Am I a good person?
The two main talents pose this question as they seek redemption and purpose in 1970’s Hollywood.
Russell Crowe, bedraggled muscle-for-hire becomes a crime fighter just long enough to get a taste for life as a good guy. He feels proud of himself and wants to do what is right, but it’s hard to shake old habits.
Ryan Gosling’s character, b-class private investigator with decent intuition but bad judgement ceases to impress his toughest critic: his preteen daughter.
The precocious daughter, played by Angourie Rice, finds herself helping on a missing persons case that both men go after. They are too often the Oscar and Felix, bumbling around LA through strip clubs and parties trying to find the daughter of a politician who made a dirty movie. Her film, a central prop, turns out to be more than porn as it’s laced with political schemes and scandals. When all of the players associated with the film start dying, only our Laurel and Hardy will stay on the case.
This film is unfortunately anticlimactic, slow, and mind-numbingly profane. It forgets its first search for redemption and the original question “Am I a good person?” and settles into the pavement as the anti-heroes drive away to begin the search all over again. It’s a dead-end romp, so sadly The Nice Guys is anything but nice. 4/10.
One brother (Ben Foster – genius in 3:10 to Yuma) is a regular outlaw, always running from trouble, always finding it. He knows he’s bad. He gives himself permission to lie and steal and gamble and cheat and run and kill and fight anyone he can. The other brother, (Chris Pine, showing here his true acting prowess) complex and tortured, fights but holds back, reluctantly moving forward with his plan. His plan. He’s the potentially pure, the wounded, the driven, yet it is his story.
The lead Marshall, played perfectly by Jeff Bridges, speaks his mind letting loose racial slurs and profanities, quick judgements and stereotypes. He is surprisingly savvy and astute as he tracks the boys committing the crimes. The partner patiently takes the brunt of the teasing. He is a Christian man, calm though disconcerted by endless jabs from his partner. He talks easily about retirement and afterlife since he knows where he is going.
These characters rarely say what they mean in dialogue. It’s brilliant writing that stirs and directs a plot without relying on forced verbiage to drive it. Humans rarely say what they truly mean, why should characters?
One of Pete’s Dragon‘s fatal flaws had to lie in casting: Karl Urban plays the nicest bad guy, Bentley gives off disinterested dad vibes, Howard sadly looked constipated for most of the film, and Redford must have filmed his short scenes all in about a day.
Sadly the magic of this film was mostly lost in long, streaming dialogue, kid-film slapstick, and overly dramatized pauses. Those lingering gazes of wonder at the empty sky must have made for long days of filming and a lot of hopeful discussions with CG artists. Not even the interspersed narration by Robert Redford himself could heal the dragon’s lackluster character.
He’s like an all-American Bond with MacGyver’s intuition. Tommy Lee Jones, Alicia Vickander, and even Julia Stiles ride along to stop the world-threatening madness by outsmarting one another, getting to Bourne first, and attempting to win him over.
Viggo Mortensen, perfectly cast, plays drill sergeant hippie Von Trapp to his tribe of children that he is raising in the Pacific Northwest woods. In the opening shots, his eldest son proves his manhood by killing a deer for food as camouflaged family members step out of the forest to cheer him on. They eat, sing, read, run, and train together daily from vigorous athletic routines and mountain climbing to gardening and essential yurt maintenance. Daily studies include literature, religion, and philosophy. The children are kind, hearty, smart, gifted individuals who grieve just like everyone else in the world when they learn of their mother’s suicide.
This film is exquisitely unique showing the many sides of grief in a single brilliant brazen family from the backwoods. While some may watch and say, “what an interesting indie,” others will re-grieve any sorrows they’ve set aside and now find that they have company in saying goodbye.
Some of the appeal in making art must be the gamble as all shows run the risk of falling flat. This Super 8 style kids V monsters series made the smart and unique decision to slowly but steadily build the show on the backs of an oddly memorable ensemble cast. They are relatable, flawed, likable humans with skills and potential for future-changing.
In their retro, rugged, primary colored world, four middle school aged boys play Dungeons and Dragons while their older siblings flirt and spy and kiss and lie – the usual plot fodder until a faceless predator kidnaps one of the small boys the same day that a little girl with strange powers arrives in town. The attacks continue and only one down-and-drunk sheriff is willing to help Winona Rider and pursue the truth at any cost.
This series of frightening events is a short 8 episode commitment, each one ending on a cliffhanger cleverly breadcrumbing the audience with clues that lead to answers.
Woody Allen offshoots from his recent run of sweet charming Paris-in-the-20s films and jumps into New York & LA in the 30s. Cafe Society, though beautiful frame-for-frame, is a diatribe, a tragic spiral into the depths of disappointment over past failures and Niche-esque psychological queries on the purposelessness of life. 
Steve Carell’s forefront character, remains abrupt and unfeeling throughout. Jesse Eisenberg is the perfect young Woody Allen replica with his despondent stammer and tragic tropes as he works to woo Kristen Stewart, still sullen post-Twilight. Blake Lively is barely there, a wisp in model pose for the few moments she walks on-screen. My favorites, Paul Schneider and Parker Posey, were sadly more like extras, mere furniture in the film, not fixtures. 
The true tragedy is, if this film had succeeded in producing even a single hopeful, likable character to root for, it would have been enough to redeem even the wooden performances of the least emotional actors in Hollywood.
I’ll say: 3/10
It also felt like a jumble of too many recently viewed plot points: the hive mind movement was very Ender’s Game, the “Sabotage” replay felt like a forced nod to JJ, and the new character Jayla, (actually oddly named for Lennifer Lawrence), shows little if any connection to her namesake or imagination as she is a cut and paste of Ray from Star Wars (2015) as she shares all of the same skills, attitudes, and basic backstory?
Only Alice, the outsider with faith, teachability, and insight can muster the time-space travel, beg Mr. Time for help, and fix the past that threatens to ruin the future.
Story-wise, it works. Visually, it’s an artistic masterpiece. The actors who play Lewis Carroll’s magical literary characters personify whimsy. 
Bringing cartoon graphics to life, this film honors the imagination of the original author while inventing new lovable characters and rescuing old favorites. Alice admits to being older on this visit. They almost expect it as time is the incessant motif. 
The film moves like a clock, an almost obnoxious pace and overload of visual imagery unless viewers enter aware of and expecting it. 
The Narnian quest becomes more like a hero’s journey in that she works to save the wonder world she loves, and in the process she discovers her own value and freedom from grief.
These SNL favs and friends know how to get a laugh. They are made to entertain. They laugh at themselves first, and it works. These funny women of New York have taken Hollywood by storm and come back to town with bigger names and top billing. They’ve earned it. Chris Hemsworth also runs havoc as the team’s dimwitted receptionist and top poltergeist target.
Splatter: on FILM 