Author: richreviewssite

Seeing how many studios attempt the shared “cinematic universe” formula in recent memory, a question’s been hovering over the head of Marvel Studios since they were the first to popularize it in a recent context:

“When will Marvel movies finally get stale?”

That’s not to say the recent series of Marvel movies has a stainless record. After all, “Thor: The Dark World” and “The Incredible Hulk” certainly pale in comparison to the others in terms of audience reception and critical praise. But the worst of the Marvel movies have only ever been mediocre or derivative, rather than outright bad. Still, mediocrity could have been downright poisonous for a movie based on one of the most beloved black superheroes in the history of comics, especially seeing how “Black Panther” was as built up as it was since the character’s appearance in “Captain America: Civil War”. In other words, nothing but the best talent and care could have made this movie live up to expectations. Marvel knew that, acted accordingly, and got one of its most remarkable efforts to date out of it. Those expectations, in essence, quickly and visibly ceased to matter within the film’s opening minutes.

Even following the death of its most recent king, T’Chaka (during the events of “Civil War”), the covert African nation of Wakanda continues to thrive as the most advanced civilizations on Earth. Its advanced technology, keen global awareness, and access to the indestructible metal called “Vibranium” allows it to thrive in isolation from the conflicts of the outsides world, and prospects look even brighter upon the return and coronation of the new Black Panther, Prince T’Challa (Chadwick Boseman). Continuing Wakanda’s traditions as the new king, however, is not nearly as simple as he thought it would be, as his abidance to Wakandan isolationism sparks objections from the Wakandan spy Nakia (Lupita Nyong’o), a former lover of T’Challa who wishes to aid the outside world with the country’s resources. Worse yet, an old enemy of Wakanda appears in the form of arms dealer Ulysses Klaue (Andy Serkis), whose partnership with a mysterious terrorist (Michael B. Jordan) makes the fact of outside knowledge terrifyingly clear to the people of the secret civilization. Soon, the history of Wakanda, the legacy of T’Challa’s family, and the future of the country and the world surrounding it are thrown into uncertainty as the troubled king endeavors to put an end to the emerging threats.

Save for a few twists later in the film, the plot doesn’t have too much in the way of surprises, especially concerning T’Challa’s journey as the new king of Wakanda. Still, where the film lacks in revolutionary storytelling, it makes up for in raw, unmistakable passion. As stated before, something that could have killed this movie is mediocrity, and in that regard, T’Challa is something of a lesser point of the movie. While he’s far from lacking in relatable conflicts, and benefits greatly from the fact that Chadwick Boseman’s nuanced performance lacks the corny humor of his Marvel contemporaries, the character’s arc suffers from the fact that his progression is one-note until later in the film. This hangup does erode rather quickly as the film goes on, however, especially considering that it’s about the only negative it has. The supporting cast, for instance, never ceases to be compelling, and I’ll go so far as to say that it’s one of Marvel’s best to date. I’m especially happy to see Lupita Nyong’o continue her mastery of both tenderness and strength as Nakia, whose performance makes her one of the most magnetic of the main supporters in an already spot-on cast (comprised of other masters like Danai Gurira, Forrest Whitaker, and Martin Freeman). What especially surprised me about the cast, however, were the villains. Seeing Marvel’s villains improve more and more with each film has certainly been a fascinating journey, but the villains here are undoubtedly the best written and most threatening in the entire cinematic franchise. Michael B. Jordan in particular plays a character whom I won’t dare spoil here, and his seemingly instinctual balance between sly charisma and tranquil rage makes for an unrelentingly imposing antagonist that audiences could otherwise sympathize with.

The plights of the characters are made even more intriguing by the world-building and design of Wakanda. We’ve seen many a technologically advanced society in science fiction films, but the combining of futuristic and African tribal aesthetics makes for something as original as it is beautiful on a visual level. One of the best elements is seeing just how many facets of science and living the Wakandan people have mastered, and given its level of development and involvement in the story, one could say that the nation of Wakanda is as much a character as the Black Panther himself. After all, the plots conflicts revolve around the subjects of isolationism vs. expansion, the values and dangers of tradition, racial pride, and the lengths people are willing to go for the continued success of their country. That a big-budget superhero movie managed to breath as much life and perspective as it did into the world and the characters living in it speak volumes of “Black Panther’s” subtle profundities. While the slow-boiling protagonist and the film’s unavoidable obligations towards connectivity do hold the film back ever so slightly, those are as far away from deal-breakers as flaws can get.

Don’t let the hype dissuade you here: “Black Panther” is a heartfelt and expertly crafted movie, simultaneously one one about heroes and intercultural tensions, that wears both coats proudly and beautifully.

Before we begin, special thanks to Kiki Akpunonu for her help with writing/editing this review.

Fantasy is something of a double-edged sword when it comes to genre in film, at least when it comes to critic and audience reception. Still, what strikes me as particularly fascinating is the popular critical perspective on the genre from mainstream critics throughout the years. Fantasy films like the more modern Highlander and the high fantasy Willow, for instance, had initially more mixed receptions before being declared cult classics, and the era in which those films came out was one of relative dismissal in the film industry. While it might be easy to dismiss the connections that fantasy genre tropes have to significant literary and societal themes, it’s important to remember that some of genre’s most influential works in film and literature were rooted in allusions and allegories for the eras in which they were written. There’s a reason that fantasy literature is as popular as it is in educational curriculum, and Internet film critic Lindsay Ellis (in her own review of Max Landis and David Ayer’s Netflix film Bright) gave an impeccable overview of how inevitable allegories and cultural coding are in fantasy, especially since Tolkien’s influential works set a precedent for allegory in the genre, and her overview of the history of social commentary sheds considerable light on the films numerous failings as a social commentary. While it’s true that Bright fails completely in its aspirations for insightful observations of race, that failing is far from the only problem this movie is burdened with, and those problems managed to drown a potential classic in a sea of mediocrity and ineptitude.

Daryl Ward (Will Smith) is one of the most notoriously hard-boiled human cops on the force in an alternate history, modern day Los Angeles populated with orcs, elves and numerous other magical races. This city, saved along with the world from a Dark Lord ages ago, is plagued by crime and racial tension as orcs continue to be marginalized by the humans and elves in positions of power. At the center of this tension lies Ward along with his orc partner, Nick Jakoby (Joel Edgerton), who are called upon to take down a society of magic users and devotees to the Dark Lord, dubbed “Shield of Light”, who seek the power of the magic wand held by one of their defectors, Tikka (Lucy Fry) and resurrect the fallen tyrant. To make matters worse, Ward must choose between his job on the force and his loyalty to his partner when Internal Affairs calls for Jakoby to be fired and proven guilty of letting an orcish suspect go out of loyalty. A chase and a mystery ensue as questions of loyalty, racial profiling, and oppression of the lower class are brought into their latest and most deadly assignment on their watch.

On the nose as the thematic goals of this film are, the overall premise is far from unsalvageable, and the production elements seem poised to create an interesting urban fantasy: the makeup and special effects are well-done and original enough to set the film’s setting apart, the art direction manages to be distinct in spite of the soon-to-be-mentioned cinematography problems, and the acting is the unmistakable highlight of the film. Will Smith and Joel Edgerton, for example, slip into their respective roles quite well, and are believable enough as partners to make their history interesting. Such surface elements, however, are as far as the movie seems to be bothered to go, and nearly every other element of the film is so half-hearted in execution that the film’s aspirations of being a socially conscious urban fantasy are rendered totally meaningless. As good as the actors are, for instance, they’ve got little to work with thanks to the awful script, with unsubtle and frankly demeaning parallel references to modern civil rights movements peppered throughout the cliched police drama plot to give the story the gravity it lacks. Count my earlier synopsis of the conflict as a blessing, too, because the film’s insufferable pace makes it so the central conflict takes over half of the runtime to truly kick off. Such could be helped if the characters themselves were interesting or likable, but barring Jakoby, the cast consists of one-note tools for the advancement of the plot. Will Smith’s roughness and misanthropy is a welcome demonstration of his understated versatility, but Ward’s characterization and imprisonment under the film’s predictable narrative make him a flat and boring anti-hero. Tikka, meanwhile, is there as a reminder of the central conflict and essentially nothing else. The action scenes, usually the compensating factor of such a drag of a story, range from frantic and clumsily edited to boring and stagnant, with some of the later shootouts being inexplicably stagnant and still for no justifiable reason. With all these flaws against the movie, the only distinct aspects seem to be theme and setting, and its use of fantasy races as a means of commenting on racial coding in fantasy and social injustice in the real world seems to be a profound fusion of genres…

Until a few minutes of thinking, in which one is likely to realize how sophomoric and out of its depth it really is. The aforementioned alternate history timeline is a sadly low-effort affair, since the setting is nothing more than present-day Los Angeles with a paper-thin fantasy skin. Racism between human characters of numerous ethnicities exist where there should have been just new tensions, and the pop cultural and historical references (most of which are squarely within real-life topics and events) leave the impression that the writers simply didn’t think of the meaning behind this world’s history or the world building as a whole. The attempts at speaking to real-life injustices and bigotry ring hollow as a result, since the slavish devotion to “realistic” cop drama tropes boils the issues of bigotry down to straw characters and individual hangups, rather than the system of institutionalized racism that the movie’s story forgot to establish. Worse yet, numerous, lazily implemented cliches of movie racism take the place of meaningful and impactful commentary, and the sheer volume of racism among the characters is baffling considering what little is established about the society itself. Past the origin story of the Dark Lord and how the races defeated them together, Bright is essentially just a police drama about racism, but the shoehorned fantasy elements contradict this plotline so much that the entire affair is rendered meaningless. These elements, given more finesse and dedicated, could very well have been compelling and insightful, but in the state that it was screened, they were drained of their flavor and weight.

Despite having the bones of a fresh crime story with a fantastical, allegorical twist, Bright‘s visible lack of meat left it a boring, unpleasant, and pretentious mess. The actors, cinematographers, and story of this movie all deserved much, much better.

When does a failure become a strength?

After my last review of Tommy Wiseasu’s “The Room”, you may be tempted to answer that question by saying that a failure can make a legend through ironic cult status. Much like the memoir of the same name, however, “The Disaster Artist” is not interested in simply recounting the anecdotes of a troubled production. Rather than a simple comedy of errors, the film is also a story of friendship, a behind-the-scenes production story, and a story of the hardships of the acting industry all rolled into one. More than any of those things, however, “The Disaster Artist” is a film whose story sets out to answer the question above, and a compelling story of the simultaneous danger and power of faith in one’s dreams.

Yes. A movie about the making of “The Room” moved me.

Aspiring actor Greg Sestero (Dave Franco) is a painfully nervous aspiring actor living in California, who’s constantly given verbal beatdowns by his instructor for his lack of confidence. His doubts all but evaporate, however, when he meets Tommy Wiseau (James Franco), a gleefully passionate, yet tragically untalented thespian whose lack of stage fright nonetheless inspires Greg and later becomes the catalyst for an unlikely friendship between the two upstarts. The two move in together at Los Angeles, and upon being reminded of the competitive, stagnant nature of the acting industry, decide to further their careers by making a film of their own. What starts out as a promise for a new chance at careers, however, quickly spirals into a gordian knot of production troubles and mutual tension. In addition to “The Room” being a disjointed, wrongheaded mess funded by a troublingly endless supply of money, its problems are all traced back to Tommy’s paranoid, dictatorial, and inept direction. To make matters worse, Greg’s attempts at romance and independent success are met only by bitterness and jealousy from Tommy, who continually refuses to disclose his past even as he pushes Greg and the crews to their limits. Is their hope for Tommy and Greg’s passion project, or will the two be doomed to lose their careers, dreams, and friendships to the turbulent production environment?

Seeing what direction “The Disaster Artist” takes with its depiction of “The Room’s” production is remarkable in its sincerity, and while the resulting product is every bit as funny as you could imagine, it must be stated here and now that the film also has legitimate dramatic weight to it. This is due in no small part to its dedication to paying tribute to Wiseau’s cult phenomenon. Recreations of the film’s most memorable scenes are nearly perfect in their faithfulness, and the actors playing the relevant film’s cast are instantly recognizable. The people behind the scenes also lend themselves to hilarious scenes of outrage towards Wiseau’s lunacy, with Seth Rogen being a particular standout as the script supervisor.

Talking about performances, however, is impossible without affirming the strength of its two leads. Dave Franco, for instance, adds welcome nuance and affable charm to Greg Sestero’s portrayal in this film. Greg’s almost instinctual friendliness and everyman mannerisms are deceptively difficult to portray naturally, but Franco not only succeeds in doing so, but matches the actor’s mannerisms to a tee. Equally impressive, if not more so is the performance of James Franco as Tommy Wiseau. While it may seem readily apparent that he captures the eccentricity and humor of the man from the trailers, the promotional materials don’t do nearly enough justice to his ability to pull off Wiseau’s secrecy and emotional instability. Most people fondly remember the humor of the warped, accidental appeal of “The Room”, but an equally important, yet overlooked fact is that the production was the product of a troubled, inept, and slightly delusional director. In James Franco, we’re given a reminder of the dark side of the widely enjoyed failure, and manages to deliver a spot-on performance that balances charmingly eccentric and defensively prideful without ever having one eclipse the other.

Together, the brothers also emanate such convincing and natural character chemistry that they cease being brothers playing characters and become Greg Sestero and Tommy Wiseau. On their shoulders is a cinematic experience that balances Hollywood cynicism and hope through its portrayal of a friendship forged in industry struggles. “The Disaster Artist” could have easily succeeded by being a Abbot-and-Costello-style deconstruction of Tommy Wiseau’s direction, acting, writing and editing, but the people behind it truly respected Greg Sestero’s observations on the difficulties of working in the film industry. As an aspiring film critic and voice actor myself, I can say that the filmmakers have a deep understanding of this struggle, and of the kind of damage that unchecked dedication to one’s dreams can do. Instead of mocking Wiseau at every opportunity, the film takes time to remind the viewers of his struggles as an auteur, and give equal consideration to Sestero’s tenuous balance between his friendship with Wiseau and his own well-being. Though held back slightly by its inevitably niche status as a tribute to “The Room” “The Disaster Artist” is a funny, charming, and enjoyable exploration of filmmaking, and not since Tim Burton’s “Ed Wood” has there been such an entertaining look at cinematic auteurism.