Image by Vinson Tan ( 楊 祖 武 ) from Pixabay When the Harry Potter series came to an end in 2011, the future was uncertain for this cinematic world of wizards and witches. But only two years later, Warner Brothers announced that the original author of the “Harry Potter” book series, J.K. Rowling, would make her screenwriting debut by adapting the 2001 fictional guide book “Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them” (which Rowling herself wrote) into the first film of a trilogy set in this newly-christened Wizarding World. Working with Rowling is David Yates, who returned to direct the project after doing so for the latter four Harry Potter flicks. Rowling’s story would follow Newt Scamander, a magizoologist who “wrote” the guide book about magical creatures. And nearly a decade after this announcement, the third film of the Fantastic Beasts premieres this weekend with supposedly two more movies on the way. Unlike the Harry Potter series which greatly defined my moviegoing childhood, these films have all come out in my twenties and thus I lack any nostalgic attachment to them (this will almost certainly become clear in my reviews of them 😊). What are my thoughts on the Fantastic Beasts movies? You’ll have to keep reading to find out. So, without further ado…LET’S GET STARTED! Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (2016) Upon seeing the first film of the Fantastic Beasts series in theaters, I found myself feeling satisfied and mildly entertained but by no means impressed or blown away. That being said, whenever I’ve gone back to watch it I end up liking it a little bit more. That being said, it is undoubtedly a flawed movie. What I surprisingly enjoyed the most on this rewatch of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them was the series’ willingness to explore the society and culture of wizards and witches outside of Britain. Perhaps it’s my bias as an American, but Rowling and Yates fleshing out the noticeably more prejudiced and paranoid attitude of the magical community in a different place and time makes for some solid world-building after the Harry Potter series. In the film, we see how the MACUSA (Magical Congress of the United States of America) operates a more ruthless bureaucracy with regards to protecting the secrecy of their community from the “No-Maj” American society during the Jazz Age. It is this paranoid and close-minded political structure that serves as the central obstacle for our protagonist Newt Scamander (Eddie Redmayne), a British magizoologist traveling to New York City under suspicious circumstances. As the audience’s conduit into the wizarding world of 1920s America, Redmayne (in my humble opinion) pretty quickly draws the audience to him as an offbeat, socially awkward fish-out-of-water wizard with a passionate heart for magical creatures and a charming skepticism for human behavior and motivations. Furthermore, I appreciate Rowling differentiating the protagonist for this series from the titular hero of the Harry Potter series. Whereas Harry was a child consistently ignorant of the world of magic for much of his journey, Scamander is a full-fledged adult that’s also a fairly competent wizard able to outsmart others, escape sticky situations, and (mostly) hold his own in a fight. While I think I like Redmayne as Scamander more than many fans, what I cannot deny is who the best character of the Fantastic Beasts series is: the non-magical war veteran and aspiring baker Jacob Kowalski (Dan Fogler). Much of the entertainment value of the movie comes from seeing Kowalski’s shock at the capabilities of Newt and the other companions they meet along the way—ex-Auror Tina Goldstein (Katherine Waterston) and her mind-reading, free-spirited sister Queenie (Alison Sudol). Fogler’s career history in comedic roles works to great effect here, as his experience seeing magic done firsthand makes for some of the best levity in a movie that could otherwise be overly dour and dramatic. Before I get to my criticisms of this movie, I do want to shoutout something that most people either ignore or deride. In the wake of the sequel, I really appreciated Rowling and Yates favoring a subtle approach in foreshadowing the greater conflict of the series involving dark wizard Gellert Grindelwald (Johnny Depp) and his rise to power. Instead of overstuffing the scenes with excessive exposition, the filmmakers allow the relatively insignificant story of Scamander running around New York City to recatch his magical beasts to breathe on its own for the essential character work needed to make us invested in the main story in the first place. While I do overall enjoy Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, there are some important flaws to point out that make the movie too imperfect to hold a candle to any of the Harry Potter flicks. First and foremost, Rowling’s screenwriting talents seem to lack talent when it comes to balancing tone from one scene to another. In other words, it can be quite jarring for the viewing experience to go from watching Newt seduce a magical creature with a mating ritual to seeing orphan kid Credence Barebone (Ezra Miller) be abused by his adoptive mother and anti-witch fanatic Mary Lou (Samantha Morton). While not as detrimental to the movie overall, this problem will only get worse in the next installment of the series. Furthermore, I continue to be disappointed by the Grindelwald twist in the climax on each rewatch of the movie. Simply put, I think Colin Farrell’s more withdrawn and subdued performance as turncoat Auror Percival Graves (secretly Grindelwald) a welcome addition to the Wizarding World. And being reminded in the end that Graves is merely an illusion stings with each repeat viewing, but it hurt more than expected this time around. After Farrell’s superb turn in the supporting role of the Penguin in Matt Reeves’ The Batman, I just wish Warner Brothers had stuck with Farrell for the entire Fantastic Beasts series. These underwhelming elements make the main plot of the movie pale in comparison to just watching Newt, Kowalski, Tina and Queenie run around New York City chasing magical beasts. Unlike the compelling mysteries, dramas, and action-centric narratives of the Harry Potter series, this story of the “Obscurus” (which I still don’t really know exactly what that is) and Graves/Grindelwald’s desire for it (and thus Credence) remains an unsatisfying mystery to me. Put together, these weaknesses do not fully sour the inaugural entry of this prequel series but they do shine a light on the undeniable lack of quality in comparison to the Harry Potter movies. On its own terms, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them is a decent enough movie for its entertainment value if nothing else. But it’s certainly not the strongest opening to a new series of Wizarding World movies. At the same time, it benefits from not being The Crimes of Grindelwald. ☹ Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald (2018) Ok, so the sequel to the first Fantastic Beasts is not utterly irredeemable to the extent I thought it was after first seeing it back in 2018. That being said, it’s still pretty bad. But I want to start with the positives before just completely trashing what makes this movie a failure on virtually every level. Maybe this is an unpopular opinion, but I find Eddie Redmayne to be consistently solid in his performance as Newt Scamander. Is he the ideal action hero or the most talented wizard ever? No, but that’s why (in my humble opinion) he’s a pretty compelling protagonist. Whereas the first movie highlights Newt’s unyielding protective instinct towards magical creatures in opposition to the ignorant, unsympathetic nature of most other wizards, The Crimes of Grindelwald aims to fill in his complicated relationships with friend and unrequited love Leta Lestrange (Zoë Kravitz) and Theseus Scamander (Callum Turner), Newt’s accomplished older brother and Leta’s fiancée. While not done perfectly, it was clear on a rewatch of the film that Newt was one of the few returning characters who received some semblance of adequate character development. Aside from just his story, I do think Redmayne is doing his damnedest to put some heart and passion into his character in even the subtlest ways. From some of his awkward facial expressions to fill up silence to the utter disrespect he shows his wand (like putting it in his mouth or holding it like a pencil), these little touches are the things I noticed and enjoyed whenever the overbearing, exposition-heavy plot of the movie isn’t putting me to sleep. Speaking of returning characters, I went into this rewatch of The Crimes of Grindelwald fearful of how I’d receive Johnny Depp now that he was full-fledged portraying the famous evil wizard Gellert Grindelwald. While his performance was neither disastrous nor transformative, I do appreciate how the movie fleshes out its titular villain’s motivations and grounds them in something believable. Essentially, Grindelwald defends his extremism towards the non-magical community and its magical sympathizers by expressing his desire to prevent another global conflict even worse than the First World War. Thinking back on the Harry Potter series, Voldemort never really had any stated motivations for his actions beyond enslaving the wizarding world under his control. In comparison, it’s refreshing for the villain to be more political in nature and work behind the scenes rather than always be on the front lines like a soldier. On a final positive note, it felt right for The Crimes of Grindelwald to return to Hogwarts if mostly for some character-focused flashback scenes. Not only was it nice to see a young Newt and Leta as friends being taught by a young Albus Dumbledore (Jude Law), but it seems fitting for a movie franchise that wouldn’t exist without the Harry Potter series to pay homage to the central setting (essentially a major character in its own right) of that series that so many fans of the Wizarding World adore and uphold. Unfortunately, I don’t have much more positive to say about The Crimes of Grindelwald. So, without further ado, let’s get into all the things that make this movie (mostly) irredeemable mediocrity. I said before that I thought Newt Scamander benefited the most in terms of character development. There’s a caveat to this, which is that director David Yates and screenwriter J.K. Rowling simply don’t devote enough time to the love triangle between Leta and the Scamander brothers to make the audience greatly invested in the drama of it. Instead, it ends up feeling like more of an afterthought due to Yates and Rowling preferring to focus on the Grindelwald plot. That being said, at least Newt gets some semblance of meaningful screentime. Tina Goldstein, on the other hand, lacks much attention at all for the first half of the movie and when she does join up with Newt and the others, she’s barely a presence in the group (even though one of the emotional cores of the movie’s narrative is her sister turning to the dark side! Like, what?!?). Which gets to the straight-up bad subplots of The Crimes of Grindelwald. I simply don’t know what Yates and Rowling were thinking in developing Queenie and Jacob’s “complex” romance other than recognizing the fact that Dan Fogler is undeniably the fan-favorite character of the Fantastic Beasts series. Thus, instead of letting his story arc in the first movie reside on its own terms they decide to reverse his memory loss from the climax of the first movie and have Queenie put him under a love spell so that she can marry him against his will. Not only is this an example of lazy screenwriting to bring a fan-favorite character back in a movie where he really doesn’t belong, but it also completely tramples on the minimal development Queenie had before. Whereas in the first Fantastic Beasts movie she was a kindhearted and empathetic witch, in this one she turns into a lust-crazed sociopath who somehow doesn’t see through Grindelwald’s violent nature (despite being a Legilimens, or having the ability to read minds!) and decides to join him out of her desire to marry Jacob AGAINST HIS WILL. I mean did Rowling just completely forget what happened in the movie right before this one and decided to simply create all-new characters with the same names as before?!? Speaking of the characters, I was really hoping to see more of Jude Law’s take on Dumbledore than what we received in The Crimes of Grindelwald. He was enjoyable in the handful of scenes we had with him, but I really do hope that the third film can make Law’s casting worthwhile because so far I haven’t seen nearly enough to be truly impressed. And what I have seen is more serviceable than amazing. Perhaps the bigger problem with this film, however, is the plot in general. Even if the characters made poor decisions and lacked sensible motivations, maybe I could’ve forgiven all of that if the overarching narrative was handled gracefully or expertly at all. Alas, it is not. Rowling’s lack of screenwriting experience is front and center here as the film’s three-act structure goes from dragging-your-heels boring to crazily rushed and stuffed full of needlessly complicated exposition that it leaves a bad taste in the audience’s mouths by the time the credits roll. The first act reintroduces us to the returning characters and brings a bunch of brand-new characters―from the French=Senegalese wizard Yusuf Kama (William Nadylam) to the cursed woman-turned-snake Nagini (Claudia Kim) ―who just don’t get enough screentime to make us care about them. On top of that, we get the interweaving family trees that relate to the mystery of Credence’s true name that culminates in one of the most baffling examples of “tell, don’t show” that I’ve seen in a big-budget movie like this in the past decade. Not only does the reveal about Leta and Yusuf’s connection (or lack thereof) to Credence nonsensical, but it’s also about characters that WE DON’T CARE ABOUT! There’s a lot to complain about when it comes to the movie, but I’ll end it here with the tone. Despite the first Fantastic Beasts movie having some jarring scene transitions, it was mostly never distracting enough to take you out of the story. But in this movie, Yates and his creative team cut back and forth between such tonally different scenes constantly that the audience can never truly give themselves over to the story. Maybe this is surprising to Yates and Rowling, but when you cut from the whimsy of Newt tending to his magical creatures to Grindelwald’s henchman murdering an infant, it makes it rather difficult for your viewers to fully latch on to the story that you’re telling. This issue with the lack of a consistent tone is even more apparent when considering how much Jacob takes a back seat in the movie. Other than his bickering with Queenie in the first act and their reunion in the third act, all he does is follow Newt from London to Paris without saying or doing much of note. With the major source of comic relief from the first film largely stripped of his comedic presence, The Crimes of Grindelwald is a distinctly rote movie in the Wizarding World without any genuinely distinctive identity to speak of. Instead, it feels more like a needlessly dark and dour movie lacking virtually any of the magic of the Harry Potter series or even its predecessor in this series. God, I hope The Secrets of Dumbledore is better than this. Fantastic Beasts: The Secrets of Dumbledore (2022)
[NOTE: This blog contains spoilers for “The Secrets of Dumbledore.” You have been warned.] Walking into the movie theater on Friday night for my showing of The Secrets of Dumbledore, I was expecting to be disappointed. However, I also tried to remain open-minded and cautiously optimistic due to the early buzz around the film being an apparently vast improvement over The Crimes of Grindelwald. And by the time I left the theater, I ultimately felt deflated and exhausted with this series and wishing that it would just end. While I do agree that the movie is superior to its predecessor from four years ago, there are still some pretty glaring problems that have plagued the Fantastic Beasts franchise since its conception back in 2016. To begin with the positives, the intervention of Steve Kloves (The Fabulous Baker Boys, Wonder Boys), who wrote all but one of the eight Harry Potter films and produced the first two Fantastic Beasts films, proves beneficial here. Rather than Rowling struggle alone writing another political thriller set in the Wizarding World, Kloves’ guiding hand seemed to focus her storytelling instincts on streamlining this movie’s three-act structure so as to avoid the audience ever feeling lost or confused by the sequence of events of the movie. Surely, this is a low bar. But it doesn’t take away from the fact that such intervening tastes in screenwriting were desperately needed here after the atrocious example set by The Crimes of Grindelwald. In terms of the characters, some of the best scenes of The Secrets of Dumbledore were between the title character himself (once again played respectably by Jude Law) and Newt Scamander (with Redmayne’s third turn as the character). Seeing their friendship deepen and develop beyond Newt feeling like Dumbledore’s errand boy was refreshing, and Scamander’s empathy for Dumbledore (something he tends to show almost exclusively towards magical beasts) was particularly poignant during the scene in Hogsmeade when Dumbledore shares the story of his sister Ariana’s tragic death with his former student. Of course, the most noticeable different within the cast here is Mads Mikkelsen taking over the role of our villain, Gellert Grindelwald, from Johnny Depp. Not only does his performance feel more mature and restrained than Depp’s, but I am glad that Mikkelsen ended up being the actor to share several scenes with Law in this story. Essentially, it’s these three actors―Redmayne, Law, and Mikkelsen―that seem to be capable of carrying the emotional burden of Rowling’s (supposedly) five-film saga going forward. Unsurprisingly, my favorite character continues to be Jacob Kowalski thanks to Dan Fogler’s consistent talent for embracing and exemplifying the whimsy of the Wizarding World. Nearly all of his dialogue in the movie is genuinely funny, and easily the best writing overall. While his storyline lacks any emotional drama or substance to speak of here, I just appreciate seeing Fogler get work in a big-budget flick such as this where his lovable, charming personality can be seen by the world. At this point, maybe it sounds like I really enjoyed The Secrets of Dumbledore. But now I must address the several problems on display here that hold this movie back from the adequate entertainment value of the first Fantastic Beasts film (let alone the good to great storytelling of the Harry Potter series). So, let’s dissect what are (in my humble opinion) the biggest issues with the movie. First off, the first hour or so is SO. DAMN. BORING. Even after the lackluster scenes which bring Dumbledore’s team of spies together close out on the train, the missions that they go on lack urgency and feel as if they’re written simply to take up time before the finale. This points to a larger issue with the overall plot: why should the audience care about Grindelwald’s plotting behind the scenes of the wizarding world’s politics if we haven’t really seen the situation on the ground to explain why anyone supports him in the first place? To be invested in Grindelwald’s pursuit of power, the filmmakers have to prove that the forces he’s fighting are worth empathizing with and that his allies in his cause are worth rooting against. But, at the end of the day, I just feel indifference. Simply put, the film notably lacks any really “thrilling” components to justify its existence as something even close to a magical spy thriller. And a lot of my indifference is due to the fact that I care little about the fates of (most of) these characters (let alone the ones whose names I barely know, if at all). So when the movie finally ratchets up to its third-act showdown between Grindelwald and Dumbledore’s people, barely anything has pulled me in to the essence of the conflict in order to make it intriguing or thrilling. However, I could somewhat forgive these problems if The Secrets of Dumbledore was a standalone story. But it’s not: it’s the THIRD MOVIE of what is apparently going to a five-film saga. And because of the poor critical and audience reception of The Crimes of Grindelwald, this movie echoes some of the problems inherent in J.J. Abrams’ The Rise of Skywalker in that it tried to undo (or, at the very least, mitigate) the narrative issues of its predecessor while also telling its own cohesive story. But whereas the ninth movie of the “Skywalker Saga” is at least entertaining to watch and is largely cohesive within its broader trilogy, this movie simply ignores things established previously. For example, the first Fantastic Beasts movie takes place in 1926 and its sequel comes about a year later. Thus, the fact that this film takes place in 1932 means that it’s been approximately six years from the first movie to the third one. Yet when the American charms professor Eulalie “Lally” Hicks (Jessica Williams) finds Kowalski to recruit him she repeats his involvement with Newt and company as happening “a little over a year ago.” Right then and there, it was clear to me that Rowling lacks any genuine respect for her own source material. If she can’t even recall how much time has passed between movies, how am I supposed to take any story that she wants to tell seriously?!? Aside from just the issues of chronology in this franchise, I am now seriously questioning who the main character is supposed to be. Whereas in the first film our protagonist Newt Scamander in a “fish-out-of-water” scenario as a British wizard in New York City, both of the sequels injecting Dumbledore into the mix complicate my understanding of who our protagonist actually is. And that’s even more true in The Secrets of Dumbledore since Jude Law has a far more significant presence in the story than in the second movie. So, now has Newt been relegated to a deuteragonist with Dumbledore taking the helm or does Rowling just lack a fully-fleshed out plan for her Fantastic Beasts story? Probably the latter, but who can say for certain?!? 😊 All in all, The Secrets of Dumbledore is better than The Crimes of Grindelwald. But not much better, since its lows aren’t as bad but it lacks really any highs worth shouting to the rooftops about. Overall, what are my thoughts on the Fantastic Beasts movies? Hopefully not surprising this far in, but I continue to be underwhelmed and disappointed by these films. While their quality varies from one to the next, the series as a whole no longer justifies its own existence. Now, I just wish Warner Brothers will keep themselves from greenlighting a sequel and focus their resources on bringing back the main characters from the Harry Potter series to adapt the “Cursed Child” play into a one-off celebrating of the Wizarding World. With all that being said, here is my ranking of the first three Fantastic Beasts movies:
What are your thoughts on the Fantastic Beasts series? Would you prefer they just stop and make a “Cursed Child” movie like I do? What opinions of mine do you find absolutely ridiculous? Let me know in the comments below. Until next time, this has been… Yours Truly, Amateur Analyst
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Image by Abhishek Kashyap from Pixabay Over a year into blogging on a (mostly) weekly, I’ve given my thoughts on so many different superhero franchises. From 20th Century Fox’s X-Men series and the DC Extended Universe to Marvel Studios’ “Infinity Saga” and Sony Pictures’ Spider-Man flicks, there have been so many great, okay, mediocre, and utterly awful depictions of superheroes on the big screen over the course of several decades. But none may be more iconic than the “Caped Crusader” himself…
BATMAN. As I’ve mentioned in several blogs prior, I only grew up with a cinematic version of Spider-Man to admire. Whether it be Tim Burton’s foundational take on the character or Christopher Nolan’s “Dark Knight Trilogy,” I had never seen any of Batman’s big-screen interpretations until pretty recently. Beyond that, Batman’s persona as a hero just never appealed to me. He seemed either too edgy or too cartoonish to hold his own in either a zany comic book movie like Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man trilogy or in a more grounded approach to superheroes like Logan. But, like so many other notable franchises, I have spent the last several years soaking in much of Batman’s history on the big screen and want to delve into the both the exceptional and the incredibly overrated versions of the character leading up to the newest take that premieres this weekend: Matt Reeves’ The Batman. So, without further ado…LET’S GET STARTED! [NOTE: I did not watch the 1966 Batman movie or the Schumacher films Batman Forever and Batman & Robin. I just couldn’t subject myself to them. ☹] Batman (1989) Although I wasn’t alive back in 1989, my understanding is that Tim Burton’s Batman starring Michael Keaton in the title role was a cultural phenomenon when it came out. Considering it made over 400 million dollars during its original run (making it the fifth-highest-grossing film at the time), it doesn’t surprise me. Even Burton himself once referred to the movie as “boring” even though he “liked parts of it.” And yet, its aesthetic and style have stood the test of time as a foundational film of the comic book genre. Is that enough to make it a good movie? … No. No it isn’t. To be clear, I don’t hate Tim Burton’s Batman. I just find it boring and don’t get why it was such a hit when it first came out. Sure, it’s stylish and undeniably inspired the gritty ambience of future superhero flicks (including Nolan’s own trilogy). But virtually everything else in the movie is either uninspired, tonally confused, or outright bizarre and not in a good way. To start, the plot of the movie has always baffled me with how scattershot it is. The struggle that plays out between Keaton’s Batman and Nicholson’s Joker involving Batman interfering with police business and the mob’s attempts to kill Jack Napier (the Joker before he comes the Joker) for having an affair with his boss Carl Grissom’s (Jack Palance) mistress which causes Jack to fall into a vat of acid which changes his skin and want to kill everyone with a laugh-inducing chemical and… SEE WHAT I MEAN?!? I know it’s a matter of hindsight being 20/20, but somehow Christopher Nolan was able to tell a more coherent, complex and compelling story in The Dark Knight without the audience ever feeling out of the loop in what is happening, who is doing what, and why. Clearly, Burton did not focus nearly as much of his energies on overseeing the screenplay for Batman. Which gets to my problem with our two main characters. Apparently, Burton was fascinated by the image of Batman and the Joker as a child and wanted to explore a world where each of their origins are deeply intertwined. In the film, the former’s journey to become the Caped Crusader begins with Jack Napier murdering his parents (which is also done far more tastefully and intelligently in Todd Phillips’s Joker) and the latter’s journey to becoming Joker begins with Batman trying to kill him. Do I like the idea of these two ideological opposites having shared origin stories? Yes, but unfortunately Burton falters in pulling this off. And much of that has to do with both actors (in my humble opinion) not excelling in their respective roles. I get that Nicholson was, and continues to be, praised for his take on Joker. And, admittedly, he has some fun moments. But that’s just it: I don’t think it should be fun to watch the Joker scheme and terrorize. In fact, it should be terrifying knowing just how much fun he’s having despite nobody else sharing his glee. So, while Nicholson expertly shows us that he had fun playing the Joker, the horrifying aspects of the character simply don’t shine through. He just comes off more like a showman and less like a menacing supervillain. Regarding Keaton, I really don’t get why people admire his take on Batman or Bruce Wayne. Just like Nicholson, he has some good moments that are usually his awkward-but-endearing interactions with Vicki Vale (Kim Basinger). Yet those are few and far between, and when he dons the cowl and cape as Batman he doesn’t really say or do anything cool. To be fair, this isn’t completely on Keaton’s shoulders as Burton’s direction and the cinematography of the action doesn’t help the situation. But, at the end of the day, Keaton is not my Batman and I’m not very excited to see how they to modernize him in the upcoming DCEU films Batgirl and The Flash. But what about as a superhero tentpole? Does it have some great comic book movie “firsts”? Once again, Batman disappoints in this regard too. First off, I found Burton’s introduction of Batman in the opening minutes and the reveal of the Batmobile during the second act to be anti-climactic at best and lazy at worst. That being said, Nicholson revealing himself as the Joker from the shadows is a decent start to his turn as the iconic villain (just not followed up very well by his absurdly cartoonish antics). All that being said, though, one element of the film that remains awesome is the soaring and inspiring score from none other than Danny Elfman. The opening credits do their damnedest at hyping the audience up for a movie that never really comes, and how his music punctuates the action sequences and dramatic moments helps make the movie bearable rather than outright unwatchable. And I love how this is the beginning of his career as a composer for superhero movies, which continued with Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man trilogy before heading onto the Marvel Cinematic with Avengers: Age of Ultron and the upcoming Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness (a much-anticipated reunion with Raimi). So, after two viewings, my feelings on the 1989 Batman flick haven’t really changed. While it has some cool sets and some great music, the rest of the film leaves much to be desired. Sure, it set some trends for both the genre and the depiction of Batman on the big screen (famously, the deeper voice that Keaton adopted to better conceal Batman’s true identity). Ultimately, though, it remains for me more of a culturally and historically significant movie than a timeless on. Batman Returns (1992) I don’t have as much to say about Batman Returns, Burton’s follow-up to 1989’s Batman, because it’s basically the same movie. I do like it more than its predecessor, but just barely. To begin with some positives, I do think that this film strikes a slightly better tonal balance than the first film. It does this not by injecting some realism into the script but by getting rid of it entirely in favor of doubling-down on the camp from before. Much of this is embodied by the movie’s dual villain roles, but I’ll get to that later. Additionally, I did appreciate Burton’s art-deco aesthetic for Gotham a little more this time around largely due to its Christmas-infused elements. But, once again, Batman Returns is an example of Burton prioritizing style and flair to the detriment of story, characters, and themes. Which gets to the bad stuff of the movie. When it comes to the villains, I wouldn’t say that Danny DeVito as Penguin alongside Michelle Pfeiffer as Catwoman are better than Nicholson’s Joker from Batman. But I do think that they’re more fun to watch. Especially in the second act, when they first meet and begin working together, is when Burton’s need to “cartoonize” the Batman universe that he’s crafted forms center-stage and dominates the remainder of the narrative. And this allowed me to begin laughing at the movie for the second half. And, in my humble opinion, I’d rather laugh at a movie than not laugh at all. Furthermore, Burton’s second take on dual identities by making Selina Kyle/Catwoman a thematic foil to Bruce Wayne/Batman works ever-so-slightly better than it did the first time (emphasize “slightly”). Rather than intertwine (and therefore unnecessarily complicate) the hero’s and villain’s origins, Bruce and Selina falling for each other more once they realize which vigilante mask that they each wear is somewhat enticing and had some good potential for richer storytelling. It never quite got there, but I give Burton some credit for the potential on display between Keaton and Pfeiffer. That’s really it. Like I said, Batman Returns is basically the same movie so much of my criticisms of 1989’s Batman still stand. The characterization of the protagonist falls flat in favor of cool set pieces and zany villains and their ridiculous, animal-centric schemes. By the end, I feel like I don’t know Batman any better than at the end of Burton’s first movie, but at least I enjoyed myself a little more the second time around. Maybe an actual cartoon movie will work better than these live-action cartoons did. Batman: Mask of the Phantasm (1993) Similar to my lack of childhood nostalgia for Burton or Joel Schumacher’s Batman films of the late 80s and 90s, I did not grow up watching Batman: The Animated Series and thus had no personal connection to Kevin Conroy’s take on the character nor on other seminal interpretations of the Batman universe (notably Mark Hamill’s version of the Joker). So, when I first watched Batman: Mask of the Phantasm in 2020, I found it unengaging thematically, uninteresting visually, and generally just a slog to get through. However, I’m happy that I rewatched it last month because I ended up appreciating it a lot more in the wake of trudging my way through repeat viewings of the Burton flicks. In comparison to those cartoonish atrocities that try to put themselves off as dark, gritty superhero movies, Mask of the Phantasm is a real cartoon movie. And yet it somehow feels more grounded, emotionally mature, and thematically rich than 1989’s Batman or its sequel. Being that it’s a movie based on a children’s cartoon show, I found the film’s narrative structure to be quite bold and unassuming. Not to diminish kids’ intelligence, but that kind of storytelling device for anyone, no matter how old they are, can only go so far before it potentially becomes antithetical to the goal that the filmmakers are trying to achieve. Fortunately, the creative team behind Mask of the Phantasm balances the flashbacks well enough to provide much-needed context for Bruce Wayne’s relationship with Andrea Beaumont (Dana Delany). In turn, this allows the tragedy of the third-act climax between Batman and the Phantasm to actually feel earned and heartfelt without coming off as rushed or poorly written. On that note, I found Bruce and Andrea’s chemistry more palpable and believable than Michael Keaton’s dynamic with either Kim Basinger in Batman or Michelle Pfeiffer from Batman Returns. Much of this, I think, has to do with how the story sets them up as foils to one another who both lost parents in childhood and bond over this shared trauma. From there, Bruce’s turn as the Caped Crusader in this animated universe comes not from training with Ra’s al Ghul and the League of Shadows in Asia but instead being (metaphorically) left at the altar by Andrea. I find this to be, in some sense, a more compelling origin for Batman. He did not create his crime-fighting alter ego solely out of a desire for vengeance against, or to serve justice to, the scummy underworld of Gotham City. Rather, it was being abandoned by his love and left alone that pushed him over the edge and into wearing the cape and cowl. Just another example of how a kids’ cartoon flick somehow crafted a better character for Bruce Wayne/Batman than any of the live-action versions that came before it. 😊 But what perhaps makes Mask of the Phantasm an overall better movie than Burton’s duology or any of the pre-2005 cinematic takes on the character is ultimately about fulfilling the key elements of Batman’s archetype and mythos. Not only do the filmmakers offer a nuanced (albeit truncated) backstory that resonates with the audience, but they included some characterization of Batman by showing him conduct actual detective work to solve the mystery of the Phantasm. In addition, the rapport between Kevin Conroy’s Batman and this version of Alfred Pennyworth (Efrem Zimbalist, Jr.) finally feels legitimately endearing rather than just like an awkward pseudo-adoptive father-son relationship. Seeing how much this Alfred cares for Bruce as well as his cheeky attitude, I have to imagine that Christopher Nolan or Michael Caine drew some inspiration from the film for his own trilogy. In fairness, Mask of the Phantasm is by no means a great film. Without question, my biggest disappointment was with Mark Hamill’s rendition of the Joker. While we do only get about twenty-ish minutes with him, I wish he had been more involved in the story from the get-go so that I was more invested in his role in the climax involving Batman and Andrea. But, setting that aside, I think this movie does a better job than Burton’s two ventures into Gotham City in making a story worthy of Batman’s comic book origins. Is it my favorite take on the character? Certainly not, but for a less-than-80-minute runtime, it’s more than worth your time if you want to see Batman done justice in animated fashion. Reflecting on these three early, formative Batman movies, I am grateful that both Burton’s films and Mask of the Phantasm exist in the same way I’m happy that Raimi’s Spider-Man trilogy exist. Without those, we never would’ve gotten Marvel Studios’s fresh and well-done take on the web-crawling teenage superhero. And without the Burton flicks and Mask of the Phantasm, we never would’ve gotten Batman Begins. Batman Begins (2005) Everyone talks about the first Blade and X-Men movies, as well as Sam Raimi’s first Spider-Man movie, as the films that ushered in the modern comic book genre dominated these days by the likes of Marvel Studios. Yet many people seem to forget, ignore, or understate the significance of Christopher’s Nolan first cinematic venture to Gotham City that came out THREE YEARS before Jon Favreau’s Iron Man. Having seen Batman Begins twice, I just cannot understand why it is not given the credit it so rightly deserves as an example of how to do a superhero origin story right. In the spirit of full transparency, I’m not a fan of all of Christopher Nolan’s movies. That being said, I think his tackling of Batman in the “Dark Knight Trilogy” will go down as one of the best film trilogies in history (possibly even surpassing that of Francis Ford Coppola’s first two Godfather flicks and Steven Spielberg’s original Indiana Jones trilogy). Even if it doesn’t, Batman Begins should certainly be remembered as one of the best comic book movies of all time. Full stop. What makes Batman Begins so damn good? One of its most powerful qualities is Nolan’s full-throttled deconstruction of Bruce Wayne as a character as a means of exploring how a mythos like Batman can be born as the dual personality of a self-isolating billionaire. Rather than simply have Batman already exist like in the 1989 film or rush through his backstory like in Mask of the Phantasm, Nolan crafts the narrative of his first Batman flick around exploring the conditions, experiences, and psychological trauma needed for the Caped Crusader to form in his grounded version of Gotham City. In my humble opinion, this is undoubtedly the best decision Nolan could have made for a reboot of Batman. By focusing (almost) the entire first half of the movie on seeing Bruce Wayne philosophically and ideologically struggle with how to serve justice for his parents’ murders without disrespecting their memory and legacy, he made a film that can be watched and appreciated by people who have no nostalgic or sentimental attachments to the character (including myself). In short, Batman Begins manages to be a comic book movie about Batman that also doesn’t absolutely need Batman in it to be good. Having watched the film again recently, I am even more convinced just how imperative it is in the greater history of modern comic book cinema. Without going off too much on a tangent, all I’ll say is Jon Favreau may not have devoted the first half of Iron Man to seeing Tony Stark not in the fully-fleshed out Mk. III suit if not for Batman Begins preceding it. This compelling character arc for Bruce Wayne would not work without Christian Bale’s incredibly dedicated performance. Not for a second does the audience doubt his commitment to showing all of Wayne’s flaws and insecurities while also proving by the end how these traits contribute to the intimidating gusto of Batman as a symbol of mysterious, enigmatic vigilantism. Bale creates two characters in one movie that depend on one another to exist, but also allows Wayne and Batman to enhance each other while also revealing the inherent weaknesses of each one. Bruce Wayne is a lonely, tormented young man who has never fully dealt with the trauma from witnessing his parents murdered in front of him as a child. In attempting to waste his life away on some cockamamie scheme for revenge, he submits himself to the hard ways of the League of Shadows in order to discipline himself and find purpose. Upon returning home to Gotham City, Wayne recognizes that he cannot run around beating up criminals as himself and thus must create a dual identity that strikes fear and terror into the hearts of the city’s scum and villainy. Thus, Batman is born. By embracing theatricality and intimidation in crafting his superhero persona, Wayne is able to “mask” (😊) the enduring shame, guilt, and fear of his true self. Because while Batman may be able to punch bad guys and stop Gotham City from killing itself by the film’s conclusion, only Bruce Wayne can forgive himself for what happened to his parents and try to move on with his own life. Combined with Nolan’s screenplay (co-written with David S. Goyer), Bale’s origins as Batman also make the more ridiculous aspects of the Caped Crusader’s modus operandi palpable, logical, and believable. I ABSOLUTELY LOVE how Wayne justifies the imagery of the bat for his vigilante costume to Alfred (Michael Caine): “Bats frighten me. It’s time my enemies shared my dread.” This serves as a more-than-adequate explanation for why Wayne starts running around in a black suit of armor, cape and cowl beating up criminals. It also plays sufficiently well into the film’s central theme of fear and the lengths one will go to overcome their own fears. But the other element of Batman’s mythos that I think Nolan handled so well was his strict moral stance against killing criminals. While I always figured his parents being killed had something to do with it, Nolan just adds such fantastic layers of nuance to it. Essentially, Wayne nearly goes through with assassinating his parents’ murderer, Joe Chill, as he’s leaving court one day before seeing someone else gun him down in cold blood. As Wayne leaves and is confronted by his childhood friend and romantic interest Rachel Dawes (Katie Holmes), he faces the truth of why he wanted to kill Chill: it wasn’t about some higher principle of justice, but self-serving revenge. Furthermore, if Wayne had succumbed to those inner demons and gone through with it, he would lose any moral high ground and thus ensure that his parents’ deaths were in vain and nothing more. Did Tim Burton handle these core character motivations for Batman as Christopher Nolan did? I think you already know the answer. 😊 While the film is squarely on Bale’s shoulders, he is surrounded by a fantastic supporting cast. Michael Caine is a great Alfred in the entire “Dark Knight Trilogy,” but I particularly love how in this film he remains the angel on Bruce Wayne’s shoulder who never veers from being his moral guide but also never fails to give him grief for his quirks and eccentricities. I also found myself enjoying Katie Holmes more on this rewatch as Rachel Dawes, both in terms of her chemistry with Bale but also how her character stands out amongst the other Batman love interests that came before as a smart, stern woman that holds Wayne’s feet to the fire. I also greatly appreciate how much more prominent Jim Gordon has in Nolan’s trilogy compared to prior and later Batman movies, and Gary Oldman remains (in my humble opinion) the definitive take on the character’s noble Gotham City police officer who steadfastly aids and supports Batman for his good intentions (although I am excited to see what Jeffrey Wright does with the character in The Batman). Finally, I was pleasantly surprised by Morgan Freeman standing out as one of my favorite supporting characters for Batman. Specifically, I appreciated how his version of Lucius Fox could give Wayne even more shit than Alfred but also make his scenes introducing Wayne to cool gadgets and weapons more than just exposition but entertaining character building for both Fox and Wayne. I cannot wrap up discussing Batman Begins without showering praise on its villains. Nowadays, Liam Neeson gets no shortage of shit for the god-awful action flicks he keeps making but people forget that he can act superbly well when given the right role. And his approach to making Wayne’s mentor in the League of Shadows, Ra’s al Ghul, an ideological zealot who views himself as Batman’s equal except for their methods for ending crime and corruption is such a good foil to Batman for his introduction film. But whereas Neeson is the straight-man villain, Cillian Murphy soars as the slightly zanier Dr. Jonathan Crane/Scarecrow due to his unsettling personality and outlandish plan that’s just grounded enough in reality to be terrifying. Unfortunately, they are another example of how Batman Begins receives the raw deal due to its sequel because everyone talks about Heath Ledger’s take on the Joker but never Neeson or Murphy in this movie. And they should be talked about more, because they’re both awesome! Which essentially sums up my view on this movie. Despite being surpassed by its predecessor, Batman Begins remains one of my favorite comic book movies. But, more importantly, it is the first truly great Batman movie that tells a great origin story for the Caped Crusader that stands toe-to-toe with the best comic book origin flicks of the last two decades. The Dark Knight (2008) For a summary of the production and release of The Dark Knight, click here. If Batman Begins is the Star Wars of the “Dark Knight Trilogy,” than its 2008 sequel, The Dark Knight, is The Empire Strikes Back. For me, at least, this is true in more ways than one. While I personally enjoy and appreciate George Lucas’s iconic 1977 film more, I can admit that its 1980 sequel is a better-made film. This is very much true for Nolan’s first two entries in his Batman trilogy. Simply put, while I think Batman Begins is a more compelling Batman story, I think how he built on its themes in The Dark Knight to craft as close to a perfect movie as you can get is incredibly admirable and earned the film’s legacy as one of the best movies of the 21st century. Other than that, however, there is not much I can say about The Dark Knight that hasn’t already been said about it more eloquently and profoundly than many others in video essays across the Internet.[1] So, instead, I will strive to be succinct in what I love most about the movie. Here goes nothing… On a rewatch, I found myself more greatly appreciating Nolan’s masterful handling of the pace of The Dark Knight. There are virtually no scenes, whether they be action-oriented or dialogue-heavy, where the tension is not exponentially more heightened than the one that came before it. For a two-and-a-half-hour runtime, this could quickly exasperate and exhaust the audience to the point of causing them to lose interest. Yet, Nolan never lets this happen. When combined with the film’s other qualities, such as the practical effects and use of IMAX cameras in crafting a uniquely grounded aesthetic for Gotham City, he allows the film to transcend its time and cement itself as a movie that works no matter how old it gets. I am wholly confident that fifty years from now people will still be talking about The Dark Knight in the same vein that people nowadays shower praise on the likes of The Godfather and Aliens as prime representatives of the time they were made while simultaneously being timeless classics. When it comes to Nolan actually making a sequel of Batman Begins, he uses what was started with Bruce Wayne’s character and relationships, in addition to Batman’s crime-fighting philosophy, to serve up a powerful and compelling enemy. From the outset of the film in which he must discover the truth behind misguided impersonators to losing the love of his life resulting from hubris, Wayne endures physical and psychological toil in fighting against that which terrifies him most: chaos embroiling his city, and his failure to do anything about it. By the end, when Batman relinquishes any potential goodwill that he has with the people of Gotham in order to preserve the heroic reputation of district attorney Harvey Dent (Aaron Eckhart), Nolan cements his take on the Caped Crusader as one of the most noble, selfless, and courageous heroes in modern comic book cinema. As Jim Gordon puts it while Batman flees the police: “He’s the hero Gotham deserves, but not the one it needs right now…He’s not our hero. He's a silent guardian. A watchful protector. A dark knight.” If giving up everything you hold dear to serve the people you care about and work towards accomplishing the greater good doesn’t make you a fantastic superhero, I don’t know what the hell does. Of course, Batman is not what most people come away thinking about after watching The Dark Knight. Unsurprisingly, they come away in love with Heath Ledger as Batman’s iconic archenemy the Joker. From his eerie, ingenious opening scene during the bank robbery to the chilling “pencil scene” to his interactions with all the main characters, from start to finish Ledger steals this movie right out from under Bale. He perfectly encapsulates Batman’s ideological opposite, and pulls off a brilliant performance as a man who, as Alfred puts it, “just wants to watch the world burn.” While I personally get a tiny bit more out of seeing Joaquin Phoenix transform Arthur Fleck into a famous psychopath in 2019’s Joker, I cannot deny that Ledger more than earned his posthumous Oscar and his status as possibly the greatest comic book movie villain ever. Period. All that being said, however, I stand by the fact that Aaron Eckhart doesn’t get nearly enough credit for his tragic turn as Harvey Dent. While I get that Ledger is an entertaining psychopath with incredibly daring and malevolent schemes that Batman must somehow prevent, Dent is ultimately the heart of The Dark Knight. During the first half, I root for his relationship with Rachel Dawes (now played by Maggie Gyllenhaal) despite hoping that her and Wayne can come to some sort of understanding about their relationship. But once Joker’s “you can only choose one” plot successfully ends up killing Dawes and physically scarring Dent, his unstable emotional state makes him vulnerable to the Joker’s manipulation and puts him on the path to forgoing all of his credibility with the people of Gotham by seeking vengeance for Rachel’s death. Once he kidnaps Jim Gordon’s family out of blaming Gordon’s negligence for Dawes’s demise, Dent cements himself as Nolan’s tragic villain of the entire “Dark Knight Trilogy.” Whereas Ra’s al Ghul and Scarecrow are shadowy figures trying to rid the world of Gotham’s crime-ridden façade and Joker is simply an agent of chaos, Dent is a genuinely good person whose own guilt and distorted sense of justice puts him down a destructive path of revenge that can only lead to his own grave. Nolan attempts to craft a similar arc for Bane (Tom Hardy) in the second sequel, but it doesn’t quite land as well. But, I’ll get to that later. In the midst of all this star power, it’s hard to forget the standout moments from our supporting cast. Once again, Jim Gordon’s presence both in the plot and his evolving relationship with Batman continues to be one of my favorite dynamics in Nolan’s trilogy. I particularly how, despite his wholehearted dedication to beating the Joker despite problems with the police bureaucracy surrounding him, he still admits fault to Dent in the face of watching his family be killed. His hyper-principled persona, fully embraced by Gary Oldman, works so well as something of a foil to Batman’s particular brand of vigilantism. When it comes to Wayne’s inner circle, Alfred has some of his best moments in both counseling and consoling his pseudo-adopted son during his best and worst moments. Particularly, the burden of keeping Wayne’s secret identity a secret seems to weigh very heavily on Alfred in the film more than before which plays into his changing view of Batman as a symbol that perhaps can’t be around forever due to the destructive role it plays in the life of the man that he cares so much for. Finally, Morgan Freeman once again shines as Batman’s armorer. I really appreciate his unflinching criticism of Batman’s not-so-subtle leaning towards authoritarian spying on the people of Gotham in the name of crime fighting. It makes Fox more than just a tertiary character, but an essential part of Nolan’s thematic exploration of the morality of surveillance in a post-9/11 world that serves as the film’s more subtle layer of social commentary. Need I say more? The Dark Knight is a fucking masterpiece, and if you haven’t seen it you’re missing out on some of the finest cinematic artistry ever captured on film. Go watch it; you’ll know that me and everyone else who’s seen it is right. 😊 The Dark Knight Rises (2012) Apparently, my Star Wars analogy from before really does hold muster because (in my humble opinion) The Dark Knight Rises is very much the Return of the Jedi of Nolan’s trilogy. Is it the best conclusion to a trilogy ever made? No, but it’s still a pretty good ending to the story that he started with Batman Begins. To begin with the positives, I think how Nolan wraps up Batman’s professional friendship with Jim Gordon brings the necessary emotions out of the audience. Seeing how Gordon has never lost faith in Batman by the time he has to fly the nuclear bomb out of Gotham (presumably at the cost of his own life) makes Oldman’s portrayal of our favorite Gotham police commissioner of the most memorable from Nolan’s entire trilogy. But it’s not just the returning cast that has shining moments. I did also appreciate Nolan’s effort to tie up some loose threads that stared with Batman Begins. Specifically, incorporating a revenge plot with Talia al Ghul (Marion Cotillard), the daughter of Wayne’s mentor Ra’s al Ghul, who is the true brains behind Bane’s terrorism operations. Was the romance between her and Wayne poorly set up and rushed? Sure, but I wanted to start by focusing on the positives. 😊 Simply put, Cotillard sells the betrayal in the third act which just lends credibility to her abilities as an actor in films like The Immigrant and Allied. And, of course, the production design and action sequences remain on point in this movie and hold their own against the best of the rest of the trilogy. I particularly loved the highway chase revealing Batman to the world for the first time in eight years, culminating in the reveal of the “Bat” aerial vehicle. And the use of Batman’s equipment and weapons unquestionably remain one of the best elements of all three films. Of course, the use of the “Bat” culminates in an awesome moment with the kids on the bridge recognizing Batman flying the bomb out of and away from Gotham City. While not quite as hype as Gordon’s “Dark Knight” speech at the end of the last movie, it still serves as a poignant finale to Batman’s swan song in this movie. Unfortunately, there is still much to be desired by the end of The Dark Knight Rises. While the film stands well enough on its own, I think much of the story and characterization just pales in comparison to the near-masterpiece that is Batman Begins and the undeniable masterpiece that is The Dark Knight. For starters, Nolan’s thematic exploration of what it means to endure and overcome pain via Batman’s flat-out loss fighting Bane (Tom Hardy) in the second act, resulting in his imprisonment which forces him to self-reflect and rehabilitate both his body and mind. While I appreciate Nolan’s dedication to giving Bruce Wayne true characters arc in all three films, the scenes with Wayne in prison while Gotham City is going to hell just aren’t interesting by comparison. Furthermore, one of the other best relationship dynamics of Nolan’s trilogy—the familial, father-son rapport between Wayne and Alfred—was (in my humble opinion) not well resolved either. Obviously, Michael Caine’s performance in all of his scenes was impeccable. His vulnerability he shows both when he’s angry at Wayne’s hotheaded drive to face Bane face-to-face and when he’s guiltily apologizing to Thomas and Martha Wayne’s headstones for letting them down (because he assumes that Wayne died) is so damn good. But, Nolan’s need to overstuff this movie with Bane’s terrorist schemes and other unnecessary side characters causes the resolution to Wayne and Alfred’s conflict feel rushed and thus leaves me feeling more unsatisfied than I should when they see each other in the end. When it comes to what is arguably the most lampooned part of The Dark Knight Rises—Hardy’s voice performance as Bane—I don’t hate it. Ultimately, Bane’s character felt repetitive in light of both the shadowy hardline nature of Ra’s al Ghul and the chaos-loving criminal antics of Joker. I’d rather have Bane be more a supporting villain and the screenplay play more into the third-act reveal of Talia that could’ve worked way better than it did (even though I did enjoy it, it's still too flawed to feel amazing). Also, maybe Nolan could’ve just gotten rid of Bane’s face mask earlier in the film like how Norman Osborn’s helmet was destroyed very early on in Spider-Man: No Way Home. This could’ve allowed Hardy’s acting chops to shine through much better, causing him to be more intimidating than amusing for some viewers. Ultimately, though, I think the major problem with this movie is Nolan’s screenplay (which he developed and co-wrote with David S. Goyer and his brother Jonathan, respectively). It just feels like Nolan consciously recognizing some senseless need to one-up himself in terms of the scale of wrecking Gotham City. In Batman Begins, the conflict was relatively contained but had the potential (and therefore the stakes) feel big. In The Dark Knight, the intimidation and plotting by the Joker feel grounded while also terrifying and (due to the philosophical nature of what the Joker represents in relation to Batman) higher stakes than what came before. But in this movie, Nolan’s storytelling ambitions (somewhat) got away from him. His injecting several new supporting characters, like eccentric vigilante Selina Kyle/Catwoman (Anne Hathaway) and rookie police officer John Blake (Joseph Gordon-Levitt), comes off as unnecessary which only hurts those characters’ ability to fit naturally and effectively into the overall story. Furthermore, the scale of the third-act conflict involving Bane’s nuclear bomb (while cool to watch) feels the most “comic book like” of the entire trilogy. And not in a good way, but rather to the extent that it hurts the grounded and realistic atmosphere that Nolan painstakingly established in the first two films. At the end of the day, I think The Dark Knight Rises is given more grief than it deserves. In terms of the production work that went it, it remains one of the best put-together comic book movies of the last decade and deserves praise in that respect. Unfortunately, Nolan’s handling of the epic scale was done better in films like Inception and Interstellar and instead foreshadowed some of Nolan’s worst work in films like Tenet. But, more disappointingly, The Dark Knight Rises ends up being only a good conclusion to a trilogy that included a fantastic first act and an utterly revolutionary second act. Thus, its ambitions hurt it and will forever leave Nolan’s “Dark Knight Trilogy” feeling only great instead of absolutely legendary. The LEGO Batman Movie (2017) Several years after The Dark Knight Rises came out, I think fans of the Caped Crusader and the general public were ready for a different take on Batman. We had the quasi-campiness of the Burton flicks, the in-your-face, no-holds-barred campiness of 1966’s Batman and the Schumacher movies, and the grounded, gritty realism of Nolan’s “Dark Knight Trilogy.” But after what was pulled off in those films, what could be done next at that point? For the answer, I refer back to one of last year’s blogs about the Neo-Western. There, when discussing 2017’s comic book movie Logan, I identified the four stages of evolution that a genre of fiction can go through: experimental, classical, parody, and deconstruction. While often these phases occur sequentially in relation to one another, I contend that if you apply this framework to understanding Batman’s evolution on the big screen we realize that Nolan’s trilogy skipped over parody in favor of breaking the conventions of the Batman flicks that came before. But that doesn’t mean filmmakers must now avoid parody altogether. In fact, the creative team behind The LEGO Batman Movie embraced it which is where much of the fun of this movie comes from. By integrating the outlandish and energetic physics of the LEGO property with the zany antics of Batman and his rogues’ gallery, director Chris McKay and the animation team show that their vision for this movie was spot-on: show the audience how fun it is to watch Batman defeat his villains while also reminding us how ridiculous his mythos and character (usually) are in anything other than an animated movie. On this point, I appreciate how in the wake of an increasing tendency towards meta references in the comic book genre (lookin’ at you, Deadpool!) that this movie doesn’t drown the audience with endless references to past cinematic Batmen without a point to it. Whenever the film makes overt jokes at the expense of the Burton or Schumacher flicks, or Nolan’s trilogy for that matter, it is doing it to add to the characterization of this version of Batman (played expertly, in my humble opinion, by Will Arnett). The fact that this LEGO Batman is aware of his mixed bag of a cinematic legacy makes his rugged personality and reclusive demeanor stand out in the midst of all these other takes on the character. Which brings me to what perhaps surprised me the most about The LEGO Batman Movie both times I saw it. For a children’s animated movie, the storytellers here managed to craft a pretty strong thematic arc for Bruce Wayne/Batman with an important message for people of all ages: if you allow the traumas of your past to affect your outlook on the future, you will lose out on fostering some meaningful relationships and allowing yourself to heal and move forward with your life. Do some of the other Batman movies touch on this idea? Sure, but I really like that Arnett’s version has to lose the prestige and self-esteem that comes with donning the cape and cowl and start relying on people to help him defeat the bad guys, like Dick Grayson/Robin (Michael Cera) and Barbara Gordon/Batgirl (Rosario Dawson). In turn, this acceptance of new people into his lonely, isolated world of Wayne Island teaches him the importance of being happy and having a new support system in his life by overcoming his fear of losing them again. This kind of deeply resonant storytelling comes quite close to some of the better Pixar movies in terms of giving young viewers hope and a love of life in a way that so many other animated films clearly have no interest in doing. To be clear, this movie could have just been a fun action movie with Batman (and some other Warner Brothers properties). But I’m appreciative of the creative team deciding to elevate Batman’s arc here and not simply go for a cash-grab LEGO movie off the backs of the 2014 hit that preceded it. Aside from Batman’s standout journey, I have to give overdue praise for the supporting cast of The LEGO Batman Movie. On a rewatch, Michael Cera’s Robin is dripping with such infectious, boyish charm to the point that his hyper pure innocence makes Batman’s initial rejection of and annoyance with him all the more heartbreaking. And their dynamic is fulfilling by the end as Batman bringing him into the fold feels earned and hopeful in a way that this movie’s conclusion should. I also adored Rosario Dawson’s role of Barbara Gordon, the new police commissioner who does not respect Batman’s lone-wolf vigilantism but recognizes the value of his symbolic presence to the people of Gotham City and thus wants him to work alongside the police to fight crime. This makes for an entertaining and rewarding, character-driven conflict between her and Batman from start to finish, and the creative team never make her come off as demanding or cynical in a way that feels antiquated for portraying a female character in a male-dominated movie and genre such as this one. I do have some complaints with the film. First and foremost, I was once again underwhelmed by the animated Joker (Zach Galifianakis) on display here. Like Phantasm, I wish he played a more pivotal role in the story as opposed to relying on bringing in all these Warner Brothers properties (Voldemort, Sauron, and King Kong, just to name a few) to help him take over Gotham. Sure, it makes for some fun set pieces, but ultimately didn’t really add much meaningful to the story. Instead, I would have preferred a third act simply focusing on Batman learning to accept both his friends like Robin and Batgirl as well as his extensive rogues’ gallery in order to defeat Joker. This could have show Batman grow as a character while also keeping it a story centered within Batman’s chaotic world of wacky characters. It simply didn’t need Harry Potter or The Lord of the Rings to make it good because it already was. But, at the end of the day The LEGO Batman Movie is still a super fun ride with some meaningful character moments and a satisfying Batman-centered story that feels different enough from what came before while also not ignoring the other movies. Quite the opposite; it celebrates Batman’s rich cinematic heritage with heartfelt parody and loving homage to the good, bad, great, and awful movies that make up this treasure trove of nerd cinema. Simply put, if you want to have fun watching a Batman movie, you can’t go wrong with The LEGO Batman Movie. The Batman (2022) [NOTE: This blog contains spoilers for “The Batman.” You have been warned.] More than fifteen years after Christopher Nolan brought modern sensibilities to adapting Batman for the big screen in Batman Begins, many comic book movie fans and cinephiles at large were unsure how any filmmaker could possibly revitalize Batman in live-action form after Nolan. Especially after the critical and commercial success of The Dark Knight, the idea of seeing a new take on the character than had even a slim chance of rivaling Nolan’s iteration of the Caped Crusader seemed preposterous. As such, after The Dark Knight Rises the one and only live-action version of Batman came in the form of Ben Affleck playing a grizzled and weary Bruce Wayne in several DC Extended Universe flicks from Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice to last year’s HBO Max original Zack Snyder’s Justice League. Granted, Affleck never got his own solo Batman movie (even though he planned on directing himself until 2017 before completely leaving the project in 2019). So, where did Warner Brothers take Batman from there? Enter Long Island native and regular J.J. Abrams collaborator Matt Reeves (Cloverfield, Dawn of the Planet of the Apes, War for the Planet of the Apes), who decided to detach his film from the established continuity of the DCEU in preference of making a standalone Batman flick that would serve as a reboot a decade after Nolan’s “Dark Knight Trilogy” concluded. And ever since the teaser trailer premiered in late summer of 2020, fans across the globe hotly anticipated what Reeves would offer in terms of a new take on Batman. The question is: did he deliver an iconic version of the character that stands on its own but also rivals the best that came before? In my humble opinion…YES. HE. DID. To be clear, The Batman could not exist without the art-deco ambience of Burton’s two flicks, the grounded crime thrills characteristic of Nolan’s trilogy, or even Snyder’s version that shows how Batman struggles to work as part of a team. And in ways both subtle and obvious, this film pays homage and respect to what preceded it in an effort to craft a fresh cinematic take on Batman, his eclectic rogues’ gallery, and the grimy city of Gotham that they inhabit. So, what makes The Batman a great movie? I think the most brilliant aspect of its story is how it acts as an origin story different from any other superhero movie of the past few decades. And it does so by not showing us Bruce Wayne becoming Batman like in Batman Begins or as an expert and experienced crime fighter like in Mask of the Phantasm or The LEGO Batman Movie. Instead, Reeves and star Robert Pattinson hook the audience by telling a story based in the realities of what it would mean for Bruce Wayne to be learn how to fight crime on the job during only his second year donning the cape and cowl. This narrative device allows for The Batman to stand out as a superhero early in his career that can make mistakes without it feeling unbelievable or disappointing. Everything from his suit being durable but not impenetrable to him putting together his Batmobile before revealing it roughly halfway through the runtime and nearly killing himself testing out a flight suit reinforces the notion that Pattinson’s take on the character has not fully come into his own. This lays the foundation for Batman’s character arc in the movie which seems inspired by a scene in Batman Begins. It’s almost like Reeves saw Christian Bale nearly gun down Carmine Falcone in Nolan’s first Batman movie and thought: “What if my movie was centered on that entire emotional struggle?” In other words, The Batman shows us the inherent moral ambiguity of a rich orphan from a powerful family dressing up in a bat costume and beating up criminals. Namely, that such acts could inspire other mentally-unstable Gotham citizens (lower on the socioeconomic ladder than Bruce Wayne, mind you) to take action in their own twisted, deranged fashion. Enter the Riddler. Paul Dano shines as a poor orphan (and thus an effective foil to Pattinson) who was left behind in the wake of the deaths of Bruce’s parents due to Gotham politics and law enforcement drenched in corruption. Whereas his parents being killed put Bruce on the path to become a crime-fighting vigilante, the Riddler is inspired by seeing Batman on the streets of Gotham to unmask the corrupt in the city his own way. Despite being less physically capable than Batman, his intellect is able to orchestrate a multi-layered plan which not only forces Bruce Wayne to learn the truth behind his father’s ties to organized crime boss Carmine Falcone (John Turturro) but also causes Batman to question the effect that his presence is actually having on the city he claims to want to defend despite frightening both the criminals and the innocent. I loved what Reeves did with this Batman story. He unabashedly did not make an action-heavy thriller like Nolan’s trilogy or most comic book movies made today, but rather clearly wanted The Batman to play off more like a slow-paced crime drama starring Batman as an up-and-coming detective alongside Lieutenant Jim Gordon (Jeffrey Wright). Despite me having no sentimental or nostalgic attachment to Batman’s characterization as the “world’s greatest detective,” I enjoyed Reeves and Pattinson bringing this aspect of the character to the big screen since most other Batman movies (the exception being Mask of the Phantasm) barely address this in any satisfying way. Not the case here, as Pattinson and Wright have such strong chemistry as two principled men struggling to avoid becoming unraveled by the revelations of just how deep the corruption goes. While The Batman fulfills on its name as being a story very much focused on Batman’s journey embracing the need for him to be more than just a violent vigilante, there are some great supporting performances that vary on screen time but all make an impact in their own unique way. Easily the standout from the supporting cast (in my humble opinion) is Zoë Kravitz as Selina Kyle as a stripped-down and grounded Catwoman who retains much of the sly wittiness and zany sexiness in homage to Michelle Pfeiffer’s take on the character in Batman Returns. That being said, I think Kravitz’s chemistry with Pattinson far and away exceeds anything that Pfeiffer had with Michael Keaton or Christian Bale had with Anne Hathaway in The Dark Knight Rises. Furthermore, Catwoman’s physicality and fight choreography was fulfilling due to its distinctiveness from Batman. Unlike Pattinson’s brutish fierceness punching and tasing people up close, Kravitz pulls off a more light-footed and kinetic style distancing herself from enemies while taking them out of the fight as quickly as possible. In some ways, I’m more excited to see where this version of Catwoman goes in a sequel than Batman. Aside from the Riddler, the two secondary antagonists have great moments all their own despite being very different in personality. Simply put, Colin Farrell transforms behind the prosthetics and make-up for his highly effective take on the Penguin. Rather than laughing at the character’s over-the-top nature like I did with Danny DeVito in Batman Returns, I enjoyed Farrell lightening up the grim and dour mood during his scenes in treating Batman as we probably should see him: a freak in a costume. Whereas Farrell makes for a fun antagonist, John Turturro’s version of crime lord Carmine Falcone whose ability to deceive Bruce Wayne regarding his past relationship with his father makes for an essential and compelling piece of the heart of this movie. Despite being overshadowed by the harrowing theatricality of the Riddler or the mesmerizing charm of Catwoman, Falcone in The Batman made for an actual character that I cared to watch on screen compared to prior versions. I hope I’ve made it clear that I really liked Matt Reeves’ The Batman. That doesn’t mean it isn’t a flawed film, as the runtime detracts from my enjoyment of it a little bit. While I was never bored watching it in the theater, there were small moments here and there or parts of scenes that I thought could’ve been trimmed down or cut entirely to transform the film from a three-hour crime drama to a two-and-a-half-hour instant classic. But, in my estimation, that doesn’t hurt the movie enough to drag it down to “good.” Undoubtedly, The Batman is a great comic book movie that, despite not being as emotionally compelling as Batman Begins or as kinetically thrilling as The Dark Knight, offers a refreshingly unique cinematic take on Batman that does enough richly thematic storytelling to warrant setting up at least one sequel for the future. Despite not growing up with the Caped Crusader, I think that Batman’s various appearances in film altogether demonstrate the evolution of the comic book over the past thirty-plus years. From where we started with Burton’s zany, cartoonish world of Batman and Batman Returns (which was followed up by a somehow even more over-the-top world from Joel Schumacher), we’ve seen Batman in animated form with Mask of the Phantasm. For many fans, the defining take comes from Christopher Nolan in the “Dark Knight Trilogy.” And yet all of these became parody in The LEGO Batman Movie before Matt Reeves came along to inject new life into the character’s rich cinematic legacy with The Batman. Where does the character go from here? Personally, I’m excited for what potentially will come. With all that being said, here is my ranking of the eight Batman movies that I wrote about above:
What is your favorite film starring the Caped Crusader? How do you want to see Batman’s character evolve in future movies? What opinions of mine do you find absolutely ridiculous? Let me know in the comments below. Until next time, this has been… Yours Truly, Amateur Analyst [1] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LMQuShmUZhs; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UfQdjSpJgUQ; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dhpjKX1j-KQ Image by Ahmad Ardity from Pixabay In many ways, I grew up with Adam McKay ever-present in my life. Well, his films at least. From Anchorman and Talladega Nights to Step Brothers and The Other Guys, McKay’s comedic style largely defined my coming-of-age in the 2000s and early 2010s. His writing permeated the lips of my peers who would repeat the ever-so quotable lines as “I’m in a glass case of emotion!” and “Did you touch my drum set?” to great effect (despite the fact they had no idea who wrote them).
But, the 2000s were a different time in terms of cultural sensibilities and what moviegoers find funny. And yet, McKay has remained fairly relevant in the world of cinema with Oscar-winning films The Big Short and Vice. So, in the wake of the release of his Netflix black comedy Don’t Look Up today, I thought I’d take a look back at the filmography of one of the biggest influencers on the comedy of my childhood and adolescence to see if any (or all?) of it holds up now. So, without further ado…LET’S GET STARTED! Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy (2004) Of all of McKay’s films, the original Anchorman is arguably the one that best defines his early directorial career regarding the type of comedy that he was going for (and, to some extent, continued later on in a different way). That being said, it was not the film of his that I thought of most fondly before going back it and that remains the case. But that doesn’t mean it’s not good. I quite like the premise of the first Anchorman as being a satire of the “action news” format synonymous with the 1970s as well as a silly examination of diversity initiatives and the office antics than can result in. And this premise is best fulfilled by Ron Burgundy (Will Ferrell) and the members of the Channel 4 news team surrounding him. In different ways, the five main male characters embody the stereotypical toxicity and chauvinism of the prototypical 20th-century American man. They all have their moments to shine, but Brick Tamland (Steve Carell) is unquestionably the standout as the severely inept weatherman who gives us some of the funniest and most quotable lines from McKay’s script: “I love lamp” and “LOUD NOISES!!” come to mind (of course, one can’t forget the grenade moment). The central plot that “anchors” (😉) the movie is Burgundy trying to undermine the rise of female reporter Veronica Corningstone (Christina Applegate) to stardom as Channel 4’s new anchor. Unfortunately, this plot only works in bits and pieces due to what is (in my humble opinion) the big mistake of McKay writing a one-night stand between Burgundy and Corningstone early on during her time working at Channel 4. It felt forced and unnecessary to the central power dynamic in the office, nor did it serve Burgundy’s redemption arc in the third act that felt incredibly trite and played out. Simply put, watching Ron’s fall from grace was satisfying until McKay decided to redeem him with what comes off as an out-of-touch storytelling device. Does Ron go to Veronica and beg for forgiveness in exchange for mending their friendship and professional rapport? Nope. Does he go live on television to admit that Veronica is, in fact, a better anchor than him and ask the people of San Diego to accept her in his stead? Try again. Instead, McKay makes Veronica seem a gullible and daffy woman by being tricked by competing local anchor Wes Mantooth (Vince Vaughn) resulting in him pushing her into a bear habitat at the San Diego Zoo. And how is she saved? Burgundy arrives onto the scene, jumps in, and staves off the bear (although, to be fair, his dog Baxter is the one who actually saves both of their lives). And somehow this is enough for Ron to be redeemed and earn Veronica’s affection once again. For someone who wrote a great buddy-cop parody in the form of The Other Guys and an incredibly pressing political comedy by way of The Big Short, this feels like such lazy storytelling from McKay which keeps me from really liking the first Anchorman movie. That being said, I get why it remains an essential part of 2000s cinematic comedy because it has some stellar moments, lines, and scenes. It just isn’t McKay’s best work. Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby (2006) In contrast to my lack of nostalgia for the Anchorman series, Talladega Nights was a movie that I grew up watching every couple of months as a pre-teen and thus the plot, characters, and memorable moments remain seared in my brain to this day. And, to that effect, it ended up holding up a little better than the first Anchorman film on a rewatch to remain one of Adam McKay’s good movies. On the one hand, Talladega Nights holds up in terms of its production value. Of McKay’s earlier filmography, it’s one of his best-looking films in terms of the cinematography and sets which helps lend credence to the story being told here. The racing sequences, while not the best ever put to film (lookin’ at you, Ford v Ferrari!), are genuinely engaging and (at moments) even thrilling while never losing the underlying humorous interplay between the main characters. In that respect, the movie served as a predecessor to McKay’s later movie The Other Guys as well as big-budget comedy films of the next decade such as The Wolf of Wall Street and Guardians of the Galaxy. This film also shows us the different comedic layers that Will Ferrell can offer us. While both Ron Burgundy in Anchorman and Ricky Bobby in Talladega Nights are both charming yet stupid characters, the former embodies 20th-century chauvinism whereas the latter exemplifies a loving yet critical parody of the simple-minded redneck. Admittedly, Ferrell is not one of the best actors of his generation but that doesn’t mean he isn’t very good at making people laugh a thousand different ways. On that note, some people might watch Talladega Nights and come away with the impression that it comes from a malevolent place in an effort to lambast the fans and athletes of NASCAR and racing culture in general. While I would agree that the film is an effective satire, it doesn’t necessarily do so to criticize the type of people involved. In fact, the reasons the film’s plot works as well as it does is because we root for Ricky Bobby to learn from his mistakes, overcome his fears and accident-related trauma, and triumphantly return to the track with his best friend Cal Naughton, Jr. (John C. Reilly). In short, the film comes off to me as wanting people to celebrate racing in the way that Edgar Wright’s Hot Fuzz persuades us to reminisce about peoples’ love of buddy-cop movies by embracing both the good and bad of them. All of that put together would Talladega Nights an all-in-all better film than Anchorman. But what puts it over the top (in my humble opinion) is the film’s second act exploring the fallout of Ricky Bobby’s accident by seeing him rekindle his toxic relationship with his alcoholic father Reese (Gary Cole). Whereas McKay faltered in redeeming Ron Burgundy in Anchorman, I found Reese mentoring Ricky not only a great excuse for some hilarious scenes but also a better-written way of projecting his character arc towards redemption as a more mature and humbler racer by the final race with Jean Girard (Sacha Baron Cohen) begins. Admittedly, the first Anchorman may be a funnier movie than Talladega Nights. However, for me it remains a better film with a more effectively structured story and (mostly) more likeable characters. If you’re worried that it doesn’t hold up more than a decade later, give it a rewatch and surprise yourself. Step Brothers (2008) Revisiting McKay’s third feature film, Step Brothers, was nerve racking because I was not fond of it when it came out and expected to not like it this time around. But, I went into it as open minded as possible with the hopes that Ferrell & Reilly’s chemistry in Talladega Nights would be enough to hold the movie together. Unfortunately, it just doesn’t at all. To be fair, Step Brothers has some genuinely funny moments; I really enjoyed the montage where Dale (Reilly) and Brennan (Ferrell) repeatedly sabotage Derek’s (Adam Scott) efforts to sell houses, and Kathryn Hahn offered several laugh-out-loud moments as Derek’s sex-crazed wife Alice. And once Dale and Brennan become friends, the film is admittedly more watchable. But that’s really all I have nice to say about it. Simply put, the story that McKay tells in Step Brothers has virtually no likeable characters that evoke sympathy or love from the audience. For nearly half of the film, both Ferrell and Reilly’s characters are inconsiderate, selfish man-children whose sole motives are to mooch off their parents Robert (Richard Jenkins) and Nancy (Mary Steenburgen) to a boiling point that nearly breaks the family apart. Furthermore, Robert and Nancy are unempathetic enablers who lack the gall to stand up to their adult children and tell them what they need to hear most of the time. And don’t even get me started on Derek, who is cartoonishly narcissistic so as to embody the prototypical dickhead in comedy films like this. But at the heart of why this movie fails is the lack of attachment to Dale and Brennan’s step-sibling relationship. When they hate each other, they do things that are so utterly despicable that I want both of them to be kicked to the curb. And when they start bonding and liking each other, they never offer the kind of complicated dynamic that their characters in Talladega Nights embodied. This makes both the fallout from their “Prestige Worldwide” presentation and their “redemption” at the Catalina Wine Mixer hollow and pointless. Ultimately, Step Brothers feels like a poorly-written excuse for McKay to make a movie with Ferrell and Reilly again. Unfortunately, the result is mediocre at best and unwatchable at worst. The Other Guys (2010) Finally, with The Other Guys, Adam McKay gives us a genuinely great movie given what it set out to do. For those who feel that strong nostalgia for Anchorman, Talladega Nights or Step Brothers, that’s how I feel about this film. Let’s dive in, shall we? What is perhaps most impressive about The Other Guys is the elements of McKay’s writing on display here that foreshadow the strong screenplays to come in his future (namely, The Big Short). For one, the movie steps up what he strived for in Talladega Nights and serves as a solidly put-together satire that both parodies and celebrates its roots in the buddy-cop subgenre. But this extends to the film’s protagonists and the actors that portray them, specifically how their relationship ebbs and flows throughout the movie. Initially, The Other Guys gives a classic straight-man juxtaposed to the off-the-wall partner, with Will Ferrell as the former in playing Allen Gamble and Mark Wahlberg as the latter in playing Terry Holtz. But through the course of the story, both characters show sides of the other so as to play against type. Notably, Ferrell calls to mind his more dramatic acting chops from films like Stranger than Fiction to embody the straight-man character while also giving bursts of comedic genius (particularly once his backstory as “Gator” is revealed). But that’s not to forget Wahlberg, who proves in this movie he has a fantastic sense of comedic timing and self-awareness when paired with the right writers/directors and actors (the repeating bit about Terry shooting Derek Jeter always gets me!). Based on his performance in The Other Guys, it’s not surprising that he found himself as the lead in commercially successful comedy film series like Ted and Daddy’s Home. When combined with these two actors, McKay’s dialogue shines more than it ever had in his previous movies. Ferrell and Wahlberg’s back-and-forth makes for some of the biggest laughs of a movie from this era. There are several scenes between them in The Other Guys that reman gut-busters of riotous laughter for me upon rewatching them (shoutout to the “lion vs. tuna” argument and the dinner scene with Eva Mendes). But the cherry on top of this comedy is the fact that it’s a pretty competently made action flick. Not only does the opening car chase with Dwayne Johnson and Samuel L. Jackson encapsulate what’s to love about over-the-top action movies of the 2000s, but Allen and Terry’s slow-motion escape from David Ershon’s (Steve Coogan) investment meeting in the third act greatly embodies this type of movie in the best way. But those are just some honorable mentions, because none of the action set pieces or fight scenes in the movie feel out of place, underdeveloped, or hollow. Needless to say, The Other Guys remains one of my favorite Adam McKay movies as well as one of the best comedies of the past twenty years. While it may not be an absolute masterpiece, it’s a movie that I’ll be happy to revisit every now and again knowing that I will enjoy it just as much (if not more) than before. Anchorman 2: The Legend Continues (2013) Despite my lack of nostalgic attachment to the original Anchorman, I actually went to go watch the sequel in theaters with my two cousins. Was it because I was a teenage boy who thought it’d be funny? Probably. 😊 Was it funny? Honestly, I remember enjoying it in theaters and was hopeful that I’d like it this time around. Similar to the first film, Anchorman 2 parodies the world of journalist with a fairly inspired and intelligent premise: Ron Burgundy, through his sheer incompetence as a news anchor, inadvertently creates many of the staples of the 24-hour news cycle that began in the 1980s. While the film’s plot never exploits this premise to full effect, I commend McKay for not completely phoning this movie in. Unfortunately, many of the other elements of this movie simply don’t work as well as its predecessor. Notably, I found the jokes and zany antics of Anchorman 2 much more hit-and-miss. Despite some highlights, Will Ferrell’s take on Ron Burgundy has become more anachronistic (and not in an endearing way) than in 2004. This was especially clear when he was meeting the family of his boss/girlfriend Linda Jackson (Meagan Good) for the first time. Whereas Burgundy’s “prim-and-proper” misogyny in Anchorman fit with that movie’s purpose as a satire, his “soft” racism in that dinner scene in Anchorman 2 feels not only outdated and in poor taste but utterly irrelevant to what the film’s central narrative is striving to explore. Of course, the standout character just like in the first film is undoubtedly Steve Carell’s Brick Tamland. Not only was his introduction at the fake funeral scene genuinely hilarious, but his back-and-forth with Chani (Kristen Wiig) made for some of the movie’s funnier moments. I just wish that the other members of the news team and supporting characters were equally funny. Is Anchorman 2 as entertaining as the first one? Yeah, I guess. But the sporadic humor and repeated bits (like the “news team brawl”) do not justify the plot and characterization of the movie. To that end, Anchorman 2 just feels like a superfluous excuse for McKay to stick with his comfort zone rather than branch out into more revolutionary territory like with his next film. The Big Short (2015) I imagine that many people who saw The Big Short when it came out and were familiar with McKay’s prior work were stunned to learn that he had something like The Big Short in his creative wheelhouse. Perhaps what is most surprising is that the film is not a straight-up comedy. Far from it; by tackling some pretty intense and dramatic subject matter, McKay managed to shift gears and craft a new part of his reputation as a filmmaker with what remains to date his best movie. What is perhaps most impressive about The Big Short is how many balancing acts that it pulls off. For one, McKay injects humor for the sake of levity at just the right moments without overly relying on laughs to tell his story. This best works through the fantastic performances of the cast (in my humble opinion, Steve Carell and Ryan Gosling are the standouts). Aside from the effective tonal shifts, McKay’s approach to telling this story is more than impressive. In short (😊), he sets out to educate his audience about the behind-the-scenes complexities of the long-term causes behind the 2007-08 housing financial crisis without ever being stifled by such a daunting task. Rather, he embraces his signature sense of humor to enhance how he tells his story. I particularly enjoy his use of celebrity cameos from the likes of Margot Robbie, Anthony Bourdain, and Selena Gomez in non-sequiturs to use metaphors to explain some complex financial concepts. Also, given the fact that The Big Short is examining real-life events through the eyes and experiences of real people, I appreciated how McKay had some of the characters break the fourth wall to either clarify the liberties being taken as well as offering commentary about how certain people are being portrayed. Simply put, all of these elements come together to create a dark comedy that is funny while also being informative entertainment and poignantly damning social commentary. For those of you who have avoided watching The Big Short out of fear that it will go over your head or will be more documentary than drama, take my word for it. Watch this movie; you won’t regret it one bit. Vice (2018) Coming off of the near-universal praise and commercial success of The Big Short, McKay sought to upheld his newfound reputation as a self-serious director who mixes comedy with social commentary by making a biopic about Dick Cheney starring Christian Bale in the lead role. Is it as good The Big Short? Nope, but it’s still a pretty good movie. I remember really liking Vice when I first saw it not long after it came out, despite what many critics (and some of my friends and fellow cinephiles) felt about it. And I found on a rewatch that I still liked it but its flaws stuck out a lot more to me. But, to begin with the strengths. If you come away thinking anything after seeing Vice, it’ll be that Christian Bale is one of the best actors working today. Despite some filmgoers’ reservations about “method acting,” it’s clear that it works for some actors including Bale. It is his full commitment to physically and emotionally transforming into the version of Dick Cheney that he wants to give to the world that makes this movie more than just good. Does the writing of Cheney have some problems in terms of historical accuracy and potentially cartoonish character assassination? Sure, but that says nothing about just how damn good Bale is in the role. That’s not to understate the other great supporting performances in Vice, though. On a rewatch, I found myself really loving Amy Adams as Cheney’s wife Lynne for the various dimensions that she brings to the characters. In some scenes, she serves as her ambitious husband’s moral compass by offering tough love and sound political advice. But then in other scenes, she brings forth some semblance of Lynne’s ambitions by beckoning to the timeless mantra of women to powerful men being just as (if not more) powerful than the men they are married to. The other supporting actors, such as Steve Carell as Donald Rumsfeld and Sam Rockwell as George W. Bush, play their roles well without ever overshadowing Bale’s central presence. Similar to The Big Short, this movie also does offer up some genuinely funny moments while being surrounded by intense human and political drama (I always laugh out loud as McKay’s false ending involving Cheney’s “retirement” from politics). Unfortunately, Vice struggles more with balancing tone than The Big Short which causes the film to come off as somehow dourer and depressing than a movie about one of the worst economic crises in modern history. In addition, whereas films like The Other Guys and The Big Short feel breezy in terms of their runtime Vice feels bloated and unnecessarily long. This, of course, is never a good sign for any movie. Regarding its pacing, McKay and his creative team come off as more sporadic than in some of his other work which hurts the message being conveyed. Overall, though, my biggest complaint about the film on a rewatch is that it feels somewhat soft-hitting for being a film about one of the most notorious power grabs in American presidential politics. To tell the story of Cheney’s behind-the-scenes puppeteering in the U.S. executive branch is to humanize him without making him feel relatable to the average viewer. Unfortunately, Bale’s acting and McKay’s direction felt like they went too far in making me fond of Cheney’s climb to power (if not his personality and principles). All that being said, I do think Vice is worth seeing if only for Bale’s and Adams’s performances. Just check your expectations before pressing the “Play” button. Don’t Look Up (2021) Based on early critical reviews of McKay’s newest film, Don’t Look Up, I was initially quite worried if he was reverting to some of his less-than-appealing sensibilities apparent in some of his earlier work. But then I watched the movie, and I was pleasantly surprised to find that the movie (while not a masterpiece) is a funny and entertaining social commentary fitting of the times we’re in. One of the most surprising things I found about Don’t Look Up was that McKay seemed to tackle the denial and politicization of climate change with some of his signature humor found in films like Anchorman and Talladega Nights. Yet it was cloaked in striving to satirize the utter ridiculousness of our society’s polarized nature in the context of a dire situation where we all should be united around a common cause. Simply put, it was refreshing to watch one of McKay’s more recent films and laugh a lot rather than just feel depressed most of the time. Of course, his writing could not work at all without the stellar cast that he assembled for this film. While there are many actors in Don’t Look Up with funny moments throughout the two-hour-plus runtime, there were (in my humble opinion) three standouts. Two of them were the leads, Leonardo DiCaprio and Jennifer Lawrence, who play the scientists trying to warn the world about the planet-killing comet in the movie. Not only do their respective characters, Dr. Randall Mindy and Kate Dibiasky, cope with the oncoming apocalypse differently (which makes for them pretty funny moments) but also their different tactics for trying to enlist the government’s help make for enjoyable arcs for each of them. Whereas DiCaprio plays Randall as a panicked and nervous yet humble nerd who gets caught up in his newfound fame, Lawrence plays Kate as a spirited and intelligent young woman who gives in to her cynicism and loses all desire to care about anything anymore. Both actors tackle these characters with great comedic effect. However, what is undoubtedly the best supporting performance in the film is Meryl Streep as President Orlean who encapsulates the many stereotypes of modern American politicians as self-serving narcissists wanting nothing more than to deny reality and be right above all else. While many other experienced and capable actors may have come off as cheesy or unbelievable in this role, Streep never causes me to question the reality of her world as president because there have been several high-profile people in politics that, in one sense or another, have existed and continue to exist to this day. All I can say more about Don’t Look Up is to not pay attention to the reviews. This movie is certainly an enjoyable ride (albeit an overly long one) with some solid performances, funny lines and scenes, and some decently-handled social commentary. Sure, it doesn’t hold a candle to The Big Short as a political drama or The Other Guys as a straight-up comedy, but there’s enough reminiscent of McKay’s best work in the film to make it worth a watch on a Sunday evening when you want to have fun. With all that being said, here is my ranking of the films of Adam McKay:
What is your favorite Adam McKay film? What kind of movie do you want to see McKay direct next? What opinions of mine do you find absolutely ridiculous? Let me know in the comments below. Until next time, this has been… Yours Truly, Amateur Analyst Image by 愚木混株 Cdd20 from Pixabay Today marks the release of Last Night in Soho, the newest film from beloved British director Edgar Wright. While I did not grow up watching and loving his films, I have recently become a huge fan of Wright’s directorial style and sensibilities. From his signature use of music and sound design to his distinctive editing style and sense of humor, Wright is undeniably one of the fan-favorite directors of the 21st century despite only making six feature films (seven if you count his 1995 low-budget Western comedy A Fistful of Fingers). And with Wright entering unfamiliar territory with a psychological horror flick & period piece, I figured it was a great time to look back at his other films.
So, without further ado…LET’S GET STARTED! Shaun of the Dead (2004) There are arguably two films in the early 2000s that kickstarted the modern zombie movie more than anything else: Danny Boyle’s 2002 horror movie 28 Days Later and Edgar Wright’s 2004 comedy flick Shaun of the Dead. While both made less at the box office than Zack Snyder’s Dawn of the Dead remake, they laid a solid foundation for many of the tropes that the genre has continued to exploit—and lampoon—to this day. But, in my humble opinion, Shaun of the Dead is not only one of the best zombie films ever made but remains one of my personal favorites of Edgar Wright’s filmography. This movie excels at being so many types of movies. First off, its seamless blend of laughs and scares is arguably unmatched by most horror comedies to this day. Wright’s director excellently injects humor within intensive scenes of zombie thrills to help alleviate the stress and remind us that we’re watching a comedy flick (not that we need much reminding since this movie is incredibly funny). And what I love most about Wright’s efforts blurring the lines of genre is that they are about more than just keeping the audience on its toes. Rather, he plays it smart by highlighting, critiquing, and yet still embracing the tropes and pitfalls of a zombie movie. From fake-out kills and meaningful character deaths to reminding us that most people (at least in Britain) are not intimately familiar with firearms, Wright’s ceaseless parody never fails to amuse and amaze me simultaneously. Of course, one of the consistent strengths of Wright’s “Three Flavours Cornetto” trilogy (in which Shaun of the Dead marks the first of the three) is the endearing and palpable chemistry between Simon Pegg and Nick Frost. And it is arguably the best in this movie due to the character arc of Pegg’s character, the aimless and unambitious Shaun, coming to appreciate his friendship with Frost’s Ed while also learning the importance of striking a balance with his girlfriend Liz (Kate Ashfield). Being Wright’s first major feature film, Shaun of the Dead also holds up as a prime example of Wright’s eye for editing and sound. His uncanny ability to choreograph action sequences to classic rock songs (notably Queen’s “Don’t Stop Me Now”) makes for great comedy as well as an expertly-crafted example of music’s significant role in making film a piece of art. And while I firmly believe that some of Wright’s later films do this better, this film certainly stands the test of time in this respect. All in all, Shaun of the Dead has sustained a legacy in cinema and pop culture as a great example of genre-blending comedy that transcends cultures so that anyone can watch it and enjoy it on some level. For me, it’s a movie I loved since the first time I saw it and I imagine myself revisiting it every few years just to have some good, old-fashioned fun. Hot Fuzz (2007) Whereas Shaun of the Dead lampoons the foundational tropes and defining elements of the zombie genre, Hot Fuzz is a straight-up parody of the “buddy cop” flick akin to Point Break and Bad Boys II (while also being a loving homage to the genre). Certainly, much of the defining characteristics of Wright’s style shine once again in this film, but other aspects differentiate it from Shaun of the Dead and his movies that came after. For one thing, Hot Fuzz is self-referential at times (notably the fence-hopping scene involving Nick Frost’s character being called out by Simon Pegg’s character). I personally love when a director can pay respect to their own work without coming off as being up their own ass, and Wright does that and more by lovingly making fun of himself. Based on this alone, Wright comes off as the kind of guy who doesn’t take himself too seriously (at least around) which I appreciate from someone with his talents. I also really enjoyed how Wright flipped the dynamic of Pegg and Frost’s relationship in this movie compared to Shaun of the Dead. Pegg’s straight-man, headstrong policeman Nicholas Angel is the polar opposite of Shaun and Pegg makes it seem easy to play such different personalities. This has great comedic effect when played off of Frost’s doofus small-town lawman Danny Butterman who has a big heart but lacks competence and ambition to Nicholas’s liking. This dynamic shines through within the context of a buddy-cop parody and causes me to like both of these actors even more than I did in Shaun of the Dead. However, whereas I have virtually no complains about Wright’s first major film, I do not think that Hot Fuzz is as perfect as Shaun of the Dead in terms of what it’s striving for. First off, I always laugh out loud at the second-act reveal of the crazy cult in Sandford but it certainly lacks any sort of believability. Admittedly, zombies aren’t believable either. However, (in my humble opinion) Wright does a better job in Shaun of the Dead of grounding everything else in that movie (from the characters themselves to the consequences of their actions) than in Hot Fuzz once the third act gets going. Additionally, Hot Fuzz is a great example of Wright’s work that feels somewhat superfluous in light of Shaun of the Dead. In many ways, he is not doing anything different but instead doubling down on what was good about the latter to make the former (almost) just as good. But based on what he does in some of his later work, I just felt after watching this film that he could have strived to grow as a filmmaker and do something more. Nevertheless, Hot Fuzz is undeniably a good time and worth the watch despite some of these drawbacks. While not my personal favorite of Wright’s filmography, it holds up as a solid mid-2000s comedy and a well-executed genre parody that hits on almost everything it tries to do. Scott Pilgrim vs. the World (2010) I remember feeling underwhelmed after my first viewing of Edgar Wright’s cinematic take on Brian Lee O’Malley’s Scott Pilgrim graphic novel character. Not associating Scott Pilgrim vs. the World with Wright at the time, I found the movie visually interesting but the story lacking any reason for me to care about what the characters were doing onscreen and why. But when I decided to revisit this movie recently for this blog, I was hopeful that I’d like it more. Unfortunately, it just isn’t for me. For starters, Scott Pilgrim (Michael Cera) is (in my humble opinion) Wright’s first bland protagonist who lacks a distinctive personality or interesting motivations. And while Cera’s off-kilter awkward persona has worked before in films like Superbad or Juno, I just personally feel that he was miscast here. That being said, I did find myself appreciating the conclusion of his character arc on this rewatch as he ultimately learns to prioritize self-respect over true love which subverts what one might expect from this kind of one-of-a-kind take on a rom-com. But there are other things that hold me back from liking Scott Pilgrim vs. the World as much as I do any of his other films. Unlike Shaun of the Dead or Hot Fuzz (whose budgets clock in at six and twelve million dollars, respectively), this is Wright’s first real big-budget flick (costing anywhere from 65 to 80 million dollars). And I feel like that much of a budget at this point in Wright’s career ended up being mor of a hinderance than additive in any positive way. Sure, the fight sequences are visually engaging due to their anime- and comic-book-inspired flare, but any good action movie needs an equally interesting story to be anything more than mediocre. And this film just does not live up to the promise of Scott Pilgrim and Ramona Flowers (Mary Elizabeth Winstead) as characters on their own or their romantic chemistry. Despite its flaws, Scott Pilgrim vs. the World still retains much of what makes Wright a genius in his own right. He continued honing his visual and auditory style here that will come into play going forward. At the end of the day, I do not stand by the belief that Scott Pilgrim vs. the World is a poorly-made movie. But it is lackluster when compared to much of Wright’s other work, and as such is not one that I care to revisit in the future. The World’s End (2013) Similar to Insomnia for Christopher Nolan or Jackie Brown for Quentin Tarantino, I feel like The World’s End is the “black sheep” or “middle child” or Edgar Wright’s filmography. Either people who call themselves fans of Wright’s work are unfamiliar with this movie, or they identify it as a bad film that should not have Wright’s name on it. I disagree with those people; I found The World’s End to be surprisingly enjoyable in spite of its flaws and do not think it deserves the negative or lackluster characterization that it has gotten since it came out. In my humble opinion, The World’s End is one of Wright’s most underrated flicks. Does it hold a candle to the likes of Shaun of the Dead or Hot Fuzz, the other two parts of the “Cornetto” trilogy? Not at all, but that doesn’t mean it’s an utter piece of garbage either. I really enjoyed Simon Pegg and Nick Frost’ chemistry in this movie because it felt so much different from the characters they have played before for Wright. Yet, Pegg’s unlikeable alcoholic Gary King feels like another good variation on the personality types he’s done before. Whereas Shaun was unambitious and Nicholas was a strait-laced tight-ass, Gary is an out-and-out douchebag with a soft, mushy emotional core that has a great amount of vulnerability to it. Conversely, Nick Frost’s mature and emotionally reserved working stiff Andy Knightley allows him to emote more subtly and play a more nuanced character than in his prior outings in Wright’s movies. Despite how different these performances are, I still really enjoyed seeing Pegg and Frost play off each other in The World’s End. Sure, the dynamics of their friendship were pretty different. But it felt refreshing to see Wright create something new relative to the other two “Cornetto” flicks. And while the other parts of the ensemble cast (except Martin Freeman and Rosamund Pike) struggle to stand out here, I appreciated Wright venturing into somewhat different territory with his characters and world-building. However, The World’s End is far from perfect and in fact might be Wright’s most flawed story in terms of its structure and execution. First, the sci-fi twist in the first act should have worked just as much (if not more) than the horror twist in Robert Rodriguez’s From Dusk till Dawn, but it kind of fell flat at first. And (in my humble opinion) it rehashes much of what didn’t work for me about the crazy small-town cult plot of Hot Fuzz. Regarding the pacing of the film, the third act feels rushed and builds up to a climax that really comes out of nowhere. In a sense, I appreciated the utter absurdity of the last twenty-ish minutes of this movie. But that doesn’t mean it’s a well-paced or well-structured story. A small note, too: the title, The World’s End, sucks. It is undoubtedly Wright’s most uninspired title of any of his movies and he certainly should have taken another pass at that before finalizing the script. Could I come up with something better? … Maybe. 😊 At the end of the day, I liked watching The World’s End more than I thought I would. Despite its numerous flaws, it still has Wright’s signature aesthetic and approach to sound design that I love and I think Pegg’s and Frost’s back-and-forth deserves more respect. Is it Wright’s best movie? Not at all, but I liked it more than Scott Pilgrim vs. the World so it at least has that going for it. Baby Driver (2017) Funny story, I saw Scott Pilgrim vs. the World before Baby Driver but the latter made a much bigger impression on me. Is it because it’s a better movie in every conceivable way? Yes. Yes, it is. 😊 Not to resort to hyperbole, but Baby Driver is easily Wright’s magnum opus. Everything about it is the peak of his creative talents put on the silver screen. The characters, the action, the editing, the use of music and sound—it all comes together for a really fun ride and a genuinely great film. The integral nature of the soundtrack to the driving and shootout scenes makes for an insatiable visual feast without distracting the audience in a way that detracts from the story. As I am writing this before I have seen Last Night in Soho, I just do not see Wright topping himself from a technical standpoint. For moviegoers not intimately familiar with Wright’s work, I imagine the cast is the standout element of Baby Driver for them. Ansel Elgort as the charming yet naïve getaway driver Baby has such great chemistry with Lily James’s loveable “girl next door” Debora from start to finish. I also enjoyed every main member of the criminal crew for different reasons. Jon Hamm expertly transitions his character, Buddy, from a reliable mentor figure for Baby to a vengeful and violent killer. Conversely, Kevin Spacey plays up the conniving villainy of “Doc” before expertly displaying his ultimate love for Baby during the third act without his turn feeling out of character. The standout villain in this movie, without question, is Jamie Foxx as “Bats” who never ceases to terrify the audience from his introduction to his gruesome demise. Compared to much of Wright’s other work, I also really appreciate that Baby Driver is not a film that spells out everything. Whether it be the significance of certain character interactions or the meaning of the film’s ending, he lets the audience come to their own conclusions about who these characters are and whether or not they deserve their fates. I cannot recommend this film enough to those who love action-heavy heist films with a great cast and great music. For me, Baby Driver is the culmination of Wright’s creative talents up to this point and holds up as the pinnacle of his career that may never be topped in my book. Last Night in Soho (2021) [NOTE: This blog contains spoilers for “Last Night in Soho.” You have been warned.] Going into Last Night in Soho, I was pretty sure it would not feel like any other Edgar Wright in terms of its tone and style of storytelling. And I was fine with that as I’m a fan of much of his previous work but not a diehard devotee or fanatic. I will say that I imagine peoples who grew up loving films like Shaun of the Dead or Hot Fuzz and are excepting another film like the “Cornetto” trilogy will be sorely disappointed. Honestly, that was one of my favorite things about this film. While it has some of the more subtle signature elements of Wright’s sensibilities, Last Night in Soho carves out a distinctive, genre-blending identity that stands out compared to any of his other movies. While there are some drawbacks to this that I’ll talk about later, overall I enjoyed that the film told a different kind of story and showed that Wright is more than just a flashy editor with some good taste in music. To the contrary, he is a talented filmmaker who knows how to evoke great performances from his actors and combine a unique approach to cinematography and sound design to great effect. What is reminiscent of Wright’s other films (particularly Shaun of the Dead and Baby Driver) is his inspired use of music to create a powerful atmosphere. Simply put, this film has style pouring from every shot and scene (particularly during the time-travel dreams of the first act) that had me thoroughly hooked less than halfway into the runtime. Wright’s ability to evoke a sense of nostalgia for a time and place that I have no sentimental or emotional connection is just a prime example of his skilled approach to filmmaking. When it comes to the performances on display here, I assumed that Anya Taylor-Joy would be the standout of the main cast. And while I enjoyed her scenes and her role in the story, I found her being ultimately outclassed by Thomasin McKenzie (Leave No Trace, Jojo Rabbit) as the up-and-coming fashion designer Ellie and the late, great Diana Rigg (On Her Majesty’s Secret Service) as Ellie’s stern yet sympathetic landlady Miss Collins. Regarding the latter, Rigg’s final performance before her death last year may end up being one of her best. Namely because I loved her portrayal of Lady Olenna Tyrell in Game of Thrones, and never once thought of that character while watching Rigg in this film which just points to the tremendous talent that she had and that we have, unfortunately, lost. Some viewers of Last Night in Soho may come away feeling that the story is the weakest part of the movie. While in some sense I can see that, I think that the central issue at stake here for both McKenzie and Rigg’s characters paralleled each other very nicely. Whereas Ellie’s nightmarish experience highlights the double-edged nature of nostalgia and being stuck in the past, Rigg (through her experiences as an aspiring singer in the 1960s) must confront the demons of her past and the morality of her actions in light of the trauma that she went through. While the third-act structure of the movie did not quite allow the emotional potential of this arc to feel fully satisfying in the end, I still appreciated the extent to which Wright made these characters’ stories engaging from start to finish. Unfortunately, Last Night in Soho is by no means a perfect movie. For starters, I appreciated Wright attempting to juggle multiple genres here (primarily drama and psychological horror) but I don’t think the final product handled this balancing act well enough to completely justify the blend. I could show the first half of this movie to someone who’s never seen any of Wright’s other films and they would assume it was a dark comedy with a flair for the theatricality of the 1960s. But if I showed that same person just the second half, they would come away thinking it was a supernatural horror flick about demons from the past and an ill-equipped young woman trying to solve a murder mystery in spite of her crippling anxiety and paranoia. Ultimately, that can be a problem for those wanting to dive into this movie wanting to like all of its parts because they might end up only liking bits of it. For me, the first half was more enjoyable than the second. Furthermore, I found myself longing for some more obvious nods to the editing cues and consistent humor that have become synonymous with Wright’s style. While I thought what humor was in the movie worked for the most part, I do think that his approach to storytelling shines a little brighter with comedies. I firmly believe he’ll only grow creatively if/when he makes another horror movie like this, but until that time I can only judge his “good-not-great” results of Last Night in Soho. Regarding the film’s story structure, it came very close to falling apart for me in the last fifteen minutes. Fortunately, it saved itself from completely souring my opinion on it. However, following the twist reveal of Rigg’s character being an older Taylor-Joy who in fact murdered all of the men that she was prostituted out to, there is a moment with McKenzie and the demons of these men where they ask her to help “save them” and “kill her” (as in Miss Collins). At this point, however, I did not want these men to be victimized and Miss Collins (despite her crimes) to become evil incarnate. Luckily, I did not come away with the belief that Wright was excusing what these men did to Rigg’s character while also feeling Miss Collins’s fate a fitting end for her. All that being said, however, Last Night in Soho does not end as strong as it began or as its middle act kept me engaged. But, at the end of the day, its strengths outweigh its flaws for me and deserves to be seen for those interested in a unique style of modern horror from a great director. While not as complete a film as Hot Fuzz or Shaun of the Dead, it still stands out as a very good flick that worked for me more than it didn’t. With all that being said, here is my ranking of the films of Edgar Wright:
What is your favorite Edgar Wright film? What kind of movie do you want to see Wright direct next? What opinions of mine do you find absolutely ridiculous? Let me know in the comments below. Until next time, this has been… Yours Truly, Amateur Analyst Without question, Quebec native Denis Villeneuve has emerged as one of the most important fresh-faced filmmakers of the past decade. He has proven he can bounce between genres, play with budgets of varying sizes, and bring out some of the best performances of some of the biggest stars working in Hollywood today.
Needless to say, I think it’s worth taking a look at how Villeneuve’s work has evolved over the past (nearly) ten years as well as where it might be going in the future. And with the release of the much-anticipated sci-fi epic Dune today, what better time than now to look back at Villeneuve’s English-language filmography? So, without further ado…LET’S GET STARTED! Prisoners (2013) While it was not the first Villeneuve film that I watched, his 2013 crime drama Prisoners has stuck with me ever since I watched it. As this film seems to be lesser known by many, the story kicks off when the daughters of Keller and Grace Dover (Hugh Jackman, Maria Bello) and Franklin and Nancy Birch (Terrence Howard, Viola Davis) are kidnapped in their rural Pennsylvania town. While the search for the girls is taken up by Detective Loki (Jake Gyllenhaal), Keller and Franklin are driven by their grief and heartache to resort to morally questionable measures to discover the truth about their daughters’ abduction. There is little for me to complain about Prisoners. First and foremost, Villeneuve’s direction of the screenplay by Aaron Guzikowski (The Red Road, Raised by Wolves) expertly crafts tension from start to finish that never exhausts but always captivates and invests the audience in the story. While many thrillers utilize the subplot of the victims’ loved ones seeking out retribution in their own ways, Villeneuve the visceral pain of Jackman and Howard’s characters front and center in this thriller and thus subverts expectations for what a crime movie like this can be. But this movie is not for the faint of heart. Prisoners focuses so much on the lengths at which these girls’ fathers (particularly Keller) will go to supplant their own guilt and shame. Simply put, they take out their built-up anger and frustration with the legal process on the prime suspect Alex (Paul Dano), a mentally-disturbed and sheltered young man whose self-evident regressed intelligence forces the audience to sympathize and pity him when he is being subjected to Keller’s physical and emotional abuse. Needless to say, the character work being done here is incredible. While Gyllenhaal sufficiently plays the determined and persistent detective that is ever just one step behind the perpetrator, Jackman excels in this role as a grief-stricken man whose rage breaks him to the point of losing much of his humanity (even though he is doing all of his inexcusable acts in the name of love for his child). Also, Dano shines here despite not being the protagonist and whose backstory we only get in snippets for much of the runtime (only one example of his many great performances in films like There Will Be Blood, 12 Years a Slave, and Swiss Army Man). I also appreciated the grounded emotional turmoil of Howard and Davis as they deal with Franklin’s complicity in Keller’s despicable treatment of Alex. While I will avoid spoiling the meat of the mystery central to the plot of Prisoners, I will only mention that I appreciate the symbolic and metaphorical significance of mazes in the story. Simply put, I took the imagery of the maze as representing the chaotic nature of experiencing grief and how it can put us on greatly diverging paths depending on the choices we make and who we are. All in all, this movie is a great English-language debut for Villeneuve and remains some of the best work he’s done as a director. If anyone is hesitant about taking a chance on Prisoners out of fear that it’ll be too dark or gritty for your taste, please trust me that it’ll be worth the time spent watching the mystery unravel. Enemy (2014) It seems that it was Villeneuve working with Jake Gyllenhaal on his psychological drama/character study Enemy that convinced him to include him as a main character in Prisoners. Whereas Gyllenhaal’s character is more relevant to the plot in the latter, the former puts him front and center in the dual role of a movie that attempts to examine the complexities of our subconscious to mixed results. To be clear, I was engaged with the first two acts of Enemy which focus on college professor Adam Bell discovering the existence of his doppelganger Anthony Claire, an actor, and becoming increasingly obsessed with finding him. I found Villeneuve dissecting the mind of a man’s self-ignorant narcissism in an effort to find himself in the world mildly entertaining and wanted to see where the story went. However, as soon as Adam and Anthony meet each other face to face for the first time, Enemy quickly enters a downward spiral into some of Villeneuve’s most self-indulgent directorial work that does not take long at all to turn me off to the movie entirely. Much of this has to do with the respectable subtlety that shrouded the moral compasses of Gyllenhaal’s characters evaporating by the time the third act is in full swing. Furthermore, any and all visual subtlety goes out the window in the last twenty minutes to the point where Villeneuve almost completely loses me in his effort to expose the heart of human nature and personality. Ultimately, I found Enemy to be more disappointing and anti-climactic than outright bad. Unless you’re a Villeneuve completionist, I recommend skipping this one entirely. Sicario (2015) This was the first film by Villeneuve that I saw, at which point I was unfamiliar with his work and style. In other words, I watched Sicario as a crime thriller set on the U.S.-Mexico border rather than as a Villeneuve film. For context, this is also the first in the spiritual “Frontier Trilogy” written by Sons of Anarchy alumnus Taylor Sheridan (for my thoughts on the other two films in this trilogy, Hell or High Water and Wind River, click here). While this is my least favorite of Sheridan’s first three movies, I still found this to be a pretty strong screenplay for him that would only be surpassed by his next two Hollywood ventures. This ultimately gets to the heart of my feelings about Sicario. Unlike Enemy, I found it to be a well-made movie in virtually every way. I particularly appreciated the three lead performances, such as the straight-arrow FBI agent Kate Macer (Emily Blunt) and her morally complex foil and CIA agent Matt Graver (Josh Brolin). Despite her diminished physicality standing next to Brolin, Blunt holds her own in multiple scenes from intense action sequences to passionate and confrontational, dialogue-heavy scenes. Arguably, however, the stand-out actor in Sicario is Benicio del Toro as the vengeful Mexican assassin Alejandro Gillick whose story I found to be the most sympathy-inducing of any of the main characters. In addition to the performances, the cinematography by veteran artist and genius Roger Deakins (The Shawshank Redemption, True Grit, Skyfall, 1917) is breathtaking from the close-ups capturing the intensity of the action scenes to the scenic, picturesque shots of Mexico’s arid deserts. The film’s gunplay and action is incredibly well done by everyone involved. With all of these elements combined, the film is a solid entry to the neo-Western genre from the last decade (but not one of my personal favorites). Unfortunately, Sicario just didn’t click for me. In this sense, it’s an example of a movie that I think is well made but just did not grab me in the way that I hoped it would. But, don’t take my word full force; check out Sicario and judge for yourself if it holds up as one of Villeneuve’s best movies. Arrival (2016) I had very little expectations going into watching the 2016 sci-fi drama Arrival except that it was a Villeneuve film (and thus I was hopeful that it would be good). What I did not expect was for it to be as good as it was. Specifically, I did not think that I’d enjoy Villeneuve’s unique first venture into the science-fiction genre as much as I did. Arrival tells the story of an alien “invasion” in which linguist Louise Banks (Amy Adams) is tasked by U.S. Army Colonel Weber (Forest Whitaker) to establish lines of communication with some of the extraterrestrials (referred to as “heptapods”) who have landed in Montana. With the help of physicist Ian Donnelly (Jeremy Renner), Louise gradually develops an intimate connection with the heptapods that is threatened and upended by the increasing impatience of the U.S. military and governments around the world who want nothing more than to treat these creatures as invaders and respond in kind. What I genuinely appreciate about Arrival is that it stands out alongside many of the best sci-fi flicks which (in my humble opinion) rely too heavily on CG-heavy action sequences (either on land or in space) and not enough on smart social and political commentary that makes the audience think. In many ways, this film harkens back to the sensibilities of sci-fi in films from the 1950s such as The Day the Earth Stood Still and Invasion of the Body Snatchers by wrestling with the question “What would happen if aliens came to Earth?” in a believable and grounded manner. To be clear, I thoroughly enjoy the less cerebral alien invasion movies (lookin’ at you, Independence Day!) for their sheer entertainment value. However, Villeneuve in Arrival pulls off a movie about the social science behind linguistics in a way that is both entertaining and intellectually engaging. If I have one major complaint about Arrival, it certainly is the lack of substantive attention paid to Louise’s backstory as a mother who has lost a child. While the storytelling is by no means abysmal, the third-act reveal involving Louise’s past simply felt undeveloped and therefore not very satisfying. But this is ultimately a minor critique in the face of what is a solid 2010s sci-fi movie that is well worth your time even if you’re not a fan of Villeneuve’s other works. Blade Runner 2049 (2017) If Arrival was an unexpected surprise from Villeneuve for me, then watching 2017’s Blade Runner 2049—his sequel to Ridley Scott’s 1982 sci-fi classic—was a stunning upset for me in the best ways. As someone who was bored and underwhelmed during both of my viewings of the original Blade Runner, I expected to enjoy every little about Villeneuve’s follow-up. Fortunately, I was proven dead wrong. Yes, the style and production design of Blade Runner 2049 unquestionably pays homage to Scott’s original movie. But it does so by modernizing many of the world-building elements while retaining the best of that dystopian world for modern audiences. By doing so, Villeneuve pulls off a masterful balancing act of paying respect to the past while using his sensibilities with regards to cinematography and pacing to engage someone like myself who found few likeable elements of 1982’s Blade Runner. For me, the character journey of android and blade runner K (Ryan Gosling) is what makes Blade Runner 2049 so good. Gosling somehow pulls off another seemingly impossible balancing act which entails humanizing an android through his romantic attachments to his holographic AI Joi (Ana de Armas) while also never letting the character’s inhumanity escape from the audience’s minds. Perhaps only bested by his role in Drive, this is (in my humble opinion) Gosling’s best performance to date simply due to the well-crafted subtlety he brings to K. Which brings me to the shadow hanging over this film: Harrison Ford as elder blade runner Rick Deckard. Before going into Blade Runner 2049, I was supremely concerned that Ford would come into the plot too early and overshadow anything else happening on screen. Not only did Villeneuve hold back introducing Ford into K’s story until the tail end of the second act (approximately two hours into the runtime), but I also never felt Ford’s story during the end of the film squash my love of and investment in K. Obviously, there have been other attempts to bring Ford’s most iconic characters back to the big screen in recent decades (with mixed results). While I love how Han Solo was used in J.J. Abrams’ The Force Awakens, I must admit that Villeneuve probably understood how best to use Ford’s screen presence in a way that serves the story as opposed to the diehard Blade Runner fans (without ever blatantly insulting the fans’ love for Deckard and the original film). I could easily devote an entire blog to the performances in this film alone, but for the sake of being succinct I shall save that for a potential future post. Needless to say, Blade Runner 2049 is well worth your time. Not only is it my personal favorite film from Villeneuve, but it stands up as one of the best movies of this century. Prove me wrong. 😊 Dune (2021) [NOTE: This blog contains spoilers for “Dune.” You have been warned.] For full transparency, I have never read Frank Herbert’s 1965 novel “Dune” and am only vaguely familiar with the source material of Villeneuve’s latest sci-fi epic. There were only three elements of the plot that I knew beforehand: the fate of one of the characters, the importance of “spice,” and the existence of giant sandworms. That’s about as blind as you can be going into Dune, but if you’re willing to be swept away on an epic cinematic journey then I think you’ll thoroughly enjoy this film in spite of its drawbacks. Easily my favorite thing about Dune is the amount of credit that it gives to its audience for being able to follow an incredibly complex plot. Set in the far-future in an intergalactic feudal system where many of the Great Houses, led by characters such as Duke Leto Atreides (Oscar Isaac) and Baron Vladimir Harkonnen (Stellan Skarsgård), are vying for control of the priceless commodity “spice” on the desert planet of Arrakis. The film’s heart comes from the hero’s journey that follows Leto’s inquisitive but inexperienced son Paul Atreides (Timothée Chalamet) who must overcome his father’s shadow, face the challenges posed by his mother Lady Jessica (Rebecca Ferguson) and her connections to the Bene Gesserit, and step into his own as the chosen liberator of the Arrakis natives, the Fremen. That’s about the simplest plot synopsis that I can give of this film, so you won’t be surprised that the first hour or so is laden with character-oriented exposition and extensive world-building. While this is (in my humble opinion) one of Dune’s biggest flaws, it is necessary to ensure that the audience is satisfied with the payoffs, betrayals, and emotional beats in the rest of the movie by understanding the stakes in terms of what things matter and why they matter. So, if you can sit through this slow-burn of a first act I think that the other two acts are a pretty solid payoff to this first part of an epic sci-fi story. Which gets to what will be the movie’s biggest drawback: it is the first half of a larger story. Sometimes, this can work (lookin’ at you, Infinity War!) where the beginning of an epic journey that spans multiple films can be self-contained enough that one can follow along and enjoy it while also teeing up bigger plot threads and important character moments for the next film. Unfortunately, it remains unofficial as of the writing of this blog post whether or not “Part Two” is greenlit. So, for now, we have an incomplete story in Dune. That being said, I was pleasantly surprised by how much this movie holds up thematically as a self-contained “hero’s fall/hero’s rise” for Paul. While the next part will almost certainly offer up a more satisfying story, Paul confronting the political and spiritual realities of his destiny and the stakes of House Atreides’ survival on Arrakis was a thoroughly enjoyable story to tell. On a technical level, Dune is essentially flawless. It is shot beautifully (a staple of Villeneuve’s work at this point), and the costume and production design expertly establish the diverse worlds of Herbert’s universe (from the Scottish Highlands vibe of Caladan, the homework of House Atreides, to the desert landscape of Arrakis itself). Furthermore, Hans Zimmer’s score is incredibly effective at enhancing the more emotionally heightened character moments like the death of Duncan Idaho (Jason Mamoa) that could have fallen flat otherwise. Of course, many of the actors brought their skills and craft to pull off the human side of this story as well. I particularly appreciated the subtly uncertain vibe of Isaac’s Duke Leto Atreides, the grounded moral complexity of Ferguson’s Lady Jessica, and Skarsgård’s domineering, intimidating presence as Baron Harkonnen. In terms of the plot, my only real criticism is the subplot about Paul’s development of “The Voice” and his connections to his mother through the “Bene Gesserit.” While I do hope that this is fleshed out in the potential sequel, I’m also unsure if I care enough about this mystic aspect of the story to want to see more. At the end of the day, however, I liked Dune and want a sequel that gives us the conclusion to Paul’s hero’s journey that we deserve. With all that being said, here is my ranking of the films of Denis Villeneuve:
What is your favorite Denis Villeneuve film? Are you excited for where his filmmaking career goes in the future? What opinions of mine do you find absolutely ridiculous? Let me know in the comments below. Until next time, this has been… Yours Truly, Amateur Analyst |
Austin McManusI have no academic or professional background in film production or criticism; I simply love watching and talking about movies. Archives
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