Doctor Strange

Its excellent Netflix output has so far been Marvel’s main avenue for expanding its horizons (mostly into darker, grown-up territory). The company’s film division has lately been mixing up its successful formula with new genres, however, and Doctor Strange is arguably the cinematic universe’s most ambitious feature yet.

Trippy stuff like alternate dimensions and the warping of time and reality are the film’s main attraction. Such subjects seem to always invite a self-serious, arguably pretentious approach, the picture and its makers practically preaching to the audience how smart and great they are. Doctor Strange needs no such sermonizing, tackling the material with a confidence so assured it's able to have a smarmy, joke-cracking attitude about the whole thing and not miss a beat. It would almost seem arrogant if the movie weren’t so much fun.

The film gives us a hero to match in Stephen Strange (Benedict Cumberbatch), a master neurosurgeon with an ego that rivals Robert Downey Jr.’s Tony Stark. After a deadly car crash damages the nerves in his hands, he travels to Nepal to seek treatment at the mysterious site of Kamar-Taj. Upon his arrival, he finds a cabal of sorcerers led by the Ancient One (Tilda Swinton) who conjure interdimensional energy to defend the world. Strange trains with his hosts and develops new powers and abilities, conveniently just when renegade sorcerers led by Kaecilius (Mads Mikkelsen) seek to summon the evil force Dormammu from the Dark Dimension.

Yes, strange, indeed. Novice viewers or casual Marvel fans might not comprehend every bit of what’s going on, though the film navigates through the narrative with reasonable clarity. And frankly, the sights we see on that journey are much more engaging than understanding it completely, anyway. The combat through kaleidoscopic mazes of bending space and time are some of the coolest, most imaginative use of visual effects in some time. It’s also very funny, at least as quip-filled as Guardians of the Galaxy. And aside from the unfortunate whitewashing of Swinton’s character (sorry, but simply referring to her as “Celtic” does not rectify things), the movie boasts one of the bests casts of any single Marvel picture (as opposed to team-ups like The Avengers).

Above all, it’s different enough from other superhero fare that it feels fresh and enjoyable. It may ultimately be a lighter film than its trippy elements would suggest, less heavy than the character drama some of the Avengers have gone through recently. But in a genre that produces around a half-dozen films a year now, something that feels new and exciting (on top of being a blast visually and otherwise) is a rare gem.

Batman: Return of the Caped Crusaders

It’s always fun to revisit the old 1960s Batman from time to time, chuckling at its wackiness and at how far comic book adaptations have come. A new adventure starring that not-so-Dark Knight would have been a good time any year. But after the relentlessly broody Batman v Superman and the nastiness of The Killing Joke, Return of the Caped Crusaders is an especially welcome and refreshing palate cleanser.

The film even subtly addresses super serious versions of the character, with a storyline that sees Adam West’s boy scout Bat inexplicably turn bad. It’s amusing seeing what constitutes dark and gritty in this lighter continuity, and how even a tiny shred of Frank Miller-esque ruthlessness is such a rough fit in it. It also astutely highlights how its campier take isn’t that much sillier than going full-on grim and gritty just for the sake of it.

Also back are series alumni Burt Ward as Robin and Julie Newmar as Catwoman, while The Joker (Jeff Bergman), Penguin (William Salyers), and The Riddler (Wally Wingert) somewhat resemble their 60s counterparts. It’s a fairly typical absurd plot pitting the Dynamic Duo against their dastardly foes, albeit on a much larger scale than the TV show (animation doesn’t have the budget limits that 60s network fare had, I guess). The iconic theme and word graphics that follow each punch are there (the latter making for one of the best gags once adjusted for the eviler Batman), as are the comically perilous situations and ridiculous dei ex machina leading out of them. Also scattered about are tiny references that pop culture junkies can have fun trying to spot, including one or two that surprisingly snuck their way into a film as PG as it gets.

If there’s one complaint, it’s that it never quite arises to the laugh-a-minute zaniness of the show. And in a way, you can’t fault the movie for this; no matter how goofy things get, nothing is ever quite as absurd in animation as seeing it performed by live-action actors with a straight face and zero special effects. Also, some of the gags (particularly the famous recurring “spray can” for every situation, which is repeated a few times) play like winking directly at the audience. Such plot points were much more hilarious when the old show simply went with them like they weren’t totally laughable.

These are far from death blows, though. And considering the state of DC’s live action films, I’m willing to grade on a curve. Batman: Return of the Caped Crusaders is a joyous, funny piece of work for Bat fans of all ages, and the first Batman film in a while that meets any of those criteria.

A announcement regarding "South Park" Season 20

Since beginning this blog, I have reviewed each new episode of South Park, usually within 24 hours of airing. However, for the new season starting tonight, I have decided to instead wait to review the season as a whole.

My reasons mostly have to do with the fact that over the last two seasons, the show has transitioned from standalone single-episode plots to season-long storytelling. I've found that series with a continuing narrative lend themselves better to reviews of a complete season than of individual episodes. Simply put, not every part is equal in its completeness or importance; for every "Full Measure" or "Ozymandias," there are bridge, filler, or loose end-tying episodes.

Also, my personal schedule this fall may present uncertainty about whether or not I'll be able to view and review the show on time each week. And for a show that's known for being nearly up-to-the-day in its timeliness, I feel that a late review, even a mere few days late, is already obsolete.

So, I'll be back with a full recap and review at the end of the season, and possibly with one at the halfway point. I'll also share my thoughts on each episode on Twitter when I watch them.

If that's not enough for you, well...

Kubo and the Two Strings

Kubo and the Two Strings is one of the most remarkable works of animation I’ve ever seen.

A general trait of stop-motion animation is that there’s a definite sense of, for lack of a better word, unreality about it. It may not be as realistic or mobile as computer animation, but rather than a flaw, this quality adds to the make-believe feeling of a stop-motion feature, be it the whimsical sense of humor that pervades Wallace and Gromit, or the fantastical aura of a fantasy film.

And then there’s Kubo, which the viewer could mistake for a computer-animated work if they didn’t know better. The picture is a feast of gorgeous sights, full of fantastic monsters, metamorphosing works of magic, and origami creations that form and come to life before our eyes, all on a canvas populated with characters as expressive and alive as any digital performance from Andy Serkis. All this would be impressive done with CGI, but as handmade stop-motion goes, it’s absolutely jaw-dropping.

The visual experience alone is enough, but the picture also offers a story to match. In it, the title character (Art Parkinson) is a boy who lives in ancient Japan with his mother (Charlize Theron), regaling stories of his samurai father’s exploits to the local villagers. But when his evil twin aunts (Rooney Mara) find and attempt to kidnap him, he’s forced to flee his home and find his father’s samurai armor, helmet, and sword to battle his evil grandfather the Moon King (Ralph Fiennes). Joining Kubo on his quest are a wise monkey (Theron) and a warrior beetle (Matthew McConaughey).

Though it may sound like a simple adventure tale, it takes some smart and original turns and shows a wide range of emotions, at different times funny, happy, sad, and tension-filled. Such feeling is bolstered by the animation, which finely tunes the mood of each scene. It’s fun in some, frightful in others, and melancholy at times in a way relatively little kid or even adult movies achieve. It’s a beautiful work in both spirit and aesthetic, both elements intertwining with one another perfectly throughout.

Even though CGI has mostly usurped stop-motion’s place in animated films, there’s still a quaint warmth about the medium, like something made by hand with love and care versus a mass-produced product. Well, there’s nothing quaint about Kubo, but it certainly has the feeling of something unique and special. This is truly a film for all ages, full of life, wonder, and action for kids, while also providing thoughtful ideas and well-developed characters that will appeal to adults. Whichever column the viewer falls under, this is not one to be missed.

War Dogs

War Dogs sees director Todd Phillips aiming for his The Big Short moment. Which is to say, a filmmaker known for comedies (as The Big Short’s director Adam McKay was) attempting to go serious with a piece about a timely and contentious issue, sold under the façade of a bro-tastic comedy. Peel away that shell, is there a similarly brilliant, fierily polemical piece of Oscar-worthy gold? No, but there is ample evidence that Phillips has a strong dramatic picture somewhere in him.

The subject is war, circa the second term of George W. Bush. After putting an end to those controversial no-bid contracts you might’ve heard about on the news at the time, the U.S. military started purchasing weapons and equipment from smaller outfitters. Meaning, the film posits, that they were willing to buy from any average Joe able to get their hands on guns. The movie tells the true story of two such Joes, struggling Miami twentysomething David Packouz (Miles Teller) and his sleazy childhood pal Efraim Diveroli (Jonah Hill), who dove head-first into this market, making millions procuring weapons through methods ranging from shockingly legal to blatantly illegal.

The film is clearly shooting for an outrageous and blackly satirical take on a grim subject, something a prestige filmmaker like, say, Martin Scorsese would deliver (similarities to The Wolf of Wall Street beyond the casting of Hill abound). Well, Phillips frankly isn’t on that level yet. The small narrative and structural touches meant to convey sophistication and respectability are, in fact, elements mostly played out at this point (interspersed title cards, literally made up of lines of dialogue that are spoken aloud soon after, are freshmen-year-film-school unoriginal). The misadventures of the two leads onscreen also don’t seem quite as shocking as the film was probably going for, and aren’t as funny as anything in Phillips’ straight-up comedies. Though to be sure, there are moments that are amusing in a cringe-inducing way.

It’s when the film starts on the commentary that has me at a critical stalemate. There is a definite sincerity to the picture’s disgust with the world it depicts. But it’s decidedly underscored by a striking sense of naiveté. It’s as if the filmmakers, and by extension the film itself, can’t comprehend their subject and their anger at it enough to form the clear, unapologetic viewpoint required for an effective polemic. Then again, I’m not sure if this is a result of a poor grip on their outrage, or if it’s the point of the entire thing, that this world is so tangled and without sense that it’s hard to direct outrage in a single direction.

The latter possibility is reflected in Teller’s performance, a comparatively earnest one showing a mostly decent person lured into temptation (the real Packouz apparently supports the film, so his depiction is the rosier of the two). He’s mostly sympathetic, but there comes a point where the extent of the character’s blindness to the business he’s in mightily strains believability. Also, it’s funny how his conscience never asks the tough questions, and only kicks in when his girlfriend (an underused Ana de Armas) gets on his case. Hill (whose real-life counterpart is suing the filmmakers) is the much more convincing one simply because he’s got absolutely no sympathetic or redeeming qualities at all, and yet is very funny and a mesmerizing presence. His comedy chops are already known, but between War Dogs and The Wolf of Wall Street, Hollywood might have a new go-to guy for scumbag parts.

Sausage Party

A general rule in comedy seems to be that you can do things in animation you can’t do with real people. This is why, say, South Park frequently gets away with being politically incorrect to degrees that might get a real-world comedian in trouble, and vulgar in ways that would land a live-action product an NC-17. 

Sausage Party leans heavily on that assumption. With the P.C. heat being off of it by virtue of being a cartoon (one where the characters aren’t even human), the film goes for every easy joke. A Jewish bagel (Edward Norton) and a Middle-Eastern lavash (David Krumholtz) are bickering side characters, for example. There’s a liquor bottle (Bill Hader) depicted as a Native American shaman, and a Mexican-accented taco (Salma Hayek) who’s also a lesbian (if you can’t connect the dots here, the movie does for you). And Nick Kroll voices a feminine product who lives up to his name in every sense of the word.

None of these caricatures seem to be coming from a mean place; Seth Rogen and his usual gang of collaborators may be dirty, but one thing they are not is mean (with the sometimes-exception of Danny McBride, gloriously so). But many of the gags are so obvious, the physical embodiment of puns that make you groan a little. So are the sex jokes, taking every dirty lark about phallic-shaped food you remember from middle school lunch hour to its logical extreme.

It’s very juvenile stuff. It’s also pretty damn funny.

You could call it Toy Story with food. Only instead of simply adding R-rated jokes to the Pixar-esque premise of sentient objects, it cleverly examines some of the darker and more adult possibilities such a world might suggest. In this case, all the living products in a supermarket believe the shoppers are gods, and that being bought is being chosen to go to Heaven. This bubble is burst, however, when a traumatized returned honey mustard bottle (McBride) relates how this is all a lie. After hearing this, sausage Frank (Rogen) and his bun girlfriend Brenda (Kristen Wiig) travel across the store to find out the truth, while purchased sausage Barry (Michael Cera) sees it firsthand and tries to make his way back to the store to warn everybody.

Yes, a movie about foulmouthed hot dogs has some things to say about religion, although unless it meets the criteria for fulfilling one's antitheist confirmation bias, it’s probably a little too general to be called satire. Instead, the film is much more spot-on in its takedown of all the tropes of family animation, from the look and plot elements of a Pixar picture, to Disney-like musical numbers, to its caricatures aping the indelicate ethnic villains or comic relief in so much children’s entertainment. Also, with this cast, of course there's plenty of stoner humor, with some truly hilarious drug jokes worked inventively into the plot.

What can I say? Rogen and company have an undeniable charm about them, and it still shines through the faces of anthropomorphic edibles. As a genre parody and as just another excuse to spend 90 joyous minutes with these guys, Sausage Party is a treat.

Suicide Squad

I’m convinced that DC’s budding film universe is, in fact, a skewed, nightmarish alternate reality (an Elsewords universe, if you will). That would certainly explain why its version of Superman, who’s supposed to be the symbol of hope and righteousness, is instead a dour, mopey, hated figure, and why its Batman (Ben Affleck) is an obsessive, near-pathological zealot.

Through this lens, it makes sense that a movie starring the villains feels the most like a regular superhero story, and at least on that level, Suicide Squad is DC’s closest example to a comic book blockbuster done properly. It isn’t much greater than just average-level good, but give them a bit of credit: one picture at a time, they’re getting better, very slowly but surely.

The film takes place in the aftermath of the events of Batman v Superman. As preparation for the possibility of an evil superhuman threat, unscrupulous government official Amanda Waller (Viola Davis) proposes assembling a team of captured criminals with superpowers or otherwise exceptional abilities. The group consists of: sharpshooting assassin Deadshot (Will Smith), the Joker’s (Jared Leto) screw-loose lover Harley Quinn (Margot Robbie), pyrokinetic ex-gangbanger El Diablo (Jay Hernandez), Aussie bank robber Captain Boomerang (Jai Courtney), reptilian Killer Croc (Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje), and martial artist Katana (Karen Fukuhara), all under the command of Colonel Rick Flag (Joel Kinnaman). The team is put to the test when another of Waller’s captives, the witch Enchantress (Cara Delevingne), unleashes her powers upon a city.

The plotting is a big mess. It’s very evident the picture was hacked up and put back together into what was considered the leanest and most marketable final product. So, pieces of backstories and dangling subplots litter the narrative. But at the very least, all the different threads that are there coalesce around a single point, even if it’s as completely simple a storyline as “kill the bad guy." That’s more than can be said for Batman v Superman, which seemed like six or seven different movies playing at once.

The casting is something of a mixed bag. Davis is tremendous, evoking a stubborn, love-to-hate vibe in the audience that’s totally appropriate. And Smith is his usual fun, funny self. As for the rest of the bunch, they’re mostly without a moment in the spotlight to call their own, victims of an overstuffed product cut down to a more sellable feature length. A few (Croc and Katana, especially) even the film seems to forget they're there until it needs their abilities. The weakest points, though, are the antagonists. Delevinge is just not a very good bad guy, as soulless as any empty CGI creation, and Leto’s Joker fulfills all the fears detractors have voiced since his design was revealed. He comes off as little more than the most vanilla of gangster tropes, only one who’s also an annoyingly obsessive Dark Knight fanboy who insists on constantly (and badly) imitating Heath Ledger’s iconic look and voice.

But all eyes were on Robbie’s Harley Quinn heading into this movie (in more ways than one), and the results on the screen leave me a little torn. It’s undoubtedly a funny, compelling performance that suggests she could carry a movie. But the picture treats her rather shabbily, the camera following her body, alternately tight-clothed or barely clothed, with a leering eye. Also, it retains the problematic depiction of her abusive relationship with the Joker as oddly romantic. The depiction could use a lot of work, but it’s a credit to Robbie that she’s able to deliver in spite of the limiting and objectifying parameters the film gave her. 

Suicide Squad’s messiness extends beyond just the storytelling and character unevenness. The structure is like that of a trailer, with manic cutting, random music snippets, and frequent audience priming and buildup, for payoffs that are mostly either delayed or underwhelming. The tone varies between an intense action movie, smartass comedy, black comedy, sad tragedy, and even horror movie with little consistency. Yet, from this mess emerges one thing that has so far eluded the DC films: fun. Loud, dumb, garish, not particularly exceptional or memorable, but fun nonetheless. That alone shows that DC is improving, even if only by increments per picture. At this rate, they might give Marvel a run for its money sometime this century.