The Hateful Eight - Movie Review by Monte Yazzie

The Hateful Eight  

Director: Quentin Tarantino

Starring: Samuel L. Jackson, Kurt Russell, Jennifer Jason Leigh, Walton Googins, Tim Roth, Michael Madsen, Bruce Dern, and Demian Bichir

Quentin Tarantino can do whatever he wants. Even if that means releasing a three-hour plus 70mm special presentation of his newest film, “The Hateful Eight”. Mr. Tarantino’s career, eight films with the inclusion of this one, is nothing short of impressive. His films have spanned from bank robbing gangsters, to vengeful left-for-dead brides, to World War II men on mission; Mr. Tarantino’s films have influenced popular culture and have made an indelible impact on the trajectory of filmmaking. It’s been a filmgoers dream come true. Mr. Tarantino is an encyclopedia of film history, from the classics to the grindhouse, and his knowledge of film has always served as a method of influence. “The Hateful Eight” is the writer/director as his most scaled down yet still unrestricted; eight people in one room with a mystery that connects them all. Sounds like a simple premise right? In the hands of Quentin Tarantino “The Hateful Eight” proves anything but simple.

On a snowy journey in post-Civil War Wyoming, bounty hunter John Ruth (Kurt Russell) is transporting the wanted outlaw Daisy Domergue (Jennifer Jason Leigh) by stagecoach for a meeting with the rope. Along the way Major Marquis Warren (Samuel L. Jackson), also a bounty hunter, waits with three frozen dead outlaws in the middle of the path. Major Warren queries a ride to Minnie’s Haberdashery, a station where he can wait out the oncoming blizzard. Ruth obliges and the group continues the journey. Upon arrival at the station the group meets more people, but something is amiss. Someone is lying about their true intentions.

A bunch of unsavory, unredeemable characters are in a room together under the gleefully self-indulgent manipulation of a writer known for a flourish of discourse and a fascination with bloody and disturbing affairs, how much could go wrong? For the characters everything goes wrong but for the viewer everything, almost, goes right. The composition of the narrative is a whodunit, a mystery akin to an intense poker match where everyone is holding their cards until the last available moment. What the viewer gets is an interrogation, one that moves from freewheeling bar-talk conversation to gun-in-hand threatening, mostly from the character John Ruth, played by an ill-tempered Kurt Russell, who is trying to protect his bounty. Everyone is a suspect in John Ruth’s mind, except Major Warren, played admirable in a leading role by Samuel L. Jackson, who won Ruth’s trust by an association with a famed President. Add in a slew of other wonderfully shady characters, performances by Walton Googins playing a newly appointed Sheriff and Tim Roth playing the executioner/hangman are especially fun, and the plot thickens.

It’s a hard technique to build a mystery, especially at the extensive length fashioned by this script. It would seem that every one of the accomplished actors in the film would get an opportunity to share the spotlight; this isn’t the case even though they all shine during their available time on screen. Mr. Tarantino plants a lot of seeds throughout the film but not all them blossom the way they have in the past. Instead the narrative is filled with other material that overtakes the mystery at the core; political ramblings, racial indifference, feministic inequality, and social confusions are all topics handled straightforward and with the director’s patented violent attributions. While this has potential to weigh the film down unnecessarily, it’s also fascinating to watch Mr. Tarantino operate in this manner.

The legendary Ennio Morricone scores the film brilliantly, providing undeniable tension but also an authenticity that links the film to the past that so clearly influences the motions. The photography is also stunning, both in the vast snowy white of the mountains and within the progressively confining spaces in the haberdashery.

Mr. Tarantino has said that he only plans on making a couple more films then retiring to explore other avenues for his talent to flourish. Whatever platform the director chooses to tell his stories, he will do it utilizing his unique style and approach. If “The Hateful Eight” is a representation of what the future may look like for the director, cinephiles are in for an interesting journey. Quentin Tarantino can do whatever he wants; here he proves that he can do whatever he wants very well.

Side Note: Do yourself a favor and watch this in the 70mm Roadshow presentation, it provides a unique film experience that isn’t readily available anymore.

Monte’s Rating

4.25 out of 5.00

Concussion - Movie Review by Jeff Mitchell

‘Concussion’ draws some frightening conclusions  

Directed by:  Peter Landesman

Starring:  Will Smith, Alec Baldwin, Albert Brooks, Gugu Mbatha-Raw

“Concussion” - Fourteen years ago, I coached youth football and remember telling a large group of 11 and 12 year-olds, “Football is not a contact sport.  It is a collision sport.”

I also stressed to them, “You don’t want to make contact with your opponent.  You want to blow them up on the football field.”

In director Peter Landesman’s “Concussion”, he tells Dr. Bennet Omalu’s (Will Smith) true story, and how he blew up the safety perceptions of football, and more specifically, in the NFL.   As early as the opening scene, Landesman does an excellent job of establishing setting, tone and characters, and the film’s players (on and off the football field) are placed within a stressful environment in the city of Pittsburgh, a football epicenter of sorts.  With thousands of fans in the stands wearing black and gold and cheering their Sunday heroes, we immediately understand the Pittsburgh Steelers are hugely woven into the fabric of the city.  Conversely, in subdued conference rooms, Landesman features some key one-on-one and two-on-one conversations about the importance of football to the average fan, and just about “everyone in America” is at least an average fan.

Enter Dr. Omalu, a highly-educated Nigerian-born doctor with zero interest in football but serves a dedicated obligation to his patients.  Dead ones.    He is a Pittsburgh pathologist and asked to determine the cause of death of Mike Webster, a Football Hall of Fame center for the Steelers for 15 years.    The good doctor finds something astonishing (and equally frightening) and concludes that Mr. Webster suffered from 70,000 blows to the head over his football career, and it resulted in soul-crushing brain damage.  Dr. Omalu’s conclusions are that football killed Webster and God did not intend for human beings to play this sport.

The film quickly shifts to a David and Goliath story with the doctor playing the former and the highly-established NFL acting as the latter.  Ironically, Omalu casts a stone at Goliath trying to call attention to head injuries, not cause one.  Through corporate influence and power, the NFL retaliates by attempting to discredit Omalu’s findings. With billions of dollars in annual revenue streaming in from fans and corporate customers, alike, this man – who does not even know the game – threatens its very existence.   Through dry boardroom discussions and the use of an occasional blue filter, the film purposely and successfully feels as cold and antiseptic as a morgue’s operating table, because irreversible brain damage is deadly-serious business.  Specific icy accounts - such as one player pulling out his own teeth and gluing them back into his gum line - become effective fodder for the audience.

We do receive some feel-good relief with Omalu’s personal life and his budding relationship with Prema (Gugu Mbatha-Raw), although they suffer through some rocky times due to his fight with the NFL.  Those troubles effectively add to our sympathy for this perceived “outsider”.    Alec Baldwin and Albert Brooks are solid in supporting roles as Omalu’s allies, but there is little depth with the main antagonists within the NFL.  The individual football proponents seem like faceless, thoughtless suits, but in conglomeration, act as one collective corporate menace.   “Concussion” does not work as a traditional thriller, because the gears of this struggle move so slowly, but it is effective as a thought-provoking discovery and a biopic on Dr. Omalu himself.   Smith carries a terrific performance and balances his character’s sharp intellect with equally visible compassion and persistence.    Led by Smith’s work, “Concussion” leaves the viewer – especially a football fan, player or coach - to substantially question his or her beliefs about a beloved sport.   After watching this movie, one might conclude that “blowing up your opponent” does not seem like such a smart idea after all.   (3/4 stars)

Star Wars: The Force Awakens - Movie Review by Monte Yazzie

Star Wars: The Force Awakens  

Director: J.J. Abrams

Starring: Harrison Ford, Mark Hamill, Carrie Fisher, Adam Driver, Daisy Ridley, Jon Boyega, Oscar Isaac, Lupita Nyong’o, Andy Serkis, Domhnall Gleeson, Peter Mayhew, Gwendoline Christie and Max von Sydow

The moment the iconic John Williams theme erupts and the words begin to scroll it will be impossible for any “Star Wars” fan to not be a little excited. No spoilers allowed in this review because “Star Wars: The Force Awakens” is a film experience that should not be ruined by too much information. Director J.J. Abrams tackles the monumental feat of rejuvenating the “Star Wars” franchise, mixing nostalgia with new characters on a new adventure with skill and confidence while also remaining loyal to the fanbase that will be waiting in long lines for the opportunity to remember why they fell in love with “Star Wars” in the first place. To the achievement of “Star Wars: The Force Awakens”, it excels and satisfies at nearly every turn.

Episode VII takes place thirty years after the destruction of the Death Star and the demise of the Galactic Empire. Peace has thrived throughout the galaxy but a new dark threat is rising to disrupt order. Supreme Leader Snoke (Andy Serkis) commands the First Order with the help of Kylo Ren (Adam Driver), a masked villain who wields a lightsaber. The Resistance is fighting this new evil foe with the help of a rebel pilot named Poe Dameron (Oscar Isaac), a young scavenger living alone on a desert planet named Rey (Daisy Ridley), and a soldier named Finn; the group will do all they can to keep peace in the galaxy.

At the very minimum that’s all you need to know. Mr. Abrams and company have crafted a narrative that delivers a bit of everything for both fanatics and those unfamiliar with the universe. There are numerous moments in the film that seem handcrafted for “Star Wars” superfans. All of the best and memorable aspects of the past six films are utilized in effective and meaningful ways here, offering many nods to the past and establishing small steps that will lead into the future of the continued saga. Still, even though it utilizes clever Shakespearian influences familiar throughout all the films and follows the Joseph Campbell storytelling blueprint from “The Hero with a Thousand Faces”, the film never forgets what George Lucas created and what, at its core, it achieves, which is producing that sense of childlike wonder and consistently remaining adventurous and fun.

The film centers around two new cast members, Daisy Ridley and Jon Boyega who both give especially genuine performances. This is an accommodation to their ability as actors but also to the script, which allows the characters both heartfelt and playful moments, each of which are charming and comedic. It is a difficult task for two new actors to remain shining when the shadow of their iconic counterparts loom so intimidatingly. Harrison Ford returns as Han Solo and upon his first moment on screen immediately fits comfortably back into the role, which he hasn’t played for nearly three decades. Add the back and fourth repartee with Chewbacca and, similarly to what Han Solo says in the trailer, you’re home.

The “Star Wars” prequels in some ways tarnished what the original films established. It’s safe to say that J.J. Abrams has given fans new hope with “The Force Awakens”. While the film reintroduces the audience to the world of the past, both the characters and myth left behind, the future isn’t given much exploration, which leaves many obvious questions for subsequent films to answer. But you won’t notice this aspect until you leave the theater and give the film some further thought. That’s an attribute to “Star Wars: The Force Awakens” because it is such an experience. It’s a film that gives older audiences the joyous nostalgic feelings from when they saw “Star Wars” for the first time and, even more approvingly, a way to give a new generation of fans the memorable experience of why going to the movies is such a special and magical thing.

Monte’s Rating

4.25 out of 5.00

Youth - Movie Review by Jeff Mitchell

Caine, Keitel and Sorrentino invigorate ‘Youth’  

Directed by: Paolo Sorrentino

Starring:  Michael Caine, Harvey Keitel, Paul Dano, Rachel Weisz, Jane Fonda

“Youth” - The title of writer/director Paolo Sorrentino’s new film is a curious one.  His starring leads are 82-year-old Michael Caine and 76-year-old Harvey Keitel, but after experiencing Sorrentino’s beautifully-filmed picture - and some needed time to ponder its contents - the reasons for his chosen title become much clearer.    Sorrentino is a film lover’s filmmaker with a major art-house style, and here, he communicates his narrative by introducing intriguing characters engaging in intimate conversations and intermingles (either before, after or during a scene) stunning visuals and pleasing sounds, including a truly spectacular and surprising opening with a band called The Retrosettes. The end result is a cinematic feast for our senses while simultaneously providing nourishment for our thoughts on a little journey we call life.

The main lives in play in “Youth” are a famous, retired composer Fred Ballinger (Caine) and his best friend Mick Boyle (Keitel) who is a Hollywood director.   Although Mick is working on a new script with a team of young writers, they are both on vacation.  The picture’s third main character is a massive, posh hotel located in the Swiss Alps.  Surrounded by picturesque snow-capped mountains, this gorgeous, secluded place takes an army of people to run it.  Maids, aids, guides, cooks, massage therapists, and musical talent offer their services for the wealthy and prominent guests, and Sorrentino spends screen time showing these laborers working hard amongst the lush grounds, rooms, restaurants, spas, rock climbing walls, and massage tables.   At times the employees and patrons move like a well-orchestrated symphony and other times, the camera focuses on someone sitting or standing in solitude in an open space.

Speaking of a symphony, the main point of conflict in the picture is Fred’s resistance to a request from a Buckingham Palace events coordinator.    He inquires if Fred will perform his famed “Simple Songs” for Queen Elizabeth, but he repeatedly declines due to personal reasons.   Since Fred admits his apathy and reclusiveness, the cause for these “personal reasons” raises our curiosity.  When he eventually reveals the reason, Caine delivers an on-screen moment which stops the audience in its tracks.

Sorrentino offers many scenes with Fred and Mick tracking across the hotel, the nearby woods or the quiet roads along the rolling hills as they recollect on the past.  These exchanges with Caine and Keitel are quietly electric, and their time together - conversing as best friends for 50 or 60 years - is a pleasure to watch.  Talk of their youth sometimes enters conversations, or they give slight recognition to it with a passing smile at a toddler or a look of amazement towards a teenager performing a wheelie on a bike.  Many times, however, the current state of affairs owns much of their attention, such as how Mick’s new film will be his testament, and he calls it “Life’s Last Day”.  On the other hand, Fred’s view is more pessimistic as he misses his wife and views his future as nothing but bland routine.  That is certainly ironic, because there is nothing bland about their current Swiss surroundings.

Other characters who engage Fred are other hotel guests and workers like his dutiful daughter (Rachel Weisz), a highly-successful movie actor (Paul Dano), a famous athlete who is now severely overweight (Roly Serrano), the reigning Miss Universe (Madalina Diana Ghenea), and his massage therapist (Luna Zimic Mijovic).   Together they mix into a brew of sights, sounds, laughs, and tears in a given playground of the rich and distinguished.  No matter the characters’ ages or checking account balances, the movie captures important on-screen minutes of their individual daily lives which tell stories of their internal wonder, passions or regret.  Although we only receive glimpses in many spaces, every individual has much to say.  Through Sorrentino's creative insight and the very impactful performances by Caine and Keitel (and a small hurricane-like entrance by Jane Fonda), "Youth" has much to say too.

Yes, after experiencing "Youth", the reasons for the film's title make perfect sense. (3.5/4 stars)

Star Wars: The Force Awakens - Movie Review by Jeff Mitchell

‘Star Wars: The Force Awakens’ from its prequel slumber (A spoiler-free review)  

Directed by:  J.J. Abrams

Starring:  Daisy Ridley, John Boyega, Adam Driver, Oscar Issac, Domhnall Gleeson, Andy Serkis, Lupita Nyong’o

“Laugh it up, Fuzzball.” 

In “Star Wars: Episode V – The Empire Strikes Back” (1980), Han Solo (Harrison Ford) throws this memorable, hilariously-timed barb at Chewbacca.   With all the dazzling special effects and Shakespearean themes in the series, moments like the aforementioned line remind us that the original three Star Wars movies – at their core - are swashbuckling and fun.

While the Star Wars prequels – Episodes I, II and III (1999 – 2005) - served a noble purpose in telling Darth Vader’s backstory, they certainly lacked the wondrous joy of Episodes IV, V and VI (1977 – 1983).  In fact, except for Yoda’s impromptu lightsabering moment in “Star Wars: Episode II – Attack of the Clones” (2002), the three prequels - arguably - feel downright grim, like one unhappy eight-hour death march to a conclusion we already know.

Now, with director J.J. Abrams at the helm – thirty-eight years after the first film - I am more than pleased to report that “Star Wars: The Force Awakens” returns to the exciting and enjoyable formulas of the original movies.   The end result is Abrams delivers a highly entertaining experience for old and new fans, alike, and yes, Star Wars is now awake from its prequel slumber.  This story takes place 30 years or so after the events of “Star Wars: Episode VI - Return of the Jedi” (1983) and introduces a new group of heroes and villains.   The space baddies are descendants of the Empire called The First Order, and they persist in trying to destroy the Republic and its freedom fighters, the Resistance.   Although three decades have passed, this is an unchanged bad vs. good / Dark Side vs. Light Side fight we have seen in previous Star Wars movies, but the players own different names and faces.

The main protagonists are: an enterprising, young scavenger named Rey (Daisy Ridley) and a “very recent addition” to the Resistance named Finn (John Boyega).  With a playfully-written script and instant on-screen rapport, our two young heroes immediately gel with one another and also with some old friends from the first three movies.   Many of this film’s seminal moments are with these old friends – Star Wars characters from Generation X’s childhood – and at times, their screen presence literally takes your breath away, but make no mistake, Ridley and Boyega shine in their starring roles as well.

They both carry heaps of cinematic charisma, and by starring in this franchise and giving abundantly effective performances, Ridley and Boyega are already ordained as science fiction superstars for the rest of their natural lives.   Hundreds of millions of kids will rightfully want to be Rey and Finn in the same fashion as previous generations pretended to be Han Solo, Luke Skywalker and Princess Leia.   Those same children will also feel the opposite towards the film’s main antagonists from The First Order:  a masked villain named Kylo Ren (Adam Driver), a mysterious puppet master played by Andy Serkis and a by-the-book lackey with a mean streak called General Hux (Domhnall Gleeson).   Yes, I know Gleeson playing a bad guy does feel a bit strange, but in every other case, the casting is spot-on and also includes Oscar Issac, Max von Sydow and Lupita Nyong’o.  An awfully cute droid named BB 8 also finds itself in the mix as well.  Together, this concoction of characters blend into the Star Wars universe, and the movie wonderfully and organically feels familiar and authentic to us, the audience.

This is no accident.

For instance, the script was written by Lawrence Kasdan who also penned Episode V and VI, and this movie contains many similar (and welcomed) "Laugh it up, Fuzzball" interactions. From a filming perspective, Abrams recently mentioned in an interview with Fox 5 in Washington D.C. that in some cases, they filmed using the same exact camera lenses from the first three films. From a broader perspective, Abrams added that they utilized puppeteers to work with the droids – just like the first three films - instead of heavy reliance on CGI. This, in turn, increases the authenticity of what we watch on screen, as the actors interact with droids on set rather than working with green screen.

The genuineness is important to Abrams, because he also stated that they filmed on location in Abu Dhabi, Wales and Iceland on enormous outdoor sets so the movie would feel authentic, instead of feeling like it was – again - shot in a vacuum of green screen.

The movie does feel authentic, honest and familiar.  Even better, with its serious lightsaber duels, X-wing vs. TIE Fighter dogfights, conversations about the Force, Stormtrooper gunplay, and hilarious quips and one-liners, this nostalgic trip really is the Star Wars movie that fans have wanted for 32 years.

I’ll surely plunk down my $10 a couple more times to see this movie again and again.

Laugh it up, Star Wars fans?  No. Lap it up.   (3.5/4 stars)

Star Wars: The Force Awakens - Movie Review by Michael Clawson

Star Wars: The Force Awakens  

Director:  J. J. Abrams

Cast: John Boyega, Daisy Ridley, Oscar Isaac, Adam Driver, Domhnall Gleeson, Harrison Ford, Carrie Fisher, Mark Hamill, Anthony Daniels, Peter Mayhew

By Michael Clawson of Terminal Volume

It’s strange how a song, some yellow text and a movie logo just makes everything seem alright in the galaxy. It just feels like home, a warm hearth to lean against in the cold void of space.

J.J. Abrams’ Star Wars movie, Star Wars: Episode VII — The Force Awakens, is not the end-all, be-all, the alpha and omega, of cinema history the way the fanboys have been saying. But it is an utterly magnificent retooling of George Lucas’ floundering mega-saga. When Lucas turned his nuts-and-bolts space opera into a toothless CGI-painted joke, the franchise marched toward its own doom, one Hayden Christensen line after another. But Abrams has imbued the first chapter of a new trilogy with a newfound sense of wonder with a convincing cast, a snappy and electric story, and minimal CGI. It’s a coup for the franchise, a drastic course correction, a clean slate, a Mulligan in hyperspace.

The tone is set in the first seconds, in the first line of the famous scroll during John Williams’ iconic score: “Luke Skywalker has disappeared,” it says. The resistance, the side of our heroes, wants Luke to guide them forward. The First Order, the villains, wants to kill him and destroy the last links to The Force, a spiritual power that would likely die with Luke. The resistance has a map that leads to Luke’s last location, but the First Order, the last remnants of the Galactic Empire, attempts to capture it, thus starting the conflict of the current film.

Our players here are Poe Dameron (Oscar Isaac), a resistance fighter and ace pilot; Finn (John Boyega), a stormtrooper with an awakened conscience; Rey (Daisey Ridley), a metal scavenger with a connection to The Force; and Kylo Ren (Adam Driver), a practitioner of the Dark Side who has started a one-person death cult that worships the defeated Darth Vader. These characters frequently cross paths in Lawrence Kasden, Michael Arndt and Abrams’ mostly competent, at times clunky, script that includes a crash course on Star Wars lore, complete with shout-outs to holographic chess, 12-parsec space runs and lightsaber genealogy. The film goes to great lengths to establish meta and spiritual connections to the original franchise.

Early sequences revolve mostly around BB-8, a ball-shaped droid that is carrying the secret map to Skywalker’s location. The famous R2-D2 shows up later, but BB, with his cute hiccups and bloops, cements his place in the Star Wars canon long before then. Other franchise staples show up, including Princess Leia, now General Leia (Carrie Fisher); the still-dashing space smuggler Han Solo (Harrison Ford); Han’s walking carpet sidekick Chewbacca; and gold-plated C-3PO, human cyborg relations. Solo’s ship, the Millennium Falcon makes a triumphant return in a scene of pure exhilaration as Rey, Finn and BB-8 outrun TIE fighters in a desert wasteland filled with the relics of war from the original trilogy.

Abrams’ world is populated by a huge variety of alien creatures, from snorting elephant-pigs and googly-eyed club owners to noodly space pirates and tin-headed bounty hunters. Many of the characters are made from physical special effects, silicone and moldable foam, and not computer animation. Even the sets are real, which was a big gripe about Lucas’ last movies: they were clinical and lifeless, projections designed, executed and presented from within a matrix of computer programs. Here, though, the world feels real and livable, and it’s populated by characters with souls.

I hate to beat up on Lucas, but Force Awakens improves on every aspect of the prequel trilogy: from the special effects and sets to the acting and dialogue. Those films lost their way very early on, but this one steps forward with sure footing and a nostalgia for the original films. Abrams’ story could use some tweaking, particularly in some areas involving yet another Death Star, the dramatic reappearance of a “sleeping” character, and the state of the galaxy, which is never really explained how or why the First Order maintains so much power in a post-Return of the Jedi universe.

But these minor annoyances are made up for with great characters, lots of them, and all of them wonderfully constructed by the actors who play them. Boyega and Ridley are charmingly well equipped for this franchise, and bring to it a sense of adventure and heroism. And Driver’s Kylo Ren is a terrifying misfit who wields incredible power. He frequently hides behind a Vader-ish mask that gives him a Bane-like chamber for his voice to bounce around in with an eerie bass-rattle. Ford, playing the Star Wars veteran in more ways than one, helps hold all this together with a keen sense of humor; in fact, there are many jokes here, some in very unlikely and warranted places.

The best part of this new chapter is how it contributes to the myth of the Star Wars universe, The Force, and characters like Obi-Wan Kenobi, Darth Vader, and Luke Skywalker. “It’s true, all of it … the force, the Jedi … all of it is true,” Han Solo tells our reluctant heroes who only know of the events from episodes four through six as bedtime stories and forgotten lore that has been passed down two and three generations. The Force Awakens not only brings Star Wars back for the characters, but for the audience as well. And never before has this franchise felt so alive.

Hitchcock/Truffaut - Movie Review by Michael Clawson

Hitchcock/Truffaut Directed by:  Kent Jones

Starring:  Martin Scorsese, Wes Anderson, David Fincher, Richard Linklater, and more

By Michael Clawson of Terminal Volume

I first encountered the famous Hitchcock/Truffaut book during a film history course in college. I’ll never forget that it was the cheapest book I bought that semester — I think my used copy was $8, a minuscule fraction to that of my other textbooks, which were usually in the low three figures. All these years later and I still have it, the only textbook that didn’t get sold back at a dramatic loss. The book is a 300-plus-page set of interviews done in 1962 between French director François Truffaut and British director Alfred Hitchcock. It’s not even really interviews, but more discussion as the two directors talk about the cinema and their respective careers. Truffaut, through an interpreter, goes film by film, idea by idea, into Hitchcock’s impressive oeuvre. The resulting conversations, done over a week, are essentially the Rosetta Stone for film because it lays out the language of the cinema — how to edit, how to compose, how to move the camera.

The book, and its continued importance in an age where the average shot is something like a nanosecond buried within Michael Bay spectacle, has been turned into a documentary film with the same name. One of the greatest books on film deserves an equally great documentaries, which is a tall order that Hitchcock/Truffaut doesn’t quite deliver on. The film, although slickly produced and edited, never aims for the same goals as the book. It mostly serves as an appendix to it, with moving pictures and audio of the interviews supplementing the book’s printed text. This is helpful if you enjoy supercuts of clips, but it doesn’t accurately frame the importance of the interviews.

I’m mostly annoyed with the talking-heads approach to this film, and to modern documentaries in general. Martin Scorsese is here, as is David Fincher, Richard Linklater, Paul Schrader and many others. They slather on praise and analysis, but they offer little context. They’re incredibly insightful and knowledgeable of Hitchcock’s style, but they essentially regurgitate how important the book, and by extension Hitchcock’s films, are to the art of the cinema. This has already been established, so show us, don’t tell us. I wanted the movie to teach, and to really get into the nuts and bolts of Hitch’s style. And it doesn’t.

After lengthy clip montages and exuberant sequences of modern filmmakers praising the director, the film does eventually get to deeper aspects of Hitchcock’s cinematic poetry. This largely starts during a section on Vertigo, where camera movement and the film’s diabolical themes are really deconstructed. In one of the more fascinating bits, we watch as Judy returns to her apartment after being remade by Jimmy Stewart’s Scottie character. Scottie is remaking Judy in the image of a dead woman, and Judy has returned with her hair not quite right. “She has stripped but she won’t take her knickers off,” Hitch tells Truffaut in the interviews.

Hitchcock/Truffaut recovers from this point on, diving into Psycho and then into Hitchcock’s role as an innovator of story, plot, effects and pretty much every aspect of filmmaking. If you have no desire to read the book, the film will be entertaining, but it won’t be the education that the book has been for close to 50 years. Do yourself a favor and get the book. It was the best $8 I spent at the bookstore.

Hitchcock/Truffaut - Movie Review by Jeff Mitchell

‘Hitchcock/Truffaut’ showers us with cinematic insight Directed by:  Kent Jones

Starring:  Martin Scorsese, Wes Anderson, David Fincher, Richard Linklater, and more

When Alfred Hitchcock was 4 or 5-years-old, he was placed in a police station jail cell for a few minutes in order to know what prison feels like.  The end results of this somewhat ghoulish “life lesson” are that Hitchcock developed a lifelong fear of the police and showcased some of his fears and obsessions in his films.  For millions of movie fans, Alfred Hitchcock’s films may not be obsessions, but they are certainly revered.

In the fascinating documentary “Hitchcock/Truffaut”, it looks back at the Master of Suspense’s work through the past efforts of French film director, Francois Truffaut.  Truffaut greatly respected Hitchcock, and in 1962, he traveled to Hollywood and interviewed the man for one week.  With an interpreter and an audio recorder in a modest room, Hitchcock candidly spoke about his craft, philosophies and filmography with Truffaut.  These series of conversations turned into a 1966 book titled, “Hitchcock/Truffaut”, and it became a "Bible" of sorts for various filmmakers.

Director Kent Jones’ movie intertwines the actual audio from those 53-year-old talks along with commentary from several prominent directors.  Martin Scorsese, Wes Anderson, David Fincher, Richard Linklater, and others describe what Hitchcock meant to them and their interpretations of his material.  We are treated to key scenes, and these directors explain the genius in which Hitchcock filmed specific shots and how audiences respond to them.

For instance, Scorsese walks us through a scene from “Psycho” (1960) in which Martin Balsam’s character is killed.  As Det. Milton Arbogast (Balsam) slowly walks up the steps – with the camera directly facing him – in the Bates house, Scorsese says that we all know is “he’s going to get it”, but the camera’s point of view suddenly changes to an overheard shot.  After a second or two, we then see – from above - “Mother” nearly sprinting with a knife towards Arbogast.  Hitchcock thrived on the unexpected, and this sudden (and unexpected) change in camera angles raised the hysteria of the scene.  In fact, in this documentary, Hitchcock’s own voice echoes his desire to expect the unexpected in his films.

He exclaimed, “The audience will say, ‘I know what’s coming next.’  I say, ‘Do you?’”

Of course, this film expounds on the infamous shower scene, but also on the purposely bland 35-minute opening in order to set up the audience for aforementioned shocking moment in the Bates Motel.  Director Peter Bogdanovich (“The Last Picture Show”) recounts how he paid a ticket for “Psycho” in 1960 and witnessed – first-hand - how that shower scene generated long, unprecedented shrieks throughout the movie theater.  Listening to Hitchcock and current filmmakers chew over movies like “The Wrong Man” (1956), “The Birds” (1963), “Vertigo” (1958), “Psycho” (1960), and more is nothing short of pure and unadulterated joy for anyone who loves movies.

The focus is mainly on the movies, however, as we do not learn much of Hitchcock’s personal life and marriage to Alma Reville.  We do not learn too much about Truffaut’s life or work either, but his focus with the interviews and his subsequent book was on Hitchcock, and that is where this documentary spends its time.  Narrator Mathieu Amalric (“The Diving Bell and The Butterfly”, “Quantum of Solace”) states that Truffaut’s work paints Hitchcock as “the artist who wrote with a camera”.

With a runtime of only 1 hour 19 minutes, invaluable cinematic facts, quips and insight fly by at such a rapid pace, “Hitchcock/Truffaut” is like any great piece of art, it should be looked over more than once.

In the Heart of the Sea - Movie Review by Michael Clawson

In the Heart of the Sea  

Directed by:  Ron Howard

Starring:  Chris Hemsworth, Brendan Gleeson, Benjamin Walker, Cillian Murphy, Tom Holland

By Michael Clawson of Terminal Volume

In the Heart of the Sea is a movie inspired by a book that was inspired by a story that was inspired by a real event. The movie is filmed with a vast array of computer effects and in 3D so gimmicky it belongs in 1955. Somewhere in all this is Moby-Dick and the Essex, a ship that fought a giant whale and lost horribly, but good luck finding them.

The director of the movie is Ron Howard, a national treasure racing toward clumsy mediocrity, who must have watched Mutiny on the Bounty, Master & Commander, Cast Away and Jaws only to say, “We should just combine all these films into one.” What he comes up with is robustly flat period piece that just can’t find its groove.

It stars Thor beefcake Chris Hemsworth as early 19th century whaler Owen Chase, a veteran seafarer who is placed as the first mate to the incompetent dollop of blandness Captain George Pollard (Benjamin Walker), whose daddy takes the family name so seriously it’s remarkable he didn’t name his son Pollard P. Pollard. Chase and Pollard are immediately bickering like an old married couple as they set sail to exterminate every whale in the high seas.

The boat and it’s crew is mostly worthless, except for Chase, who is apparently God’s only gift to sailing. In an early scene, the crew clumsily can’t even unknot a line, but then His Beloved, Chase, jumps into action and heroically saves the day with an act that would have likely caused great division within a real crew. The film seems to be acutely aware that Hemsworth is Thor, and that audiences won’t settle for anything less than an angelic choir of hero worshiping in every scene.

As the boat sails farther from Nantucket looking for whales, it eventually emerges in the Pacific, where the horizon is filled with blowing spouts. The men clamber down into smaller boats armed with spears and rope and off they go to harpoon a species to death. One sperm whale takes great offense to this and single-finedly destroys some of the small boats and then turns his attention to the big ship. He harpoons the side with his whale face, collapses the hull with his whale tail, tears the mast off, and then sets fire to the cargo. This is some Punisher-level revenge here with this bloodthirsty whale.

The crew, clustered into three small dinghies, is left bobbing in the water with little food, water and hope as they splash around 2,000 miles from the nearest land. There is hunger, thirst, suicides, cannibalism, more whale attacks, sickness, disease … a laundry list of bad stuff. Their journey, once all about killing, is now about survival.

From a distance In the Heart of the Sea is dazzling adventure movie, about nature’s pitiless contempt of man’s hubris on the ocean. But step closer to the film and it slowly starts to crumble apart. The cinematography, while incredible in scope, is largely CGI shots with phony lens flare and artificial light. Some wide shots are clearly on the ocean in an actual ship, but much of it was composed on a set with green screen, with the largest concentration of water in the bottles that the cast and crew are drinking from. The characters are thinly written, and often are obscured by beards and dirty makeup. They are given story payoffs that aren’t earned, and thrown together with such haste that a junk drawer has better organization. For instance, Chase and Pollard, at odds with each other the whole film, somehow find an admirable resolution with each other. But why? The film comes to a close before it can tell you.

Scenes with a wife establish Chase as a husband and father, but that goes nowhere. And scenes with Chase and his greedy employer are agonizingly forced, and completely unwarranted, but they’re included because the film needed a villain in capitalism and dishonesty — apparently the ocean, the sun, lack of food and water, and a murderous spree-killing whale weren’t enough in the villain department.

Making matters so much worse is the 3D, which never lets you forget you’re watching a movie with a third dimension. Characters reach into the screen to grab bottles, spears poke out over the audience, foreground objects obstruct shots, the ocean is photographed at low angles to accentuate waves and ocean swells, and rooms are crowded with dangling knick-knacks, all in an effort to transport you into the world of the film. It’s shameless 3D, and entirely unnecessary.

One part of the film I haven’t yet told you about is the story device: the tale of the Essex is told by the last surviving crewmember (Brendan Gleeson) to a young Herman Melville (Ben Whishaw), who is determined to gather information for his next book, the great Moby-Dick. I sorta enjoyed these scenes, particularly Gleeson and Michelle Fairley, who plays his wife. But here’s a letdown: these scenes never happened, and Melville only read stories about the Essex.

Ron Howard needs smaller films, more personal films. And when someone suggests 3D or CGI, he should throw the screenplay at them. If he had the ferocity of this whale, there would be no stopping him.

In the Heart of the Sea - Movie Review by Jeff Mitchell

Good performances and special effects keep ‘In the Heart of the Sea’ afloat  

Directed by:  Ron Howard

Starring:  Chris Hemsworth, Brendan Gleeson, Benjamin Walker, Cillian Murphy, Tom Holland

Living in present-day Phoenix, one does not have much need for whale oil.  In fact, with a pair of recent documentaries – “Blackfish” (2013) and “The Cove” (2009) – uncovering and presenting the abuse and/or slaughter of marine mammals, I do not have the stomach for any sort of whale hunting.   In 1821, however, the nation consumed much whale oil, because its citizens used it for lighting their homes, and for the folks living on Nantucket Island, hunting these giant mammals is also big business.  Sailing out to an unforgiving sea and pursuing (and killing) these creatures takes an experienced hand, and in director Ron Howard’s “In the Heart of the Sea”, Owen Chase (Chris Hemsworth) is that person.

Unfortunately, Owen has fallen victim to that timeless phenomenon known as nepotism, and George Pollard (Benjamin Walker) – with his decorated family name – takes command of a new whaling ship, the Essex.   Although at odds, the pair – along with a worthy and anxious crew – sail out to the Atlantic to fill a couple hundred empty barrels with whale oil, but they will find something nobody bargained for, a 100 foot whale who will fight back.

Howard delivers many stunning sights of the Essex on the open ocean, and these moments during the first 75 minutes of the film truly provide awe with serene, sunny days and the unholy churn of brutal storms.   Despite the predictable and routine conflicts between Pollard and Chase – which will obviously cause future problems with the ship – Hemsworth’s charisma and the oceanic visuals keep our attention.    Once the Essex finds troubled waters, CGI constructs of giant waves and wakes take over, and combined with loud crashes, the effects generate angst and worry for the audience.

Matthew (Cillian Murphy) and Thomas (Tom Holland) play Owen’s charismatic allies, provide a sense of appreciated camaraderie and come in handy during the first whaling scene.  Animal lovers will find the hunting and cutting up of the whale truly unpleasant, but the timing of much-needed humor helps us swallow the carnage, like adding a sugar cube to a dose of castor oil.    The storm and early whaling sequences are simply setups for a battle with the previously-mentioned mammoth whale, and this man vs. sea beast battle does not disappoint.   Again, the special effects provide some astounding and dangerous images, but immediately after the battle, the script takes a hard and sudden turn.

Howard’s picture feels like two different movies, and with a 2 hour 1 minute runtime, he is not afraid to take his time to deliver the story (or stories).   The second half is decidedly slower and not as engaging, but it did hold my attention.  It should be noted the new drama for the crew is not 100 feet in length, but, quite frankly, the situation is infinitely more desperate.

Telling this big fish story – 30 years later in retrospect - is a middle-aged Thomas (Brendan Gleeson), and Gleeson’s skill in front of the camera gives this tall tale a realistic view and a true sense of danger.   Thomas’ audience knows - through his authentic apprehension – that his recollection is factual.

It is also factual that “In the Heart of Sea” does have its shortcomings, but its special effects and performances provide enough cover to make it a worthwhile movie experience.   At the very least, one will be thankful that we can enjoy artificial light in 2015 without the use of whale oil.  (3/4 stars)

Krampus - Movie Review by Jeff Mitchell

‘Krampus’ does not grant enough horror or comedy wishes  

Director:  Michael Dougherty

Starring:  Adam Scott, Toni Collette, David Koechner

“You’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch.”

Decades after first watching “How the Grinch Stole Christmas!”, this familiar lyric from the famous song still plays in my head every December.   The Grinch – a brilliant Dr. Seuss creation – carries himself as the ultimate Christmas baddy with some obvious parallels to another holiday villain, Scrooge.   On the hand, after watching “Krampus”, I do not think The Grinch’s or Scrooge’s respective mean streaks can hold an advent candle to the malevolence of this sinister antihero named in this film’s title.    Who or what is Krampus?  It is a shadowy, large creature who sports long, angular horns, drags iron chains, walks with goat or horse-like hoofs, and carries a nasty attitude with bloody and deadly intention.  Say what you want about The Grinch, but he just wanted to take away Christmas, not take away lives.

In director/co-writer Michael Dougherty’s horror/comedy, he features this miserable demon’s descent on a nameless suburban town, but most unfortunately and surprisingly, “Krampus” is not terribly scary nor very funny.    The cast certainly is made up of some talented actors with natural comedic gifts.  Adam Scott, Toni Collette and David Koechner play a nice-guy dad, his well-intentioned wife and a goofy brother-in-law.    The setting is Tom (Scott) and Sarah’s (Collette) beautiful home, and they host Christmas for their family and “close” relatives, namely Howard (Koechner) and Linda’s (Allison Tolman) dysfunctional domestic clan.  Koechner tries to channel the “Vacation” films as he gives his best oafish Uncle Eddie impression, and the kids follow suit.

Dougherty tries to throw this kinfolk toxic mess under one roof for some intentional hilarious moments, but the jokes and associated conflicts just feel uncomfortable rather than funny or interesting. Howard’s twin girls repeatedly refer to Tom’s sensitive son Max as “Maxipad”, and this is one of several examples of caustic behavior that does not generate laughs, but “Oh, wonderful” sarcastic sighs instead.  The script, however, needs to be deliberately harsh, so Krampus has reasons to appropriately deliver “punishment” to naughty girls and boys of all ages.

Not everyone, however, is naughty, including goodhearted Grandma Omi (Krista Stadler) who speaks German to everyone (through most of the movie), but the other family members annoyingly respond to her in English.    Max, his sister Beth (Stefania LaVie Owen), Tom, and Sarah are nice enough too, but most of the townsfolk are not.  In fact, in an effective opening scene, we watch dozens and dozens of folks trample, push and punch each other to grab spectacular bargains on Black Friday.   With little Christmas cheer and a very specific “anti-wish”, this antagonist - supported by many evil henchman - feels justified to inflict some painful justice on unsuspecting suburbia.

Regrettably, the proposed tension-filled sequences in which Krampus and his minions attempt to enter local homes and capture or kill all family members – including a 1-year-old baby – seem as synthetic as artificial snow falling on a Hollywood sound stage.   The sets look like the filmmakers quickly assembled them last week, while the chase scenes between monsters and humans feel like a production of the 1980s NBC television series, “Amazing Stories”.   There’s nothing particularly wrong with “Amazing Stories”, but that show’s overall vibe is three decades old.

With counterfeit backdrops and contrived characters, almost everything in the film really feels inauthentic, and in turn, blows up our suspension of disbelief and any chance of real scares (Well, at least for this critic, but admittedly, this movie probably would make my 9-year-old niece jump a bit.).    “Almost everything” is the key phrase, because the family dog does add one genuine moment of humor when he suddenly devours an “edible” gremlin.  In addition, Grandma Omi reflects upon her childhood in a highly engaging, animated stop motion sequence.   While the rest of “Krampus” looks plastic, it truly is ironic that the movie’s rare moment of authenticity comes from its lone animated scene.

Speaking of animation, I am suddenly thinking of a better Christmas story.

You’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch.    (2/4 stars)

Creed - Movie Review by Jeff Mitchell

Jordan and Stallone form a winning combination in ‘Creed’  

Director:  Ryan Coogler

Starring:  Michael B. Jordan, Sylvester Stallone, Tessa Thompson, Phylicia Rashad, Tony Bellew

Forty years ago, the name Rocky Balboa wove into the fabric of America’s consciousness and solidified its place with a Best Picture Oscar win for “Rocky” in March 1977.    Of course, the kindhearted pugilist played by Sylvester Stallone spurred five sequels from 1979 to 2006, as his name is now synonymous with Rocky.  Now, at 69 years-old, Stallone reprises his most iconic role, but the focus is on a different name, Creed.   Apollo Creed is Rocky’s most famous opponent, and in 2015, Rocky trains Adonis Johnson (Michael B. Jordan), who happens to be The King of Sting’s son.

This is the seventh Rocky film, and my initial reaction – before seeing it – was: “Wow.  Does the world really need another ‘Rocky’ movie?”

While I thoroughly enjoyed the first three films, I found “Rocky IV” (1985) – and his fight with the monstrous Russian, Ivan Drago (Dolph Lundgren) - tiresome and manipulative.  Admittedly, I have not seen the fifth and sixth pictures in the series, so, needless to say, walking into “Creed”, my skepticism reached Round 15.  After experiencing the film, however, I am happy and surprised to report “Creed” is a terrifically entertaining picture with wonderful odes to the past while simultaneously moving forward towards a bright future.

Within the first 10 to 15 minutes of the film, we meet Adonis as an adult in present day Los Angeles.  With a brand new promotion at Smith Boardley Financial Group, Adonis knows success in the business world, but his passion is boxing.   Although Apollo died before Adonis was born, this eager Millennial shadowboxes to video clips from his dad’s fights and wants to follow in his footsteps.  So, Adonis heads to Philadelphia, PA with the hope that one man, Rocky Balboa, can train him for the squared circle.

Director/co-writer Ryan Coogler (“Fruitvale Station”) places Adonis in the gritty streets of the City of Brotherly Love, and soon – after an apprehensive beginning – Rocky shows some fatherly or rather “unclely” love to young Creed and agrees to train him.   Coogler makes some terrific decisions with the story by presenting Rocky and Adonis’ relationship as a positive and loose one.   While Rocky dusts off the cobwebs from his internal boxing training manual, he now has a pupil willing to listen and follow his every word.   They form a reciprocal bond while their age and cultural differences present several light-hearted moments and good feelings for the audience.   For instance, Rocky learns that boxing drills written down on paper can be captured via a cell phone photo and imported to a mysterious “cloud”, and Adonis discovers that his teacher wakes up to 1970’s easy listening blasting on an alarm clock at 5:00am.

The screenplay and Stallone and Jordan’s friendly on-screen chemistry allow the audience to enjoy several “Rocky-isms” while getting acquainted with the apparent heir to the Rocky series.   Adonis even affectionately refers to Rocky as “Unc” for uncle, but their connection is not always handled with kid gloves.   Coogler also includes some trouble between the two.   Although the friction does feel a little mechanical at times, one builds such hope to see Adonis succeed (with Rocky at his side), Coogler makes it easy to buy what Stallone and Jordan are selling.   Tessa Thompson’s character, Bianca, also enters the picture as a friend and potential love interest for Adonis, and they share some quiet and lovely moments.    The film devotes lots of time to build the lead characters’ relationships, and the adequate pacing is refreshing.

Now, with all this talk of training, friendship and love, the movie, of course, does leave plenty of room for boxing matches as well.    I will not divulge the number or the specifics of the fights, but let’s just say the film significantly raises the stakes within a 2 hour 12 minute narrative.   Like any Rocky movie, the fights in the ring offer nonstop action and suspense.   While Adonis clashed with his opponent(s) in the ring, I found myself shifting and jostling in my movie theater seat, and at times sitting on the edge of it.  Jordan looks and moves like a convincing boxer, and Coogler offers some camera angles not typical of any Rocky movie - or any other boxing movie – I have ever seen.  During the matches, Coogler seemingly places his camera just behind, or almost sitting on, the boxers’ shoulders, so the audience has an extremely close and tight peek into each and every punch and block while they circle and fight.

While Creed lands jabs at ‘Pretty’ Ricky Conlan’s (Tony Bellew) jaw, the close-up camerawork – at times – is nothing short of jaw-dropping.  Coogler’s work within the ring feels truly revolutionary, and I hope that every future boxing movie follows his lead.  While I am on the subject – and perhaps it is unchecked enthusiasm from such an enjoyable cinematic experience – I am looking forward to many future Creed movies.  As mentioned earlier, Rocky movies have lived for 40 years, so perhaps Jordan will put on the gloves through the year 2055.  (3.5/4 stars)

The Good Dinosaur - Movie Review by Jeff Mitchell

‘The Good Dinosaur’ visually roars, but the story does not soar  

Director: Peter Sohn

Starring:  Jeffrey Wright, Frances McDormand, Steve Zahn, Anna Paquin, Sam Elliott, and Raymond Ochoa

“We aim above the mark to hit the mark.”  - Ralph Waldo Emerson

A young and impressionable kid named Arlo (Raymond Ochoa) repeatedly tries - via his mother (Frances McDormand) and father’s (Jeffrey Wright) guidance – to make his mark in the world.   Regrettably, he continually falls short, but the problem is not his aim.  Fear – seemingly miles tall and wide – stands as the main obstacle in his path.  Of course overcoming one’s fears is a plot device used in cinema for a hundred years, and – for a change of pace - this movie is set millions of years ago to convey its messages and life lessons.

You see, Arlo is a well-intentioned, walking and talking dinosaur, and the gang at Pixar present a film with an interesting premise:  the asteroid which allegedly killed off the dinosaurs harmlessly flies by Earth instead.  Dinosaurs then evolve to be farmers and/or ranchers and roam the planet with their less advanced human counterparts.    Many of the movie’s opening scenes throw us into a state of pleasant confusion as a gentle Brontosaurus family tends to their corn farm in a warm valley which rests near the base of the Clawtooth Mountains.   They dig trenches, plant seeds and water their crops with great efficiency and care, and life seems wonderfully serene in the Quaternary Period.   During these nice moments, the audience also braces for conflict to arise, and it rests with Arlo’s internal, aforementioned struggle to make a difference or make his mark.

Disappointingly, the film turns into a one-note story in which Arlo becomes lost and needs to discover his inner strength to find his way back home.   We have seen these narratives before, and “The Lion King” did a much better job through intriguing side-characters, memorable music and increased tension with a nasty betrayal inside the family circle.   In “The Good Dinosaur”, Arlo is simply scared to try most anything, including feeding the chickens each morning, so the filmmakers set a low bar for the movie’s eventual conflict resolution.

The strength of the film is not Arlo’s internal strife, but the relationship between Brontosaurus and his new found human, a small boy named Spot (Jack Bright).   Director/co-writer Peter Sohn reverses expected roles as Spot – an orphan – acts, walks and howls like a dog and becomes Arlo’s trusty companion.   Many moments of whimsy and strange wonder appear on-screen as Spot runs on all fours, sniffs out various scents, growls, and brings his master various items to eat.   Sometimes the scenes generate genuine belly laughs, other times, they offer some head-tilting flashes of strange curiosity.   At one point when Spot stops to howl - because he misses his human family – we realize his behavior is 100 percent canine.

Arlo on the other hand sports a Gumby-like green hide and an almost equally Gumby-like pliability.   With Arlo’s limbs clumsily flopping along the rough terrain, he needs Spot’s “wilderness smarts” and nifty dog-like nimbleness to get out of various sticky situations.  Their relationship encounters some struggles, but the growth of their friendship entertains.   They meet some friends and foes along the way but - quite frankly - neither quite connect.   Some senses of bonding and danger appear on their travels, but, ultimately, because of the singularly and simply-focused goal of just getting back home, any appreciation of alliances or fights feel recycled and rehearsed.   Instead of the film drawing me into the adventure, I became distracted trying to figure out which movie stars were lending their voices.   I had to wait for the credits to find out Steve Zahn and Anna Paquin made appearances but found no trouble discerning Sam Elliott’s wonderfully distinctive cadence and pitch as a Tyrannosaurus rex named Butch.

I must say Pixar “penned” some amazing animated constructs of the period’s wilderness.   Some of the cartoon designs of rain, river rapids with waterfalls and evergreen trees littering the background truly astonish.   “The Good Dinosaur” is a spectacular picture from a purely visual perspective but does not aim high enough to make its mark.  (2.5/4 stars)

Secret in Their Eyes - Movie Review by Jeff Mitchell

‘Secret in Their Eyes’ retells an intriguing story but will not repeat an Oscar win  

Writer/Director:  Billy Ray

Starring:  Chiwetel Ejiofor, Nicole Kidman and Julia Roberts

“The Secret in Their Eyes” was Argentina’s 2009 entry to the 82^nd Academy Awards, and on Mar. 7, 2010, this film scored an upset over “The White Ribbon” and won the Best Foreign Language Film Oscar.   Not knowing anything about this movie at the time, I rightfully wanted to see it and, quite frankly, felt a bit cheated it was not yet available in U.S. theaters.

Fortunately, “The Secret in Their Eyes” opened at Harkins Camelview a month or two later, so I promptly zipped over to Scottsdale and experienced this highly-praised legal drama.   As the film ended, the credits rolled and the warm house lights began to light the dark movie theater, I did not know if I would see a better film that year.   As 2010 came to a close, “The Secret in Their Eyes” was, in fact, my #1 film of the year.

Five years later, Hollywood created an American version of this story starring A-list heavyweights Chiwetel Ejiofor, Nicole Kidman and Julia Roberts.   This 2015 film – which follows the overall narrative of the original - is a solid and intriguing remake with some darker tones, but it lacks some of the subtle nuances which made the 2009 movie much more human.

The setting is 2002 Los Angeles in the wake of 9/11, and anti-terror agencies find themselves on high alert for a potential next attack by Muslim extremists.   Searching for sleeper cells in any available corner of the city can surely breed unhealthy doses of paranoia.  For agents or officers like Jess (Roberts), she balances the stress of a life-and-death daily grind with a content and happy home life.   Very early in the film, however, a horrific and senseless crime shatters her family, and her close friend/colleague Ray (Ejiofor) becomes singularly focused to catch the man who did it.   Ray tries to elicit help from his new boss, a Harvard-educated lawyer named Claire (Kidman), to help, but political entanglements of a post-9/11 world make it much more complicated.

Meanwhile, Jess suffers with grief as Roberts delivers a convincing and heartbreaking performance of a woman attempting to cope with loss.  Roberts couples a stripped-down appearance – with unstyled hair and a skin tone resembling expired skim milk – with distinct undertones of rage and misery coursing through her veins and sometimes settling behind her exhausted eyes.   There is no question that Roberts delivers some of her best work of her career in this film.

All of the other lead actors offer good performances as writer/director Billy Ray (“Captain Phillips”, “The Hunger Games”) takes the characters and the audience on a story which continuously bounces between two time periods:  2002 and 2015.   Billy Ray skillfully transports us to the period when the abovementioned crime took place.  He also brings us to present day in which unsettled scores from 13 years prior still need to be resolved.   Sometimes, it is initially confusing which year we are observing, but then we notice Ray’s graying hair or Jess’ more haggard presence, and then we become settled.

The two time periods keep the audience challenged, but the material intrigues on its own.   Ray, Jess, Claire, and another agent named Bumpy (Dean Norris) try to find this unknown suspect through the use of detective elbow grease, perseverance and an unlikely clue: the look of one person’s eyes in a random photo.  “Secret in Their Eyes” not only refers to a look into a criminal’s “soul” but a glance from Ray as well.    Ray is in love with Claire, but he cannot keep much of a secret.      Unfortunately, secret or not, I did not see much chemistry between Ejiofor and Kidman, so any sexual tension with Ray and Claire did not translate on screen for me.  This may not be the fault of the actors, however, because the ever-present darkness of a post-9/11 state of mind truly erodes any cinematic mood for an office romance.   On the other hand, Ray and Claire did work well as a team to weave through legal and political entanglements in trying to bring in the key – and only – suspect, and that particular strain on their characters felt real.

Ultimately, “Secret in Their Eyes” tells an effective story of two ideas:  a victim’s reaction to a senseless act and the power that political machinery has over the average man or woman.   In both ways, the film succeeds and offers some lasting and haunting moments, but as mentioned earlier, the gloomier tone of the 2015 film does not bring the emotional impacts of its 2009 predecessor, which uses a gentler hand.  I will not make it a secret:  If you have to choose, see the 2009 film.   Then again, you cannot lose by watching the American adaption.  Just do not expect another Oscar upset in 2016.  (3/4 stars)

Hunger Games: Mockingjay — Part 2 - Movie Review by Michael Clawson

Hunger Games: Mockingjay — Part 2  

Director: Francis Lawrence

Starring:  Jennifer Lawrence, Josh Hutcherson, Liam Hemsworth, Woody Harrelson, Elizabeth Banks, Julianne Moore, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Jeffrey Wright, Willow Shields, Sam Claflin

by Michael Clawson of Terminal Volume

Don’t go into Hunger Games: Mockingjay — Part 2 expecting a warm welcome. It opens with a smash cut to a close-up of Jennifer Lawrence’s face, wounded and terrified. You can almost see the stretch marks on the edge of the frame where Hollywood’s greed tore the film in two.

See, the last film ended with Katniss Everdeen (Lawrence), perennial hero of the Hunger Games and recently crowned propaganda princess for a rebellion, getting choked out by her faux-boyfriend, Peeta (Josh Hutcherson), who was stung by a really angry bee during a torture session far, far away. Katniss licks her wounds, pulls herself back up, and off the movie goes as if another year hasn’t passed between the last film and this one. We’re older and wiser people, Hunger Games Colon Mockingjay Em Dash Part 2. And we see through your tricks, but oh nevermind here’s my money, take it all because a fool and his money are soon parted, especially in the world of young adult fiction, where single books get multiple films regardless of content.

Part 2 almost works better if you imagine Part 1 doesn’t exist. Because what happened in Part 1 — Katniss is whisked to safety from a dystopian government, she becomes the poster girl of a rebellion, and she questions her sanity amid total destruction — could have certainly been accomplished in a 30-minute deleted scene here in the finale. As we pick back up with Katniss, little has changed because it’s been like 2 minutes after the events of Part 1. The war trudges on, President Snow (Donald Sutherland) still taunts the rebels, and rebel leader Coin (Julianne Moore) is still a villain in disguise.

Katniss, though, has had enough and she vows to kill Snow, which sends her and a bunch of other rebels off into the battlefield, where Snow’s troops have hidden traps that are as ineffective as a box propped up with a stick on a string. They can be seen on a holographic scope, and someone has to practically walk up to them and wave, insert a quarter, do three Hail Marys and then not move for 30 seconds. The only trap that actually kills anyone is either wire-triggered oil or oil-triggered wire — I’m still not sure. There are also naked mole-zombies, who are unleashed in the sewers. I think these are cameos from the cave monsters in The Descent, although I didn’t see their names in the end credits.

This is a silly world. It always has been. I appreciate the design and look of it, but it’s just too ridiculous to take serious, from the Nazi overtones to the bizarr-o fashion choice. The only thing we have grounding us amid the visual bonanza is Lawrence, who might be doing the best one-note performance of her career. In the first film, we saw her innocence shattered as she was thrown into a deadly reality competition. We saw her regain her composure, rattle the cages, rewrite all the rules of the game and come out the other side a fierce warrior. The other films have not seen as much growth, and here she is clearly playing a depressed soldier rattled by the loss of her friends and family. Her rebellious spirit comes out, but not enough times to see Katniss as something more than a wounded pawn on Snow-Coin’s battlefield.

It has momentum, though, especially in the final act, which plunges Katniss and Peeta deeper and deeper into Snow’s minefield of traps. Of course, if you’ve read the books, you know what happens next. Spoiler alert: Katniss is knocked out for the most important parts of the movie. This scene was mishandled in the book, and here that mishandling has been adapted to film. Why, why, why would anyone let so much plot happen off screen as the hero is unconcious? Imagine Luke Skywalker flying his X-Wing up to the Death Star and right before he banks into the trenches is knocked out. Cut to sick bay, where Han and Chewbacca congratulate him on their victory. That’s what happens here. And it’s idiotic.

What immediately follows that is handled much better, including a lovely coda with Katniss and Peeta amid the bombed-out ruins of their homes, but this film need to deviate from its source material in a major way, and it doesn’t, at least not where it counts.

Overall, though, the film ties up the events of the franchise nicely. And the characters are given proper closure. But in no way is this a model for how a franchise should be closed up. It needed to be three movies, not four. It certainly didn’t leave me hungry.

Brooklyn - Movie Review by Jeff Mitchell

‘Brooklyn’ never looked so beautiful  

Director:  John Crowley

Writer:  Nick Hornby (screenwriter), Colm Toibin (novel)

Starring:  Saoirse Ronan, Jim Broadbent, Emory Cohen, Domhnall Gleeson

“Brooklyn” – The recent and rampant rhetoric of deporting millions of illegal immigrants from the United States has certainly divided a nation.  Sure, a sizeable percentage of Americans agree with this idea, but we should also remember that the country is almost entirely composed of descendants of immigrants, both legal and illegal.    In the 19^th Century and the early portion of the 20^th, extreme disdain for Irish immigrants in the United States emerged as an ugly scene as well.    Director John Crowley’s “Brooklyn” is the story of a young Irish girl named Eilis (Saoirse Ronan) and her journey from County Wexford in Ireland to the bustling streets of New York City in the 1950s.  This film contains none of the previously mentioned ugliness and instead, is nothing short of beautiful.   In fact, “Brooklyn” is the most gorgeously-filmed movie I’ve seen so far this year.

In the beginning of the picture, life for Eilis is fine but not ideal nor beautiful.   Working in Miss Kelly’s general store, Eilis’s caustic and critical boss is particularly good at making certain customers and her employees feel small.    Not wanting to feel small any longer, Eilis turns her eyes on a big trip to America where Father Flood (Jim Broadbent) found her a place to live and a job at a posh department store called Bartocci’s.   These are modest beginnings, but they could become the foundation of bigger dreams.   Unfortunately, Eilis does not quite notice the figurative foundation, as she feels homesick for The Emerald Isle.

In fact, she mentions to Father Flood, “I wish that I could stop feeling that I want to be an Irish girl in Ireland.”

On the other hand, Crowley and screenwriter Nick Hornby weave plenty of light moments for Eilis in the form of good company in her boarding house and a potential love interest too.   The film’s biggest laughs and other moments of genuine warmth take place in Mrs. Kehoe’s boarding house.     Most scenes focus around the dinner table as Mrs. Kehoe (Julie Walters) inquires about Eilis’s (and the other girls’) day.   Each time at supper, the young ladies playfully tease each other about dresses, make-up secrets and potential suitors, while Mrs. Kehoe verbally drags them back in line with important nuggets of advice like, “Giddiness is the 8^th deadly sin.”

The writing in these scenes is particular strong and important to the overall story arc. While Eilis suffers from massive insecurity about being a stranger in a strange land, her boarding housemates could really sharpen their claws on her vulnerable, porcelain skin.  Thankfully, Hornby balances gentle scratches with emotional, warm figurative hugs from her new sisters.   These carefully crafted scenes truly bring pure cinematic delight and remind us why we love the movies.

In fact, since “Brooklyn” is set in the early 1950s, the overall tone captures the spirit of films from “yester decade”.     Although a curse word may have spoken, I didn’t remember one during the film’s entire 1 hour 51 minute runtime.   Everything from automobiles to hairstyles to clothing to a throwback soundtrack to talk of dances, the Brooklyn Dodgers, good manners, and bathing suits called bathing costumes, the film is a complete transport.    Helping this time machine trip are stunning uses of costume design with bright forest green overcoats and orange dresses, while sharp cinematography delights our palates with shiny blue skies, a busy metropolis and lush Irish landscapes.

Surely, Oscar nominations for Best Costume Design and Cinematography should find their way to “Brooklyn”, and the lighting -  from small, subtle glows in an Irish bedroom where sisters converse to ultra-hot sunlight pouring through a door from a dark Ellis Island checkpoint -  perfectly touches the screen.    Crowley took so much care with the movie’s visuals, the film’s beauty almost overshadows this grounded story about family.

Family and the all the emotions – responsibility, joy, guilt, heartbreak, difficult choices, understanding, and love – of this complicated “kinship entity” present themselves as the heart of Eilis’s travels, and ultimately, her heart needs to make a choice between two different lives in two different lands.    “A River Runs Through It” (1992) - a Scottish family’s story told through their love of fly fishing in Montana - is the closest comparison I can make to “Brooklyn”.   Although, the topography of the environments is vastly different, these two form distinct parallels with family and wading through one’s surroundings.  Both films are also beautiful, and in the case of “Brooklyn”, it is wonderful to tag the word “beautiful” to an immigrant story told in 2015.    (4/4 stars)

Love the Coopers - Movie Review by Jeff Mitchell

A crowded narrative makes it difficult to ‘Love the Coopers’  

Director:  Jessie Nelson

Writer:  Steven Rogers

Starring:  Diane Keaton, John Goodman, June Squibb, Marisa Tomei, Ed Helms, Alan Arkin, Olivia Wilde, and Amanda Seyfried

“It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year”

My father used to sing this classic Christmas song – seemingly – every day between Thanksgiving and Christmas while we were growing up.    True to form, my dad only knew the one line: It’s the most wonderful time of the year. He loved to repeat, so his singing – of one choice lyric of one song - became a daily staple of our lives (like it or not) for about 30 days in between the two holidays each and every year.

The most wonderful time of the year?  Well, that’s debatable, but that’s family.

In “Love the Coopers”, director Jessie Nelson (“I Am Sam”, “Corrina, Corrina”) packages a Christmas film, and the movie poster’s tagline states, “You Can’t Regift Family.”    This is a PG-13 Christmas movie, so the content is not for the entire family, but in many ways, the Coopers could represent any American household, because they are a bit dysfunctional.  In other words, they are human.

Many big name stars make up an impressive ensemble cast of humans in this movie, including Diane Keaton, John Goodman, June Squibb, Marisa Tomei, Ed Helms, Alan Arkin, Olivia Wilde, and Amanda Seyfried, and Nelson places their characters on a course for Christmas Eve dinner at Sam (Goodman) and Charlotte’s (Keaton) suburban Pittsburgh home.    The family dinner does not arrive until the film’s second act, and prior to this amazing-looking turkey meal – including all of the trimmings, table placings and household decorations which would make the CEO of Crate & Barrel blush with pride – we learn about the emotional damage each one of the Coopers is currently enduring.

The 30 year-old and perpetually single Eleanor (Wilde) cannot bear walking into the house without a boyfriend or a fiancé on her arm.     Bucky (Arkin) – who is a great-grandfather - feels abandoned because his crush, a 20 year-old waitress named Ruby (Seyfried), is moving to Hot Coffee, Mississippi.   (Yes, I know, this relationship and Ruby’s plans are bizarre.)  Charlotte’s sister Emma (Tomei) gets into some legal trouble.  Hank (Helms) loses his job and his children feel the effects of his divorce.  Speaking of marital problems, Sam and Charlotte are talking about splitting up as well.

Merry Christmas, right?

Well, the script tries to balance all of this strife with humor, of the conversational and slapstick kind.     Writer Steven Rogers certainly pens rich material for each of the characters.  He pairs up each Cooper with a person to converse with, and we learn lots of details about their lives and, of course, their problems.   By and large, I love colorful writing, but I have two major issues with the narrative in “Love the Coopers”.

First, the players’ stories are so dense and filled with so many piles of facts and elements of their lives, the characters feel inauthentic.   With small reveals like a career “peaking at 19”, a first romantic encounter with “My Sharona” playing in the background, not feeling good enough on a skating rink as a kid, and lending 67 movies to a trusted friend are repeatedly barreled down on the audience like we are standing on the side of a freeway as drivers blurt out anecdotes while blowing past us at 80 mph.   Certainly, one can relate to the individual tales of woe, and they do occasionally connect, but the overall blitzkrieg of verbal jabber is overwhelming.

Secondly, the aforementioned pairing of the characters created six different points of conflict and engagement, but, regrettably, I only found one remotely believable.   As an example, Emma gets herself arrested and while pleading her case – in the back of a police car – the officer (Anthony Mackie) willingly receives life counseling from her.   I must admit, a policeman has never stuffed me in the back seat of his car, but I am pretty certain I would not ask about his childhood relationship with his mother.   Normally, one has to suspend disbelief when watching a science fiction movie, but I found myself struggling and eventually giving up – in an “Oh Brother” moment - when the officer started opening up to his suspect’s “thoughtful” inquiry.

Most unfortunately, this holiday movie feels completely manufactured and engineered rather than organically and genuinely composed.   Keaton is usually good – and (quite frankly) typecast – as the “has it all together” matriarch, and with an exceptional cast, “Love the Coopers” has the look of a solid holiday experience.    Along the way, we are treated to some wonderful sights of the season like dachshunds dressed in Christmas outfits, gingerbread men and women wearing thongs, 37 snow globes, and constant falling snow.   We also get some thoughtful insights into what makes us human and some very funny moments as well.  Squibb (“Nebraska”) is particularly hilarious as Aunt Fishy.   On the other hand, as a poorly-constructed, ham-handed plot device takes the audience to the movie’s third act and eventually towards the meaning of family, I was thinking back to much better Christmas movies.

Where is a fragile “French” leg lamp or Zuzu’s pedals when you need them?

How about some Christmas carolers?  Perhaps, some could swing by and sing the lyric “It’s the most wonderful time of the year” a few hundred times.  (2/4 stars)  

Spectre - Movie Review by Monte Yazzie

Spectre  

Director: Sam Mendes

Starring: Daniel Craig, Christoph Waltz, Ralph Fiennes, Ben Whishaw, Naomie Harris, Dave Bautista, Monica Bellucci, and Léa Seydoux

148 minutes

Sony Pictures

Daniel Craig returns to the role of British spy James Bond for the fourth time in the twenty-fourth installment of the long running franchise. With director Sam Mendes taking the reins for the second time, previously crafting the exceptional “Skyfall”, the James Bond saga continues, this time with additional winks and nods to the past but still offering the usual structure of a new villain hell-bent on taking over the world amidst a bombardment of explosions and highly complicated maneuvers. In “Spectre” the excitement and action typified by the James Bond legacy is well intact, it starts with a “bang” and continues with even bigger “booms”. However at 148 minutes even the most extravagant setting and exciting action scene, which are prevalent here, can’t hide the lackluster and slow moving narrative that makes “Spectre” seem just like a typical spy film and not the spectacle that defines James Bond.

Bond (Daniel Craig) begins the film targeting a bad guy in one of the many exotic locales that will make appearances throughout the film. Followed in one long take through the streets, up an elevator, down a hall, and into a hotel room, the environment is established beautifully. An explosion annihilates a building and Bond barely escapes, but so does the bad guy. A chase ensues through crowded streets of people dressed in gorgeous Day of the Dead costumes and onto a helicopter. It’s a grand welcome to the beginning of the film. Director of Photography Hoyte Van Hoytema shot “Spectre” on 35mm, establishing a nostalgic atmosphere that works for many of the scenes.

Everything settles into the usual 007 routines, M (Ralph Fiennes) doesn’t want Bond to ruffle any more feathers, Moneypenney (Naomie Harris) is still the strongest and most steadfast companion for Bond, and Q (Ben Whishaw) quickly introduces Bond to high-tech gadgets and a stunning new Aston Martin equipped with more than just the standard “bells and whistles”. Bond’s new mission involves tracking down a man who is part of a global crime syndicate, an important missing link for Bond’s past.

The villain this time around is Academy Award winning actor Christoph Waltz, who is a fine addition to the Bond legacy of evil geniuses. Waltz, with his distinctive accent and gleefully menacing smile, is an amusing combination of attributes from past Bond villains. The intimidating presence of Dave Bautista, who plays an assassin tasked with killing 007, also adds to the formidability of the operation, especially so when Bond scrappily squares off against the forceful foe aboard a train.

Daniel Craig has grown more comfortable since “Casino Royale”, playing Bond in each film with increased humanity, at one moment on the verge of losing a fistfight or losing control of his calculated emotions. In “Spectre” Bond is somewhat more laid-back, given moments to show emotional intensity but also the playful debonair style that Bond is known for. Mr. Craig does this all with ease.

These characters all play their roles to the best of their ability; unfortunately the issue with “Spectre” comes mostly from a rambling narrative that is overlong by almost 30 minutes and filled with confusing transitions about global terrorism, environmental catastrophes, and political conspiracies in an attempt to create some kind of intriguing puzzle that mostly feels like filler between the action scenes. Still the action is frequent and some of the scenes are very well composed; an airplane/SUV chase through snowy mountains and a car chase through the streets of Rome are especially fun.

“Spectre” tries to be more like the 007 of the past but it struggles to execute throughout mostly because Daniel Craig is a different kind of James Bond. Mr. Craig has been adamant about not playing this character again but that doesn’t mean the franchise will end. The next James Bond will have large shoes to fill as Mr. Craig helped compose a 007 that was more than just a nice suit with a license to kill.

Monte’s Rating

3.25 out of 5.00

Spectre - Movie Review by Michael Clawson

Spectre  

Director: Sam Mendes

Starring: Daniel Craig, Ralph Fiennes, Naomie Harris, Ben Whishaw, Rory Kinnear, Christoph Waltz, Léa Seydoux, Dave Bautista, Monica Bellucci, Andrew Scott

By Michael Clawson of Terminal Volume

At a point late into Spectre, the new James Bond movie, a helicopter is going to crash and the pilot, some extra buckled into set on a green screen somewhere, yells the unfortunate sentence, “Brakes, brakes, brakes!”

Maybe there are brakes in helicopters, and maybe those brakes work in mid-air, and I’m sure every helicopter pilot reading this is going to tell me in exquisite detail that very thing, but in the meantime “Brakes, brakes, brakes” is a very dumb thing to find in this big-budget action extravaganza, which has an inordinately high number of dumb things going on.

There’s also, for example, a scene in which Bond decides that stealing a cargo jet is the best way to chase after three SUVs on a forested alpine mountain. Nevermind that the plane is much faster than the cars, can’t drive on the road like the cars, can’t stop like the cars, can’t turn like the cars and can’t be evacuated like a car, yet there Bond is taking a plane to a car chase. A Roger Moore Bond could have gotten away with this, as could have a Pierce Brosnan Bond, who once took a tank to a car chase (that turned into a train chase), but Daniel Craig Bond just looks silly as he strafes his landing gear through the snow to save the day, which leads me to this ultimate question: is this a new Jame Bond or an old James Bond?

The Craig series is straddling the fine line between the two, and that ain’t going to fly anymore, especially since Casino Royale set an unprecedented tone for Craig’s darker, more realistic turn. Quantum of Solace, while a critical misfire, maintained some of that raw energy. And Skyfall exemplified it. Now here’s Spectre, which wants so hard to be campy, goofy fun, but swears allegiance to Christopher Nolan’s brand of gritty brooding realism.

Spectre begins in Mexico City during a stunning Day of the Dead parade that could only exist at this level in a big-budget movie. It looks gorgeous with men in skeleton suits and women in corpse makeup. The film opens with a single take that bobs into and out of crowds, through the parade on the street, into grand lobbies and up to hotel rooms overlooking the festivities. It’s a marvelous shot that might be the best thing in the whole movie.

Bond kills some dudes and stops a terrorist event, but in the process he gets the Double-0 program sacked. (The guy doing the sacking is Andrew Scott, Moriarty from Sherlock.) Super spies just aren’t needed anymore … you know, with drones and all. But after he gets a video file with an urgent warning, Bond hightails it out of London to Italy to visit the dead dude he killed in the first scene. In Italy he discovers Spectre, an organization of supervillains who are set on destabilizing economies, governments, Facebook newsfeeds or whatever else these shadowy figures hate so much.

The real stinger here is who leads Spectre. I’ll tell you it’s a character played by Christoph Waltz in a performance that is bland and tasteless. Who he is and how Bond knows him is best left for you to figure out. A lot of people are angry about where this all leads, but let me remind you this franchise once went to space and fought with space lasers, so maybe we can forgive the implications of Spectre’s origins.

Spectre careens forward using clues that originated from some of the earlier Craig films. A man who appeared in several of those movies is here again, this time to tell us about his daughter, Dr. Swan (Léa Seydoux), who takes Bond to Rick’s Café Américaín, or a heartfelt knockoff, in Tangiers, where they almost have sex — rejection must feel very foreign to 007.

Much of the film is uneventful chases and fight scenes. A supercar chase in Rome feels more tedious than anything else, as if director Sam Mendes was required to have a car chase so he put it in begrudgingly — “Ian Fleming’s last will and testament stipulates a chase scene every 20 minutes,” a lawyer tells him on the set. A train brawl later is kind of cool, if only because it establishes a new Bond villain, Hinx (David Bautista). Following the weirdness of Oddjob and Jaws, Hinx has little silver shields on his thumbnails that he uses to gouge out eyeballs.

Back in the UK, M (Ralph Fiennes), Q (Ben Whishaw) and former spy/current secretary Moneypenny (Naomie Harris), are left reeling from all of Bond’s disasters. And all they can do is sit on their hands, because “the double-0 program is dead.” Ugh, these characters deserve better things to happen to them. For much of the movie, they simply wait for a phone calls with bated breath.

Meanwhile Bond is in North Africa, where surrenders his weapon and the upper hand just so he can hear the Spectre CEO lay it all out in a scene that is so stupid and clunky, I can’t even begin to imagine what it was supposed to look like. All this leads nowhere, either because it actually goes nowhere or because Mendes doesn’t have all the pieces to make it more meaningful. What started with bang, ends in a whimper and a sigh.

Let me go on record by saying I think Daniel Craig is a brilliant James Bond. He’s exactly what the franchise needed when he took on the role. But now the plots are getting a little thin, and he seems a little weary from it, especially here in Spectre. It made me realize something: Bonds aren’t replaced because they get older. They’re replaced because we tire of them. We get bored, and they no longer intrigue us, which is what I fear is happening here with Daniel Craig, who may or may not be telling his agent “brakes, brakes, brakes” on future Bond movies.

The Peanuts Movie - Movie Review by Michael Clawson

The Peanuts Movie  

Director: Steve Martino

Written by: Bryan Schulz and Charles M. Schulz

By Michael Clawson of Terminal Volume

Peanuts was always a lo-fi cartoon strip. It was minimalist and plain, in presentation and theme. It was so plain — a kinder word than “boring” — that many kids skipped over it and went to other strips in the funny pages. And then creator Charles Schulz died, and newspapers cut their funny pages, and then the newspapers went out of business. And Peanuts faded into our collective past, a relic of a kinder and gentler time.

So when a hi-fi Peanuts movie — 3D, CGI, surround sound — crosses movies screens in 2015, it feels like a betrayal to the old Peanuts, the one that existed in a different time and place, one far removed from the digital age. Of course, a little nostalgia never hurt anyone, which is good because if it did you’d likely leave The Peanuts Movie with a compound fracture.

Steve Martino’s faithful adaptation of Schulz’s characters is an earnest and heartfelt tribute to the original strip, which ran ubiquitously for decades in newspapers around the world. Yes, they’re updated with nifty computer rendering and cheerful color, but they maintain their original shape and jagged edges, from squiggles of hair to pencil swipes representing furrowed brows. The film is beautiful, but nothing that Schulz didn’t create first is implanted into this movie.

And when I say “faithful adaptation,” what I mean to say is, praise all that is holy, no one takes a selfie with an Apple smartphone or browses “the web” from their Lenovo malware machine or dances to a Katy Perry song with Katy wearing a yellow zig-zag bra made of frosted candy-filled bearclaws. The film takes place like it’s still 1958, and that might be its saving grace. No product placement, no Internet, no celebrity cameos. Just Peanuts.

You’ll recognize most everyone here: tomboy Peppermint Patty, curbside shrink Lucy, blanket-toting bestie Linus, pianist Schroeder, stinkball Pig-Pen and, of course, blockhead Charlie Brown, who is either the most hated kid in town or the most loved. In earlier decades, Charlie Brown was a lovable loser with a menagerie of personality quirks that are today identified as depression, anxiety and antisocial behavior. But remember, it’s 1958, so he’s really just a normal kid with oversized problems.

During an afternoon hockey game, Charlie and company watch as a new family moves into town. One of the family members is their age, the Little Red-Haired Girl. Charlie is smitten at first sight, and he begins to worship her from afar. At school they’re paired together, but he’s paralyzed with embarrassment and fear. There’s a school dance, a talent show, book reports, show and tell, snow days and all of the other scenarios you’d expect from a cartoon this old fashioned. Each new event is supposed to bring Charlie Brown closer to the Little Red-Haired Girl, but each one drives them further apart. “Good grief,” he says repeatedly.

Intercut inside all of this boy-meets-girl drama are Snoopy and Woodstock, who discover a typewriter and an old toy airplane. They begin hammering out a story that turns into a subplot involving Snoopy flying his dog house against the Red Baron during World War I. This is a thing that happened occasionally in Peanuts strips and TV specials, so just roll with it.

Everything you’d expect from a Peanuts movie is here, and right where it’s supposed to be. Lucy holds a football and pulls it away before Charlie kicks it, Linus has a conniption when he loses his blanket, Patty refers to Charlie as Chuck, Marcie refers to everyone as sir, Lucy gives advice from a booth on the sidewalk, Schroeder namedrops Beethoven, Woodstock flies around leaving little dotted lines in the sky … on and on, it’s all here. And again, that’s part of the film’s unmistakable charm. Chuck Brown dancing “Gangnam Style” would kill this, and it never happens, not even close. Reverence is paid to what Schulz did and how he did it.

Now, that doesn’t mean this should have been made, though. Not everything deserves a reboot, particularly the Peanuts, which is the product of another age and another time. We’ll never be in that place again, and it’s obvious watching this movie. But it does feel good to look back at it and smile.