A Star is Born (2018)

You know, with all the political tomfoolery and social mockery afflicting and embarrassing us as a country, culture, and species, I feel that maybe it might be time to go back to basics every once in a while, when it comes to the movies. These past three years has been a filmmaking renaissance, precisely reflecting and reprimanding our current turmoils, tragedies, and our most pressing social anxieties. However, mindless and flashy entertainment (sometimes, a conglomerate of the two) is still as imperative as ever; the difference between diving into a redolent, rich meal at a four-star restaurant to showcasing your repressed gluttony at a fast-food restaurant. They are two vast fields of pleasure; incongruous, but highly necessary.

And what more of a classic, timeless, and overall enlightening cinematic tradition that the grand ol' movie musical! And one that is a remake, having formerly been fronted by both Judy Garland and Barbara Streisand. Such grandiosity, some rushing emotions, such soaring voices of power, theatricality, and beauty!

What sweeping pleasures to be had from… A Star Is Born… directed by Bradley Cooper, and which tells the tale of an alcoholic wash-up and a disillusioned aspiring artist.

Shit. *sighs* Here we go, I guess.

This film stars director/producer/writer Bradley Cooper as Jackson, a rock musician who has developed a habit of indulging in alcohol and painkillers. After a show, he decides to take a detour and ends up in a drag bar, where he meets Ally, played by the glorious Gaga in her film debut, a regular performer at said gay bar, but has never found the self-esteem and the confidence to continue pursuing a career in music. "It sounds great," they all say, "but your nose is too big and you won't be successful."

Jackson discovers that she can not only belt a note, but has a knack for songwriting. Through intense persistence, he manages to get Ally to come to a gig of his and perform. The video of the performance goes viral and a power couple commences through Jackson and Ally. However, will Jackson's self-destructive behaviors catch up with him? Can Ally go solo and maintain her artistic integrity? Holy shit, is that Dave Chapelle in a dramatic role? Wait, is that the Diceman?

I don't want to portray this film as a dirge of an experience, but this tale has been tried-and-true. While Cooper deftly continues the tradition to preserving the narrative foundation, but transmuting the external and emotional components, it's still a tale that begins inspiring and then delves into tragically unfair, no matter which version and/or soundtrack you reference. However, Cooper fortunately retains one other aspect that bolsters the integrity of this Star is Born legacy: power. In any other hands, this material could've been handled in too treacly of a tone and, at times, it borders that dangerous pit, but his daring, go-for-broke, yet tender direction keeps the films as raw and gritty as Cooper's singing voice, eerily reminiscent of Kris Kristofferson himself.

One discovery I made while watching this film and thinking about Bradley Cooper's best works is that Cooper truly values meaningful connections. In The Hangover, Cooper had a tremendous camaraderie with his friends, in the midst of all the debauchery, frenzied chaos, and stolen Mike Tyson tigers. American Sniper showed a man with a deep, personal connection to his profession. American Hustle delineated his connection with his own perceived morality and he showcase a connection between two damaged souls, yet temperamentally opposite, in Silver Linings Playbook, my favorite Cooper role to date.

I can only conclude that this, anything Rocket the Raccoon-related notwithstanding, is the reason why films like Aloha, Burn, and Joy were all financial and critical duds is because Cooper failed to spark any sort of tangible connection in his performances, or at least that's why Cooper was seen as unremarkable, at best. However, allow Cooper to explore meaningful connections and what an engrossing, tumultuous, lovely love story you receive between Jackson and Ally and all the nuances that Cooper portrays the love story with. One of the most sensually intense and riveting moments in early on when Ally self-deprecates herself for her big nose. Jackson asks to touch it and the camera zooms in on the moment, lingering with more vigor and raw attraction than the sex scenes, which are shot tersely and sparingly, just long enough to where you confirm the emotional bullseye between these two beings. It's not about leering, it's about loving.

Also, I guess it’s fitting that A Star is Born is a story that has been about revelations and comebacks, because when it comes to Cooper's performance…

Damn!

Welcome back, Bradley! I don't know where the hell you've been, but you came home and that's all that matters. And you can bet your ass that I'll be rooting for you to get that Best Actor nomination. Also, Academy of Arts and Sciences, if I may put in a request, don't forget about Gaga either because…

DAMN!

Lady Gaga (I was going to use her real name to give her more credibility in the acting realm, but fuck it, Gaga suits me well) is quite simply a revelation. I saw her in an interview where she stated that she hates herself without makeup, because that isn't really her. I can only assume that she had to extract feelings from herself of insecurity, of inadequacy, and of crippling, desperate fears of losing control over her image and style. Whatever the case may be, she shows it in a truly naked performance, in more ways than one. Her vulnerability and naivete coupled with her quick-wittedness and her emerging courage is something to behold, augmented by those glorious Gaga eyes, so glowing with pathos, intensity, and a raw, striking aggression that she could stand toe-to-toe with Judy Garland.

It's almost comical how it took Mariah Carey subsequent bit parts and twenty-second cameos to make an impact, yet Lady Gaga hits it out of the park in one try, all the while reminding us that her musical abilities have not fallen to the wayside. Speaking of which, the music is mostly strong, but again, I do say mostly. While all of Bradley Cooper's self-written, self-performed songs all click with me, Gaga seems to let some of her leaden, syrupy pop sensibilities creep in, which lead to songs intentionally awful ("Is That Alright?") to ones that are rather flavorless ("Look What I Found") to ones too maudlin, too strained, too pretentious, and overrated ("I'll Never Love Again").

Regardless, this is an emotional gut punch of a musical in the same vein it's always been. It's rather subversive in that sense: manipulating our content, rigorously hopeful expectations of musicals, in order to transport us to a journey that both musical fans and non-musical fans will most likely be caught off-guard by. Throughout the film, I tried to find a definitive, binding connection between Ally and Jackson that links them as personalities. What do they share? The tragic answer is that they are well-intentioned, spirited, passionate individuals that try to abscond each other's circumstances. Jackson tries to expose Ally to stardom, only for her to lose her artistic credibility and her hope in romance. Ally tries to lift Jackson through his struggles, which only makes for him seeping deeper into his angst and his vices, to the point where his hope in himself can no longer be recovered. It doesn't make for a consistently uplifting experience, but it makes for an authentic one.

Also, Lady Gaga, if you choose to explore more with nudity, I… I will not complain at all.

RATING: Three out of four stars

Blindspotting (2018)

To be honest, I was initially terrified when I saw the promotional spots for Blindspotting.

First off, it's a Lionsgate film, which, right off the bat, should make you at least mildly weary going into their projects. I can only describe Lionsgate as Miramax, if they had a branch of their film productions run by a bunch of beer-chugging, imbecilic, thick-headed frat boys. I mean, with every Precious, we also get a Disaster Movie or another god-for-fucking-saken Madea piece of dreck. And from my first impressions of the trailer, it seemed like some shallow, melodramatic, ungainly effort to get a piece of the socially-conscious pie by utilizing the police brutality element merely as some sort of shocking viscera, intending as some sort of an afterthought to carry an entire film.

And then I saw all the reviews comparing it to Do the Right Thing...and I got even more terrified. I mean, this film? What could there possibly be to it that Spike Lee could possibly be trembling in his boots, bringing in around-the-clock security to make it certain that his crown remains untouched. Well, while Spike Lee unequivocally had a cinematic visage and hyper-energy that made his film more intriguing, what writers Rafael Casal and Daveed Diggs, as well as director Carlos Lopez Estrada, bring to Blindspotting is an anxious, raw, unflinching spirit that brings out searing emotions.

Is it better than Do the Right Thing? Unfair to compare the two at this moment in time, in my opinion. Did it effect me more than Do the Right Thing? Holy shit, did it ever.

The film revolves around Collin, played by Daveed Diggs. He is a convicted felon due to a horrific bar fight, which ended in a guy getting severely burned. After serving two months, he is released on a one-year probation, which requires him to live in a halfway house, obey an 11:00 p.m. curfew, obtain and sustain employment, and avoid any sort of criminal activity. However, there's one mild obstacle that may threaten his freedom: his best friend, Miles, played by Rafael Casal. 

He is a full-on "wigger," complete with grills and a revolver he recently bought from a third-rate Uber driver. His hot temper and hasty attitude threaten to, at times, get Collin in precarious situations, despite them having veritable, mutual love for each other. Additionally, while driving home after a shift at a moving company, he witnesses a cop, played by Ethan Embry, killing an unarmed black man. This event leaves him traumatized and angered, leading to an internal conflict of trying to follow the straight path and wanting to get justice for his people.

Diggs and Casal themselves stated that they wanted to create a love letter to their hometown, Oakland, the location of the film, stating that they believed that Oakland had been unfairly misrepresented in film. In a rare moment in cinema history, it actually feels fitting that a music video director, the aforementioned Carlos Estrada, was given the task of representing Oakland completely, for better or worse. For the record, it was most likely going to be Estrada that was chosen, seeing how he had directed music videos for clipping, Daveed Diggs' hip-hop group, but either way, his gritty mise-en-scene does reflect hip-hop music videos, but in this film, it gives Oakland its own soul that it can properly relay to the audience, some of whom may or may not have grown up there (* cough cough*). 

He has a real daring vision with his visuals, including a nightmare involving Miles as a rapping prosecutor and a delusion in which Collin is confronted with a cemetery, each gravestone shadowed by a black man standing in front of it. The camerawork by Robby Baumgartner also adds to the harsh ambiance, with the lightness being only as bright as the tough, rugged nature of Oakland allows and the darkness swathing in itself, adding an additional level of uncertainty and menace, as well as the tight close-ups that appear more frequently in the final third and pierce gruesomely into these characters' intense, edgy cores. In addition, the soundtrack of this film is 100% Oakland certified, embracing the nostalgia feel of the 90's Bay Area sound with such sheer allegiance and observance that it was jarring and mildly unwelcoming when a modern-sounding song appeared on the closing credits. I'm yours forever, Fantastic Negrito.

This film clearly wants to say something. What it says, I'll get to later, but what's remarkable about Diggs and Casal's writing is that instead of composing caricatures or personifications of salient points that will undoubtedly be used by the overzealous, oblivious social justice warrior, they instead opt for creating characters and personalities. Collin just might be one of my favorite protagonists in all of cinema. He physically personifies a gangster, a smooth-talking criminal, yet his actually character is an unmitigated subversion of that. He constantly is looking to evade trouble, but yet his primary battle seems not to conform to his probation conditions or to keep himself clear of any shenanigans, but instead to abscond all his inner-paranoias and stay level-headed through his trying times. He's an unlikely yet more-than-applicable straight man.

Miles, on the other hand, is as loose of a cannon as you could expect to come across. The brilliance, however, is that he isn't written as flippantly trying to act black or some surface-level scoundrel. He just has an unbridled energy and has accustomed himself to his surroundings. He's immature and bold, which leads to some big laughs, particularly in a black beauty parlor scene where Miles attempts to peddle hair products, yet he does value his family, particularly his black wife, Ashley, and his son. He's never portrayed as trying to overcompensate or a perpetrator of cultural appropriation. He's portrayed as someone who pushes his limits far often than not, thus making his character not a villain, but an imperfect human, particularly in a scene where he almost puts his son in danger.

It's actually quite surprising how the community seems to have no qualms about Miles' demeanor and racial posturing for the majority of the film. I mean, given the successes of Post Malone and Iggy Azalea, it's been shown that sometimes it takes the black masses a little longer to catch on when someone's blatant, presumptuously donning their sacred culture as a costume. However, the dynamic between Collin and Miles does play into a consistent theme during the film: bias. Again, the themes in this film are actually sparsely told, but I noticed an indication of commentary on implicit bias once during each of the acts.

In the first third, it happens during a scene, more specifically in an offhand remark, when Collin is accused of behaving rudely at his job when, in all actuality, it was Miles, but of course, Collin is black and looks the part. In the second third, Collin's ex-girlfriend, Val, discusses with him about how easy Miles got off during the night of the barfight, seeing how Miles participated in the fight, along with Collin. In the final third, everything comes to a head as Miles is finally called out on acting overly ghetto, which not only leads to a fight, but also result in an argument between Collin and Miles, in which both characters receive ugly epiphanies about their own situations.

Miles is forced to confront the truth that no matter how much black validation he has accrued, the sole reason that he has been able to act how he has acted was because of his lighter pigment. Collin is plunged even further into his pursuit for justice, which climaxes during the film's most harrowing, gut-wrenching emotional crescendo; a consummate hip-hop fueled moment of social potency, a desperately rattled stream-of-consciousness presentation, a tortured point-of-interest, and such agonizing, relatable verities that my eyes welled up with tears. It is seriously one of the greatest movie scenes in all of cinema. It assaults you with the verisimilitude of the scenario, but enraptures you with the meaning. To me, it's where the film truly ends, with those last five minutes being only a breather for the film before the end credits.

It helps that Daveed Diggs has flexed his acting muscles to a much greater extent than Hamilton could even hope to have claimed. Diggs has an off-kilter everyman vibe, to where he is collected as a person, yet lets his shattered, skittering vulnerability rush right out of him, both emotionally separating himself in the context of Oakland and emotionally revealing himself as a lost human. The way he struggles with freestyles during the majority of the movie, yet lets it all pour out when it matters is just an unforgettable, brutally poignant acting job. 

However, all the other actors shine as well. Ethan Embry as Officer Molina is minimally powerful, giving off that pathetic, woeful, puppy-dog look that conjures up images of Darren Wilson. It instinctively sets me off, but is technically remarkable due to his power. Janina Gavankar portrays Val, Collin's ex-girlfriend, with a complex, morbid allure, while another Hamilton alumni, Jasmine Cephas Jones, portrays Miles' wife, Ashley, as a plucky, soulful, down-to-earth woman, who possess a loving, sweet soul underneath those ghetto braids. Rafael Casal, also straight from Hamilton (jeez, I haven't seen the word, Hamilton, this much since the Tony Awards), employs a twisted gusto and unrelenting bravura as Miles. His presentation is almost Broadway-esque, but here, he's in a whole different realm; a realm that gives him some stellar comedic moments and some penetrating dramatic moments.

The titular "blindspotting" stems from a conversation between Collin and Val near the end of the movie. In order to familiarize herself with the concept of Rubin vase, that classic optical illusion where you either see a vase or two faces, she calls it "blindspotting," because it's what happens when something is present and you don't notice it, but you do eventually. I knew that I could apply this concept to Miles (his blindspotting moment being his grappling with his white privilege). I struggled in applying this concept to Collin, as his mere probation conditions could be his, seeing how he so desperately tries to manage his life that he can barely remember to be home at 11.

Then, I realized, it didn't matter, because this movie was blindspotting me in more ways than one. Throughout my initial reactions to the trailer, all of these narrative elements were present, but not in the trailer. They were in my blind spot and I had to actually look to discover it. Also, in these liberal-charged days of filmmaking, this film put the social commentary in its blind spot, forcing us not to sift through a treasure trove of racial complexities, but to submit to an emotional experience; not to think, but to feel.

And boy, did I! And when I did, I thought long and hard about it after it was over. Don't let the film simmer in your blind spot. See it as soon as you can!

RATING: Three-and-three-quarters stars out of four

Eighth Grade (2018)

One recurring element of modern filmmaking I've heard being described as a constant aversion is the lack of crafty, stimulating, alluring opening credits. I personally believe that, as long as there is a balance between plainly straightforward and jaw-droppingly stunning opening credits, I'm not particularly bothered. However, I feel that the balance isn't as strong or sturdy as it should be, so I can't say that I don't notice it and yeah, it would be nice for filmmakers to implement more vision and artistry in the opening credits, like a poppy, vibrant opening musical number in a Broadway play.

However, the way the straightforward presentation of opening credits is utilized in Eighth Grade is actually one of the most potent, subterraneously ballsy, and narratively fitting usages of this unadorned method for an opening that I've ever seen. Those cold, white credits with the bland, lifeless font perfectly mirrors the ruthlessly on-the-nose nature of this epoch of adolescence. Their simple fade-ins and fade-outs seem to resemble the feelings of helplessness and uselessness that some teenagers of this age do tend to feel, particularly our protagonist, Kayla. And when that title card drops with that customary "thud," it definitely captures the existential horror that seems to envelop during this period of one's youth.

This. Is. Eight Grade!

The film revolves around the aforementioned Kayla, an eight-grader who is getting ready to graduate. She's a shy, quiet type, adorned with acne, enraptured by her phone and ostensibly is aspiring to be a YouTube star, constantly posting videos of advice. However, her quiet, self-effacing temperament is a mild bone of contention with her, as it leads her to earn the superlative of "Most Quiet." Ignited by this, she sets off to build her confidence and find herself, along with maybe earning her crush, Adrien, who had been voted "Best Eyes."

I've always been an acolyte of Bo Burnham and his weird, satirical, skewering brand of comedy, going back to his Rehab Center for Fictional Characters bit. I knew he was skilled as a musician, but I never knew he was such a musical technician. He actually doesn't play a note of the score, rather instead leaving that to British electro-composer, Anna Meredith, but this film showed me that his knack for music goes beyond knowing how to play an instrument. It extends mentally and emotionally, having a sixth sense for the placement of music.

In this film, the score treats each scene as a new experience for its lead character and assists in the narrative progression. When Kayla is at a pool party, the score couples the initial rush/external enjoyment with the internal horror brought upon by Kayla's self-image. A specific ingenious move on the part of both Meredith as a composer and Burnham as a director comes during the dinner table scene, which is the first time in the film that we see the interaction between Kayla and her father. Initially, Kayla is locked into her phone, blaring music, which we hear with all the volume, intensity, and vigor that Kayla certainly must feel, too. During the conversation, Kayla has to alternate between being alone at her phone and having to begrudgingly converse with her father. 

After her final plea with her father to be on her phone, her father relents, but at that point on, we don't get to hear the music anymore, thus Burnham gets to convey the feeling of having such a vibrant, up-to-the-minute, whizzing buzz of a safe space her phone provides, yet opposing that with the actual reality of what Kayla is doing: shutting herself off and submitting to a fantasy. As well, for the initial spurt of music we are allowed to hear, Meredith shows us how much ass she kicks as a musician, not just in this scene, but in every other scene. Hell, she is the composer and she definitely shows us how she got the job.

Burnham really shines as a writer/director. He is a comedian and he utilizes some vulgar, immature, and low-brow sensibilities, but it leads to some big laughs, including Kayla trying to find the right moment to practice fellatio. Hell, it makes sense that some of the humor is immature. The film is called Eighth Grade, which is, like, the height of immaturity and crass talk. What surprised me about Burnham's writing is how he forsook, or at least heavily downplayed, satire, in place for warmth. It would've been so easy to make Kayla some petty, basic, catty little twat that was supposed to represent the worst tendencies of teenagers, offering some unfair, highfalutin nihilism. It would've been easy to make the father into some clueless clot, representing the worst tendencies of parents raising teenagers.

What Burnham does here is actually depict an actual, genuine, relatable character, not one to be decried or mocked, but to sympathize with. She's awkward and insecure in real life and uses her YouTube platform to feign a more down-to-earth, captivating version of herself. The videos she makes are all pseudo-profound, superficial, and utilize a lot of "um"s, "like"s, and "whatever"s, but they sincerely mean something to her because it's what she's feeling. She doesn't have the finesse or growth to properly and eloquently communicate what she's feeling, but she has the emotional experience.

Additionally, the dad in this film is not the type of dad that is completely disconnected via the dreaded generational gap and is trying to hip, but rather he is merely trying to connect with his daughter. That mere motive has some deep, underlying pathos to it, but yet the extremity of their weird relationship creates some incredulous laughs. However, it comes all to a head during a fireplace scene between him and Kayla, which is the most heartwarming moment of the film, daring to tug at the heartstrings and demolishes both of these characters' personal barriers. The fact that Burnham could generate such emotional investment and relatability without any sort of obvious, self-impressed cynicism is quite remarkable.

It also helps that Burnham has brought in two fine actors to assist us in appreciating our time with these characters. Elsie Fisher, who you may recognize as Agnes from the  first two Despicable Me films, doesn't try to deliver some spunky, rowdy performance to forcibly distance herself from her childish roles. Instead, she opts to play a teenager by, *gasp*, being a teenager. It's as elementary yet lovable a performance you could hope for, with that nervous half-smile being the closest thing to a gimmick. Acting veteran Josh Hamilton is warm, approachable, and flexible as Elsie's father, desperately trying to find the sweet spot of investing himself in his daughter's life, whilst also giving her her space. Also, Jake Ryan as Gabe, a friend of Kayla's, is a riot. I will say no more of the matter.

You know, it's funny. When I attended the screening of this film, there actually were some pre-teen girls in the audience. I almost questioned why a film like this would honestly peak their interest, as opposed to questioning why they were at a R-rated film, because, let's face it, we all know the answers. I mean, sure it's called Eighth Grade, but this seems like a film that would appeal more to those looking back on the angst of it all, rather than the current victims of that same angst. Given how much the film showcases the mental escapes of teenagers, I figured they were glued into theirs and this did a flyby over them.

But nope, I was wrong. And I'm glad, because all the pre-teens/teenagers who gave this film a legitimate chance would've been paired with the perfect icon for teenage humility and confusion: Kayla. What's refreshing is that the film doesn't particularly offer a resolution, but moreso a step in the right direction. Why? Because, in the end, that's what growing up is: making steps in the right direction. She'll face much harsher vicissitudes, but she'll have experiences to fall back on that will guide her on how to handle them, at least sometimes. I've read reviews that are clamoring to see more of Kayla's life after eighth grade.

One of those reviews will be mine. As Buzz Lightyear would say, "To ninth grade and beyond!"

RATING: An enthusiastic three stars
 

Sorry to Bother You (2018)

Ah, the return of changed plans has now commenced.

Sometimes, you start out preparing and convincing yourself that you're gonna give a specific blockbuster about dinosaurs a chance, after being intrigued and curious from the advertising (seriously, who wouldn't want to see Chris Pratt try to out-run a dust storm). Then, all of a sudden, a trailer for, quote, "the most original comedy in years" pops up on your news feed and...

Sorry, you prehistoric aberrations. I must proceed to another bold comedy about race in America. Sorry to bother you.

And by that, I mean not sorry.

The film revolves around Cassius, a gentleman down on his luck, living in his uncle's garage with his artist girlfriend. Determined to find a job, he equips himself with a custom-made trophy and employee-of-the-month plaque, along with a fake-ass resume, and goes it for a job interview for a telemarketing company, Rearview. In spite of this, he receives the job and at first, he struggles.

That is until our newly-proclaimed Black Messiah, Danny Glover, shows up and instructs Cassius the way to flourish: by using your white voice. Utilizing this idea, Cassius rises to the top as a power caller, working alongside the cream of the crop of the company. Meanwhile, Squeeze, a fellow employee is at the forefront of a protest against Rearview to push for better pay, which puts him and Cassius at odds with each other. It gets worse when Cassius realizes that Rearview may be marketing something that is far beyond wholesome or helpful.

I prefer to call this less a film and more of a poppy, stunning bag of tricks clasped in the furious, scintillating hands of rapper/director/writer/maybe-still-a-Marxist Boots Riley. Watching the trailer for this, I was expecting to be predominantly a satire, but Riley manages to incorporate all sorts of comedy in this film, ranging from the absurdist comedy found in scenes such as Cassius' girlfriend's art exhibit performance, to the dark comedy such as the "N*gga Shit" scene (it happens), to the slapstick comedy found in the clips of a in-universe television series, "I Got the Shit Kicked Out of Me," to just standard witty interplay between our characters. And all of them manages to inject this film with such a surreal energy and a savage spirit.

Yes, satire does pervade throughout the film, but the bemusing brilliance of Riley is that satire is more of a counterpart in the film, not the particular goal. He has such an acute sensibility as a writer and such a gargantuan, limitless, field of view as a director that he has the cojones to interject little spurts of social commentary and biting satire sporadically and it's never rushed. It even goes beyond the whole "white voice" conceit, which actually isn't used as much as you would assume.

Consider a scene where Cassius is led out against an angry mob and a soda can is thrown at him. It becomes a viral video, to the point where it becomes a Halloween costume. It could be seen as commenting on how overboard and overzealous we can be when we attempt to viralise politics or it can be seen as satirizing how simple we are as consumers and how we virtually need current issues to be, or be introduced by, some sort of distraction that catches us off guard. And this is all ignoring the fact that it could also be a indirect, unique method to comment on blackface.

How about the fact that Cassius' boss when he becomes a power caller is also African-American and is also contractually bound to speak with a white voice? His name? It's always bleeped out, never being mentioned once throughout the entire film. The film never seems to express an immense distaste of black people whom are perceived to be "selling out," so in this case, it could be seen as an inauspicious yet genuine part of life where sometimes, certain things need to be compromised at certain times, or it could also be seen as what it is: censorship, a blatant, flabbergasted disapproval of an African-American's name, which statistically shown, is a very real problem in this country.

Or how about WorryFree, which...I'll just let you watch the film and figure that out for yourself.

And watch, specifically watch, the film you should, because while the film is invigorating in its potential discourse, it is absolutely masterful in its visuals. I can only fucking hope that Riley and cinematographer Doug Emmett will be recurring collaborators, because every close-up, every pan-out shot, every pan-in shot, every little visual trick employed couldn't have been this fulsome and this stimulating, unless it was under the direction of two synthesized minds who can read and feel each other completely. Speaking of which, I'm also clamoring for Riley to do more musical work with Tune-Yards, because what they have done here is craft a score that flirts with normalcy and convention and then flips it on its head a few times, resulting in an amazing soundtrack.

Riley has also managed to gather together the most universally B-list, yet pitch-perfect group of actors for his film. Tessa Thompson makes for perfectly amiable eye candy as Detroit, Cassius' girlfriend, yet circumvents being just a boring pretty woman by possessing a bold, steadfast demeanor and even an inordinately looney edge, if her art exhibit performance is any indication. Lakeith Stanfield graduates from being that perpetual, obligatory, black film supporting actor and moves on to a lead role as Cassius. And boy, does he not squander it, perfectly muting and controlling his performance, as to only play an Everyman, thus making every comedic quip funnier and every dramatic moment more relatable. We also get vocal cameos from Rosario Dawson, Patton Oswalt, and David Cross, the last two portraying the white voices of Mr. Bleep and Cassius, respectively. It's a very potent move and moment that these two white actors allow themselves to portray these self-kidding yet complexly relevant roles.

What an alive, vivid, driving film this is. To me, this film does to comedy what Get Out did to horror. In fact, I think this film is better than Get Out. While Get Out had the entertainment value covered, Sorry to Bother You has more of a vision. It's not merely another cinematic racial allegory, but a film made by people who love the cinema. What was ostensibly a film seemingly made to comment on racial perspectives and disparities reveals itself to be about the dirge of economics, the almost adorable fallacies of human life, and an ordinary man trying to make a better life for himself.

This Boots was made for filmmaking. And that's what he should do...along with continuing to be a dope musical artist.

RATING: Three-and-a-half stars out of four

The Incredibles 2 (2018)

Ah, I sure do love a reunion!

But do you know what I love even more? A reunion, in which you are happy and anticipating to see every living soul there, everyone has retained their spirit, but have improved on themselves since you last saw them, every lull or activity is immaculately timed and manages to be invigorating whatever it is, everybody has a splendid time, leaves with a grin on their faces, and you accept that whether or not it occurs again on a later date, you were immensely satiated for the time being.

I know. Sounds like wishful thinking, but tonight, PIXAR reunited me with my annual PIXAR short film; this time, being Bao, a bizarre, avant-gardely humorous, and heartwarming story about the disconnect and reconnection of a mother and son.

And then came the Parr family reunion. It was...

Quite incredible, to say the least. Everything I expected, everything I craved, and then some.

The film picks up exactly and perfectly where the first film ended. The Underminer is causing chaos in the city and while the Incredibles spring into action, it isn't a complete success, with the Underminer robbing a bank and some substantial damage caused to the city. Authorities' apprehensions for superheroes soon spring again and the family, shamed and homeless, are forced to stay at a motel. 

However, they are soon approached by a gentleman named Winston Deaver, owner of Devtech. He idolized the heroes as a child and now as an adult, he plans to get superheroes back on the public's side. Elastigirl is named to be the at the vanguard of this movement, as she's off on a mission to protect the city from the Screenslaver, while Bob, a.k.a. Mr. Incredible, takes over duties as a parent. However, things being complicated when the Screenslaver has a vastly different identity than expected, as well as Jack Jack developing his superpower.

Oh, did I say one? I meant seventeen.

When this film was finalized and it was made official, I had very low expectations, but in a reasonable, excited way. I expected it to (a) show me the Parr family after the events of the first film and (b) do something new and interesting with them. As much as I enjoyed the first film, I'm not the fiercest fanatic of that film, so as long as it followed and obeyed my expectations, it was due for a rave review from me.

What's remarkable about this film is that the film continues the legacy of the first film via one aspect: spirit. This film rarely and sparingly utilizes callbacks or references to the first film, but by merely capturing such an exact tonal replica of the first film, it manages to be more evocative of the first film, rather than nudging the audience every ten minutes. It balances the action, comedy, heart, and conflict practically identically to the first film. During the action and chase scenes, there are still arguments about who's going to watch the baby. Before FroZone leaves for a mission, he can't escape being nagged at by Honey.

How this film stands alone, however, is through another aspect: progression. We already developed the characters and powers. It is now time to let everything be taken full advantage of. The story is more than just a simple mission-to-fight-a-villain story. It uses the impetus of the villain and the idiosyncrasies and flaws of its characters to reveal commentary about the media, television, entitled contentment, and even about parents playing equal roles in raising their children. 

Also, what Coco did for racial tolerance, The Incredibles 2 is continuing for feminism. The film's basic premise is that Elastigirl is the hero that's not only the choice because of wisdom, but also because she's the most marketable, the boldest face for this advocacy. In 2018, this couldn't have been any more of a perfect time to release a sequel that takes the approach of having a female front-and-center. There's even a little nuanced moment where Evelyn, the sister of Winston, talks about being an inventor and how adroit and advanced she is at it and Helen subtly gives her an impressed look. The girl-power themes strike not just an audacious note, but a gracious note, as in lead, support, and pay it forward. It goes further when Mr. Incredible struggles with the idea of not being in the forefront of this pro-superhero movement, despite being genuinely excited and supportive of her, connoting and articulating the belief that in order for women to move forward in our society, it may require men, the gender possessing the higher quantities of power and clout, may need to be humbled once in a while.

On a technical level, this both simmers in the same field, yet surpasses the original, as well. The animation has the same buoyancy and juvenile ecstasy of the original, yet it is so much more ambitious and multifarious in style, drawing influences of neo-noir, action film-style visuals, and even architecture in Palm Springs. This leads to some of the most gorgeous, captivating imagery I've seen from the Parrs' rental house, to seeing those familiar, innocent, wide blue eyes on the Parrs, to a mere scene of a moon-lit pool, as Helen and Bob have a discussion. 

This also makes way for some of the most rousing, full-bodied, visually astounding action sequences I've seen in an animated film, including one of the propulsive, white-knuckle monorail sequences in all of cinema. Also, the reverent joy to see the reprise of these characters' lives can clearly be empathized with via the voice actors because returning actors Craig T. Nelson, Holly Hunter, Sarah Powell, and Samuel "Mr. Motherfucker" Jackson adjust themselves squarely and comfortably back into their roles. Bob Odenkirk brings a looney fervor to the role of Winston and Catherine Keener, fresh out of Get Out, slithers and simmers in a Sharon Stone-esque emulation through the role of Evelyn, Winston's sister. On the subject of returns, it wouldn't be a badass PIXAR film without Michael Giacchino composing the score, providing a musical score with thematic continuity and singular ingenuity, all the while never depriving us of the grandiose notes we expect to hear from The Incredibles.

If I had to pick my favorite PIXAR film, I would give a three-way tie to the Toy Story films. If I had to determine the most meaningful PIXAR film, I'd easily chalk it up to Inside Out. If I had to select the most gorgeous PIXAR film, I'd say Coco. However, if I had to pick the most entertaining PIXAR film, I'd say The Incredibles 2. I feel that, internally, deep down, I knew what to expect when the Disney logo preceding the film was cloaked in the superhero motifs and bleeding, beautiful reds we've grown accustomed to from The Incredibles. That frilly, disconnected, narratively distant moment of build-up sums up the entire film: embracing current progression, while attuned with that old spirit. For a film of such high stakes, this is one of the easiest, instantly entertaining, effortlessly appealing films of the year. It feels less like a laborious effort to engage and more like a round-table read, where everyone is happy to be there. By simply having everyone back and enjoying themselves, it managed to both achieve its basic requirements and exceed them.

Also, there's a line in the film where agent Rick Dicker states, "Politicians don't like people who do good just because it's right." I think I'll just leave this here for y'all.

RATING: Four out of four stars!

Hereditary (2018)

You know, I stated previously that my main quibble with modern horror films is that, while the expression and feeling of fear is complex, multifarious, and unlimited, the template for these films are anything but. I've also previously provided much acclaim for those that go the extra mile and attempt to match that natural, veritable level of complexity and layered intensity. And that'll be the case with Hereditary. The film both outwardly and obliquely expresses the fear of loss, the fear of failing as a parent, and the fear of perpetuating a negative family legacy. All of this coming from a supernatural horror film.

A24, please don't show any signs of slowing down.

Hereditary opens with a family comprised of husband/father Steve, wife/mother Annie, who works as a miniaturist artist, son Peter, and daughter Charlie. Their grandmother, Ellen, has recently passed away and the family, particularly Annie, is struggling to cope with the loss. The family is put into further turmoil when Charlie dies in a car accident caused by Peter. She soon afterwards meets a lady named Joan, who lost her son and grandson. Joan convinces Annie to communicate with her deceased daughter via a séance. However, this soon produces dire consequences. Will the family be able to recover? And how much did Grandma Ellen know?

With such a distinct, original studio such as A24, it doesn't surprise me that the film has such a unique style of cinematography, thanks to cinematographer Pawel Porgozelski. She has a unique way of framing that is wide, afar, and observant. It focuses on the scene, but gives everything proper space, as if it's letting the mood of the moment be the star. It uses close-ups, but sagaciously and sparingly. When they are used, they are used to probe in on the character's feelings. There are even instances where the camera focuses on the niceties and details of the house, thus personifying the house in a way.

Sonically, the film manages to stand out. While the dialogue is not muted by any means, sound editor Alfred DeGrand amplifies several emotional or minute sounds. Crying, breathing, a clicking tongue, the tinkering of a fork; all are accentuated and given as equal an importance and strength as the actual dialogue. And when we aren't being treated to the brilliant, atmospheric sound design, we get to witness one of the most awe-inspiring, unorthodox horror scores I've ever heard, composed by Colin Stetson. It sounds synth-driven, yet he primarily used vocals and manipulated clarinets to produce a motley of sounds. I haven't been invigorated and transfixed by a horror score to this degree since Herrmann's score for Psycho.

There are a lot of keen narrative moves from director/writer Ari Aster. When I first saw the advertisements, I thought that it would be a subversive, original twist on scary-child horror films, such as Orphan or The Exorcist. However, Charlie's decapitation within the first half-hour struck down that expectation. What's surprising is that the real core of the film is Annie and her slow, neurotic, emotional breakdown, first driven by grief, then by guilt, and finally by obsession.

The film is actually separated into two parts. The first half is a plaintive, meditative study on grief. The second half...is the consistently scary shit. Sometimes, you hear critics throw around superlatives, such as "non-stop," which are really rhetorical and superficial, at best. However, believe me when I say that the second half is nothing but non-stop scares.  The film manages to go beyond jump scares and actually utilizes some rather macabre, visceral methods in order to scare. And given how one adult male left the audience for two minutes at one point, I think it was effective. The fact that I can talk about indelible scares from the moribund, atrophying genre of the supernatural horror film, the genre that's still showing the rotten traces of Paranormal Activity and The Conjuring, is astounding, but nevertheless, exemplary. And it all culminates to one of the most artfully bizarre, perverse endings I've seen in quite some time.

The performances are all captivating. Milly Shapiro goes from buoyant, vibrant, shrewd Matilda from Matilda: The Musical to portraying a cold, detached, troubled Charlie in this film. With the paltry screen time she's given, she manages to make an impact and leave you invested 'til her bloody end. Former Naked Brother Alex Wolff portrays Peter as a typical pot-smoking teenager that, emotionally, is rather weak and nakedly vulnerable. He manages to make us feel his angst and malaise without his excessive crying being overkill. Gabriel Byrne as the husband primarily stays in his lane as the straight man to all of the chaos, but he himself gets a few effective moments as he begins to feel the effects of the madness. Ann Dowd is deceptively beguiling as the frighteningly genial friend, Joan.

However, the stand-out, expectedly, is Toni Collette as Annie, looking like Julianne Moore bereft of any rest. Right off the bat, she enters the film drained and exhausted, but fervently and valorously attempting to stay warm. By the end, she's raving mad, desperately trying to get the love back from her family, as well as regain her sanity. The fact that her character is revealed to be a sleepwalker and a miniaturist artist on a time clock to meet her deadline for an art exhibition add to her insecurities and paranoia and seem to merely prod at and exacerbate her mental descent. It's horrifying yet tragically hypnotic to watch, on the level of Jack Torrance from The Shining.

"Spellbinding" is the word I would use to describe this film. Watching this film and how it deftly and effectively balanced genuine emotion and genuine horror made me wonder if this is the wave of the future; if filmmakers and filmgoers, as well, have the same plight of wanting to feel more than just horror. I mean, this generation does seem to be the one giving the most credence and evidence that just because something looks good doesn't mean it is. Given all these demands for change, I don't know if horror films like these are a secondary demand for change or a caution that things are changing. Either way, it looks like these up-and-coming horror filmmakers have inherited some good techniques.

Good work, A24. See you at Oscar time!

RATING: Three-and-a-half stars out of four

Solo: A Star Wars Story (2018)

You know, it's funny how life unfolds.

You start off creating these elaborate plans to keep yourself well-versed with the Star Wars canon, moreso polishing yourself and shaking off any rust. You plan to finish the half of the Star Wars films you haven't seen, or in the case of Attack of the Clones, haven't seen in a while, but then life overworks you, you get sidetracked, box office returns for the newest effort take a surprising turn for the negative, and then you just have to say...

Today, Solo will be judged solo.

The film centers on the lovable scoundrel himself, Han Solo, beginning as a child criminal from Corellia. As a member of a gang, he steals in exchange for food and shelter. However, he attempts to escape Corellia with his girlfriend, Qi'ra, and while he manages to escape, Qi'ra is stopped by officers and Solo vows for their reunion. After a failed stint in the Navy, he soon pairs up with a criminal, Tobias Beckett, and one Wookie, Chewbacca, and they all head off on an adventure to steal a fuel source, coaxium, all along the way encountering a smuggler, Lando Calrissian, and a reunion with Solo's girlfriend, Qi'ra, which may include some dark, awkward implications.

Honestly, the first quarter of this film left me feeling rather empty. I think, through it all, one of my main gripes was with Han Solo himself, Alden Ehrenreich. Now, this is definitely a make-it-or-break-it type of role for him. He's usually known for being a mere aspect in films directed by Francis Ford Coppola, Woody Allen, and the Coen Brothers. He clearly surrounds himself with good company, but it's another thing to be a blockbuster leading man.

Apparently, Lucasfilm hired an acting coach for Ehrenreich shortly after receiving the role and...yeah, it shows. His initial impact and vibe for the first thirty minutes strikes as frustratingly unctuous. Every beat, every emotional shift, his delivery; all of them feel too precisely studied and too tightly disciplined. It feels less like Han Solo and more like an actor praying to God that the audience buys him as Solo.

However, it doesn't help that Solo as a character is hampered by a leaden, generic, appallingly rudimentary story in the movie's opening. This character, who has produced a legacy of being charmingly edgy, has his backstory curtailed to being an ambitious, loose cannon with a heart of gold, who is determined to be a pilot, despite him being an undisciplined ruffian. Oh, and his main pursuit is simply a girlfriend, because apparently, Star Wars films really like to take characters with ambiguous backgrounds and gargantuan spirits and dilute that package down to, "Sigh! I need my girlfriend back. Fuck power! Fuck the Force! I need love!"

The story begins so underwhelmingly that the most simple revelations of Solo's backstory feel contrived and forced. For example, it turns out Han Solo's name was given by a Naval officer because, fuck it, he has no family and he's there Solo. For a name with such gravity and such innumerable possibilities, it seems to be introduced, resolved, and brushed over rather abruptly. Or how about the fact that Solo's meeting of Chewbacca boiled down to Chewbacca was going to eat him and Solo managed to talk/roar his way out of it. Ignoring the fact that he doesn't speak Wookie to Chewbacca for the rest of the film, why couldn't there have been another monster trying to eat Solo and Chewbacca saves him from it? That would be more interesting than this humdrum, too-recycled-even-for-Disney route.

On that note, the first 30 minutes of the film showcases Tobias being happy with his lady and...well, I'm sure you can follow where I'm going with this. The story and the characters in the beginning are interpreted and realized so thinly and without any sort of pizzazz or vitality that it stultifies the action sequences. You just sit there watching movement...I guess...and speed...I guess, but there's nothing to engage or rile up the viewer. So yeah, the first half-hour or so is deadly dull.

And then, something happens.

The movie, specifically director Ron Howard (welcome to the galaxy, Mr. Cunningham) and screenwriter Lawrence Kasdan (Luke, HE is your father), along with his son, Jonathan Kasdan, realize that Solo and all of the characters are physical beings, but work better as components. It dawned on me while I was watching this that this franchise is the most universal, cinema franchise for a reason. It's the superlative, most uniform example of the "greater sum of parts." The pacing, the visuals, the characters, the story, the motivations, the emotions, the philosophies, the logistics, the locations, the make-up; all of these factors need to be attuned with each other, in order to make a successful Star Wars film. If one aspect either lags or is too heavily punctuated and honed in on over another aspect, something's gonna feel off.

The solo reason (haha) why the first fourth of the film is so dull is because it focuses on the least interesting parts. We don't care about Solo's romance because it's a romance, but because of the alchemy and charm behind it. And that's what Ehrenreich, admittedly, does receive after a rocky start: charm. When he's allowed to stop trying to stand out on his own and instead is allowed to immerse himself in this world, that is when we see the dogged charisma that Harrison Ford laid the groundwork for. 

However, the other actors manage to stand out, as well. Woody Harrelson as Tobias Beckett supplies his idiosyncratic, delirious charm and furious, menacing spirit. Emilia Clarke, justifiably, goes from Game of Thrones to Star Wars, playing Qi'Ra. Much like Ehrenreich, she becomes much more intriguing as she grows out of a mere love-struck damsel and fleshes out into a torn, trapped, and vulnerable lady. And then, there's our universal black Everyman, Donald Glover as Lando Calrissian. While, admittedly, he does struggle in some of the emotional moments, he spotlights the screen with a self-content smile that never leaves and his devilishly mellifluous baritone. Apparently, Billy Dee Williams himself instructed Glover to just be charming when portraying Lando. Thanks for the lesson, Mr. Williams. Now, we can have Glover for life, yes?

In addition, once the film becomes more surefooted, the action sequences become much more exciting. Also, in a shocking turn of events, Williams has turned over primary musical composition duties to John Powell, with Williams only contributing the basic themes. However, I never would have known, because Powell's score is just as soaring and sweeping as William's.

I guess it's fitting that Ron Howard directed this. I would describe him as a competent director, but not a masterful one. In most of the films I've seen from him (Apollo 13, The Da Vinci Code, The Grinch), his ambition and energy are bar none, but his execution always seems too precisely quantitative. He knows just what action sequence goes here, what antidote goes here, what heartfelt moment goes here, but he never really seems to transcend beyond that. His movies are effective, but not necessarily masterpieces. However, while he may lack in a genteel, exquisite style, he makes up for in entertainment.

It definitely must've made for both an interesting and strenuous experience for Howard, what with it being his first Star Wars film to direct and one where he had to reshoot 70% of it, but Howard usually manages to do just enough. And here, he's done just enough. Donald Glover Beautifully Smiling for An Hour...er...I mean, Solo: A Star Wars Story is a solid place-holder in the Star Wars universe.

As a solo effort, it works just fine.

RATING: Three out of four stars