. One superfluous distraction involves a supporting character cheating on his wife, but the subplot fails to gain much traction despite the screen-time the two are allotted. The script ostensibly strives to create a gallery of side characters who submitted to more traditional Eastern lifestyles but were unable to find happiness, which weighs on Rachel's mind. While the intentions are clear, Chu is unable to keep everything interesting or compelling. However, the actors all hit their marks effectively, with Constance Wu and Henry Golding (in his film debut) sharing strong chemistry which renders their romance believable. Both actors are charismatic and likeable, while the iconic Yeoh elevates her role with genuine gravitas. Comedic relief is provided through the supporting cast, with the likes of Awkwafina (Bad Neighbours 2) and Ken Jeong (The Hangover) scoring a few laughs each, but the movie is otherwise noticeably short on humour.

Chu, who previously demonstrated pleasing visual panache in movies like G.I. Joe: Retaliation and Now You See Me 2 (just to name a couple), guides the material with a sure directorial hand, maintaining a steady pace throughout, while cinematographer Vanja Cernjul (Marco Polo, The Deuce) creates a colourful, irresistibly slick look that does justice to both the beautiful locations and meticulous sets. The visuals are accompanied by a selection of eclectic tunes (including foreign language covers of recognisable songs), in addition to Brian Tyler's perfectly pleasant original score. Crazy Rich Asians is easy to appreciate from a purely aesthetic perspective (this is quite a tourism commercial for Singapore, to boot). Furthermore, at times Chu achieves a level of wit and sophistication that unfortunately does not pervade the movie. In an early scene, for instance, Nick and Rachel sit at a café together and images of the pair rapidly spread around the world. The subsequent montage is visually appealing and witty, particularly with people online identifying Rachel and locating her social media in mere minutes, before the pair have even left the café.

From time to time, Crazy Rich Asians truly does come alive, thanks in no small part to the cast and Chu's glossy visual stylings, while the screenplay itself contains some genuinely sweet and cute moments. However, the film is uneven and long in the tooth, even if it is visually inviting, while the story's adherence to the mainstream rom-com formula forbids something that feels truly culturally incisive and emotionally complex.

5.9/10

2018's Tomb Raider represents the second attempt to adapt the long-running video game series of the same name into a big-screen blockbuster franchise, fifteen years after the first cinematic incarnation (starring Angelina Jolie) petered out after a mere two instalments. This reboot takes its cues primarily from the 2013 video game reboot, merging the game's broad plot strokes and reimagined Lara Croft with Batman Begins-style gritty realism, and it's an origin story to boot. Despite refined visuals and an intriguing change of direction, this new Tomb Raider only works in fits and starts, marred by uneven pacing and an overcomplicated story. A movie this technically proficient and expensive has no business being so lacklustre and cold to the touch.

Seven years ago, Lord Richard Croft (Dominic West) mysteriously vanished on a business trip, and his daughter Lara (Alicia Vikander) still clings to the possibility that he is alive. Struggling to make a living as a bicycle courier in London, Lara stands to inherit her father's vast fortune, but refuses to sign the paperwork to declare him legally deceased. However, Richard's business partner Ana (Kristin Scott Thomas) warns Lara that Richard's estate will be sold off if she does not accept the inheritance. Discovering a clue left in her father's will, Lara is led to his private office, learning of Richard's secret life as an adventurer and finding his research about Japanese witch Himiko. Although Richard's pre-recorded message instructs Lara to destroy his work, she seeks to use it to find him, travelling to Hong Kong where she teams with boat captain Lu Ren (Daniel Wu) to locate the remote island of Yamatai off the coast of Japan. Shipwrecked after navigating violent waters, Lara discovers that Yamatai is under the control of mercenaries led by Vogel (Walter Goggins) who seek to weaponise Himiko's power on behalf of the shadowy organisation Trinity.

Narratively, this Tomb Raider boils down to a less thematically-resonant riff on the aforementioned 2013 video game. Most of the appeal of the original games is stripped away in favour of the "origin story" format, refusing to cut loose as the film builds towards the Lara Croft we know, down to a mid-credits scene in which she obtains her coveted dual pistols. Couple this with a painfully generic story set-up, and this reviewer was left wanting to watch a sequel instead. In addition, whereas Lara is the prominent focus of the video games, facing physical challenges and solving puzzles, 2018's Tomb Raider is inexplicably a group effort. With Lara not yet a confident woman of action, Lu Ren is allotted a bizarrely large role in the proceedings, presumably because generic would-be blockbusters such as this now heavily rely on China to make money. Furthermore, the script by Geneva Robertson-Dworet and Alastair Siddons is tonally inconsistent; over-the-top set-pieces are the order of the day, yet there is also a grim scene observing Lara who's traumatised in the immediate aftermath of her first kill.

Determined to distinguish this Tomb Raider from the cartoonish Jolie-starring pictures, director Roar Uthaug (2015's The Wave) and cinematographer George Richmond (Children of Men) imbue the material with an effectively gritty look, reminiscent of the 2013 game. Production values are expectedly nice across the board, with vivid digital effects that show how far CGI has come since the original movies. Visually, there is much to appreciate about Tomb Raider, which is unsurprising given the hefty budget. Uthaug proves a proficient visual stylist, making astute use of the locations and sets, establishing a palpable sense of place and atmosphere while on the island. It is clear, however, that the filmmakers took more influence from Uncharted than Tomb Raider - as a matter of fact, on top of the evident aesthetic influence, one of the narrative twists here is lifted directly from the first Uncharted game. Still, isolated sections of the movie do work, with well-staged sequences that deserve to be seen on the largest possible screen. Aside from the occasional shootouts, the film's centrepiece involves Lara being pursued through the jungle and down rushing rapids, leaving her trapped on an airplane wreckage precariously perched atop a waterfall. Additionally, the third act involves some actual tomb raiding, living up the movie's title.

One of the primary issues relates to pacing; the narrative is dense and overcomplicated, which requires endless monotonous exposition to make it comprehensible. Despite handsome visuals, Uthaug is unable to liven the humdrum script - Tomb Raider is often a slog between the action beats. It's telling that Stuart Baird receives an editorial credit; he's renowned for being brought onto troubled projects to salvage movies in the editing room. Moreover, Tomb Raider strives for heart and emotion through Richard and Lara's relationship, yet it never gains much traction despite the endless flashbacks to hammer home how close they were. Still, Vikander is fine as Lara, though there is not much depth to the character and she is decidedly more self-serious than Jolie. West, on the other hand, displays severely limited range, while the reliable Goggins turns in a passable performance as the underwritten key villain. There are also a few high-end British actors in the movie's first act (including Kristin Scott Thomas and Derek Jacobi) to keep viewers wondering if one of them is a secret bad guy. The only humour is supplied by Nick Frost and Jaime Winstone as married pawnbrokers who only appear in two short scenes.

The Jolie-starring Lara Croft films were not especially good from a critical standpoint, but they nailed the video game's goofiness and had a genuine sense of identity. 2018's Tomb Raider, on the other hand, is disposable, formulaic and flavourless; merely a vehicle for Vikander to show off her potential as an action lead. Despite a few worthwhile action sequences (certain scenes and beats truly feel like a video game, too), the picture lacks intrigue, charm and momentum, while the origin story format restricts how much fun can be had. With the box office underperformance in mind, it's unlikely that a follow-up will ever materialise despite an ending that directly sets up sequels. Perhaps there will be another reboot in another fifteen years.

6.3/10

2018's Sicario: Day of the Soldado ran the risk of appearing to be another unnecessary, cheesy cash-in sequel to a serious drama, similar to the direct-to-video follow-ups to Jarhead or Green Street Hooligans. However, with Sicario scribe Taylor Sheridan (Hell or High Water) returning to the fold, this sequel confidently justifies its existence, resulting in another engaging fictitious action-drama within a relevant real-world setting. To be sure, the morally ambiguous narrative is polarising, while the movie's central conceit and themes may not sit right with everybody, hence the mixed reaction from professional critics. Admittedly, perfection does elude Sicario: Day of the Soldado due to a rocky third act and some lethargic pacing, and it inevitably falls short of its predecessor, but this follow-up is nevertheless an ideal instance of mature counterprogramming in a crowded summer season dominated by colourful blockbusters.

When a suicide bombing in a Kansas supermarket kills over a dozen people, the American government suspects that Islamic radicals are entering the United States through the Mexican border among migrant workers. In response, the U.S. government authorises CIA agent Matt Graver (Josh Brolin) to engage in covert black ops tactics to combat Mexican drug cartels, who control the border and are deemed responsible for smuggling terrorists into the country. Coordinating with U.S. Secretary of Defense James Riley (Matthew Modine), Graver hatches a plan to instigate a war between the cartels to destabilise border crossing operations and halt ISIS interests. To achieve this, Graver recruits black ops killing machine Alejandro Gillick (Benicio Del Toro) to kidnap 16-year-old Isabel Reyes (Isabela Moner), the daughter of a major cartel kingpin who ordered the murder of Gillick's family several years prior. Complications arise during the operation, with Gillick left on his own to protect Isabel as he travels to the border, while Graver deals with the nervous U.S. government bureaucrats as they get cold feet.

Although a Sicario sequel might seem unnecessary, a trilogy was planned from the outset, and while a follow-up was not explicitly set up, the 2015 feature subtly left room for further stories to occur involving these characters. Drugs are less of a concern in Day of the Soldado, and the plot involving terrorism represents an interesting shift, particularly given its plausibility. (There are genuine real-world concerns about terrorists entering the U.S. through the Mexican border.) Sheridan's screenplay adheres to the same narrative structure as the first Sicario; the government machinations and CIA activities intersect with an ostensibly unrelated story concerning Mexicans on the other side of the law, in this case young Mexican-American coyote Miguel (Elijah Rodriguez) who is being indoctrinated into the cartel system. Just as Sheridan's 2017 movie Wind River delivered a message pertaining to the appalling treatment of Native Americans, Day of the Soldado's parallel narratives explore the toll that terrorism, war and drug trafficking has on children, providing some thoughtful thematic content amid the chaos. Miraculously, the child characters are not as grating as they might have been, thanks to the smart casting of Moner and Rodriguez in their respective roles.

In spite of its narrative intricacies, Sicario: Day of the Soldado feels closer to a straightforward action movie compared to its predecessor, though that is not necessarily a negative. Stepping into the director's chair is Italian filmmaker Stefano Sollima, late of acclaimed television series Gomorrah and the 2015 Italian mobster picture Suburra. Day of the Soldado is therefore a good fit for Sollima's stylistic sensibilities, steeping the material in grit and ensuring this sequel feels wholly legitimate. However, with a runtime exceeding two hours, the ride is not as smooth as Sicario; perhaps due to Sollima's television roots, portions of this sequel progress with languid, TV-style pacing. Nevertheless, Sollima proves an able craftsman during the set-pieces, from the gripping shootouts to the horrific supermarket bombing that will churn stomachs. Unfolding in a bravura single shot, the bombing is visceral and unnerving, setting the tone for the picture and showing the harsh consequences of terrorism while still maintaining a sense of tact. Sollima smartly uses practical effects and sets as much as possible to create a realistic aesthetic, with minor digital accompaniments to subtly enhance the visuals. Furthermore, Dariusz Wolski's gritty cinematography evinces a pronounced sense of style, creating an ominous atmosphere and giving convincing life to the material. Wolski thankfully keeps the photography sufficiently steady during the intermittent scenes of mayhem, allowing us to take in and appreciate the set-pieces. Sicario: Day of the Soldado is also helped immeasurably by Hildur Guðnadóttir's brooding and effective score, reminiscent of the late Jóhann Jóhannsson's compositions for the original Sicario.

The morality behind Day of the Soldado is a bit of a mess by design; the moral implications behind the staged kidnapping are shaky in the first place, even though such underhanded black ops tactics are combatting domestic terrorism to thwart further attacks. This provokes questions regarding the lengths that are acceptable in order to save lives. Much of the movie's second half explores the fallout from Gillick refusing to murder Isabel to cover the government's tracks, further complicating the screenplay's moral foundation. With Gillick allotted a bigger role here, he's inherently less interesting and badass, as he is given more backstory and moral dimension. Your mileage will vary on this front, but Gillick was a more menacing screen presence in the original Sicario, though he certainly has his moments here and Del Toro still makes a positive impression. Brolin is equally impressive, remaining captivating and tough-as-nails, while Catherine Keener represents a welcome addition to the cast as a CIA boss, playing well against Brolin.

Sicario: Day of the Soldado visibly struggles as it approaches the finishing line, with a few incredulous moments that strain credibility and took this reviewer out of the action. Although Day of the Soldado is not exactly entertaining in the stereotypical popcorn-munching sense, and the absence of Denis Villeneuve and cinematographer Roger Deakins is felt, this is nevertheless compelling adult filmmaking which is more gratifying than any number of brainless action movies released during 2018. It also represents a fine companion piece for Sicario, and leaves the door open for the proposed third instalment.

One of the most underrated and overlooked motion pictures of 2017, Only the Brave provides a group-biopic account of the Granite Mountain Hotshots, whose story is ideal fodder for the big screen. Only the Brave's plot is admittedly Hallmark movie-of-the-week boilerplate and, in the hands of less sophisticated filmmakers, could have been packed with melodrama as well as forced tear-wringing. However, director Joseph Kosinski fortunately avoids the temptation, shaping an achingly poignant tribute to firefighters and real-life heroism, paying attention to character complexity as opposed to pure spectacle. Some aspects of the narrative are admittedly familiar, but performances are excellent, dialogue is engaging, and the technical presentation is top-flight, which is what matters the most in a production of this ilk. Not knowing the outcome of the story does result in a more devastating emotional kick, though it will almost certainly still work for those with full knowledge of the events that befell the Granite Mountain Hotshots at Yarnell Hill. The furthest thing from a simple, corny Hollywood action movie, Only the Brave is a compelling, powerful feature which must be seen and is impossible to forget.

A Fire and Rescue superintendent, Eric Marsh (Josh Brolin) seeks to earn a hotshot certification for his firefighting crew of Prescott, Arizona, and become the first municipal hotshot unit in the country. Frustrated with only observing wildfires from afar and being ignored, Eric turns to city fire chief Duane (Jeff Bridges) and the Mayor (Forrest Fyre) to support his certification aspirations. Needing to expand his crew to make this dream a reality, Eric takes on new recruits, including ex-junkie Brendan (Miles Teller) who recently became a father, was kicked out of home, and is trying to straighten up his problematic life. Through the efforts of Eric's crew, including Brendan, Jesse (James Badge Dale) and Chris (Taylor Kitsch), the unit achieves certification status, rechristening themselves as the Granite Mountain Hotshots. However, hotshot status means the responsibility of frequently fighting fires around the state, which takes the men away from their families - Eric's wife Amanda (Jennifer Connolly) wants to have a child but finds his priorities misplaced, while Brendan spends too much time away from his baby daughter.

With a screenplay credited to Ken Nolan and Eric Warren Singer, adapted from the 2013 GQ article "No Exit" by Sean Flynn, Only the Brave does take liberties with history to generate a more dramatically satisfying motion picture. Most notably, the movie shows the same team working together for years, but the Granite Mountain Hotshots saw a frequent turnover as people came and left. But other elements of the narrative are factual, particularly the story of Brendan, whose true-to-life arc is so perfect for a motion picture that it feels manufactured. A bulk of the narrative is framed through Brendan's eyes, observing him on the job and revealing his struggles as he adapts to fatherhood. Furthermore, since Brendan is a new recruit, we meet the other team members through him, generating an effective team dynamite and an outstanding camaraderie with Chris. Only the Brave is structured like an old-fashioned biographical movie, running a beefy 130 minutes as it takes care of necessary character and story development, not to mention it allows us to adequately understand what the Hotshots actually do and how they operate. Miraculously, although the movie is long, nothing feels superfluous.

Only the Brave was helmed by Joseph Kosinski, late of sci-fi/fantasy pictures Tron: Legacy and Oblivion, yet he wisely dials down his garish directorial tendencies to construct a distinctly earthbound story closer that feels closer to a Peter Berg movie. Instead of presenting the fire-fighting sequences as overblown digital effects spectacles, the set-pieces are effectively realistic and matter-of-fact, befitting the source material. Kosinski demonstrates incredible range as he navigates dramatic and emotional scenes, imbuing the material with genuine substance. Furthermore, Only the Brave progresses at such a patient, measured pace that we are left unprepared for the climactic events, rendering them all the more devastating. Backed by a modest $38 million budget, the picture looks spectacular from top to bottom, with gorgeous cinematography and an almost seamless mix of practical and digital effects to sell the illusion of raging wildfires, accentuated with a hypnotic yet understated score by Joseph Trapanese (Straight Outta Compton). Kosinski is no stranger to visual effects, but he never loses sight of the characters here, making the sequences intense, visceral and above all tasteful. The foregone conclusion is still incredibly distressing to behold, thanks to the patient character development and the real danger that the fire presents. In addition, at no point does Kosinski feel the need to linger on gory content, keeping within the confines of a PG-13 rating without the movie feeling needlessly neutered. Perhaps Peter Berg could have brought a tad more immediacy to the material, but this is not to impugn Kosinski's efforts in any significant way.

Brolin is tailor-made for roles such as this, and he is note-perfect as Marsh. Instead of mugging for potential Oscar glory, the actor finds a way to underplay the heroic character, coming across as completely authentic in the process. It's a superb, perfectly judged performance imbued with humanity and emotion, ably carrying the movie. Furthermore, whereas most productions would settle for a one-dimensional wife character, Amanda Marsh has depth and plays a considerable role in the story, not to mention Connolly delivers a powerhouse performance. Just as terrific is Bridges, while it's fascinating to see Taylor Kitsch in something genuinely good for a change. (Remember when Kitsch was meant to be Hollywood's next big thing? The consecutive flops of John Carter and Battleship put the kibosh on that.) Teller, meanwhile, is only intermittently tolerable in movies (his highest point being 2014's Whiplash), and it seems appropriate to cast him as a loser who gets his arse kicked throughout the second act in order to earn the right to be perceived as likeable and worth caring about once the climax arrives. Impressively, Teller convincingly pulls off the transformation from low-life dope-head into a hard-working, respectful tough guy. James Badge Dale is also here playing Marsh's second-in-command, because he is ostensibly required by Hollywood law to feature in all movies like this.

First and foremost, Only the Brave is a story about the men who fight fires, rather than the flames themselves. Admittedly, the narrative does feel slightly erratic due to its episodic nature - the fateful Yarnell Hill Fire is not introduced until the third act, and the movie does not build up to it throughout; rather, the event feels like just another fire. This story is episodic, observing the crew as they train, ply their trade, and deal with their personal lives, with amusing banter and humour to make the characters more relatable and human. Like Peter Berg's Deepwater Horizon, Only the Brave did not receive a fair shake at the box office, unable to even earn back its modest budget, but it will stand the test of time and it's fortunate that the movie exists. Hard-hitting and visceral, Only the Brave is a masculine ugly-cry movie for the ages.