"Ralph Breaks the Internet"

By Matt Duncan
Coastal View News

Some people can’t help but wreck everything. Take Ralph (John C. Reilly). Whether it’s bricks and stone, windows and doors, or indeed, as it turns out, even if it’s things as diverse in kind as cityscapes, the World Wide Web, and personal relationships, Ralph—aka “Wreck-It Ralph”—was born to lay things asunder.

He can’t help it really, God bless his oafish soul. Although, as we know from “Wreck-It Ralph”, he is a sweet guy when it comes down to it, Ralph’s DNA—i.e., his gaming code—precludes delicacy. Everything Midas touched turned to gold; everything Ralph touches turns to rubble.

Which is why it is a minor miracle that, six years into his relationship with Vanellope von Schweetz (Sarah Silverman)—a hotshot racecar driver from the Sugar Rush arcade game—their friendship is, not just intact, but thriving. They hang out every night in the arcade—they tell jokes, play guessing games, and sneak into other arcade games.  Vanellope sometimes says she’s bored—mostly because her game is too simple. But, if you ask Ralph, everything is perfect.

That is, until he breaks Vanellope’s game. Dammit, Ralph! He was trying to help—he was trying to fix Vanellope’s boredom by adding a track to her game. But, as usual, Ralph just mucked everything up. Specifically, he breaks a piece of Sugar Rush. So the game gets shut down. Now Vanellope is game-less—which, for a video game character, means she’s like homeless or something. Just great, Ralph.

But Ralph is going to fix it. He hears that the broken part from Vanellope’s game is up for auction on EBay. So Ralph and Vanellope use the arcade’s recently acquired wifi to travel into the world wild web. Luckily, they find EBay, move right into their auction, and quickly win the bid for the part. Easy as that.

But, small technicality: They don’t have any money. Oops.

Still, Ralph is determined to fix what he broke. So he puts together a bunch of viral videos—e.g., one of him imitating other famous characters, one where he does the cinnamon challenge, one where he just chomps his food really loudly in front of a camera—to gain likes, which of course means advertising, which of course means money money money.

Meanwhile Vanellope is off doing her own thing around the internet. And she’s loving life. Her old game was very simple, very predictable, and thus very monotonous. But the internet … oh, the internet. The possibilities are endless. She races ultra-fast cars on new and exciting tracks, has slumber parties with Disney princesses, participates in heists, and, in her downtime, shoots hoops. For the first time in a long time, Vanellope feels like she could have an exciting future in front of her.

But then there’s Ralph. That’s not how he feels—he just wants to get back to the arcade and spend his days hanging out with Vanellope. And he can’t see how anyone could feel differently. So, for all the fixin’ Ralph has done (or at least tried to do), all is not right in his world.

Maybe that’s just life. Maybe, sometimes, for someone like Ralph, the best way to not break something is quit trying to fix it.

And so, as with the original “Wreck-It Ralph”, this movie packs in a nice little moral. When the moment comes, the point, or perspective, is delivered with feeling and impressive emotional subtlety. It’s not a particularly drawn-out moment—the depths of its import are hardly plumbed here—but, still, it’s nice.

More generally, “Ralph Breaks the Internet” is consistently charming. Take just about any scene and you’ll find yourself amused and endeared.

However, one could complain—and I do hereby complain—that, for the most part, this movie is totally formulaic. It’s as if the only standard for success for movies like this is that they string together a bunch of likeable scenes. Set aside whether it all hangs together in an innovative or interesting way. Forget the fact that a story is more than the sum of its parts. Just be happy at each moment. That’s enough.

Yeah, well, maybe it is enough—and it almost certainly is for “Ralph Breaks the Internet”. It would just be nice to see the best of the best—the movies that break the box office and wow the critics—being a bit better.

"Mid90s"

By Matt Duncan
Coastal View News

Stevie (Sunny Suljic)—a 13-year-old boy growing up in LA in the mid-90s—is a sweet kid. But he doesn’t have anyone to look up to. His dad is gone. His mom is, well, mom. And his older brother is just about the biggest tool in the shed.

So I guess it’s no surprise that Stevie looks elsewhere for role models. And, to his mom’s chagrin, what he finds is a bunch of foul-mouthed skateboarders. Ray (Na-kel) is the leader of the pack. He’s the best skateboarder—he’s really good—and he’s also the coolest. Then F_S_ (Olan Prenatt) is next in age, talent, and coolness level. He’s the clown of the group. Whereas Ray is serious about his skating—he wants to go pro—F_S_ just wants to skate and party and not take anything too seriously. He thinks trying too hard is “cheesy”.

Then there is Fourth Grade (Ryder McLaughlin), who is mostly-quiet, videos everything, and apparently got his name because he’s only as smart as a fourth grader. Finally, there’s Ruben (Gio Galicia), a somewhat younger kid with a stony, brash exterior, but maybe only because he has some serious stuff going on at home (which he rarely visits).

That’s the crew. You get some vague sense that they go to school some of the time, but, really, it’s like the never ending summer for these skateboarders. They skate and hangout and skate and party (booze, cigarettes, drugs, girls) and skate, skate, skate until the sun goes down.

All this skating in “Mid90s” is occasionally interrupted with the awkward, sometimes poignant, moments that constitute growing up. Stevie has his first beer. He hooks up with a girl for the first time. He fights with his brother, but then has a talk about how their parents let them down. He hears about how Ruben’s dad beats him, how Fourth Grade can barely afford socks, and about how the tragedies in Ray’s family dwarf anything he has ever experienced.

Most of these characters are likable in their own ways. Despite teenagers in general being, well, the worst, it’s hard not to fall in love (actually, better say like) with some of these kids.

However, this is a short movie—only 84 minutes. So there’s not a lot of time for character development—especially the gradual, trickling character development that’s required for a coming-of-age movie like this. Aside from maybe Stevie and Ray, we are only left with hints of depth—we see a rag-tag bunch of larks that promise, but don’t really reveal, roundness of character.

Most coming-of-age flicks are all about the characters. “Mid90s” is also all about the nostalgia—about Super Nintendo, skateboarding videos, baggy jeans, and Nike high tops. This movie is bathed in the past, which, I expect, will be most effective for those of us who actually grew up in the mid-1990s.

This movie also reminds you—or me, at least—of how annoying teenagers are. Yeah, awkward moments can be charming. And, yeah, yeah, I know being carefree and even irresponsible is just part of growing up. Nonetheless, as I sit here on this side of puberty, watching and hearing these kids who, definitely more than average teens, are reckless, troubled, aimless, and often just plain mean, I can’t help but sympathize with Stevie’s mom, who thinks this particular gang of misfits ought to be disbanded.

I know we are supposed to feel that, dammit, these are Stevie’s people and that’s how it goes and that’s so important. But when is too much too much? Given how these kids are portrayed in the movie, I don’t know that I could fault Stevie’s mom if she decided to move to the middle of nowhere, or send her son to boarding school, or something—anything!

And I think all of this speaks to an awkward (though not necessarily damning) tension in Jonah Hill’s debut filmmaking. It’s kind of like the tension between Ray and F_S_—Ray is serious about what he does; F_S_ thinks being serious about anything is cheesy. Jonah Hill doesn’t seem quite sure whether he wants to be serious—whether he wants to make some point or rather just have some fun making a movie.

Much of the movie feels like the latter—like he’s just showing us, and reminding us, how it was growing up in a certain time and place. But then there are more serious moments, too, and, to give voice to the F_S_ side of me, many of these moments teeter, though maybe don’t quite topple, into cheesiness.

So what would I say about Jonah Hill’s first attempt at writing/directing? Uneven. But I would also say it shows promise. Maybe, hopefully, this movie is as much part of a coming-of-age tale—with all the usual awkwardness and bad decision-making—for its filmmaker as it is for its characters.

"A Simple Favor"

By Matt Duncan
Coastal View News

The aptly named Stephanie Smothers (Anna Kendrick) is an annoyingly on-top-of-it mom. Most parents feel accomplished if just everyone still has a pulse at the end of the day. But not Stephanie. This single mom (that’s right, she does it by herself) is an ever-vigilant watcher of her son, Miles (Joshua Satine), she volunteers at Miles’ school far more than is required or needed or even wanted, she cooks gourmet dinners, and she puts Mr. Clean to shame, all while maintaining a cheerful demeanor and snappy appearance.

Oh, also, by the way, she has a popular mom’s video blog as well. Yeah, she’s on top of it.

Yet Stephanie doesn’t have any mom friends (I wonder why). She wants them. Desperately. But she just can’t find them.

That is, until Miles and his classmate, Nicky (Ian Ho), absolutely insist on having a play date. Stephanie is game. But then walks in Nicky’s mom, Emily (Blake Lively). Emily is smart and sharply dressed, but also busy, short-tempered, crass, and just wants to make it clear that she’s not having any of it, no matter what “it” is. She eventually agrees to the play date, but only because she’s lazy with her son and doesn’t want to put the effort into telling him no. Plus, it dawns on her that Stephanie is basically a free babysitter.

Stephanie and Emily end up getting to know each other a bit. And they are quite an odd pair. Whereas Stephanie is wholesome, sweet, a bit naïve, and, most of all, way into the whole mom thing, Emily doesn’t care, not ever a little bit, about the whole mom thing—path of least resistance for her—nor does she care about politeness, niceties, social convention, early-afternoon sobriety, or just about anything else other than her high-powered job in the fashion industry. Emily is doing Emily, and that’s about all there is to it.

Yet the relationship between Stephanie and Emily works for both of them. Stephanie has a mom friend—a hip one at that—and Emily has, well, someone to pick her kid up from school when she’s running late (which is a lot). It’s a strange relationship, to be sure. But it’s oddly symbiotic.

Then one day Emily goes missing. Earlier in the day she called Stephanie to ask her to pick up Nicky, which, as ever, Stephanie was happy to do. But then it was dinner time, and then bath time, and then bed time—and still no Emily. It’s only after several days that Stephanie is even able to get in touch with Nicky’s dad/Emily’s husband, Sean (Henry Golding). But he doesn’t know where Emily is either. No one does.

So Stephanie does what any good friend would do: She takes to her blog. She gives updates, encourages people to keep a look out for signs of Emily, shares her latest theories on what’s happened, and so on. Out of love for her friend, or maybe just boredom—what else is she gonna do now that her bestie is gone?—Stephanie takes on the role of detective, piecing together any clues that may lead to Emily.

As Stephanie digs deeper and deeper, it starts to look like Emily is not who she seemed. But, then, Stephanie ends up not being who she seemed either. I guess nothing is as it seemed.

Indeed, “A Simple Favor” is one big plot knot—twist after twist after tangled twist. These plot twists don’t exactly defy expectations, at least not by the end, because there are so many of them that you sort of just stop expecting things.

Which isn’t necessarily a criticism. Plot twists are nothing new, and there’s a way in which they can pretty easily start to make a movie feel gimmicky, even formulaic. But the unique set-up of this movie—a couple of martini-loving moms meeting for playdates—together with charming performances from Anna Kendrick and Blake Lively, keep this movie feeling fresh and fun.

Sure, there are some moments to groan about—like when a dorky dad foils an attempted murder at the very last instant, as if that ever happens, in a way that definitely never happens, and then goes all preachy on the potential perpetrator about how parents stick together … blah, blah, blah. All right, there’s some of that. But, still, you could be doing worse than to sit back, grab a martini, and unwind with this people-pleaser while the kids do, well, whatever it is they want to do, as long as it’s in the other room.

"BlackkKlansman"

By Matt Duncan
Coastal View News

It’s not every day that an undercover cop successfully infiltrates a criminal organization by becoming one of them. After all, it must be hard. It’s got to be a real high wire act. I suppose that’s why they make movies about it.

But those old cop thrillers are downright pedestrian compared to what Ron Stallworth (John David Washington) of the Colorado Springs Police Department did back in the 1970s. He infiltrated the Ku Klux Klan. He became a member! Also, by the way: He’s black.

This happened. Really. In real life. A black police officer joined the KKK.

But, actually, Stallworth starts his undercover work as a wire-wearing informant against, ironically, the Black Panthers. He attends rallies, talks to group leaders, and even cozies up to local-agitator-turned-love-interest, Patrice Dumas (Laura Harrier). Stallworth is understandably conflicted about this project. He doesn’t seem fully on board with the Black Panthers’ agenda, but he does care about what they care about. And the racism he faces in, for example, in his own police department, is plenty to make him doubtful that the Black Panthers are merely the unhinged terrorist organization his superiors describe it as.

And it’s certainly no KKK! Whereas the Black Panthers assignment was given to Stallworth, surveilling the KKK is a project he sought out. He isn’t conflicted at all about taking them down.

What he does, seemingly of his own volition, is cold call the local KKK leadership (and, eventually, Grand Wizard David Duke himself) and establishes contact by telling them how honest-to-goodness racist he is. Name a non-white-protestant group—he professes to hate them all. It’s music to the KKK’s ears.

But then it’s time to meet them. Um. Problem. Black guy hanging with the KKK? Not really a thing. So Stallworth has to convince another cop, Flip Zimmerman (Adam Driver), who is Jewish but passes himself off as of purest Aryan descent, to be the in-person version of Ron Stallworth.

Talk about a high-wire act! What starts as a little poking and prodding quickly becomes some real deep doo-doo. The only question is, who’s it going to be on?

As for-real as this all seems, Stallworth is, interestingly, portrayed as a bit naïve. He hates racism, of course, and knows it’s a real problem. But throughout the movie—and especially in the beginning—he doesn’t take the KKK very seriously as a threat. He thinks they’re a joke. A really bad joke, to be sure, but more of a fringe sideshow. He doesn’t think they are a real force to be reckoned with, especially not at any national, political level.

So he laughs and he jokes about the KKK, and although he does take his work very seriously, when the prospect of nailing some of these baddies becomes real, it’s almost as if he thinks, well, that’ll be that—we’ll have settled this whole white nationalist racism stuff.

[Cough] Of course he’s wrong about that. But this is one of the more brilliant aspects of “BlackkKlansman”. It’s easy to see evil in the KKK. But it’s not always easy to see how deep, how widespread, and how dangerous that evil is in American culture. Even Stallworth, the very man who took on the KKK, can, it seems, underestimate his enemy—in certain circumstances, he can even see “both sides” of the conflict.

Both sides. Really good people. America first. Make America great again. These not so subtle allusions to contemporary politics are peppered throughout the movie. But the lack of subtlety here is also brilliant, I think. Director Spike Lee puts these things side by side, almost as if he’s holding up two photos for us to compare, and says, “Here” and “Here”—just look at this madness.

When Stallworth closes his case, it seems like he thinks, maybe even for just a moment, that the white nationalists are finished—that maybe, probably, the KKK and their ilk will fade into the uglier annals of human history.

45 years later, and here we are.

"Sorry to Bother You"

By Matt Duncan
Coastal View News

Cassius Green’s (Lakeith Stanfield) job prospects are not very impressive. Just to get a telemarketing job, Cassius makes up some story about having worked at a bank, he puts together a fake “Employee of the Month” award that he proudly props on his knee throughout the interview, and he even brings in some giant trophy he supposedly won in high school (he didn’t). Just to get a telemarketing job!

Alas, Cassius’ fake news is quickly debunked. But, luckily, as the interviewer points out, the standards for getting a telemarketing job are not exactly sky high—pretty much anyone can get the job. Plus, the interviewer figures Cassius’ fabrications show initiative.

And thus Cassius’ bottom-of-the-barrel scraping finally turns up some dregs. He has a job! It is a terrible job, of course, but Cassius is just the man for it.

In fact, Cassius turns out to be a great telemarketer. Though he is meek and uncommanding in person, Cassius finds his groove on the line. His main trick—passed down to him by Langston (Danny Glover), an old veteran telemarketer—is to speak in a “white voice” … you know, like how white people talk. And Cassius has a great one (in fact, it is literally a white voice—it’s spoken by David Cross (aka Tobias from “Arrested Development”)).

So Cassius is on his way up. Literally, actually. The “power callers”, as they are mythically referred to, work upstairs—they even have their own special elevator with like a 500-number security code. It’s a telemarketer’s dream to ascend to such lofty heights.

Except some telemarketers—well, most of them you’d have to think—know that upward mobility isn’t much of a thing in the telemarketing biz. They are lowly peons, and they know it.

And they hate it. After all, they bring in all the money, but they hardly share in the profits. So through the encouragement of a perennial rabble-rouser named Squeeze (Steven Yeun), the employees of the telemarketing firm decide to band together, unionize, and then strike. And Cassius, along with his girlfriend, Detroit (Tess Thompson), and his best friend, Salvador (Jermaine Fowler), are right there on the front picket lines.

So when Cassius is called in to his boss’s office, he thinks he’s going to be fired. Instead, he’s promoted. Well, then, um, you see, things are different. Lowly-peon Cassius was up in arms, defiant, a rebel for the cause, etc. But upper-crust Cassius, well, that’s not so simple—he has bills to pay, after all, and, plus, it’s not like he is against what his friends and former colleagues are fighting for.

Thus, Cassius finds himself in one of those classic capitalist conundrums. It’s easy to fight the system … until it’s about to get you paid.

And, indeed, “Sorry to Bother You” is at its very best when it is hitting these notes—specifically when it is rendering its blistering critique of capitalism, consumerism, wage slavery, plutocratic politicians, and basically everything about how our economy is ordered nowadays. It is sharp, incisive, and, more often than not, spot on.

“Sorry to Both You” is also funny if you have the right sense of humor. I don’t think I have the right sense of humor. (Or maybe I was just mad that my MoviePass didn’t work. Again. Ugh.) Still, I could see that, if I did have the right sense of humor, I’d find the movie funny—maybe even quite funny. It is strange, surreal, quirky, understated, and dry. Cassius and Detroit, in particular, have a certain warmth and liveliness to them that comes, at least in part, from their not being cookie-cutter characters.

And that’s a relief—a relief that the movie is (potentially) funny and warm. Because otherwise it might just piss you off. Maybe it will anyway. For what it is tackling—specifically, the plight of non-elite workers—is not a happy topic.

So, one way or another, this movie is evocative. It may make you laugh. Or cry. Or both. But it should stir something up.

"Incredibles 2"

By Matt Duncan
Coastal View News

Before “Incredibles 2” flew onto the screen at my local theater not a week ago, a special kind of preview came up. It was the voice actors from “Incredibles 2”—Holly Hunter, Craig T. Nelson, Samuel L. Jackson, and so on—as well as some of the creators. They wanted to apologize, with utmost earnestness, with heartfelt sincerity, for taking so dang long to make a second “Incredibles” movie. They just knew, deep down, how badly we wanted—nay, needed—yet another superhero movie, and indeed, one featuring none other than them. Imagine that!

Well, all right, maybe they’re right. We don’t need many more superhero movies, I don’t think, but any time is high time for another “Incredibles” movie.

“Incredibles 2” picks up right where the first one left off. Fresh off vanquishing the evil mastermind, Syndrome, our incredible family of superheroes—Elastigirl (Holly Hunter), Violet (Sarah Vowell), Dash (Huck Milner), Jack-Jack (Eli Fucile), and Mr. Incredible himself (Craig T. Nelson)—are confronted with a new baddie. So they immediately spring into action, confront evil, save lives, pursue the enemy, fight the good fight, etc.

And what do they get for their heroism? Arrested. Superheroes are banned, after all. So despite their care for the common folk, they get no love back. One problem is they keep smashing up everything around them. For example, when they fight the aforementioned baddie—a mole-looking guy named Underminder who is trying to rob a bank—they pretty much demolish several city blocks. And they didn’t even stop him! If they would have just left the menacing marsupial alone he would have run away with the cash but nothing and no one would have been harmed.

The other problem is that, when the superheroes do their work, the only thing the townsfolk ever see is destruction. They don’t witness all the heroic stuff. So they associate superheroes, not with heroism, hope, safety, or whatnot, but rather, they associate them with cataclysm. Hence, they don’t like them.

So superheroes are banned. No superheroism allowed!

But at least one guy (aside from the superheroes) wants to change that. Winston Deaver (Bob Odenkirk), a rich telecommunications tycoon, believes that the world is better off with the supers afoot. So he, along with his sister, Evelyn (Catherine Keener), hatch a plan to reshape the masked crusaders’ public image so as to alleviate the ongoing discrimination against them.

They start with Elastigirl, since, in general, she does less destroying than, say, Mr. Incredible. Winston and Evelyn put a tiny camera in Elastigirl’s suit so that, when she does her high speed hijinks, everyone can see that she really is fighting the good fight—that she is putting her life at risk, trying her best to preserve life, limb, and infrastructure, and is doing a pretty darn good job at it.

It works. People’s perceptions of superheroes start to come around. There is even some talk of lifting the superhero ban.

Meanwhile, Mr. Incredible is in a fight of his own. He’s playing daddy daycare. He’s got to watch the kids while mom goes to work. At first he thinks, “I’m tough, no problem”. But, of course, he really is no match for Dash’s math homework or Violet’s boy trouble. And then when Jack-Jack starts exhibiting super powers—uncontrollable ones at that—it’s mayhem at the homestead.

So each parent has their respective task. And they each have their challenges too. Jack-Jack is exploding and occasionally popping into another dimension, on the one hand, and evil doers are providing their own kind of challenge for Elastigirl.

But it’s not just the regular villains, or even ones of the super sort, that are tying Elastigirl in knots. Someone else is lurking behind the scenes. This person, whoever they are, is committed to keeping superheroes in the dog house or, even better, the big house.

“Incredibles 2” is a ton of fun. As I said before, it picks up right where the last one left off. And not just story-wise. The same charms enchant this superhero family and the same thrills keep this moving humming from start to finish.

Now, with that said, I do have to register that “Incredibles” and, now, “Incredibles 2” are not at the top of my Pixar list. That’s because, while fun and even touching at times, these movies don’t push the envelope like some of the others. They don’t provide the emotional gut punch of, say, the opening montage of “Up”. They don’t evoke that deep sense of poignant sadness that we get at the end of “Inside Out,” or the longing brought on by Jesse’s tale in “Toy Story 2”, or the golden nostalgia found in the ending sequences of “Toy Story 3”. Nor do they offer anything like the biting (yet totally) apt social commentary of “Wall-E”. In sort, the “Incredibles” movies won’t make you cry, or ache, or remember; nor will they force to think too hard.

However, they will make you smile.

"Solo: A Star Wars Story"

By Matt Duncan
Coastal View News

“Solo: A Star Wars Story”

Han Solos is one of the most charming, compelling characters in the “Star Wars” franchise. So why not make a movie about him? For big studios like Disney and Lucasfilm, the formula is temptingly simple: Get a bunch of famous actors together, find a team of writers to come up with a bracingly safe script, spend a few hundred million on special effects, and, viola, you’ve got yourself a cash cow. It may be a mere clone, which is carefully concocted in a big Hollywood studio “laboratory”, but, hey, it’s Han Solo we’re talking about here! This cow is fat, and its moo is so reassuringly familiar.

As we all know, Han Solo (Alden Ehrenreich) is a bad boy. He has to be, in fact. Because where he grew up poor people like him have to scratch, claw, trick, and steal in order to make ends meet.

From the very opening scenes, Han, along with his girlfriend, Qi’ra (Emilia Clarke), is on the run. Some pissed off baddies are after him. He manages to charm his way out of it, but, alas, Qi’ra gets captured in the process. It’s always the loved ones that get screwed.

After running away, Han tries his hand at the military. Doesn’t work out. Then he turns to marauding—with a guy named Beckett (Woody Harrelson). That’s more promising (for obvious reasons). But even there Han runs into serious trouble. After failing to deliver some goods, his criminal overlord, Dryden Vos (Paul Bettany), threatens to kill Han and Beckett if they don’t come up with something soon.

So now we’re set up for the addition of a few standard ingredients—the genetic building blocks of a film like this. Yes, Han is going to get the goods. But he’s also got to get hooked up with some good guys—preferably rebels—so that we know that, criminal history be damned, Han is a noble soul. And he’s got to meet some familiar people, such as Chewbacca (Joonas Suotamo) and Lando Calrissian (Donald Glover), so that we can feel the warmth of “Star Wars” nostalgia. And, of course, it’s got to have a promising start, a very dire middle, and plenty of impossible near-misses by the end.

That’s the recipe, at least. But will this be different? Han Solo is different in various ways from the likes of Luke Skywalker or Rey. So there’s potential there for a different, more complex approach. Might “Solo” actually break the mold?

Of course not.

“Solo” is an “on in the background” sort of movie. Despite its cutting-edge visual effects, it doesn’t require, or even really ask for, any kind of careful attention. The story is exactly what you’d expect, the plot is ho-hum, the themes are thoroughly unoriginal and underdeveloped, and the acting is fine but not particularly compelling. So, yeah, it’s pretty … but so what? Pretty action movies are a dime a dozen these days.

Now, of course, the movie is fun in its way. It’s certainly action packed. Yet, with the recent proliferation of “Star Wars” movies and the burgeoning of other sci-fi franchises, as well as all the super hero stuff and everything else so much like it, I admit I’ve lost my grip on why “action packed” is still thought to name a distinguishing, standout, good-making feature of a film. And I don’t see why we—the viewers—ought not expect a bit more.

“Star Wars” fans will of course want to see this movie. And they may even be satisfied with it—if for no other reason than they can bathe in the aura of “Star Wars” for a couple of hours. I’m not exactly a “Star Wars” aficionado, but I too enjoy the feel of the franchise—the look of the droids, costumes, light sabers, starships, etc., all set to John Williams’ famous musical themes.

That’s why this movie, for all its mediocrity, may be worthy as an “on in the background” sort of thing. You can, if you want, make it fill a room like elevator music—pleasant enough as long as you don’t pay too much attention to it.

"Isle of Dogs"

By Matt Duncan
Coastal View News

Wes Anderson’s “Isle of Dogs” is based on a legend. Or, I guess, that there is such a legend is probably itself a legend. But, regardless, the story is that, in ancient Japan, two factions—the cat people and the dog people—were at war. The cat people were being mean, maybe just because they hated dogs. But then a child hero decapitated the cat people’s leader and, thus, saved the day for the dogs.

Now present day. The cat and dog people are still fighting like, well, you know what. Only now the battle is more subtle. Instead of an all-out samurai melee, the very evolved, very noble cat-loving leaders of Megasaki City are taking it to their canine counterparts through misinformation, political maneuvering, ad campaigns, and fear tactics.

The truth is: There is an outbreak of dog flu among the dog population. The pups are in a bad way. But Mayor Kobayashi (Kunichi Nomura), rather than pushing for treatment, or a cure, or rather even than expressing politician-brand sympathy (of the Grade A sanctimonious sort), instead, exploits this sad state of affairs to justify shipping all of the dogs in Megasaki City to Trash Island (which is exactly what it sounds like).

This includes Rex (Edward Norton), who is thoughtful and bossy; Boss (Bill Murray), who isn’t bossy at all; Duke (Jeff Goldblum), who isn’t nearly as tough as his name suggests; and Chief (Bryan Cranston), who is tougher than all of the others combined (he was, after all, a stray).

Evidently some of the humans of Megasaki City are all right with their pets being banished to an island full of garbage. But not everyone. Atari (Koyu Rankin), for example, isn’t having it. Atari is the distant nephew and ward of Mayor Kobayashi. So he’s important. But his dog, Spots (Live Schreiber), was sent to Trash Island, and Atari wants his pal back.

So Atari commandeers a small aircraft and heads for Trash/Dog Island. Things don’t go quite according to plan, though. And Atari makes all sorts of waves he didn’t intend to make. Atari just wants his dog back. Kobayashi, on the other hand, wants his nephew back. But he still hates dogs. Meanwhile, a growing pro-dog resistance simmers to a boil back in Megasaki City.

“Isle of Dogs” is dry. And methodical. Even slow. But it is also witty, charming, and funny. It elicits the kind of quiet chuckle that attests to amusement beyond its decibel level.

Part of this movie’s charm is its quirkiness. Consider, for example, that one of the main characters—Atari—only speaks Japanese, and his lines aren’t subtitled. So us non-Japanese speakers don’t know what he’s saying. We are left to guess, or clumsily infer, what’s up with Atari—maybe something like we do for dogs, or they do for us, but also like what we do for each other to varying extents.

There’s all sorts of nice metaphor here and throughout the movie. But the metaphor is subtle, artful, and subdued—it doesn’t distract from the story or come off as some ham-handed political commentary.

Director Wes Anderson is well known for his visual aesthetics. But there’s also quite a bit more to his work than meets the eye. He manages, in this movie as in others, to make a movie that is beautiful, fun to watch, and also thought-provoking.

Like I said, “Isle of Dogs” is dry. And slow. But it’s also primetime Wes Anderson—quirky in all the right ways and rewarding to watch and think about.

"Ready Player One"

By Matt Duncan
Coastal View News

Steven Spielberg is at his best when channeling his seven-year-old self. He’s got some good grownup stuff, but movies like “E.T.”, “Jurassic Park”, “Hook”, and “Indiana Jones” are something else—they evince and evoke childlike wonder in such a compelling way. That’s Spielberg at the top of his game.

So it’s natural to have high hopes for “Ready Player One”, which is about a bunch of kids playing video games. Or, to be a little more specific, it’s about kids, and some lame adults, tooling around in a virtual reality world called “OASIS”, which, in the 2040s, is how everyone spends their time.

That’s because the world pretty much sucks otherwise. Evidently there were a bunch of wars and riots and rebellions and things, and what’s left is mostly high-rise trailer parks in places like Columbus, Ohio. Ohio! Truly dystopian.

Well but at least OASIS is pretty cool. You put on those googles and gloves, power up your omni-directional treadmill, and then you can go anywhere, do anything, and be anyone. OASIS isn’t portrayed, initially at least, so much as an (addictive and dangerous) escape from reality; rather, it’s portrayed as an egalitarian, cyber paradise.

And that’s all possible because its creator, Halliday (Mark Rylance), was a pretty good dude who just wanted to nerd out and play video games and let everyone else do the same.

But, in real life, everyone dies, and so Halliday died, and left the fate of the virtual world hanging in the balance. However, as one final nerdy hurrah before his death, Halliday put an “Easter Egg” in OASIS—a hidden prize that can be unlocked by finding and collecting three keys won by mastering three challenges. Sounds like fun, but the real attention-grabber is the prize: Controlling stake in Halliday’s company (valued at a cool half-trillion).

So everyone is after it. Some really big company, Innovative Online Industries (IOI), which is led by Sorrento (Ben Mendelsohn)—a total lame wad—wants control of OASIS so that it can put a seizure-level amount of ads in players’ fields of vision. So they’ve hired a whole army of players whose sole purpose is to find the keys.

But then there are a few independent players who don’t want IOI to get control of OASIS. Most notably, Parzival (Tye Sheridan), Art3mis (Olivia Cooke), and Aech (Lena Waithe) are serious flies in IOI’s all-consumer-ing ointment.

And, luckily, since these noble nerds are pure of heart, and thus are kindred spirits to Halliday, they have an instinctive edge over the soulless IOI troops. Even though IOI has a whole team of professional researchers dedicated to guessing where Halliday put his keys, they are getting PONED by the amateurs.

Still, IOI is rich. And that’s a major advantage. So what we have here, in “Ready Player One”, is a classic underdog story.

As I said, Spielberg is at his best when channeling his seven-year-old self. In “Ready Player One”, it’s more like Spielberg is channeling his 14-year-old self. Which isn’t as cool, or compelling. Whereas a child’s wonder, even if somewhat nerdy, is endearing—even inspiring—Spielberg’s barely pubescent gamer story is just, well, awkward … and dorky, and weird, and cheesy, but mostly just, gah, awkward. The screenplay, in particular, is about as smooth and stylish as a middle schooler’s first date. And no one wants to see, or remember, or be in the vicinity of that kind of train wreck.

So “Ready Player One” is a disappointment on the childlike-wonder front. Which isn’t to say it’s a total fail. As someone who grew up in the 80s and 90s, it’s hard not to get a warm and fuzzy feeling from this movie’s continual pop-culture references—from Atari to Terminator to Goldeneye to Twisted Sister to Iron Giant. There’s plenty of nostalgia to go around.

“Ready Player One” is enjoyable in some other ways too. For example, its made-for-3D cinematography is engrossing. And the premise is certainly cool.

But, really, at the end of the day, insofar as I liked this movie, I guess it’s mostly because I’m a sucker for Nintendo 64 references.

"Black Panther"

By Matt Duncan
Coastal View News

“Black Panther” is all the rage. It first gained everyone’s attention for non-cinematic reasons—for its nearly all black cast, which is super rare, if not unique, in a superhero movie. But it has also gotten rave reviews as a movie—as a story about a group of people from southeast Africa who long dodged the ills of the world, but who increasingly grapple with how to deal with their broader responsibilities to the oppressed.

Within the royal family of Wakanda, there are two major factions. One side is peace-loving, conciliatory, and isolationist. The other side is more, let’s say, proactive. They think that oppressed people should be armed and dangerous, and that Wakanda should do that arming.

And Wakanda could do that, if it wanted, because Wakanda is a special place. Millions of years ago a meteor carrying a seemingly inexhaustible supply of vibranium—the strongest metal in the universe—homed right in on Wakanda. So, once people came on to the scene, they found themselves with a treasure trove of the element.

And it turns out vibranium is more than just super strong. It can do almost anything—it makes for impenetrable armor, especially potent weapons, a whole complex magnetic energy grid, and all sorts of other whiz-bang, sci-fi technology. Oh, also, it has healing powers.

But a while back Wakanda decided to sit tight with their vibranium. Not only did they set aside any imperialist ambitions, they even found a way to hide their thriving metropolis from the outside world, so that, to the more power hungry and resource-grabby countries out there (cough cough), Wakanda would look like one of the poorest places in the world. Which is sort of brilliant, because being poor really is the best way to get ignored.

This isolationist tradition is passed down from generation to generation through the hereditary monarchy led by their king, the Black Panther, who has special powers of bad-assery. The Black Panther will go out every now and then on good-will missions, often disguised as an ordinary dude, but mostly his job is to keep a low profile and minister to the people of Wakanda.

That is, until the aptly named Erik Killmonger (Michael B. Jordan) decides to challenge the even-keel, kindly, righteous, and current Black Panther, T’Challa (Chadwick Boseman), for the throne. Though long an outsider, Killmonger does, as it turns out, have some claim to the throne. And he’s ready to be done with this mind-your-own-business style of leadership. He wants to fight, kill, and otherwise brutalized his (and others’) oppressors.

The question, I suppose, is whether Wakanda is ready for that, or willing for it to happen, or willing to stand up to one of their own, or able to find some kind of middle ground while also trying to understand their own history and place in the world around them. Outrage is easy. But, then again, so is compliance.

As I said, the fact that “Black Panther” exists is important in all sorts of extra-cinematic ways. But I don’t feel particularly well equipped to add much to that discussion. If you’re interested, you might check out Carvell Wallace’s “Why ‘Black Panther’ Is a Defining Moment for Black America” in The New York Times or Adam Serwer’s “The Tragedy of Erik Killmonger” in The Atlantic.

But as for the movie itself—qua Marvel superhero movie—“Black Panther” isn’t quite as ground-breaking. It does less to break the mold. It’s your standard Marvel movie, with fairly standard plot points, action sequences, humor, and archetypes.

Which isn’t to say “Black Panther” is bad qua movie. It’s actually pretty good as far as these things go. It’s beautifully shot, well acted, action packed, entertaining, etc. If I didn’t have such a bad case of superhero fatigue, I might be all about it.

At any rate, the main significance of “Black Panther” clearly goes beyond its merits as movie about a superhero. And if you go into it with that context in mind, all sorts of thought provoking symbols, metaphors, and other elements will emerge. “Black Panther” will give you plenty to ponder if you let it.

If you let it. Otherwise it will just be another Marvel superhero movie. Not a bad one. But one among many. Maybe, for you, that amounts to a rave review all on its own. Still, if you’re going to go, might as appreciate its other virtues as well.

"Phantom Thread"

By Matt Duncan
Coastal View News

What’s the difference between Britney and Bach? Or between fine wine and some sugary drink whose smallest size is “bucket”?

I don’t really know. But whatever the difference is, it can’t just be that one is enjoyable—or even good—while the other isn’t. Pleasure comes in many forms. And yet connoisseurs of music and wine and movies will insist, and rightly so, that there’s a difference.

“Phantom Thread” is Bach. It’s fine wine. Paul Thomas Anderson, Daniel Day-Lewis and Vicky Krieps are its vintners. And there is a difference.

“Phantom Thread” is about the dominion of dressmaker Reynolds Woodcock (Daniel Day-Lewis). Reynolds’ work is inspired, as if from on high. His dresses make the women who wear them feel just right—that they belong, whether at a party or a ball or a state dinner, but most of all, his dresses make them feel like they belong at all, to the world. As if by magic, or sublime revelation, Reynolds makes them fit.

And those around him, intoxicated by his passion for his art, bow in adoration. Reynolds Woodcock is not, in fact, a god. But you wouldn’t know it by observing his little Olympus perched along a fashionable street in London.

Take Cyril (Lesley Manville), for example. Cyril, who Reynolds tenderly refers to as “my old so-and-so” and thus indicates his affection for this quasi-wifely companion who apparently lacks a title but who nevertheless makes her pious sacrifice by dutifully managing his creative temple, sits with veteran aplomb across a breakfast table from a much younger, prettier woman who appears to be in a long-term daze over why she is there.

But Cyril knows. Reynolds sits at the end of the table, head down in his drawings, unconcerned. But Cyril knows the younger woman is a set piece—a shiny object that once occupied Reynolds’ attention but that has now lost its luster. With Reynolds’ permission, Cyril gets rid of her.

Reynolds quickly finds another would-be set piece. Alma (Vicky Krieps) is a somewhat plain, even clumsy, waitress, who Reynolds draws in and draws forth with shockingly smooth rapidity, as if with a single stroke—two hems united with one needle delicately thrust into the garment. Alma is perfect, Reynolds says. Alma is everything, he coos. She brings him to life. She makes him voracious.

But Alma is not a set piece. She won’t allow it. She understands, appreciates, and even adores Reynolds’ dominion, as did those who came before her. But now it’s hers. She, unlike others who were all too willing to worship at the altar of Woodcock, is no mere mortal. And she can, if she must, make Reynolds mortal too.

Reynolds Woodcock isn’t a god. He actually has two parts—two roles to play. Like so many other natural-born idols, he is part deity, part helpless child. He thrives—he almost literally feeds—on two distinct, seemingly incommensurate nutrients: Adoration and succor. He comes alive when he, and especially his work, is deified and held scared. But he equally longs for someone to take care for him, to mother him, to cradle him, to make him feel small and innocent. Alma learns this. And she learns to use it to her advantage.

These characters in “Phantom Thread” are at once strange and otherworldly, yet also profoundly recognizable. They are mosaics composed of the usual shards of humanity, but arranged in ways that highlight these ingredients in a new, fascinating, and somewhat alien way.

It’s its own kind of mythology. The characters—the ungodly gods, the mortals grasping for infinitude, the Promethean overreachers, the tricksters, the plotters, the egomaniacs, the jealous devotees—animated as they are by some mystical force, and joined by all of the tangled, twisted ligaments that bind people together and keep them apart, represent the basic elements of what humans are, what they could be, and what, for good or ill, they aspire to.

Anderson’s films always invite continued reflection, interpretation, wonder, and even puzzlement. “Phantom Thread” is no exception. It is subtle, painstakingly crafted, bold and yet complex; it defies description and yet invites—even insists upon—comparison, analysis, and discussion. “Phantom Thread” is fine wine.

There are a lot of good movies this year. Pleasure does indeed come in many forms. But if I had just one pick from the 2017-2018 vintage, it’d have to be “Phantom Thread”.