IT Chapter Two

The first chapter of director Andy Muschietti’s IT adaptation was an entertaining funhouse-style horror film—on the first watch. In subsequent viewings, the scares quickly lose their bite. That, combined with the fact that it gave us a good look at the monster (that’d be Bill Skarsgård’s evil clown Pennywise), would seem to suggest that the terrors would be exhausted for IT Chapter Two. Remarkably, though, the second part is the better, scarier, and more fun of the two.

It’s still the jump scare, haunted funhouse type of horror, not the terrifying, won’t-sleep-for-days kind (for that, I don’t think any filmmaker could possibly match Stephen King’s prose). But, it’s pretty darn effective, with some terrific horror set pieces, tension-filled chases, and a variety of monsters more numerous and disturbing than the film’s predecessor (this the grown-up half of IT, after all). And wisely, Skarsgård’s Pennywise (who, let’s be honest, always came off more like a goofball emcee than a truly terrifying foil) is kept to a relative minimum, lest he undercut the scares. The only time that happens is when the movie does so by design through injecting some macabre humor, to great effect.

As the first IT adapted the childhood parts of King’s novel, this one follows the Losers’ Club as adults (played by James McAvoy, Jessica Chastain, Bill Hader, Jay Ryan, James Ransone, Isaiah Mustafa, and, briefly, Andy Bean), with flashbacks to the time period of the first film. Set in roughly the present day, the pack has gone their separate ways, though their personal issues haven’t left them, only taken new forms. But when the evil force they battled 27 years earlier returns to the town of Derry, Maine, the group reunites to destroy it, and in doing so each confront their personal childhood trauma.

Besides the horror, Chapter Two attempts to crack the character drama that King spent literally hundreds of pages on in the book. Admittedly, the cast is pretty excellent, conveying real emotions besides fear. Hader and Ransone are particularly great at providing gallows humor that’s hilarious but also clearly a coping mechanism. Ultimately, though, there mostly just isn’t enough time, even in a runtime on the long side, to explore these elements beyond the surface level, as mere plot devices or setups for scary sequences.

This doesn’t necessarily hurt the movie as a horror flick. But there are a few pretty harrowing depictions of real traumatic stuff (abuse, homophobia, hate crimes). And the narrative does absolutely nothing with these, leaving them just sort of floating like unceremoniously abandoned subplots. These aren’t bad or exploitative scenes in and of themselves—in fact, one of them is one of the stronger and more unsettling sequences in the whole two-film arc—but leaving them in without expanding upon them or tying them into the main plotline at all can’t help but make them feel a bit gratuitous.

That aside, the only glaring complaint is that the two-film structure tilts very unevenly in the second’s favor. Scenes that are strong in Chapter Two perhaps could have been even scarier placed earlier in the whole narrative, or helped play up the mystery of the story. Since Chapter Two ends up frequently employing flashbacks, it seems a bit like a mistake to divide the novel into two films by era, instead of just doing a two-parter while still employing King’s original back-and forth plotting. Which I guess is a roundabout and backhanded way of saying the IT film cycle is one of the few horror series to get better and scarier with its second entry.

Deadwood: The Movie

Debuting in 2004 during the initial boom of prestige TV series, HBO’s Deadwood arguably was and still may be the best program of the so-called “Golden Age of Television” since the turn of the millennium. Over three seasons, the show presented a bleak, rough, intensely vulgar view of history and society, but one that was also beautiful and full of arresting characters. Then, just as civilization seemed to be reaching the show’s namesake goldmining town, it was cancelled before it had the chance to reach its planned conclusion.

Now, after years of rumors and false starts, the HBO version of Deadwood lives again, at least for just under two hours. And things have changed since last we visited. The town is now part of the new U.S. state of South Dakota and looks positively modern by the standards of 1889. The residents we came to know over the show’s run are grizzled and grey. Obscenities still pepper their ornate dialogue, but it seems a little less potent (whether this is a stylistic touch to reflect the town becoming more civilized or just because the envelope for explicit content has been pushed ever further since the show ended, I’m not sure).

Being a single telefilm, some limits that don’t befall a season of a series do apply here. For instance, on Deadwood the show, nearly every speaking role had depth, even if they only appeared in a few or even a single episode. The show's town of Deadwood was not just the canvas for the story of the lead characters, but a fully populated, living community. Well, there’s little time for that in the film, and clock constraints also reduce some rich, beloved main and supporting players to little more than cameos. Also, the structure where each episode comprises a single day in the town is abandoned, though the action is more confined than a general nebulous timeframe commonly used in film.

In fact, the first 40 minutes or so comprise a single day, and it’s here the movie feels most like its series counterpart. True, it mostly consists of the residents walking around town and catching up with one another (thus letting the viewers also catch up), and a few flashbacks to moments from the show for those who don’t remember the exact plot details (which might be superfluous to those who rewatched the series ahead of this movie, myself included). But, there is a joy at simply spending time with these characters again, even if it doesn’t feel quite the same as before. This portion also inventively contains several reflections of the terrific first episode of the show, some obvious, some possibly coincidental. It’s definitely fan service, but it’s fan service done right.

After that nostalgic opening act, conflict rears its head (I won’t go into details, just say that Gerald McRaney’s evil robber baron George Hearst, now a U.S. Senator, is back in town). Despite the shortened runtime, though, said conflict still moves at a similar pace to a season of the show. Thus, there isn’t near enough time for it to reach a boiling point. Moreover, the narrative ultimately doesn’t seem terribly interested in it. Just when things start to get brewing, the film instead shifts to saying its goodbyes, letting the conflict all but fizzle out.

So, too, does any sense of plotting or structure, all the more apparent in the coda to a series that was so expertly plotted and sterlingly written and rewritten to perfection. On the other hand, as the movie melancholily ambulates toward an endpoint, there are moments with characters who do get screen time which still display some of that fantastic writing.

Among the cast, the standout is Timothy Olyphant as now-U.S. Marshal Seth Bullock. A little more mellowed and polished than before (perhaps a bit of Raylan Givens rubbed off from Olyphant's time on Justified), he nonetheless is as righteous and swift to dispense justice as ever. Often, the show seemed to relegate him to secondary lead behind costar Ian McShane, but here, he’s the lynchpin, and riveting as can be. By contrast, McShane’s saloonkeeper Al Swearengen is quieter, withered, and much scarcer than before, no longer the force in town he once was (but still one onscreen). This is the most affecting part of the picture, all the more so because one can see the real-life parallels with Deadwood creator David Milch. And the most uplifting story is that of Joanie Stubbs (Kim Dickens) and Calamity Jane (Robin Weigert), especially turns the latter’s arc takes.

Deadwood: The Movie doesn’t provide a ton of closure, and does not continue many specific plotlines or tighten any loose ends from the series. Frankly, the show’s final episode—a bit abrupt and so downbeat, but conclusive and thematically fitting—is a better ending. The film is more like an overdue funeral and memorial service for the show. It’s sad at times, and laments the fact that it never got to do everything it wanted, but also happy and celebratory, and mindful of why the show was so good and beloved.

Avengers: Endgame

While they’ve had no shortage of spectacle (and as of this movie, that hasn’t changed), the heart of the Marvel Cinematic Universe is its characters: the sarcastic smugness of Robert Downey Jr.’s Iron Man, the pure-hearted resolve of Chris Evans’ Captain America, the lovable dimwitted arrogance of Chris Hemsworth’s Thor, the oddball chemistry of the Guardians of the Galaxy, and the essential work of the heroes without their own solo movies, as well as the unsung supporting players who’ve come along for the ride. Even in the lower-stakes MCU entries, the viewer knows they’re in for a good time on account of the repartee between these familiar faces.

Low-stakes, Avengers: Endgame certainly is not. It’s the biggest superhero picture so far, in runtime and sheer massiveness of its cast of characters, and could very well finish its run in theaters as the biggest film ever. And of course, we all saw what happened at the end of Infinity War.

But, it finds the survivors of Thanos' (Josh Brolin) universal genocide far from spoiling for a fight. Instead, the movie takes its time—nearly the whole first of its three hours—to let the audience mourn with the characters. These scenes cut like a knife. You can’t spend 11 years and twice as many movies with these people and not feel their loss. It’s moments like these that show why comic book characters and stories can mean so much to fans.

Act two sees the remaining heroes attempt a complicated time travel plot to fix the events of the previous movie, and the film turns into a bit of a Back to the Future Part II-esque jumble. Not only is its treatment of timeline-altering left rather muddled and inadequately explained or resolved, but it also turns a bit into a cameo-fest, like one of those cheesy final seasons of a TV show where every supporting character drops in to say goodbye. Although, to the picture’s credit, most of it feels organic, not forced, and it also mines these sequences for some great gags and emotional character moments.

And really, what are some minor plot point inconsistencies in the face of so many terrific character moments? Oh, and the biggest superhero battle ever. It's a fool's errand to doubt Marvel at this point, but it would seem a monumental task to surpass the gigantic crossover finale of Infinity War just a year ago. Yet top it they do. Fights both one-on-one and on a giant scale are eye-poppingly thrilling, every hero big and small gets at least one moment in the spotlight, and it’s packed to the gills with turns that will elicit cheers and tears, sometimes both at once.

As a superhero team-up event, Endgame more than satisfies. As the conclusion to a yearlong cliffhanger, it sticks the landing and then some. As the exclamation point on the last decade-point-one of Marvel movies and the superhero genre they’ve changed, it hits it out of the park. But it’s the character moments that touch the most, and many of them are unlikely to leave dry eyes. On that level, this is probably the best superhero movie ever made.

Captain Marvel

Captain Marvel could have simply been an average Marvel movie—an appetizer for Avengers: Endgame—and that would have been enough. But instead, it has some fun tweaking the Marvel formula in inventive ways. The result is easily the best standalone film of the MCU’s third phase (which began after Age of Ultron).

The biggest changeup is the structure, which reveals story pieces out of chronological order. Rather than a stale straight origin story, the film instead presents its narrative as a bit of puzzle. This makes for a captivating introduction to this corner of the Marvel universe for casual viewers, and for those well-versed in the comics lore, it still is an entertaining trip with a few genuine surprises.

All I’ll say is that Brie Larson plays the title character, a galactic warrior fighting on the side of the Kree (the blue-skinned aliens we saw in Guardians of the Galaxy). In the midst of a conflict with the shapeshifting Skrulls, she ends up on Earth in the mid-1990s. Teaming with a young(er) S.H.I.E.L.D. agent named Nick Fury (Samuel L. Jackson), she races against the Skrull Talos (Ben Mendelsohn) to find an experimental piece of space flight technology designed by a U.S. Air Force scientist (Annette Bening).

Mendelsohn chews the scenery exquisitely, and his recent persona as the go-to bad guy for nerd blockbusters cleverly plays into the plot. Other franchise newcomers like Jude Law and Lashana Lynch are effective in supporting roles, as are a few returning faces (most obviously the digitally de-aged Jackson, who is a characteristic hoot as the greener, less battle-hardened Fury). But this is Larson’s show, no doubt. She carries every moment she’s onscreen as expertly as any of the Marvel heroes who have been doing this since Phase One, showing icy resolve, disarming sincerity, and an expert handle on the patented Marvel humor, often all within the same scene. And yeah, she gets a few girl power lines in to rebuke those who were piling on this movie before it even came out.

There are some exciting action sequences in this one, but the most enjoyable element is how it uses its humor. The 90s references are numerous and hilarious (and I'm definitely biased, but the era-appropriate soundtrack plays a hell of a lot better that the boomer rock of Guardians). Certain blanks in the franchise continuity are filled in in uproariously funny ways. It even seeps into the action, namely a shapeshifting fistfight/car chase involving a commuter train that’s alternately side-splitting and actually pretty good. Though not as explicitly parodic or fourth wall-breaking as Deadpool, this is arguably the most self-aware Marvel film, and more fun for that (and if you thought the last cameo by the late Stan Lee couldn’t be topped…). But, it never gets too carried away with itself, and stays grounded enough that there’s still some pathos to the proceedings.

After Infinity War, rumors are flying about the ultimate fate of characters in Endgame, but everyone seems to agree that it will be the end of the road for at least some of the Phase One players. If Brie Larson’s Captain Marvel is given the task of carrying on the Marvel mantle, I’d say the franchise is in good hands.

Creed II

Every one of the Rocky films has been at least watchable. That’s not to say they’ve all been good. In fact, what made some of the sequels so entertaining was leaning in to the ridiculousness. This is certainly the case with Rocky IV, the multiple-montaged piece of uber-patriotic late Cold War cheese.

Creed II, which follows up on the story of IV, takes the opposite approach.

In the movie, it’s revealed that since the last film, Adonis Creed (Michael B. Jordan) has become the World Heavyweight Champion. Meanwhile, Russian ex-boxer Ivan Drago (Dolph Lundgren), who killed Creed’s father in the ring before being defeated by Rocky (Sylvester Stallone) in IV, resurfaces with a ferocious son (Florian Munteanu) who challenges Creed to a fight. The bout goes badly for Creed, but this being a Rocky movie, it’s of course nothing that a few montages and clichés about having heart and so on can’t cure before the rematch.

It’s just as cornball as any of the series’ middle sequels. Yet the film takes things so seriously. The training montages don’t get the audience pumped so much as instill a sense of dread. The famous theme is all but absent, in its place a weepy piano score or foreboding hip hop. Stallone throws in some of the lovable lunkhead humor that’s always served the series well, but here it only punctuates the grimness like bits of levity at a funeral. Even the moments meant to be touching and heartwarming feel somber.

There are moments of undeniable loving chemistry between Jordan and Tessa Thompson as Creed’s musician partner. However, she mostly seems like less of a full character than before, with little in the way of her own arc. Same goes for Phylicia Rashad as his mother and even Stallone, who with the exception of a single scene only appears to spout wise old mentor clichés. As for Jordan on his own, he’s ferocious in the ring and in training, but outside of either feels too detached. He’s clearly not just going through the motions in the role (like everyone clearly was in a couple of the later sequels), but he just doesn’t connect with the viewer, so a lot of scenes meant to be emotional seem so distant and uninvolving.

Oddly, the most emotional and compelling character moments belong to the Dragos. In a few brief asides, we get to see their desperate straits and how it motivates them in the fight game. And frankly, their motivation is a lot more convincing than that of the protagonist. It’s strong work from Lundgren and Munteanu, so much so that it’s arguably a drawback because here lies the more interesting and involving story, and nearly causes the audience to empathize more with the nominal villains.

I’ve always said that it’s impossible to not enjoy a Rocky movie, even the bad ones. Creed II is not a bad movie, but it comes closest to disproving that. It’s well made, sometimes touching, sometimes thrilling (the fights aren’t nearly as masterful as those in the first Creed, but are still exciting). Overall, though, it’s not a lot of fun.

Halloween

Despite a few that have been quite good, this recent trend of years-later sequels that are selective about which previous entries count has produced mostly mixed results. Between that and the fact that horror sequels almost always offer diminishing returns (this franchise included), there was little reason to expect a new Halloween movie to be anything more than just decent. So color me surprised: the Eastbound & Down guys absolutely hit it out of the park, delivering the best Halloween since John Carpenter’s original. Maybe even—dare I say it?—a little better.

In this film, only the events of the 1978 classic ever happened. The towering, essentially mute killer Michael Myers (Nick Castle and James Jude Courtney), locked away in a mental institution since then, is now a figure of interest to true crime podcasters (Jefferson Hall and Rhian Rees). Jamie Lee Curtis’ Laurie Strode (no relation to Michael in this one) has spent the last 40 years planning for Michael’s inevitable return, training herself and her family in weaponry and turning her house on the edge of Haddonfield, Illinois into a small fortress. Laurie’s survivalist tendencies have made her a local outcast and alienated her from her adult daughter (Judy Greer) and teenage granddaughter (Andi Matichak). But, she doesn’t seem so crazy when Michael just so happens to escape during a prisoner transfer gone awry the night before Halloween.

Curtis is great. What at first seems like a fairly silly concept turns out to work splendidly because she plays it with a steely confidence that nearly rivals the man in the mask. Matichak and Greer also turn out to be pretty badass co-leads. The old “final girl” trope is not in effect here. Rather, the film employs a subtle girl power subtext that’s nonetheless palpable (and timely, frankly), and an unsubtle rooting spirit that makes for a killer final act.

That’s far from the only subversion in director David Gordon Green and Danny McBride’s smart script. There are witty winks at and takedowns of genre clichés that are cleverer and funnier than anything in the (vastly overrated) Scream movies. References to the series’ past are plentiful and recognizable, yet worked in organically and subtly, save for one that is forgivably used for an ecstatic applause moment. The film also has a hilarious sense of humor, but one that seems natural and not a bit intrusive.

And most importantly, it’s scary. I know, it’s hard to imagine slasher jump scares being too frightening after decades of Halloween sequels and knockoffs. Yet, this one has some terrific moments of terror, expertly building tension that explodes like firecrackers. Carpenter’s new spin on the iconic score (cowritten with his son Cody) is at once familiar and fresh, and as effective as ever. And after so many approximations ranging from not quite right to appalling, the Michael Myers mask finally looks right again. A small thing, maybe, but The Shape has never looked better, or more menacing, lumbering silently through the streets and houses of Haddonfield.

As for the issue of rewriting series canon, the movie is respectful and self-aware enough that it doesn’t negate any of the previous entries (most were bad, but II and at least parts of 4 were pretty good). Rather, it works in much the same way last year’s Logan worked for the X-Men franchise. It’s a sequel, but also kind of its own separate entry, its canonical status murkier and better for that (also like the X-Men series, the Halloween franchise continuity is kind of a mess). Whether or not it, too, is a definitively final chapter remains to be seen (ol’ Mike has a habit of coming back, after all). Either way, this Halloween is a damn fun, scary great time.

Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom

I’ll go ahead and say it: this Jurassic World reboot/spin-off is pretty bad. 

Okay, the first one wasn’t quite so awful, but it was underwhelming as could be as the successor to one of the biggest movies of all time. But at least that movie was passable as a mindless, loud summer diversion. Fallen Kingdom fails even at that. This one is just bad, from start to finish. If this is the best that one of the once-premier blockbuster franchises could crank out, “Fallen Kingdom” would be more apt as a descriptor for the state of the series.

Three years after disaster befell the eponymous theme park, the now-abandoned resort island is suddenly volcanic, a prospect which would mean the end of the poor dinosaurs. As the world debates the merits of saving the dinos, the park’s former manager (Bryce Dallas Howard) and trainer (Chris Pratt) are recruited to rescue them by a seemingly-benevolent organization. Predictably, it turns out said organization is less interested in saving them than in making money off of them.

The trailers looked to be promising some spectacular dinosaur chases on an exploding island, a terrific summer B-movie template if there ever was one. Instead, we get roughly ten minutes on the island, and a whole lot of mediocre dark house action inside the mansion of a kindly billionaire (James Cromwell doing his best Richard Attenborough impression), who somehow missed the evil corporate bastards building a major dino holding pen in his basement.

In between that, there’s lots and lots of filler. And not fun filler. It’s painfully boring, as none of the banter between Pratt and company is amusing, and none of the villains (Rafe Spall as the typical greedy corporate bastard, Ted Levine as the typical one-note grunt, and Toby Jones doing his typical slimy villain thing) are interesting. And Jeff Goldblum…sadly, the trailers misled there, too, for he only has snippets of screen time. So much time is instead devoted to spewing exposition for more sequels but gives little reason to even stick around for this one, let alone come back for more.

But, little of this matters, really, as long as the dinosaurs are cool, right? Well, it’s a negative on that front, too. What sense of wonder and awe and terror there was in the franchise 25 years ago is completely gone. There’s not a single impressive visual that wows the viewer, no tension to any of the chases. Furthermore, not only are the new creatures total disappointments (and unlike the Indominus rex last time, didn’t even need to be spoiled by the marketing to underwhelm), but the film even reduces the series’ iconic dinos to cute and cuddly. It just feels wrong, like if H.R. Giger's Alien or Michael Myers suddenly became kid-friendly.

Simply put, this is the worst of the Jurassic Park movies by far, and keep in mind one of them involved the cast digging through dinosaur dung to find a (sill-ringing) cell phone. That was only a single scene, at least, whereas Fallen Kingdom is a two-plus-hour dino turd.