Soul / *****

In the wake of all of the sequels and tepid properties that Pixar has become known for as of late, it’s sometimes easy to forget just how groundbreaking and imaginative their films could be. For me, the one I always return to is Wall-E, with its astonishing, nearly silent first half of the film, but of course, there’s the opening montage of Up – another case where the studio defied easy expectations and did something richer, something weirder than you’d expect. It’s been a long time – probably since Inside Out, although Coco was not without its moments – since I walked away from a Pixar movie feeling truly moved, feeling like I saw something original and vibrant and rich and beautiful. But Soul gave me all of that and then some. It may not be perfect, but the peaks so outweigh the minor valleys that I don’t even care that much.

Like with Wall-E, so much of Soul‘s greatness comes from the first half of the film means that you’ll have to forgive me for focusing on it as much as I am. But that opening stretch of film – which revolves around the untimely death of Joe Gardner, a band teacher and jazz musician on the verge of achieving his dreams – finds Pixar plunging into stylish, original, gorgeous animation in a way that they haven’t since Wall-E ran his hand through the rings of a planet. Soul‘s afterlife is stunning, leaving me sad all anew that I couldn’t see it on the big screen, from its escalator straight out of A Matter of Life and Death to its wonderfully sketched out afterlife “counselors,” from the Spider-Verse-inspired breakdown of reality around the edges to the freedom to play with space and reality in a way that Pixar hasn’t let themselves in a long time. Yes, the story that begins here – as Joe finds himself responsible for a soul who’s refused to head on to her life on Earth, trying to convince her that life is worth living while also trying to get back to his abruptly ended existence – is a good one, setting up the payoffs to come. But for much of this section of Soul, I simply found myself lost in their world in a way I haven’t been for so long, reminding me what animation can accomplish.

And so, yes, when Soul shifts gears in its second half, bringing with it an old genre of family comedy that I was honestly a bit surprised to see show up, I was initially a little disappointed. Sure, Wall-E lost some of its wonder as humanity re-entered the film, but the movie still felt rich and satirical and engaging, while Soul suddenly started to feel…broad, and easy, and silly. Oh, I laughed at it, but it felt lesser than the film that had come before it, as though the movie had set up great ideas but then walked away from them, and I was a bit disappointed.

I shouldn’t have been, though, because Soul‘s closing act is a thing of beauty, pulling all of the disparate threads and pieces of the movie together to find something profound, grappling with ideas that speak probably more to the parents in the audience than the kids: the idea of whether our purpose is really our meaning in life, of whether the thing that brings us joy is the same thing that gives our life that meaning, of how often we miss out on the details of the world around us, of how our dreams aren’t always the thing we think they are as we chase them. Soul ends up tossing around big ideas like that – questions about the meaning of life and our purpose – but doing so in a way that never neglects its silly side, making you laugh and still find the beauty in its animation and its world as it does all of that. And its closing scenes are something truly wonderful, expressing through visuals and cinematic tools what no dialogue could easily do.

I might have wondered, halfway through, if Soul could live up to its first half. But somehow, it does, giving me not only a great movie, but one of Pixar’s best films, period. It’s a reminder of what the studio can do at its best – make entertainment that’s genuinely for a family, with humor to spare, all while giving you groundbreaking animation and complex emotional stories that defy the normal boundaries of “kids movies.” Soul asks questions about life, about purpose, about art, about living – and it also finds time for silliness and anarchy aplenty (even if, admittedly, the comedy can feel broad and silly – perhaps too much for the film around it). It’s a movie that feels researched and worked on (as a white dude who’s not knowledgable about jazz, it’s hard for me to speak to the authenticity of the Black experience of the film, or the music scene, but it feels researched and genuine in a way that most films don’t to me, giving me the feeling of care that it seems went into it), but more than that, it feels like a labor of love in the best of ways. What a treat.

IMDb

Onward / *** ½

There was a time when the very existence of a Pixar movie meant that I would be in the theater nearly opening day. But through its last several releases, Pixar has let its brand get diluted a bit, giving us solid but unremarkable films that can’t help but feel lesser compared to the best days of the studio. 2020, though, offered something we hadn’t had in a very long time: a sequel-free pair of Pixar movies, finally giving us more original stories from the studio that’s always been most exhilarating when it’s taken chances and gone in new direction.

Well, Onward may be an original film, but that doesn’t really help it feel any more vibrant or exciting than it does. Like most of Pixar’s recent output, there’s nothing wrong with Onward exactly; it’s fun, beautifully animated, and creates some really imaginative sequences (the best of which involves a threat which assembles itself from pieces of the world around it). But in the end, Onward feels like something that just never really clicks, giving us a movie that, for all of its “originality,” never comes up with much to say.

That’s even more surprising given the wonderfully bonkers premise of the movie, which revolves around two brothers (Chris Pratt and Tom Holland) living in a modern fantasy world who attempt to bring back their deceased father for 24 hours…and instead, only bring back his legs. That’s an endearingly weird premise, and the best parts of the film steer into its 70s van art/Dungeons and Dragons aesthetic, playing around with nods to nerd culture that are all the better for their unapologetic nature (and the fact that they feel genuine, rather than something like the condescending stereotypes of The Big Bang Theory).

Unfortunately, too much of Pixar falls into the “X, but they’re just like us!” formula that the studio ran into the ground (fish, but they’re like us! monsters, but they’re like us!  toys, but they’re like us!). Making matters worse, the modern day parallels are too heavy and thick, and while Onward never goes full Shrek (pun names, obvious jokes), it still robs the film of its best aspects. Onward is more fun the closer it comes to being a prog-rock album cover (indeed, there are big chunks of the movie where, if Pixar had gone with the obvious choice and replaced Pratt with Jack Black, that we could have a Brütal Legend film on our hands), and the more it veers into re-creating the modern world but with fantasy creatures, the less interesting the movie is.

For all of that, I can’t deny that, as usual, Pixar finds an interesting and more complex emotional beat to hit than your average kids film – something the studio has been more and more skilled at, even as the films have struggled a bit. Monsters U, of all films, ended up wrestling with what happens when you realize that your abilities can’t ever measure up to your dreams; Toy Story 4, for all of its lack of necessity, looked at what life becomes when you have to make your identity all your own and not through the lens of someone else. And Onward keeps up that tradition, although only in a way that becomes clear in the final act of the film – making the final act ending up feeling a bit unsupported and tossed in. Which, admittedly, makes sense from a plot perspective…but not from a film structure or emotional growth sense.

Add into that more than a few other problems – characters that are far too broad, jokes that don’t really land the way they should, some interpersonal dynamics that never quite feel real – and Onward just never really comes together the way you’d hope it would. Oh, Pixar is too skilled to make a complete misfire (well, sure, The Good Dinosaur and Cars 2notwithstanding), and Onward has some odd edges that make it enjoyable enough. But the film just never really works, and the fact that Pixar has skill enough to make a flawed movie like this hold together doesn’t make it quite the return to form that we might have hoped.

I’m still excited about Soul, though.

IMDb

Incredibles 2 / ****

Pixar has, in recent years, been a victim of its own success, to no small degree. When your studio launches with a nearly uninterrupted streak of greatness, and then takes a break from some (pretty good but not great) sequels to release Inside Out…well, you’re not making things easy for yourself. And then Incredibles 2 makes things even harder, by being a very long-awaited (14 years!) sequel to one of Pixar’s most beloved films. In other words, there’s almost no way it could possibly live up to the expectations set for it.

And in some ways, Incredibles 2 definitely suffers from the comparison. From a plot perspective, Incredibles 2 is functional, but not much more, following Helen/Elastigirl as she gets the chance to fly solo as a hero for a bit, while dad Mr. Incredible has to take care of the kids. Are you thinking, “wait, did they really revisit one of the most hoary and painful tropes of an 80’s sitcom?” Oh yes, they did, and does it feel weirdly dated and out of touch with anything approaching modernity? Most definitely. (Yes, The Incredibles is clearly set in an alternate 60’s era, but that doesn’t make this plot thread any better.)

That’s a bit of a creaky foundation on which to build a movie, and while the rest of Incredibles 2 works and holds together, there’s just not much there. Incredibles 2 so often feels like a bunch of half-constructed threads and ideas tossed together to make something that works and delivers a movie, there’s no substance to grab onto. Every time the movie seems to be coming up on some central thesis, some universal theme, it gets distracted and wanders off. There’s a central villain called the ScreenSlaver who worries about people living through their devices and screens; there’s Bob and Helen’s marriage adjusting to the shifting roles they each have; there’s the change in society as supers fight for recognition; there’s Violet’s efforts to date…on and on, and none of it ever coalesces into something focused and trenchant.

But for all of that, you can see the rating I gave Incredibles 2, and that’s because as empty as it might be, none of that keeps it from being as much fun as it is. Oozing style in every frame (Bird’s embrace of the 60’s retro, mod style is a joy, and suffuses the whole movie), anchored by great vocal performances, and delivering action sequences to die for (more on those in a moment), Incredibles 2 is a popcorn movie done right; there’s not much to chew on, but there’s no big flaws, and style to spare.

And, oh man, are there those action sequences. Brad Bird has long had an eye for fluid, inventive action sequences that leave your jaw dropped – look, for instance, at his incredible (heh) work on Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol, especially that closing parking garage sequence. Bird’s mind incorporates all of the moving parts in a scene, all of the abilities, and weaves them together in dazzling, creative ways that are a joy to watch. In an era saturated by superhero movies that shoot every fight the exact same way, Incredibles 2 reminds you that superhero fights should never be the same, and can flow together in mind-bending, wild ways. (The best aspect may be Bird’s use of a minor superhero who can create dimensional portals, an ability that Bird finds new uses for constantly and inventively, leaving me in awe of how creatively he paired them against each new opponent.) More than that, there’s the way Bird helms them, giving us long, fluid, moving shots that follow the action seamlessly, allowing the audience to take it all in and just keep up with it.

Look, Incredibles 2 isn’t the original, and it’s not going to be in the top tier of Pixar films. It’s a bit empty, from any thematic perspective, and under the surface, it does its job and not much more. But as stylish summer spectacle, it’s a joy to watch, and reminds you of what a gifted director Brad Bird is when it comes to giving us that spectacle. Set your expectations right, and you’ll have a blast.

The short film: As per tradition, there’s a short film attached to Incredibles 2; this time, it’s the beautiful and heartfelt Bao, about a Chinese woman who’s surprised when one of her dumplings comes to life as a little baby. Bao is incredibly sweet and simple; without a line of dialogue, it tells a story of parenting and motherhood that both draws on Chinese tradition and taps into something universal and beautiful. There’s a sharp swerve about 2/3 of the way through the film, and one that hit me hard in the heart for a variety of reasons. I loved it; it’s sweet, funny, and gets at something that hits a bit close to home these days.

IMDb: Incredibles 2 | Bao

Snow Week: Family Viewings

As mentioned in my last post, we had an unexpected week break from school and work around here, and when you’re trapped in a house with children, you don’t always get the chance to watch the movies and shows you might really be wanting to see. Luckily, we got to watch some good movies and shows anyhow, even given the family restrictions. Once again, in the interest of time, I kept the reviews shorter than usual.

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The Lego Ninjago Movie is undeniably the weakest of the Lego films so far, but, then again, when your basis for comparison is the amazing The Lego Movie and the surprisingly great The Lego Batman Movie, is falling short of that bar that surprising? What’s more disappointing, though, is that it lacks the rich emotional hooks of its predecessors. Yes, there’s an interesting story about a father who abandoned his child, but The Lego Ninjago Movie doesn’t really invest in that story the way The Lego Movie was about growing up, or how The Lego Batman Movie found resonance in isolation. Moreover, The Lego Ninjago Movie doesn’t use its great cast all that well, essentially wasting a number of great voices (including Kumail Nanjiani, a favorite of mine, as well as Jackie Chan and numerous others). And yet, for all of that, I had a blast watching it, simply because, whatever it lacks in depth and emotion, it makes up for in silliness and absurdity. There’s a reveal early on in the film about an “ultimate weapon” that had me in tears not only the first time, but every time it was brought back. And then there’s Justin Theroux as the film’s ostensible villain and deadbeat dad, swaggering through everything with a cocky voice, impeccable comic timing, and all the best lines. Is The Lego Ninjago Movie anywhere near as good as the movies that came before it? Not even close. But did I laugh really hard throughout it? Oh, god, yes. Rating: *** ½

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I’m a huge fan ofLemony Snicket’s Series of Unfortunate Events, a gleefully dark and Gothic children’s series that dabbles in literary allusions, rich symbolism, postmodernism, and black comedy in equal measures, all while spinning a complex story about coming to terms with a lack of answers in the modern world. That may sound pretentious, but it’s hard to convey just how rich and fascinating the series is, all while still being laugh out loud funny, clever, and just a joy. All of which is to say, I wasn’t sure that it would be easy for an adaptation of the works to capture all of that tone and magic. And yet, somehow, Netflix’s take on A Series Of Unfortunate Events is a treat, through and through, capturing the tone of the books perfectly while also diving into the series complicated plotting and weird postmodern touches. There’s little way to talk about the series without talking about Neil Patrick Harris’s performance as Count Olaf (and numerous variations of that character), and rightfully so – Harris makes Olaf menacing while also bringing out the absurdity and comedy of the show, turning an incredibly complicated role into a treat that works. (It’s a fine line to walk, making Olaf’s disguises convincing enough to work while also remaining obvious to us, and Harris straddles that line effortlessly.) For my money, though, Patrick Warburton is the show’s secret weapon, playing Lemony Snicket himself as a wandering Greek chorus and delivering Snicket’s gleefully dark narration in a dry monotone that makes it all the funnier. Add to that a trio of strong performances by the Baudelaires, and the involvement of Daniel Handler (the author behind the Snicket pen name) to adapt the story and his mythology into something manageable (as well as possibly correcting some repetitiveness that cropped up in the first few books in the series), and what you get is a blast. It’s wonderfully silly while keeping the dark themes and worries of the book, captures that sense of hopelessness while keeping everything tongue in cheek, and giving us a visual feast of Gothic touches that brings this bizarre universe to life. I couldn’t be happier with the adaptation (with the possible exception of some slow patches that are as much due to the books we’re covering and less with the adaptation itself) and am already excited as could be for season two (coming in March!). Rating: **** ½

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A few years ago, I went to see Paddington after hearing that, yes, despite how dire it looked, how bad it seemed, it was truly a charming, wonderful little film – a verdict I wholeheartedly agreed with. Now comes Paddington 2, which may be even better than the first – it’s funny, it’s charming, but more than that, it’s a welcome tonic of positivity, hope, and humanity at a time when we all seem to be rejecting those things. Like the first, Paddington 2 is a gentle, earnest affair; there’s no snark, no winking double entendres going over the head of kids, no pop culture references to keep people on their toes. (The only movie reference in all of Paddington 2 is to a Charlie Chaplin film, and that’s the kind of thing I can get behind.) Instead, it’s the story of a young bear who thinks that we should be kind and appreciative toward people, and that if we look for the best in people, we will usually find it. Indeed, most of the plot of Paddington 2 revolves around Paddington’s desire to buy a present for his Aunt Lucy, who raised him from a cub. Mind you, that storyline ends up with Paddington in prison after taking the fall for a cunning thief (played by Hugh Grant in a wonderfully ridiculous performance), where he deals with the surliest of cooks (Brendan Gleeson, predictably great). Once again, director Paul King manages to make his film earnest and positive without ever being simplistic or overly sappy, letting his message come through without ever turning it into a “lesson” film. How? Much of it comes from his command of the tone, which is winningly silly throughout (with a lot of inspiration from silent comedy); what’s more, King once again brings more visual flair and imagination than you’d expect, drawing on Wes Anderson at times to turn a tour of London into a trip through a pop-up book, or a dazzling montage of days of cooking into one continuous shot. The result is pure joy throughout – it’s very funny, very sweet, and absolutely works, no matter your age; there’s something wonderful about a children’s film that wants to be about human experiences and kindness, and that goes doubly at a time when such qualities are in short supply. (That the film is set in post-Brexit Britain and features such a casually diverse cast and numerous comments about immigrants bettering themselves is, I’m sure, no accident.) In short, it’s a true treat, and a movie that genuinely made me feel a little better about a world that could produce it. Rating: *****

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IMDb: The Lego Ninjago Movie | A Series of Unfortunate Events | Paddington 2

The Lego Batman Movie / ****

Much as was the case with the original Lego Movie, there was really no reason to expect The Lego Batman Movie to be any good. While Will Arnett’s gloriously absurd take on Batman was undeniably a highlight of the original film, the idea of creating a movie that revolved around him…well, let’s just say that such spin-offs don’t have the best track record. But more to the point, don’t we already have enough Batman movies? Did we really need another one?

But really, I should have remembered that I had similar doubts before seeing The Lego Movie, and was pleasantly overjoyed by that experience. And luckily, the same happened here. No, The Lego Batman Movie isn’t quite as wonderful as its predecessor – it lacks some of that film’s surprising depth and heart – but it more than makes itself worthwhile simply by being so ridiculously, wonderfully fun – an underrated virtue in modern superhero movies.

Mind you, it doesn’t hurt that The Lego Batman Movie delivers a pretty great superhero story. Playing off of the Joker/Batman dynamic in incredibly silly ways, the movie follows Joker as he finds a new way to threaten Gotham City; meanwhile, Batman finds himself questioning his life of solitude and isolation as he’s forced into working with others. Yes, in broad terms, it’s all stories you’ve seen done before…but in the hands of The Lego Batman Movie, it all feels winning and charming – and, moreover, it handles Batman in interesting ways, feeling like a bit of a tonic after years of grimdark brutality that reached its nadir with Batman v. Superman.

But, really, what’s most wonderful about The Lego Batman Movie is the sheer silliness of it all. From Batman commenting on studio logos in the opening moments, the film’s joyous, anarchic sense of humor is infectious, with a playfulness that extends to non-stop, rapid fire jokes that come both visually, audibly, and through the dialogue. Yes, a lot of them are even better if you’re a comic book fan (seriously, they go deep into the back catalog here, to some justly forgotten villains), but so often, the movie is just poking fun at itself, at its characters, at Batman continuity, at self-important superhero movies, and really, at anything. And while the movie doesn’t go quite as far meta as its predecessor does, there are still some wonderful carryover jokes – I never stopped laughing at the sound effects for guns, or the “worst villains of all time” that the film introduced. And by the time you start layering in all of the parody posters, the Hollywood in-jokes (which range from obvious to incredibly subtle – even some of the casting is based around jokes), the Airplane!-level pace to the jokes, and more, the result is genuinely hilarious. (Really, it’s hard to know who laughed more, me or my kids.)

The Lego Batman Movie isn’t groundbreaking or spectacular, the way the original Lego Movie was; it “suffers,” I guess, from a refusal to go back to the same well twice, which is admirable, but makes the movie feel a little less substantial than the original. And yet, for all of that, I wouldn’t change a bit of it; it’s an absolute blast, from beginning to end – it’s wonderfully silly, it’s inventive visually, cleverly constructed, and really, just a genuinely great family movie that’s actually fun, without ever being condescending, snarky, or aiming over the heads of kids. What else could you ask for?

IMDb

Big Hero 6 / **** ½

Over the last few years, I’ve gotten a reputation among my friends for being a bit grouchy and dismissive of the whole “Marvel Cinematic Universe” thing. And they’re not wrong, but what I say less is how disappointed I am that I don’t enjoy the MCU more. I grew up loving comic books – especially the X-Men – and so I should be right in the prime audience for the MCU. But as each new movie has come out, and have felt less and less interesting – and more and more interchangeable and generic – I found myself giving up on the whole thing.

All of which brings me to Big Hero 6, which is a Marvel movie at least in spirit, if not quite in canon. Based on an obscure Marvel property (one review I read said that Marvel had forgotten that they even owned the rights to it), Big Hero 6 bears the Marvel stamps, but without being tied into the MCU, and with the freedom that comes from being the property of Disney Animation. And so, while Big Hero 6 still has some of the Marvel staples – a tragic origin story, a theatrical villain, a requisite cameo (of sorts) – it feels not so much like the other Marvel films as it does itself, and that’s a step in the right direction – especially when that vision of itself is so much fun.

Of course, it doesn’t hurt that Big Hero 6 has such an interesting world to play in. Set in an alternate near future where San Francisco has been partially rebuilt and funded by Japanese investors and technology, the film wastes no time in diving into its setting, kicking things off with underground bot battling for money. From there, we rocket ahead with our tale, finding ourselves in a technology institute with college students on the verge of changing the world with lasers, chemicals, and more. And we see it all through young hero, well, Hiro – a precocious, gifted teenager who graduated at an early age and drifts through life without much purpose, until his brother shows him the wonders of life in an incredibly well-funded research lab.

In many ways, much of Big Hero 6 feels like a throwback to the original Iron Man; after all, both are about gifted, cocky characters whose gifts for science allow them to push the boundaries of technology and inadvertently create heroes. But what Big Hero 6 brings to the table is a sense of wonder and imagination, a feat assisted by its animated medium, which eliminates the usual restrictions of budget and effects. Instead, the film is free to create whatever it wants, and its use of nanobots ends up being a blast, creating something fluid and nearly sentient out of the technology. And, of course, there’s Baymax, the medical robot turned lackadaisical superhero, whose charming nature and calming voice bring both a hilarious sense of humor and a much needed dose of levity to a genre that too often takes itself overly seriously.

Sure, in broad strokes, you’ve seen this story before. There’s an awful tragedy, and as a result of that, characters are forced into growth, finding in themselves a heroic side that they weren’t aware of. Meanwhile, a mysterious villain – motivated by revenge, naturally – is using some of our heroes’ own research and ideas against them. And it all comes down to a big, theatrical final confrontation (though luckily it avoids the usual “big beam of light into the sky” trope that’s been plaguing comic book movies).

And yet, I keep coming back to just how fun the whole thing is, and how it reminded me of what I loved about comics as a kid. It wasn’t always the plotting and the characters, though I loved that; it was the style, the action, the sense of glee at being “special”. And Big Hero 6 cashes in on that in spades, even going so far as to letting one of its characters be a gleeful fanboy who’s just excited to fight. And when it does get serious? It works pretty well, engaging with the emotions of loss and revel more thoughtfully than I expected.

In a lot of ways, Big Hero 6 is nothing special – another superhero movie, another kids movie about a misfit with a lovable sidekick, another unlikely hero story. And yet, there’s something really winning about the film, which gives us all of that, but does it in an interesting world, with good characters, a nice sense of style, a sense of humor and fun, and makes itself feel like its own product instead of another piece of a multi-part crossover event that you’ll finally see in ten years. In short, it’s a blast, and I’m glad I finally sat down and saw it.

IMDb

The Secret Life of Pets / *** ½

I’ve talked on here before about the ups and downs of having kids with regard to movie watching. You end up watching some really horrible stuff along the way (I’ve been lucky; I think Home may be the worst thing I had to suffer through, while my wife chose to take the Angry Birds Movie bullet), but you end up looking forward to the minor pleasures. And the original teaser for The Secret Life of Pets promised some of those minor pleasures: while it was nothing groundbreaking, there was something fun about just watching animals be animals, and giving them a bit of personality and dialogue to go with it.

And let me say that those elements of Pets are pretty winning throughout. Whether it’s the dialogue between two dogs about the danger of squirrels, the cat’s disdain for…well, everything, or just the odd details about pet’s perceptions of the world, The Secret Life of Pets creates a pretty fun little world, full of charming asides and nice character work. (An all-star voice cast doesn’t hurt here; Louis CK plays Max wonderfully, bringing out his regular guy, but the standout – in no surprise – is Albert Brooks as a lonely hawk torn between wanting friends and wanting to eat everything.)

What’s less exciting is the story, which feels familiar to an absurd degree. Here, see if this sounds familiar: a beloved character feels threatened by a new arrival, and becomes incredibly jealous. Due to an effort to maintain popularity, both he and the new arrival end up separated from their owner, and have to work together in order to get back. As they do so, they learn to appreciate each other, and start accepting their new shared home.

Substitute “toy” in for “dog” in this film, basically, and you have Toy Story, only done without Pixar’s usual grace and ability to bring out real emotion. Indeed, there’s one brief sequence where it seems like Pets is about to go somewhere darker and more moving, as we learn what happened to Duke’s former owner. But the scene is immediately left behind, and never followed up on, and ends up feeling like an unearned moment of pathos. (Still, it’s better than a bewildering plotline about discarded pets searching for justice after their abandonment; it’s a funny idea that never really goes anywhere, and mainly serves as an excuse for Kevin Hart to yell a lot, which gets a bit old.)

All that being said, I certainly didn’t hate Secret Life of Pets; it’s just that there’s a funnier, more enjoyable movie trapped under its generic plot and forgettable action. The derails and sidetrips along the way are winning, and some of the odd character work (particularly Jenny Slate’s arc as a lovestruck poodle trying to save Max) are genuinely fun. And if you’re seeing it with your kids, you’ll enjoy it a ton more than sitting through another friggin’ Ice Age movie, I promise you. Just don’t expect it to compete with How to Train Your Dragon, much less anything by Pixar. (And don’t even get me started on some of the dire kids movies lurking in the future of this year. For every promising-looking movie like Kubo and the Two Strings, there’s three or four versions of the painful-looking Sing to come.)

IMDb

Kung Fu Panda 3 / ***

The Kung Fu Panda films are oddities in so many ways, stuck in a weird nether realm that keeps them from being as good as they could be, or as bad as they could be. In a lot of ways, Kung Fu Panda was emblematic of Dreamworks Animation at the time of its release. It was a company mainly known for ugly, goofy little kids films that paled in comparison to the astonishing work coming out by Pixar, and by and large, the company got little respect. When your output consisted of Shrek, Madagascar, and so forth, why should it?

And then came Kung Fu Panda, which felt like the transition between Dreamworks’ old stuff and their bigger, better efforts like How to Train Your Dragon. Yes, Kung Fu Panda had a silly plot, and some cheap jokes, and whatnot. But it also had genuinely beautiful animation, a love of action that translated to fluid, interesting battles, and a reverence for martial arts beyond the superficial fighting techniques of The Karate Kid. It wasn’t a perfect movie by any means, but it was one that I liked a lot more than I expected, mainly due to that animation and beauty (especially that beautiful opening five minutes, which tells a story in a very different style).

Then came Kung Fu Panda 2, which I liked even a little more. It had a lot of the same problems as the first, but again, the animation was beautiful (with another amazing shift for a brief flashback sequence), great voice work, fluid battle sequences, and an interesting story that I thought was more compelling than people gave it credit for (guns being used to replace martial arts as a way of moving on from the past). And yet, some of the same problems remained – broad jokes, a plot that sometimes felt like a rehash of the first (Po is inadequate and viewed as a joke, he has to learn something new about himself, uses that to surprise the villain) – and a seemingly internal split between something ambitious and something broader and sillier – in other words, between new Dreamworks and old Dreamworks.

Now comes Kung Fu Panda 3, and if you’re wondering why I spent so much time in this review talking about the old movies, well, it’s because everything I’ve said about the first two once again applies. Once again, the animation is beautiful, the action well-choreographed and better than the genre demands. Once again, there’s some amazing sequences that change up the style to masterful effect, this time echoing ancient Chinese scrolls. Once again, there’s hints at something deeper and more thoughtful. Once again, there’s an overqualified voice cast, this time adding in Bryan Cranston as Poe’s father and J.K. Simmons as the villain. And once again, it’s the same story. Poe is viewed as inadequate; he has a new skill to learn; he nearly doesn’t; he learns it within himself; he saves the day with these new powers.

It’s frustrating, because there are moments of Kung Fu Panda 3 where you can see the really great movie that could have been…and then there’s another cheap joke, another wacky moment that undercuts it. But more damning is the fact that this is the third movie in the series, and it’s doing everything the first one did, with no signs of changing.

I didn’t hate this movie at all – not by a long shot. It’s too beautiful, too well made, and really, too entertaining. But it’s disappointing to see something that could be something really wonderful, something that would allow Dreamworks to really evolve, and see it crippled by the same things that I hate about bad kids movies, and the same things I’ve hated about this series from the beginning. It remains, three movies in, a weirdly bifurcated film, part martial arts family story, part broad kids comedy, and it still hasn’t figured out what it wants to be. And when the message of this series is, as it’s always been, “Be Yourself”…well, that’s cruelly ironic.

IMDb

Chattanooga Film Festival 2016: Day 2

Day 2 of the festival (see here for day 1, which also includes some background on the fest) kicked off with an early candidate for my favorite film of the weekend, Jafar Panahi’s Taxi. Taxi was a backup choice for me originally, one made because I was exhausted from the night before and wanted a slightly later start to the day, but it’s a film I’m really, really glad I ended up catching. Panahi is a fascinating figure – officially banned by the Iranian government from making films, he’s continued to make them since that decree was passed, with Taxi his third act of defiance. His first, This is Not a Film, was a fascinating piece of rebellion pieced together while under house arrest, but Taxi feels like something more substantial. Posing as a cabdriver, Panahi picks up passengers throughout the day, an episodic framework that allows him to incorporate and comment upon Iranian daily life in a fascinating, quiet way. Whether he’s discussing the rules of filmmaking with his young niece, meeting with DVD bootleggers, or listening to passengers argue about the draconian death penalty enforcement in Iran, Taxi remains captivating, fascinating, and incredibly revealing while being a more gentle act of rebellion than you might expect. Panahi is proud of his country, but worried about it, and his careful staging and engaging conversations allow him to express both beautifully and thoughtfully. It’s a simple film, but a beautiful one, one that’s equal parts love letter to cinema, window into Iranian culture, and captivating cinema verite social rebellion. I couldn’t love it more. Rating: *****

Next up, the wonderfully bizarre Men & Chicken, which takes a very basic crowd-pleasing formula – man discovers his family and tries to accept both them and himself – and turns it into something incredibly bizarre and hilarious. Trying to explain the film’s texture is a work in futility; suffice to say, it’s the kind of film where men attack visitors to their property with pots and stuffed wildlife, characters have detailed schedules for their, um, self-maintenance, and the family branch might be a little too tightly bonded with their livestock. All of that sounds like Men & Chicken should be gross and crass, but instead it’s just constantly hilarious, if incredibly dark and odd. If you can get past the weirdness, you may realize the basic nature of the formula, but chances are, you’ll be laughing hard enough and captivated by the wonderfully odd characters that you won’t mind much. And if that doesn’t grab you, how about Hannibal himself – Mads Mikkelsen – as a pathetic, aggressive loser? Or the chance to see the film by the man who got chosen to helm the long-gestating adaptation of Stephen King’s Dark Tower? (Trust me, it’s a wildly bizarre choice based on this film. And yet, it’s one I’m okay with – this looks great and is paced/timed about perfectly.) Rating: **** ½

By contrast, the wedding horror film Demon – a loose adaptation of the Jewish dybbuk folktale – is a frustrating, if sporadically effective, experience. It’s a wedding drama, which gives directors a lot of leeway – lots of characters, lots of drama, easy comedy, and so forth. And the idea of a horror film set against the backdrop of a wedding is a great idea, and one the film occasionally uses well, juxtaposing the nightmarish horrors involving the groom with the jubilant celebrations outside. But more often, it just feels unfocused and unclear, as though it’s implying so much and leaving so much unstated that it just becomes a blank slate. It’s tempting to view the film through the prism of the director’s suicide five days before the premiere, in that the film as much seems about isolation and hidden guilt as anything else. But ultimately, it never quite comes together, and the ending is a pretty weak fizzle. Rating: ** ½

I’m going to be a bit diplomatic about the Secret Screening I caught during the afternoon, which was basically a first draft of an upcoming release. By all accounts, we were the first audience to see the film, and the director explained that he was still making changes and cuts and trying to shape things. That being said, I’m not sure he’s got an easy task ahead of him. The film, which got sold to us as The Changeling meets The Big Chill, largely revolves around an actor trying to lay a friend of his to rest, only to find that there’s a presence – maybe malevolent, maybe not – haunting him. There’s a neat idea in here somewhere, and a couple of good moments that are emotionally rich or scary, depending on what the film needs. But the big problems are twofold: 1) the film feels really, really long and draggy, even at 80 minutes, and 2) the lead actor, who basically has to carry every single scene, often on his own, lacks any real sense of presence or charisma. It’s a bad problem for a film like that to have, and that’s a shame, because there’s some promising pieces to be found. Here’s hoping he can shape it into something more satisfying. Rating: N/A 

What came next, though, blew me away on pretty much every level. Krisha is only the first film Trey Edward Shults, and that’s a staggering fact to keep in mind while you watch it, because it’s got a level of technical assurance, confidence, and strong voice that many more experienced filmmakers never achieve after multiple films. Krisha is the story of the title character, an older woman (mid-60’s) who’s been invited to join her family for Thanksgiving, after what seems like a long time apart. Exactly why it’s been so long, and why there’s so many layers of tension, will become clear over time, but even from the early going, it’s clear that Krisha is a damaged soul, one who’s made some rough choices in her life and is trying to atone for them now. Schults films the first half of the film in some dizzying long takes, giving you almost an Altman-esque sense of movement and conversation at all times, as he weaves in and out of family conversations and begins establishing various story threads. It’s a virtuoso performance, and one that grips you pretty instantly, but if anything, he’s matched or blown away by his lead actress, Krisha Fairchild, who owns the role to a staggering degree. On some level, this basic family drama about family grudges and the past, but it’s done with a beautiful sense of style, and more than that, a raw emotional intensity that’s hard to get away from. The performances are wonderfully naturalistic, and the dialogue often feels almost like it’s improv, due to how natural and off-the-cuff it feels. All of which gives the film a brutal emotional punch that will devastate you. It’s easily the best film I’ve seen so far here, and it’s going to be hard to top it. Rating: *****

Finally, the day ended up with a screening of the already infamous Turkish horror film Baskin.  Labeled as a “Turkish torture porn film”, Baskin has gotten a lot of attention by being a horror film from a country that doesn’t produce much of it, and being so successful about it. By and large, that’s a sentiment I can get behind, even if I ultimately found the film more derivative than I would have hoped. After a short dream sequence to kick things off, Baskin follows a small squad of police officers that gets called in to investigate a situation at an abandoned building and ends up stumbling across a cult that seems like something Clive Barker and Rob Zombie might have co-created, one that worships suffering and pain. Things, as you might imagine, go badly from there. Baskin makes the slow burn work wonderfully, building tension to an almost unmanageable level before letting everything blow up, and the use of shadows, ominous mood, a phenomenally unsettling location (seriously, the mental hospital in Session 9 can’t match this play for unspoken horrors and mood), and music really can’t be understated. Director Can Evrenol has a good eye and a nice ability to get good performances out of his cast, and that first half to 2/3 of Baskin is intense and unnerving. When everything finally cuts loose and goes nuts, though, the film ultimately feels less interesting than you hoped it would be, settling into something that feels like it could have been tacked onto the already bizarre final act of Zombie’s House of 1000 Corpses. There are still glimpses of a more ambitious, stranger film in there, with some Lynchian dream sequences that are phenomenal and an unexpected ending that raises all sorts of questions about the film. It’s a solid, intense, disturbing horror film, but one that still feels like an author who’s relying on others to be his voice; here’s hoping he starts finding his own soon, because the parts that are unique here are really, really unique. Rating: *** ½

IMDb: Jafar Panahi’s Taxi | Men & Chicken | Demon | Krisha | Baskin