"The LEGO Batman Movie"

By Matt Duncan
Coastal View News

“Everything is awesome … Everything is cool when you’re part of a team.” To be sure, everything is awesome, and cool, when you’re part of the LEGO-movie-watchers team. “The LEGO Batman Movie” may not compete with this past weekend’s Oscar picks, but it’s plenty awesome, and, as all the nerds will agree, it’s way cool.

Every moment of the movie is a shotgun blast of fast-paced action, dialogue, plot, and character development. It’s like a normal Batman movie put on fast-forward.

It starts with the Joker (Zack Galifianakis) once again threatening Gotham City. Oh, and he’s joined by Bane, Two Face, the Riddler, Cat Woman, the Penguin, Scarecrow, Poison Ivy, and a bunch of other guys I’d never ever heard of before but that I’ve come to learn really have been Batman villains at some point (Condiment King? Seriously?). It is intense.

But just as quickly as these baddies come on the scene, Batman (Will Arnett) wipes them out. A few kicks here, a couple punches there … a dazzling array of explosions, jumps, flips, crashes, falls, etc., and it’s done. Batman is the hero once again. Everyone adores him.

But then just as quickly as the celebration erupts—which, really, is just an extension of the over-the-top action sequence—everything stops. Batman goes home, alone. He quietly changes his clothes, moseys on up to the kitchen, microwaves a plate of lobster thermidor that Alfred (Ralph Fiennes) left him in the fridge, and eats his dinner … alone, in silence.

Batman repeatedly insists that his greatest fear is snake clowns. But that’s just a cover. His greatest fear is new relationships—it is opening himself up to new bonds of affection, and thereby risking further loss and pain (remember, his parents died). Even the Joker is miffed at how Batman doesn’t consider their adversarial relationship special.

So when orphan Dick Grayson (Michael Cera)—who becomes Robin—gets a very distracted Batman to agree to adopt him, Batman’s frail psychological constitution—a constitution that is masked by his gruff exterior, nine-pack abs, raspy voice, and, yes, a literal mask—is put at risk.

But, hey, Robin turns out to be all right. He does everything Batman tells him to do, and ends up being pretty good at the whole crime-fighting thing. The only question is whether Batman—who cannot hide his approval of Robin’s performance—can let Robin in, so to speak.

Indeed, that’s the big question. Batman is a solitary warrior. It’s in his DNA. But complete solitude isn’t good for anyone, even Batman … especially when you are trying to fight roughly 10,000 baddies at once. So Batman can go it alone, as he always has, and risk the complete destruction of Gotham (which, of course, is built on a couple of those flimsy LEGO panels, and so is primed to snap apart). Or Batman can work with his friends and newfound family, and risk losing them.

OK, there’s not a ton to “The LEGO Batman Movie”. What do you expect? But there is still plenty to love. It is quick, witty, and super funny. You know when you read that Will Arnett is the voice of Batman and Michael Cera is the voice of Robin, you were already cracking up. They are perfect.

And I say there’s not a ton to the movie, but that’s not quite right. Its relentless sendups of the Batman franchise—and superhero movies in general—are pretty sophisticated. Even the insanely fast pace of the movie scratches the action movie itch while also cleverly making you aware that it is, perhaps to an embarrassing extent, scratching that itch.

And, as I’ve said, the dialogue and jokes (some of which are quite subtle) come at you with such blistering speed, that a lot of this movie is more for adults. It’s hard to imagine kids getting it all. They will still enjoy it, of course—there is enough stimulation to guarantee that. It’s like a fine chocolate truffle. Kids won’t appreciate the complex flavors cascading over their undiscriminating palates, but, no worries, they’ll still scarf it down.

There is also a nice little moral that is accessible to kids. What ends up being really noble about Batman (I won’t really ruin anything here, I promise), is not that he beats everyone up, or that he learns to let others into his life; it is rather that Batman recognized one of his flaws, and made a change. That’s a rather simple message, but a good one.

Anyway, go see the movie. It’s great.

"Silence"

By Matt Duncan
Coastal View News

26 years. That’s how long Martin Scorsese was working on “Silence” before it came out this year. Who knows what took him so long, or why, exactly, he felt compelled to make it. After all, Scorsese is known for mafia movies, not religious dramas set in 17^th-century Japan (which is what “Silence” is).

Maybe Scorsese was looking for the right angle—a certain perspective on this gripping story of two Jesuit missionaries to Japan. Or maybe he was conflicted about which themes to draw out, which emotions to evoke, or which message to communicate. There is something deeply personal in this movie, and something deeply pious—it’s hard to compare it (or anything) to Dostoevsky’s The Brother Karamazov or Donne’s Sonnet 14, but it clearly tries to do something along those lines, as in the tradition of Bergman’s Winter Light or Tarkovsky’s Andrei Rublev.

The story is, after all, ripe for it. Rodrigues (Andrew Garfield) and Garupe (Adam Driver) are Jesuit missionaries to Japan. Their long-term goal is to bring Christianity to Japan. Or, rather, it is to bring it back to Japan. Not long before they arrived in 1639, there were hundreds of thousands of Christians. But a Japanese inquisition brought a brutal crackdown. Thousands and thousands of priests and laity were tortured and killed—beheaded, scalded with boiling water, hung upside down, drowned, burned alive, etc.

But that didn’t stop the Christians. They went underground. They worshiped in secret. Jesuit missionaries continued to sneak in.

That’s not exactly why Rodrigues and Garupe come to Japan, however. Their mission is rather to find a priest, Ferreira (Liam Neeson), who was the most devout among them, but who was reported to have renounced his faith under pressure. In a way, this is the first of many tests of their faith. Could it really be that Ferreira buckled? Is even the strongest among them too weak to withstand temptation? They had to know.

And yet when Rodrigues and Garupe arrive in Japan, they are immediately met with an overwhelming thirst for leadership among the Christian faithful. These people need their guidance. So they stick around.

And then their second test. The inquisitor, Inoue (Issei Ogata), comes to town and, suspecting that there are Christians among them, brutally tortures and kills three men, just to make a point. Rodrigues and Garupe watch from afar, asking themselves if they can bear it—or whether it’s worth it!—to watch innocent lives destroyed for the sake of proclaiming their faith.

Inoue sees Christianity as a nuisance, and Christians as trouble makers. He compares Christianity to a barren woman who relentlessly loves someone, but who is unfit to be a wife. Thus he tries every awful trick in the book to get Christians to recant, and to stamp out Christianity. Rodrigues and Garupe are tested again and again, right to their breaking points.

Rodrigues, in particular, is at a loss for what to do. He cannot hear God. He does not know what God would have him do. Rodrigues is willing to sacrifice himself. But others? What’s the point of causing all this grief just to refuse to comply with the inquisitor’s wishes?

I’m not quite sure Scorsese ever found it—that angle, that perspective, that theme, that emotion, that message he was looking for. It’s not that this movie lacks vision, or fails to pack an emotional punch. Not at all. It is compelling, heart wrenching, challenging, tragic, thought provoking—all of that. I just can’t shake the feeling that something’s missing.

In Andrei Tarkovsky’s masterpiece, Andrei Rublev, there’s this one scene of profound religiosity, in which the iconographer Rublev cradles a young man whose darkest hour has just come. Without any special effects or explicit nods to the camera, we see that Rublev is himself the image of God, akin to those he paints—an icon through whom God has broken his silence, revealed himself, and given comfort to those who seek it. It’s a sublime aha moment. It’s like, “This Is It”.

There’s nothing quite like that in “Silence”. There’s plenty to struggle with in the movie. In many ways it’s an admirable meditation on the demands of faith. But there is no epiphany. The main characters are generally sympathetic, and there is a vague sense that their steadfastness is somehow worthwhile, but there is no “This Is It” moment where we really get the point—the point of what Rodrigues and Garupe are up to, the point of retelling their story, and indeed, the point of the movie. The why of it all hangs out there unanswered and unaddressed, as if, even after three decades, the movie wasn’t ready to be made yet.

“Silence” is, in many ways, a very fine movie. It is well written, directed, acted, shot, composed, and so on. But, like me, you may leave feeling cold, and in the dark.

"Queen of Katwe"

By Matt Duncan
Coastal View News

In chess, the queen is the most powerful piece. Yes, the king is the objective—the piece to capture to win the game. But the queen has got the talent—the most expansive move set. She is the leader of the army, and the determiner of one’s game plan.

And, as the chess coach in “Queen of Katwe”, Robert Katende (David Oyelowo), is careful to point out, in chess, as in life, you have to have a game plan. You can’t just move pieces around willy-nilly. You have to be thoughtful, patient, persistent, methodical. You may not always be able to predict what is going to happen. But you can plan, and choose how to react. In that way, you control your destiny.

Easier said than done—especially for coach Katende’s best student, Phiona Mutesi (Madina Nalwanga). You see, Phiona is from Katwe—an extremely impoverished town in Uganda. She lives with her siblings and (single) mom in a rundown shack, doesn’t go to school, and has to sell maize to help feed her family. So she doesn’t exactly have the time or opportunity to think about her future.

Yet, when it comes to chess, Phiona is an oracle. She can see six, seven, eight moves ahead. She’ll lose her knight, but capture her opponent’s rook three moves later. She’ll cede her rook, only to take the queen down the road.

Phiona has an uphill climb, though, and not just because she has limited time and resources. One of the crappy things about being poor is that not only are you, well, poor, but people also look down on you for being poor. It’s a double whammy. Phiona is just as good at chess as the rich kids across town, but it takes every bit of coach Katende’s gumption and ingenuity to get her into the posh chess tournaments she wants to compete in, and needs to compete in, in order to make it to the next level.

But, as coach Katende says, she belongs there. And once in, she crushes her competition. She mows through girls and boys, younger kids, older kids, kids from other cities, kids from other countries, champions and masters. She is Katwe’s queen of chess.

And, increasingly, Phiona becomes the queen of her life, as well as the lives of those around her. She wins the opportunity to think ahead, to plan ahead, and even captures the means to execute her plan.

“Queen of Katwe” is sweet. It’s warm and touching—the dictionary definition of a feel good movie.

It does have this Disney-fied feel to it, though—the world is one big cartoon that promises everything is all right, people are swell (or at least not super evil), and that justice always prevails. Even the tears feel somewhat inconsequential, like they’re only there to make us feel more warmly toward the characters.

I think this may be a bad thing, though I’m not entirely sure. I, at least, have a gut-reaction aversion to it. It feels a little icky how Disney’s applies their trademark oversimplification and white washing to the plight of people in such dire circumstances. It feels just a little off that a company that charges $95 a day to go to one of their theme parks (more if you want to go to the whole thing) is trying to tackle the woes of poverty.

But I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t beat up on Disney. At least they made the movie in the first place. After all, Phiona’s story is worth telling, and worth watching. So if this version of it comes bursting at the seams with ooh-ey gooey, sugary sap, and makes you feel like humanity is wrapping you up in a warm blanket, then, well, maybe that’s all right.

"Kubo and the Two Strings"

By Matt Duncan
Coastal View News

“If you must blink, do it now,” says Kubo (Art Parkinson) as the movie opens. Kubo goes on, “Pay careful attention to everything you see no matter how unusual it may seem.”

Kubo is right. Get your blinking done during the previews. Because “Kubo and the Two Strings” is a feast—for the heart, mind, and indeed, for the eyes—and you don’t want to miss a morsel.

Kubo is also right to imply that you are in for something unusual. The usual part of the story is that Kubo is a young Japanese boy who lives with his mom in a small village. The un- part is, well, everything else.

First of all, Kubo has magic. When he strums his magical shamisen (which is a lute-like musical instrument), paper figures—people, cranes, dragons, chickens, and whatever else Kubo wants—come to life to do Kubo’s bidding.

This is mostly a parlor trick. That is, until—and here we continue with the un- side of unusual—he learns that he is being chased by his Aunts (Rooney Mara) and Grandfather (aka Moon King—Ralph Fiennes), who killed his samurai father, took one of Kubo’s eyes (yes, he only has one eye), and are looking to snatch Kubo’s other eye so that Kubo, like them, becomes blind to the cares of others. After learning all of that, Kubo needs to repurpose his magic.

Kubo’s mission is to find his father’s magical armor—a sword, breastplate, and helmet—with the help of Monkey (Charlize Theron) and Beetle (Matthew McConaughey). Monkey was once a little wooden figurine that Kubo carried around. Now she is a flesh-and-blood monkey. Beetle—a sort of quixotic doofus (though in a thoroughly disarming way)—was a samurai, but now he is half-man, half-insect, and sports six appendages.

Together they journey across land and sea in search of their treasure, while fending off the stuff of nightmares—a towering skeleton monster, giant glowing eyeballs that can “see into you”, an enormous, dragonesque bug, and, perhaps creepiest of all, two magical sisters hovering above the ground wearing lifeless, colorless porcelain masks, mocking their victims with their raspy, ethereal voices (This is a kid’s movie?).

Unfortunately, “Kubo and the Two Strings” does end up indulging in some cliché and vague mumbo jumbo toward the end. But these foibles are so easy to overlook, given its other virtues.

Charm smooths out flaws. And this movie is so charming. Each of the characters is striking. From the sprightly Kubo to the stern yet witty Monkey to the sincerely goofy Beetle and even to an old village woman with a bright smile and warm laugh—each character is unique and authentic. I would say they are well developed, and they are, but the fact is, they exude their personalities so effectively that no lengthy development is needed. You understand them—you totally get them—as soon as you meet them.

One sign that these are well-crafted characters is their humor. They are really funny, but in a subtle, “you’d have to know him/her” sort of way. It’s not funny like you go to a comedy club and some guy you never met tells you a bunch of jokes with punch lines. It’s funny like you’re hanging out in your living room with your friend, who is real, sarcastic (but not mean), and doesn’t take herself at all seriously.

The indispensible conduit for all of this—for the charm, the humor, the captivating story, and lilting dialogue—is the animation. It is 3D stop motion animation. Each character is painstakingly crafted, and then, frame by frame, moved or adjusted so as to give the appearance of motion. A team of animators pumped out a measly 4.3 seconds of animation per week!

The result is breathtaking. The colors are crisp and arresting, the faces are alive with subtle expressions, and the overall aesthetic transports us to another world. This is crucial. For while this movie feels fanciful, exotic, and indeed, unusual, it also feels warmly familiar and very real.

"Start Trek Beyond"

By Matt Duncan
Coastal View News

I’m more of a TNG (Star Trek: The Next Generation) guy. I would rather sit down for a cup of tea with the calm, wise Jean-Luc Picard at the helm than hurtle through space with the impassioned, impetuous James T. Kirk. Spock is cool, but I’ll take Data. I don’t really like Doctor “Bones” McCoy. I definitely prefer Beverly Crusher.

So if I am a little less than enthusiastic about “Star Trek Beyond” it may be because it’s just not my thing—I am loyal to another camp. Devotees of the original series seem to like this latest installment (I know, I went with a couple of them). And I see why. It has plenty of explosions, destruction, fighting (both with and without phasers), and macho charm—all the hallmarks of a classic action movie.

The movie does not start that way, though. At first, Kirk (Chris Pine) is bored. Or, more accurately, he is aimless. He doesn’t feel a sense of purpose. He doesn’t know what he is doing out there running around like a deep-space cowboy. In fact, he is starting to think about doing something else. It’s kind of like a mid-life crisis. (At, what, 28?)

But, ugh, he has to go on one last mission before he hangs it up (I wonder if it will be a walk in the park … hmmm). His task is to help locate a missing ship in a dense nebula.

But before they have a chance to look around, they get attacked. A massive swarm of bee-like ships throw themselves at the Enterprise. Kirk and his crew try to repel them, but there are too many of those pesky things bombarding their vessel.

Kirk and company were set up—ambushed. And now their beloved Enterprise is being blown to bits before their very eyes. The ship collapses onto a nearby planet as its crew are strewn about like maple leaves in November. Luckily, they end up in little teams. Kirk meets up with Scotty (Simon Pegg), who also found a local lady—both lovely and fierce, as you might expect—to join causes with. Bones (Karl Urban) and Spock (Zachary Quinto) get paired up, and mostly just try to stay alive. And Uhura (Zoe Saldana) and Sulu (John Cho), among others, are taken captive.

The baddies are led by Krall (Idris Elba). What a name! Is Krall mean and ruthless? Yes. Is he looking for a special weapon to be especially mean and ruthless with? Why yes, yes he is. Does he care who he has to crush to get it? No, of course not. Is defeating him impossible? Even for the crew of the Starship Enterprise? Yes! … Well, O.K., no. Yes and no.

Excuse my sarcasm. And, again, sorry if I don’t come off as overly enthusiastic about “Star Trek Beyond”. It’s not like this movie is poorly acted, or poorly written, or boring, or anything like that. It is a fine movie. It is solid.

But it’s just that, in this day and age, with all these very solid sci-fi (or similar) action movies, I don’t know, it’s hard for me to get too excited about “Star Trek Beyond”. It’s pretty, and fun, and funny, and action packed, and everything else you might want and expect out of this franchise. But I think I’ve seen it before. I must have. It’s just too familiar.

Early on in the movie, when Kirk is down in the dumps about his life, he complains, in a very charmingly Star-Trek-self-aware sort of way, that his adventures have started to feel “episodic”. Hats off for being self-aware, Kirk. The problem is, you mention it, but don’t do anything about it—the whole movie only confirms the stereotype. And I guess I just don’t care all that much about episode after episode of the same crashing, shooting, punching, and bracing for impact.

Maybe that is why I am more of a TNG guy. Yes, I know, that series is equally episodic. But at least it introduces new puzzles and thought experiments for us to think about or marvel over—scenarios that shed light on our condition.

So there, my cards are on the table. If you’re an original series person, you will probably love “Star Trek Beyond”. If, like me, you are more of a TNG person, well then … just don’t expect to sit down for tea with Jean-Luc Picard.

"Swiss Army Man"

By Matt Duncan
Coastal View News

Hank (Paul Dano) is at death’s door. He has a noose around his neck. He is about to take the plunge. But, just as he is about to crack—from his solitary confinement on a small, deserted island, with little food and water; and even worse, no one to love or be loved by—Hank sees something that brings him down from the ledge.

It’s a person! Someone else has washed up on shore. Finally, a companion. For Hank, this isn’t just someone to break up the soul crushing monotony of life on an island. It’s as if God himself sent an Eve to be Hank’s companion—to help manage his world, to name things, to explore.

The only catch: This person (Daniel Radcliffe) is dead. Fish food. A lifeless corpse. Just as Hank waxes philosophical about being sent a companion, this pale, dead body in a blue suit and tie lets out a big, posthumous fart, as if to remind Hank that, no, things really do suck and the whole world and everything in it is crass and ugly. God must have a sick sense of humor.

Initially Hank takes all this as a punch in the gut, if not a slap in the face, and so he remounts his gallows. But as he prepares for his dramatic, decisive final act, all he can hear is farting. It’s really bad. So bad, in fact, that it is causing the dead body to sort of come to life—to flop around and even move through the waves lapping on the shore.

An intrigued Hank goes to investigate. But before long he is, you know, riding the dead body through the water at a breakneck pace like he is on a Jet Ski or something, propelled only by this Godsend’s high octane flatulents.

All right, it may not be pretty or normal, but hey, this dead body can do stuff. Turns out it can also spew water like an oasis’ spring, shoot projectiles out of its mouth, Karate chop wood and other construction items, and navigate with his, ahem, boner.

But by far the most important thing is that this lifeless corpse is, more and more, the companion that first brought Hank back from the brink. He gets a name: Manny. At first Manny is just a sounding board. But then some odd things happen. Manny starts to talk a little. Then a lot. He is still very much dead, mind you. But we pretty much left reality behind back with the gassy dolphin escapade.

Hank and Manny get to know each other. Manny can’t remember anything from his former life, so Hank has to tell him everything—from Cheese Puffs to girls to busses to why people tend to keep their farts to themselves. Both Hank and Manny are kind of weird. But it’s O.K. Each is the others’ savior—the miracle who brought the other back from the dead.

“Swiss Army Man” is at its best when it is not taking itself too seriously. There is a very charming middle swath of this movie. It’s light. It’s funny. It’s buoyant. It’s just nice.

I’m not usually a big Paul Dano fan, and I usually have a hard time not seeing that other Boy Who Lived whenever Daniel Radcliffe’s face is on screen. But in this movie they do a pretty nice job. It is not overly hammy (as Dano, who I think is a chronic over-actor, might have made it). And Radcliffe affects a nice American accent that masks his other, more famous identity.

If only that were the whole movie—a pleasant idyll. But it is not. “Swiss Army Man” succumbs to taking itself too seriously. I mean, there are some fine enough themes in this movie—about death, companionship, being “weird”, and so on. But these themes desperately needed a light touch here, both because the overall tone of the movie is not fit to bear too sober a load, and because these themes are so well worn that it’s just massively unlikely that Hank and Manny, whatever their regenerative powers may be, ever had a chance of breathing new life into them.

The ending sequences of this movie are especially high handed, cheesy, baffling, and pretty much just awful. Walk out of the movie with about 15 minutes left, if you can. You’ll see a simpler, less complex movie. But it will be far more unified and pleasant.

"The Nice Guys"

By Matt Duncan

Coastal View News

This is a strange movie. I walked into the theater, and there was a preview on for a new Dinesh D’Souza movie explaining how Hillary Clinton is part of a massive conspiracy to enslave us, or something like that (for a while I couldn’t tell whether this movie was supposed to be a satire). That was followed by a preview for a bizarre-looking new Oliver Stone movie starring Nicolas Cage, which was followed by a few other Twilight-Zone-feeling-inducing previews. I thought, “Am I in the right theater?”

But then after two more hours it all made sense. Well, it made sense in that nothing over the past two hours and 10 minutes made a lot of sense. Not necessarily in a bad way. “The Nice Guys” is strange in a charming, almost “The Big Lebowski” sort of way (though that’s too much of a compliment by association, I think). But it is strange.

It’s the 70s. It’s L.A. Jackson Healy (Russell Crowe) breaks arms and bashes skulls for a living—basically, his job is to “send messages” to creeps, lowlifes, and really, anyone he gets paid to bash. Holland March (Ryan Gosling) is a highly unreliable, alcoholic private investigator, who makes a lot of his money by doing things like helping a senile old woman find her dead husband that she forgot died years ago.

Healy and March get tangled up because they are both looking for Amelia (Margaret Qualley). At first Healy gets paid to rough up March to get him to stop looking for Amelia, but then a couple of tough guys come and rough up Healy for having something to do with Amelia, and that pisses Healy off, so he starts looking for Amelia, too. Healy thinks he might as well ask March for help, so, hours removed from the original beating, they start working together. Yeah, it’s complicated.

It turns out Amelia has been hanging out with a bunch of porn stars. Actually, she may be a porn star herself. Or maybe she is just a naïve activist who, oddly enough, uses porn as a vehicle for her political message (March rightly queries her about the wisdom of making a porn about the plot.). At any rate, Amelia is around, sort of, but she keeps running away and thinks her mom is trying to kill her. See, her mom is the head of the Department of Justice, which of course Amelia hates because it means mom is “the man” and part of a vast oppressive capitalist conspiracy to do something super nefarious, including kill Amelia and her friends because they (a) do porn, (b) might expose her as a fraud, (c) might embarrass her, or (d) all of the above.

Healy and March can’t keep their heads around this whole thing (especially March, who is drunk all the time). Luckily they have March’s preteen daughter, Holly (Angourie Rice), by their side. She is sensible and organized, and knows how to drive a car. So she ends up doing a lot of the heavy lifting.

This giant web of sleaze and corruption ends up extending pretty far, not just to the porn and private investigator industries, but also to government and big business outfits. Healy and March end up being, by comparison, the nice guys—just hoping they don’t finish last.

Again, “The Nice Guys” is strange. It is strange because it is a real mishmash of genres, styles, types of humor, and many other things. One moment it is ultra realistic, and the next a giant honeybee is riding in the back seat. But strangeness is an asset for this movie. It makes it just offbeat enough to mask some of the more conventional, cheesy (in a bad way), and potentially tiresome aspects of this movie.

This mask would have been an entirely too flimsy disguise if it weren’t for the charisma of the cast. All three stars—Crowe, Gosling, and Rice—are so easy to watch. Especially Gosling. He is hilarious in an inept yet clever way. He makes a thoroughly goofy character somehow seem cool.

All of this feels sort of like a scam. The plot is silly (and clichéd), the script is pretty uneven, there is no stylistic unity, and only a certain percentage of the jokes land. Yet, by shear stroke of personality, we get drawn in.

Whatever. I kind of liked it.