6
When we last left the assembled Avengers, the team had fought off a Chitauri invasion being orchestrated by megalomaniacal Loki. Substitute aliens with an army of humanoid robots being led by a megalomaniacal artificial intelligence and change the setting from New York to Eastern Europe, and you pretty much have the major conflict of Avengers: Age of Ultron.
5
Horror films and modern technology rarely mix well. In the digital age, there’s always an explanation needed for not using tech (i.e. no cell phone service); or, the level of advancement is stretched and bastardized (i.e. fake computer programs and interfaces) to get potential victims into or out of a jam.
Unfriended keeps things simple and recognizable, the entire film unfolding on a teenager’s computer screen via tools like Skype, Spotify, and Facebook. There’s potential in the premise and a few intriguing moments, but the film’s major issue is that it’s not scary. A supernatural element clashes with the online antics, and the tension is never enough to transcend the fact that we’re constantly watching a bunch of dull, unlikable teens yelling at each other through webcams.
4
Sean Penn is buff and brooding in The Gunman, imbuing the international action-thriller with a self-seriousness that’s unearned and conflicts with the more sensational elements of the plot. A mature, serious actor transitioning to action hero has been hugely successful in the case of Liam Neeson, and this film attempts to recreate that while also positioning itself as a more cerebral shoot ‘em up. The strategy doesn’t work.
5
he emphasis in the title for A Space Program should be placed on the indefinite article. Despite the omnipresence of NASA branded materials, the outfit depicted in the film is definitely not “the” space program. It’s a fabricated collective staging a handmade journey to Mars. The environs of this space program are quite literally fabricated, built out of plywood, construction paper, and other materials. While the ambition and execution with the building and staging of the mission are immensely impressive, the movie that celebrates it doesn’t approach the same type of lo-fi grandeur.
7
Run All Night fully embraces established crime-drama tropes and makes little attempt at reinvention, which, in this case, is a good thing. There are certain rules in underworld revenge tales and they’re all laid out in the early going here. This is a case where director Jaume Collet-Serra and his solid cast know exactly what kind of movie they’re making and wring the best possible result out of familiar material. It’s elevation of pulpy drama via steady direction and committed actors, while abstaining from extraordinary or nonsensical twists that aggravate.
3
Neill Blomkamp was labeled by some as sci-fi’s next great visionary after 2009’s District 9. In his inspired debut, the filmmaker married metaphor with bloody mayhem and original special effects that perfectly communicated his vision of a lived-in, near-future dystopia. His anticipated sophomore feature Elysium was more of the same, only plagued with narrative bloat and a focus on spectacle, getting lost in the thicket of allegorical action.
3
How do you follow-up the rightfully acclaimed documentary Jiro Dreams of Sushi? If you’re director David Gelb, it’s with cold fish horror-thriller The Lazarus Effect. The film posits some interesting, if unoriginal, questions and then quickly devolves into a bland amalgam of spurious science and benign, telegraphed “BOO!” moments that fit neatly within the PG-13 aesthetic.
8
An issue that’s difficult for anthology films to overcome is one of batting average. More often than not, there’s a least one segment that doesn’t measure up to the others and regardless of the quality of the rest of the rest of the film, the weak section(s) drag it down a bit. Once the light shines on the uneven, episodic nature of the narrative, you begin to wonder how many more of these stories you have to sit through. With Wild Tales, Argentinian writer-director Damián Szifrón bats a thousand. Sure, some of the six tales of vengeance and justice are better than others, but all are tightly constructed, relatable micro-stories that tap into the foibles and fallibility of savage impulses.
3
2010’s Hot Tub Time Machine was unquestionably immature, but there was also some measure of humanity behind the various humiliations. Hot Tub Time Machine 2 drops the heart and focuses below the belt with an uninspired string of dick jokes and adlibbed insults. Another thing absent this time around is the original’s most marketable performer, John Cusack, whose character only appears in a still photo and is said to be on a “spiritual journey.” The actor was likely on a journey to find a better script. He wouldn’t have to travel far.
4
Kingsman: The Secret Service makes zero logical sense, which would be perfectly fine if its outrageousness were more inspired. Unfortunately, the film winks so often and so long it loses sight of how to make the cheekiness, the action, and the narrative congeal effectively.
3
There’s a lot of dueling in Outcast, most of it involving bland swordfights or heirs angling for a vacated throne. The most entertaining of all the duels, however, is the battle of bad accents between Nicolas Cage and Hayden Christensen. I’d call it a draw. At least when these two actors share the screen there’s something to behold beyond the dreary adventure plot, but their interactions are brief.
4
Teens construct a time machine in Project Almanac and do things that teens might do: go back to ace a test, win the lottery, get revenge on a bully, check out Imagine Dragons at Lollapalooza, and so on. In a way, it’s refreshing that the focus is left relatively small. However, these trivialities, an exhaustive attempt to ground the time travel conceit in reality, and the inclusion of a dopey teen love story really bog the film down. Add the shaky-cam, found footage style and its inherent issues into the mix, and the dramatic thrust of the movie evaporates.
3
There’s a lot of phony posturing going on in The Loft, a wannabe steamy thriller that’s too devoted to its poorly constructed, twisty whodunit narrative to develop the unpleasant characters behind the scowls and stares. The pomposity starts with a Hitchcock knockoff opening. The camera moves through a cityscape as it slowly zooms toward the titular loft, similar to the opening shot of Psycho. There’s even a Bernard Herrmann-esque score playing as credits appear and then quickly dissolve.
4
In the opening scene of Birds of Neptune, high-school senior Rachel (Britt Harris) anxiously waits for her number to be called at a health clinic. We’re pretty sure we know why she’s there, and her reaction driving home makes us certain. There are thoughtfully constructed moments like this sprinkled throughout director Steven Richter’s film, unfortunately they’re few and far between. The pensive tone of the movie is a benefit on the rare occasions the artistry connects, though ultimately this is a quiet movie that doesn’t have a lot to say. When the characters attempt thoughtful conversation, the screenplay reveals its strain for meaning.
2
I’m not privy to her financials, but I don’t think Jennifer Lopez is in dire straits. The woman is a corporation, J-Lo, Inc., complete with fragrances, a sunglasses line, and any number of money-making ventures. She’s being paid tens of millions of dollars to spout clichéd critiques and encouragement to starry-eyed aspiring singers on American Idol. She doesn’t need The Boy Next Door, and we certainly don’t need it, either.
5
Cybercrime is a timely topic to be sure, but Blackhat isn’t interested in tapping into the paranoia and treats the digital front lines as a mere gateway into the artful universe of director Michael Mann. Granted, watching someone hack is not thrilling and inherently non-cinematic, evidenced here by a hokey CGI sequence early on that takes us inside a sever and visualizes a computer virus taking over. On the other hand, the terrifying notion of lives being altered (or lost) with a few keystrokes from a madman – like the nuclear reactor attack in the film’s opening moments – has heft.
