Sync sounds with sight saturation. This film is like none other. It earns its “R” with language and violence, but it’s a high octane musical feast as choreographed bystanders fit into each pop up stop center. All scenes fire as Baby, the boy driver for the bad King of hammered heists, Kevin Spacey, rolls in with new jobs, new teams, new tunes. But Baby has a heart, unlike the mad Bats, Jamie Foxx, and baddie Buddies like John Hamm. Non-stop but easy to palate, tracking scenes with songs is becoming the new need for film lovers, and I hope the love stays strong. Go, Baby, go.
The quirky Quill backstory, as re-told by Kurt Russell’s appropriately named character Ego, becomes the centralized plotline as themes such as friendship, integrity, surrogate family systems, and revenge come into play.
Despite the incalculable death toll, it feels more like video game “lives” lost and tallied than body count. A colony of golden beings only emphasized this notion and added over-the-top scenarios and comedic tone to an already laughable script.
The soundtrack feels more mellow without Hooked on a Feeling but equally iconic and era-driven.
The band together, add Stallone and baby Groot, can really take on the task of guarding this golden, disparate, conflict-laden galaxy with a little help from their friends. Thanks to the 80’s, they’ll never run out of tunes, and the Marvel universe can live on making sequels forever.
The questions within this film seek to drown out fears founded by insecurities. What is family? How do we best care for one another? How do we help foster and nourish peoples’ gifts without exploiting or discouraging them?
It seems the stage-mother phenomenon is not limited to entertainers and little pageant queens as Gifted shows the pitfalls of seeking personal prestige and fame over integrity and selfless love. It challenges families to deal with conflict through lovingly honest communication.
Leaving a legacy looks unique for each person. Some people offer their gifts to the world in such a way as to gain the world’s approval, applause, and praise. The higher road can be lonelier, but leaving a legacy of selfless love is of greater worth than fame. Caring for people may be less glamorous, but it is by far more rewarding.
This eighth installment, sans Paul Walker, adds rookie cop, beauty Scott Eastwood and reunites the classic bro squad with The Rock and Jason Statham. 
Of course they step into a crowd and the sheer force of one arm sends armed soldiers flying and flailing. Statham flings himself off of stories-high railings landing perfectly and spinning into action. 
Fighting hoards at a time, these two don’t quit despite the new “daddy” theme. The team is aging, settling down somewhat, and it takes a truly evil antagonist to bring them back into the game.
Charlize Theron plays a cold, soft-spoken terrorist. She adds such professionalism and acting swagger, she’s almost out of place. The film’s tone sways serious and cruel as fatalistic Furiosa brings her A-game to double A ball. 
These films classically don’t take themselves as seriously as most. They hire more stunt people on a shoot than a Costco employs.
As classic Fast & Furious franchise films go, the eighth is no exception, despite the tone shift. They take on a tesla army in New York, they race the Cuban mile, and they outrun a nuclear sub.
It’s become my birthday tradition to see a Fast & Furious film in the theater, and I hope they never stop. You ride, I ride, bro.
It’s iconically beautiful, scenes of my childhood unveil in perfect cake-topper symmetry. Emma Watson’s eyes sparkle as she sings through the little town. In her quiet pastel village, she’s the odd duck as the independent bookish type in bright blue. She’s a Hermione amongst so many muggles.
And the ancient story goes that her father offered to bring her a gift and she asked only for a single rose. I loved the incorporation of the original fairy tale. 
When he is captured, she sacrificially takes her father’s place as a prisoner at the enchanted castle where famous voices fill the gorgeous household items: Emma Thompson as Mrs. Potts, Sir Ian Mckellan as Cogsworth, Ewan McGregor as Lumiere, and sweet Stanley Tucci as Maestro the piano.
Gaston truly stole the show. He and LeFou, French for “the fool,” perfectly capture their cartoons and embody the enemy and comrade just back from the war now looking to settle down. Rumors regarding LeFou’s identity seem forced since he is more admirer side-kick than love interest.
Not since Wall-E has a Disney flick seen the need to bend each voice so electronically. Poor Emma seemed almost upset about it sometimes, almost as much as she seemed mostly happy during the Be Our Guest scene (in which she never eats) or the library scene – always almost excited. She was most certainly asked to play Belle almost expressionlessly, especially opposite the oddly shifting CGI-bodied Beast. Emma’s stalemate facials perhaps made the beast more lifelike until he became Matthew from Downton Abbey – a truly unexpected transformation.
If your expectations mirror mine, they will be more than met with twice the explosions and ten times the classic Samuel L. one-liners (including his iconic JP “Hold onto your butts”). Amazing.
Brie Larson is a gem, as always. Believable, determined photojournalist with a bleeding heart to let photos end wars, she bravely tracks into the unknown jungle island with the baby-faced band of troops just leaving Vietnam. 
The cast is lovely. Sweet Thomas Mann (from last year’s Me & Earl & the Dying Girl) adds to this outstanding gang of hopefuls. Believe it or not, I’d watch it again just to hang out with these people. They chose a cast of people I’d want to have dinner with. They are all delightful, even though, yes, many get squashed by a Kong foot or skewered by a giant spider leg. The sequence in the Kong graveyard is so beautifully filmed it’s worth the price of admission.
It’s fun. The pace works. The cast works. The film feels comprised of thousands of hero shots, mostly of Kong himself, the true hero of his film.
I trust James Mangold with stories. I loved his remake of the western 3:10 to Yuma, and now he brings the X-Men franchise and specifically Wolverine’s story to a colossal finale allowing a curtain call for the Mercutio of the mutant clan. 
Wolverine, the classic loner with adamantium claws and a zeal for personal justice becomes Logan, a limo driver for hire in 2029 who also cares for the aging and unwell Professor X.
Charles Xavier is not finished finding and training young mutants, however, and the two must venture back out into the world to rescue a small girl with striking similarities to our hero, Logan.
Somehow, however, this film flows like a western, the sheriff admonishing the ruthless with cruel justice. Somehow Logan becomes a Christ-figure. 
And, somehow this film overwhelms with significance as it builds relational depth between characters and as it proclaims the truths that brutality is not without consequence and a life lived selfishly is lived without purpose.
Splatter: on FILM 