Liam Neeson narrates the bookended tales capping either side of this second Snow White.
The prologue finds the young Wicked Queen, Charlize Theron, gaining power and turning her little sister Emily Blunt to the dark side with a trauma that freezes her heart.
Blunt as Ice Queen builds an army of kidnapped child soldiers in order to rid the world of love. Sadly for her, even the most highly trained automatons cannot erase emotional pangs, especially when Chris Hemsworth enters the room. If he liked a duck, it would probably develop a serious crush. So, Thor’s blonde tendrils woo even the stoic fighter Jessica Chastain as he waltzes through with his band of merry men hoping to save the world for love.
The special effects scenes worked, perhaps because they included A-list actors in leather fighting each other: battle blades and arrows versus witching forces wielding weapons of ice, blood, fire and gold dust. This film felt a lot like the show Once Upon a Time in a tuneless Frozen recap minus the charming snowman and sisterly affection.
Can “true love conquer all?” Only if bad Scottish accents and too many poor attempts at comic relief don’t get in the way.
It may seem like a common, re-run romantic comedy on the outset, but the script is lovely, refreshingly honest, and well acted. I also found the film work unique and thoughtful. It helps that I love New York City. I enjoyed the detail and the color choices, and the ability to continue hearing a conversation while watching the outcome and next steps. We see Eve hang up the phone, dig through her purse for change, hail a cab, etc, all while listening to the end of her phone conversation. Brilliant use of movement and timing on Evans’s part.
It’s feels a bit like Before Sunrise (’95) in that it’s the journey of two strangers learning about one another and helping each other conquer their greatest hurdles in just one night in New York City.
It reminds us of the bravery it takes to have and build relationships with anyone, to be honest, to be kind. It shows the potential reward for small good deeds because we never know what one bravely kind good deed could lead to.
The heart was right. But the execution…abrupt and ill-conceived.
The actors, however, proved themselves professionals. Mary Elizabeth Winstead (best as Ramona Flowers in Scott Pilgrim) and John Gallagher Jr. (from the beloved short-lived HBO series Newsroom and the perfect indie Short Term 12) cared that their roles were believable and strong. John Goodman obviously enjoyed playing the crazy bunker-builder. They seemed eager participants in what felt like an experimental suck-up film, each shot an attempted homage to JJ or Spielberg. But even that would have been nice had this not felt more akin to Shayamalan’s more recent tragedies.
It all felt forced, and left too many unsolved mysteries about the characters themselves: like the unsolved main issue of Michelle’s backstory and serious relationship on the rocks. Any real details about her Emmett in the hatch, oh sorry the bomb shelter. Man, good thing they barely had to redecorate the Lost set after Desmond set the place up. Aren’t they supposed to be hitting a button every 108 minutes?
If you wait for breadcrumbs to lead you to truth in this one, you’ll go hungry. They mean nothing in the end. (Wait. Maybe this IS another Lost finale.)
I don’t know. Maybe people don’t go to the movies to think. Maybe I’m alone in blaming sloppy writing / directing. Sure JJ may have paid for it, but his MO is to support up-and-comers. He’s walking in the footsteps of his mentor Steven (Spielberg) and helping the fledgling directors take wing. Unfortunately, this Icharus not only flies too close to the sun, he flies into it inviting strangers from outerspace back with him to take over our planet. After this film, you’ll wonder which is worse: crazies on earth or crude angry aliens.
Don’t believe everything you read. Go see it for yourself. Just know what to expect, and maybe you too will be surprised to find yourself enjoying another hero flick that humanizes the super and normalizes the surreal making us all feel a little closer to cape-clutching hero status.
Based on the true story that few truly understand well, this film offers consistent sidebars with laymen’s tips for digesting the basic inside scoop of heady Wall Street jargon. They make it palpable using Jenga games that represent mortgage company strategies, fish soup comparisons, bubble bath exposition, and famous cameos throughout.
So, despite crass language and nudity, this is one incredible film. The brilliant script proves its worth every minute as dialogue rings true and exposition hides in plain sight below a universal and personal, visual story. Behind the truth, that in the end, being right and gaining obscene amounts of money can’t buy any of them what they really want: joy.
Tom Hardy’s Max, the namesake, dealing with grief and demons of his own past, is the accidental tourist “bloodbag” as he is called in this the 4th in a series of Max films by the same director, George Miller. Max is along for the ride of his life until he escapes in a torrent of cyclones, teams up, grows a heart, and finds a cause to chase on his own path to redemption.
Every award well deserved, it’s a stunning, explosive, daring, brutal, artistic, masterpiece. Strangely beautiful in sweeping desert scapes and an unforgettable storm sequence. (But feel free to look away during the scene with the baby. You’ll know when it’s coming. Don’t watch. There is enough dust and chaos in this death race to more than compensate for a few moments of eye-shutting.)
Cinematographer, John Seale, connects to audience eye movement, drawing them shot for shot from one frame to another maintaining visual consistency. This concept is explained beautifully in this slightly crass but vivid and informative video called 
Somehow the plot is not lost in the action nor is the fight for justice, morality, and human dignity lost in the tumult.
Oscar nominated Saoirse Ronan plays staunch, teary Eilis on her way to America. From glum to gadabout, she must choose to define home for herself. Both she and this film remain almost static: a pleasant and pensive thoughtful saunter to and from Ireland .
All of the brave souls who cross seas and continents to start afresh meet with root-shaking challenges and must choose which road truly leads home.
Hail, Caesar! is a delight. Set in the fifties at the height of musical movie madness, it was a time when Gene Kelly and favorite dance partner Fred Astaire tapped and swooned to golden tunes, when every woman wanted sharp-witted Clark Gable or leather-tanned Cary Grant to sweep them up, when the ladies of the hour were few but interchangeable unless they could stand out as dancers or swimmers. The silver screen was a small world full of dazzling stars with clean slates.
Here in Hail, an ensemble of A+ stars play one-dimensional dolts and hardline honeys clamping Clooney in with communists, sharing Fiennes’s finesse as a classic actor, making Tatum tap on tables, and showing Scarlett Jo flap her fins. It’s elegantly laced with narration following the work day of Josh Brolin, one heartfelt Hollywood Studio manager bent on doing what is right.
Three layers pervade the dialogue throughout the film: the existing value, despite obvious divisions, within religious beliefs, political biases, and movie making.
We follow the film producer who questions the merits of the industry and his work in it. Walking the ridgepole of his decision, he scoops in as handyman at the helm holding all things at the studio in harmony, fending off poparazzi wolves, endearingly all played by Tilda Swinton. 
We attend a premiere with a fresh faced all-western cowhand. He croons sincerely while the audience roars over slapstick sloshings. Division. Value?
Clooney’s character is held hostage by men claiming to be communist writers who feel they must buck the system and capsize the studio called the Capitol.
The film Hail, Caesar! is the film within the film showing a Roman guard gaining perspective for life and truth at the feet of the crucified Christ. An honest dialogue between four faiths ensues, speaking the blatant confusing disparities without preaching tolerance and without honoring one above another. The audience sits in, laughs, enjoys.
So, religion & politics, long-time taboo topics, are fair game for the Coens who even take stabs at their own art: filmmaking. Could it be that the Coen brothers, perhaps better known for writing and directing darker films like Fargo and No Country for Old Men, have made a picture for the picture’s sake? For fun? Poking fun at film has rarely been this delightful. Shakespeare did the same thing, sneering at all people groups, allowing for pure comedy to shine through, for people to laugh at each other, at themselves, at life. 
Hail the conquering Coens as they cart us along by chariot in this perfectly lovely philosophical journey dipped in sweet, aesthetic, syrupy comedy.
The Silver Linings director offers real-to-life hand-cam perspectives, inside scoops, and deliciously complex…cartoon characters. Almost caricatures. We love them for their hearts mired deep in the muck of their flaws. We love them because we don’t know them. We get to watch the ditches they dig fill up with possibilities. They have potential and they win on some level, so we go back in for another dose as soon as he releases one.
Joy begins perfectly. Set up, character development, story, buy in and build. The soap opera scenes stand alone as genius.
We wait for payoff …until the very end, but by then we are tired and older because it is a long movie.
Splatter: on FILM 