Bird Box Review

Bird Box's greatest strength undeniably lies in the perfect casting of Sandra Bullock in the lead role.

Since John Krasinski's A Quiet Place recently explored the terrifying journey of a family in an apocalyptic world through an unnerving assault of the senses, at first glance Netflix's Bird Box seemed to be an exploration along the same vein. While the two 2018 releases are bound to be placed side-by-side due to their passing similarities, Bird Box is a completely different walk in the woods.

It's difficult to settle into Bird Box because it flutters between typical survival horror mechanisms and muddled allegorical sci-fi. This makes the audience feel just as blindfolded as to where Bird Box is going as the characters in the movie. It makes for a peculiarly entertaining ride -- strangely comical and fun at times, intensely horrifying in others but ultimately anchored in Sandra Bullock's strong emotional presence on screen.

The Netflix-produced movie centers on Bullock as Malorie, a defiantly pregnant woman who is thrust into the chaos of a world plagued with unexplained mass suicides triggered by one look at an unseen presence. After going with her sister (Sarah Paulson) to a routine ultrasound appointment, they are soon surrounded by people affected by this terror, causing flaming car crashes and hysteria on their drive home.

Malorie's sister falls victim to the mysterious threat while she is driving them both, and loses her focus as her eyes are darkened when she sees it. Despite Malorie's efforts to gain control of the car, the sister crashes, and then commits suicide when she intentionally walks in front of bus. Amidst the turmoil, Malorie comes across a safe house full of survivors like herself who also managed to look away from the ominous presence that left the town in complete destruction. They all hide there.

Bird Box then leans into its horror elements as an unlikely bunch and talented cast members gather, including Moonlight's Trevante Rhodes, John Malkovich, Jacki Weaver, Rosa Salazar, Danielle Macdonald, Lil Rey Howery, Machine Gun Kelly and BD Wong. Together, they struggle to survive, work with one another and their numbers start to shrink as the presence follows closely outside their door.

Often, the Bird Box plot moves to a timeline five years ahead, where Malorie is a fearless survivor guiding two children through a river while wearing blindfolds, which later converges into the conclusion of the film. As the movie jumps back and forth between the past and the future, it's not difficult to loosely fill in the gaps of the fate of the other characters, but that's not to say watching the reveals isn't entertaining to discover.

However, what we're strapped into in the beginning of Bird Box doesn't quite match up with what happens next as the movie's intended "deeper meaning" is introduced though never completely explored to be completely grasped. Whether it's intended to be some sort of religious allegory, commentary on mental health or lazy attempt to move the story along --it feels unclear, and the movie suffers for it. However, it should be noted that Bird Box is based on a 2014 novel by Josh Malerman with the same title, and book adaptations can fall victim to feeling like they have missing pieces or are up to interpretation.

Additionally, it's tough to turn an eye to the overall weakness of Bird Box's script that makes the concept come off as kind of comical at times when its intensity first starts to build. I mean much of the film has the characters wearing blindfolds and clumsily walking around -- it's tough to take it seriously the whole time because it's an inherently funny thing to watch.

I think this happens because at the beginning of Bird Box stumbles in establishing the world of the film through a quick news brief. From there, it suddenly places the characters in the world -- it tells when it should show, making it feel much more like the characters jumped on a Hollywood set than seamlessly flowing with the story being told. Then again, the threat itself cannot be seen, which allows the film to lose out on a big "horror factor" that has strengthened many entries in the genre.

The core of Bird Box's story then falls to Malorie's story arc of being afraid to be a mother. It's an interesting and unique platform to explore parenthood, especially in an unsafe world where trust is often tested and survival is not guaranteed for anyone.

Because Bird Box juggles between an ambitious storyline and genre bending, it's packed from beginning to end with so much tension that you feel as exhausted, on-edge and empathetic with Malorie does by the end of her five-year journey trying to survive and keep two children alive from the deadly threat. While it's cinematically rocky and tonally unsound, there's payoff in the final act that had me all-in and unexpectedly emotional.

Bird Box's greatest strength undeniably lies in the perfect casting of Sandra Bullock in the lead role. Her Malorie may have a tough, guarded exterior but she effortlessly carries the film so incredibly that you feel like you've just experienced the events along with her. Trevante Rhodes' character has a vulnerability about him that balances out Malorie's external shyness and adds heart and humanity to the film.

Bird Box is not trying to be A Quiet Place, while it some ways it should in the way it sometimes unsuccessfully builds tension and flips between being genres. But if you let it blindly spin you around, poke and pry for a while, once it's all uncovered, Bird Box is a memorable film.

Aquaman Review

A fun, exciting, imaginative, occasionally silly but undoubtedly epic adventure that establishes an incredibly rich new cinematic world.

Through no real fault of his own, Aquaman's status on the contemporary superhero landscape has been that of a punchline. His powers -- breathing underwater, communicating with fish -- aren't exactly intimidating. Zack Snyder and Jason Momoa chose to present their Arthur Curry as more of an ex-jock Frat bro, rather than a majestic king with royal blood. Plus, a running joke regarding James Cameron's Aquaman on the HBO series Entourage contributed to the DC's hero's whipping-boy reputation.

So there's a delicious irony to the fact that James Wan's epic, visually arresting and badass Aquaman movie -- an adventure built around this ridiculed and meme-friendly savior -- is the first DCEU feature to convince me that Warner Bros. and DC Comics finally are taking their contemporary comic-book properties seriously.

Let's shower Aquaman with praise, and get all of the water-based puns out of the way. With James Wan captaining this massive ship, Aquaman sails through a colorful high-stakes adventure that plunges audiences into a vibrant, sci-fi-inspired deep-sea world. While connected to the overarching DCEU, Aquaman wisely branches off into its own unique corner of this universe and fills in its undersea world with eye-popping creatures, sleek space crafts and rarely-seen environments that reward a viewing on the biggest screen possible.

Jason Momoa, meanwhile, is given the opportunity to dive into the surprising depths of this previously superficial character, and the actor seizes the hero's arc presented in this story. Aquaman also will make a massive splash at the box office, proving that DC should continue to explore rousing solo adventures for its unique superheroes (instead of foolishly chasing the shared universe model dominated by Marvel).

Whew.

Aquaman serves as an origin story, not just for Arthur Curry (Jason Momoa), but for the world he represents. We learn how his mother, Queen Atlanna of Atlantis (Nicole Kidman), fell in love with surface dweller Thomas Curry (Temuera Morrison), and produced a child who'd have qualities of both worlds.

Under the sea, Shakesperean drama bubbles up as Arthur's half-brother, Orm (Patrick Wilson), launches a scheme to convince the seven kingdoms that it's finally time to rise up and show the land citizens the power of those who occupy the water. Orm needs to unite all of the kingdoms if he's to inherit the title of Ocean Master, giving him full control of the forces of the sea.

Orm's job becomes much more difficult if Arthur should ever return to reclaim the throne that is his birthright. But as we saw in Justice League, Arthur's content to bum around the coastal towns of our planet, drinking the equivalent of his body weight in stout beer and performing the occasional heroic act.

Two events change Arthur's mind. First, Orm launches an attack on the surface, putting Arthur's beloved father in danger. Mera (Amber Heard) uses this as motivation to guilt Arthur to finally return to Atlantis and challenge Orm for the throne. Secondly, a new threat in the form of the pirate Black Manta (Yahya Abdul-Mateen II) rises, giving Aquaman a legit foil we expect will be explored in future movies.

Hiring James Wan is the key to Aquaman's success. The Conjuring director fearlessly embraces everything that comes with the hero, figuring out how to effectively stage underwater action, and choreographing impressively fluid fight sequences both on the land and in the sea. Water is integral to Aquaman's story, and I'm certain there came a point when Wan got sick of everything having to be so wet on this set. But this movie plunges us into Aquaman's realm, and it's supremely effective.

Jason Momoa, meanwhile, eventually won me over as Arthur Curry. Without abandoning his "Bro-seidon" personality (Arthur Curry's swagger is DC by way of the WWE), Momoa shoulders the cartoonish aspects of Aquaman -- I mean, soldiers ride into battle on gigantic sea horses here, so c'mon people -- and we begrudgingly accept the silliness of it all as Curry learns to embrace it.

Can the film tip too far into camp? You better believe it, and there certainly are eye-rolling moments and misguided laugh lines that thud, usually because Momoa's comedic timing isn't razor sharp. At one point, he describes himself as a blunt instrument, and the movie reduces itself to his simplicity every so often (but never enough to derail the swashbuckling adventure for any extended period of time).

Basically, Aquaman does what these DC solo movies should have been doing all along, which is celebrating what makes the hero in question unique, and dedicating all available resources into creating a vibrant, liveable world in which audiences will want to get lost (and return). Halfway through James Wan's feature, I secretly wished that beneath the surfaces of our own oceans, an army of neon-glowing soldiers actually were riding sharks into battle with a platoon of crusty crab monsters, while a yellow-and-green warrior darted through the depths with his glowing trident, fighting to bring unity to a massive yet divided kingdom. In other words, I bought fully into the mythology that Wan and his team brought to the big screen, and what bigger compliment can one pay?

In a nutshell, Aquaman is a fun, exciting, imaginative, occasionally silly but undoubtedly epic adventure that establishes an incredibly rich new cinematic world and helps DC and Warner Bros. right their comic-book ship.

Bumblebee Review

Bumblebee is proof that it is possible to become emotionally invested in a movie where giants robots punch each other in the face.

The Transformers franchise has become as massive as the giant robots that make it up. It's big business at the box office but in the end, if you're not there explicitly to see giant robots knock buildings down, then there just isn't much else there to get you excited. Bumblebee, however, is something a little different, and different is good. It's the first franchise spinoff, which focuses on the single fan-favorite title character rather than two massive armies of robots, and in shrinking the story down to a manageable size, Bumblebee has been able to do something no other movie in the series has been able to accomplish -- get the audience to get emotionally invested in a Transformer.

Bumblebee is a prequel story that takes place in 1987 and opens as the Autobots' war on their homeworld of Cybertron has taken a turn for the worse. The good guys are evacuating the planet and leader Optimus Prime tasks the young Bumblebee (briefly voiced by Dylan O'Brien) with going to Earth to set up the planet as a sort of safe house for the rest of our heroes. Bumblebee lands in the middle of a military training exercise led by Agent Burns (John Cena), which sets the army after him. Between them and a single Decepticon that trailed him to Earth, our yellow hero is severely damaged, losing his voice and his memory and forcing him to go into hiding as a yellow Volkswagon Beetle.

Eventually, 18-year-old Charlie (Hailee Steinfeld) finds the car in a junkyard and takes it home to fix it up. However, by bringing Bumblebee back to life, she unknowingly alerts a couple of Decepticons to his presence.

With the possible exception of the random appearance by Sir Anthony Hopkins in Transformers: The Last Knight, Hailee Steinfeld is probably the greatest actor to ever appear in a Transformers movie, and it shows. She instantly has more chemistry with this giant robot, or any other human character, than anybody else in the franchise. Of course, her co-star isn't half bad either. The gimmick of the previous films, where Bumblebee uses his radio to communicate, is something this film brings on gradually, and even once it's established it's never overdone. This gives the silent robot a child-like quality that is instantly endearing.

Another performance worthy of note is that of John Cena. Bumblebee marks his highest profile performance to date and he makes the most of it with a role that lets him be both action star and comedian. He pulls off both well.

Bumblebee is an 80s movie. That's not because it takes place in the 80s, but rather because it feels like a movie that came from the decade. The comparisons to E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial are obvious, as a human befriends an alien and tries to hide him from the military. But Bumblebee is clearly meant to fall on the homage side of the line rather than feel like a copycat. The movie doesn't simply feel like it wants to take place in the 80s, it feels like it was actually filmed then. Director Travis Knight has perfectly captured the tone and style of an "80s movie."

Since the 80s were the heyday of the Transformers, Bumblebee plays into that nostalgia in a big way. In addition to Bumblebee being the style of vehicle he was back then, rather than having the sports car body of the main film franchise, the other Transformers that we do see, however briefly, look much more like their 80s toy counterparts. The opening sequence of the film looks like what would happen if you re-made Transformers: The Movie with modern computers.

Nostalgia cuts both ways of course. A little can be a welcome addition to a story, too much can make a story feel like it's trying too hard to push your buttons. There were a few too many 80s pop culture references for my taste. many of them were obviously there for no reason beyond getting the laugh that comes with audience recognition.

Of course, it wouldn't be a Transformers movie if it didn't have massive explosions, and giant robots shooting each other with lasers. Not to worry, Bumblebee has that, and while the action sequences are smaller simply by virtue of the fact that that there are fewer robots around, fans of the franchise should still enjoy themselves.

Bumblebee doesn't reinvent the wheel. The story is pretty formulaic but Travis Knight clearly knows exactly what ingredients are needed to make this particular formula work as well as it can. We're almost certainly going to continue to get more Transformers movies. If it has to happen, can we get more like Bumblebee?

Cold War Review

Pawel Pawlikowski is in love with his characters, his story, and the world he's built in Cold War, and it shows in every frame.

Love stories are typically pretty straight forward. Person A meets Person B, and there's a connection. That connection is something the audience is supposed to root for, and ultimately want to prevail. By time the movie ends, that relationship usually wins out, and everyone can breathe a sigh of relief that the lovers are in love. Don't expect that sort of cut-and-dried sort of love story in director Pawel Pawlikowski's Cold War, as it is an atypical love story that explores a long term romance, with some seriously film noir tendencies.

Cold War tells the tale of a romance that spans a decade, ebbing and flowing between good times and bad in the relationship between Wiktor (Tomasz Kot) and Zuzanna (Joanna Kulig.) The pair meet as instructor and pupil in a musical program intended to maintain Polish heritage through folk art in 1949. As the years forge on, they continue to waltz in and out of each others lives, with their fortunes rising and falling each time. As the world starts to change, and Communism rises as a barrier between the two, their relationship will be tested, along with their own personal fortitude.

The most lasting impression Cold War has on its audience is that it's a film that tells its conventional story in an unconventional manner. Rather than throwing Wiktor and Zuzanna into a straightforward narrative, the story of Pawlikowski's dour, and in all honesty toxic, romance is told by, in essence, snapshots in time. We never linger with these characters too long, as time and locales shift when the story needs them to.

So instead of a story that feels like a simple "A to B" plot, we're given a movie that lets us fill in the blanks in-between the moments we do see. All the information is laid out for the audience to interpret as Wiktor and Zuzanna keep coming back to each other over time. This manner of storytelling inspires the viewer to really discuss what they've seen once Cold War has wrapped, and it definitely feels like the sort of movie that will reward devotees with repeated viewings.

What's also rewarding is the lush landscape of Cold War's visual and sonic landscapes. For a film that has music embedded into its DNA, it seduces both with some of the lushest black and white photography seen on screen in some time, and a musical accompaniment to die for. Polish folk music, American rock and roll, and French jazz all mix and mingle in this film, and if that sounds appealing to you, then Cold War will definitely warm your heart.

Especially since the film's characters and story evolve and change much like a pivotal song at the center of the film. Much like the song Zuzanna sings throughout the film, Cold War's romance translates differently each time it's revisited. As the settings and language change throughout time, so does their story, to the point where you can recognize how it started, but can't help but feel bad for how it all turns out.

Of course, any good love story has to have a pair that the audience can truly engage with, and it's absolutely safe to say that Cold War delivers on that front as well. Tomasz Kot's Wiktor bounces through the story, truly loving Joanna Kulig's Zuzanna, despite the fact that she's not always the best object of affection.

Meanwhile, Kulig's female lead embodies a mixture of desperation and icy detachment, doing whatever she has to do to survive. Every moment of sweetness she gives Wiktor, we can't help but question if she means it, or if it's just another whim. As the film goes on, the line doesn't get any clearer, but the result is constantly compelling nonetheless.

Cold War is a film that doesn't belong in the modern era of filmmaking, and it's hard to be convinced that this isn't some lost romance made in the time of the French New Wave. It is totally committed to the time period its story is set in, and it creates a rare film that feels like stepping back in time as you watch it unfold.

Pawel Pawlikowski is in love with his characters, his story, and the world he's built in Cold War, and it shows in every frame. It's a beautiful story about people who can get really ugly, needy, or dismissive when they have to, and while the validity of Wiktor and Zuzanna's romance may be the film's biggest question of all, there's no doubt that falling in love with this film is absolutely right.

Second Act Review

Even fans of Jennifer Lopez, or the more genre friendly films that Second Act has in mind in its execution, are going to want to inquire elsewhere.

To mix multiple sub-genres of one particular film into one cohesive story is difficult at the minimum; but can sometimes be extremely intimidating, though severely rewarding, when done right. Second Act, Jennifer Lopez's big return to being a silver screen lead, certainly tries its best to pull off such a task, and in some cases it definitely succeeds. True to its tagline, and one of its mantras spoken in the film, the only thing standing in its path to becoming a better film is, sadly, itself.

Second Act covers the story of Maya (Lopez), an associate manager in a big box store that aspires to full on store management. When she fails to do so, her big birthday wish is to awaken in a world where street smarts equal book smarts. Through the scheming of her best friend's son, as well as a beefed up resume and social media presence, Maya lands a consultant position at a top notch consumer product company.

The film's title has an interesting double meaning when you look at it the right way. While Second Act truly speaks to Jennifer Lopez's Maya, and her big career change, it also signals when the film actually starts to pick up. Which means that in order to actually enjoy this film, you have to slog through a clumsy, padded first act.

Not only does the group of mom friends, lead by the usually hysterical Leah Remini, manage to weigh Second Act down when it's trying to take off, but Lopez's on-screen romance with This Is Us star Milo Ventimiglia feels like it has no business being in this film. While they start the film dating, a spat separates them for a good portion of the middle half, having Ventimiglia's character, Trey, only reappear towards the end of the film.

Though there are plenty of other characters that could easily be removed from Second Act, as there's tons of loose threads, and unnecessary adversaries that get in the way of the film telling its story in the way it seems to truly want. In the presence of so many problems, it would have been easy for Second Act to close the curtain after its first.

And yet, the eventual relationship between initial rivals Jennifer Lopez and Vanessa Hudgens turns into something that functions as what would have been a better seed for Second Act's foundation to be built around. Somehow, one crucial plot twist throws these characters together in such a scenario that it plays to Lopez and Hudgens' strengths. It's from this point on that the two actors really strengthen the film, and it's regrettable to think that if this was built better into the film's dumpster fire of a first act, this could have been a welcome surprise for the holiday season.

It isn't long before the final stretch of Second Act starts to really show how at odds with itself it truly is. The remainder of the film does maintain some of the magic that Lopez and Hudgens find in its contents. And surprisingly enough, there's also a pair of stand out performances from Charlyne Yi and Alan Aisenberg, playing effective comedic relief characters that help steal the show with a handful of good laughs.

But as if they never truly went away for most of the middle of Second Act, both the troupe of mom friends and the ex-boyfriend come back, as if they were part of the ending the whole time. It almost feels like these story strands were added onto the film's story, in the name of marketability, and they could be written out just as easily.

As it stands, Second Act is the strongest part of the film with that same title. For a brief moment, what started as a garden variety rom-com / empowerment tract turned into something a little more dramatic, and definitely more human. It's unfortunate that the film couldn't sustain that story throughout its entirety, as it feels like a feel-good patch of success sandwiched by two soggy buns of disappointment.

The end result is a film that can somewhat be enjoyed, but in a limited capacity. Even fans of Jennifer Lopez, or the more genre friendly films that Second Act has in mind in its execution, are going to want to inquire elsewhere.

Vice Review

Vice is vital and important filmmaking, delivered in a unique and incredible way by an exceptional filmmaker.

Adam McKay is evolving into a fascinating auteur. In 2015 he made a sharp left turn in the subject matter department, going from movies about goofy anchormen and step brothers to the 2008 housing market crash -- but he maintained continuity in one crucial area: tone. The Big Short is far more serious material than Talladega Nights or The Other Guys (which, admittedly, has its own subtle economic commentary), but it's also a film highlighted with tremendous wit, laugh-out-loud material, and a perfect comedic touch.

We now have its spiritual sequel, Vice, which is, once again, a look back at the critical historical events that helped mold the world in which we currently live -- particularly those in the first decade of the 21st century. The subject is Dick Cheney, a man the film outright admits in its opening moments is an excessively secretive figure, and it in equal parts plays as both a highlight reel and dramatic expose -- showcasing many of the sinister and disturbing machinations that were kept hidden from public knowledge at the time. It's weighty, credible and at times shockingly intense, but what makes it sing is that McKay Touch.

Rather than being an adaptation, like The Big Short was, Vice is based on an original screenplay by Adam McKay, and those deeply embedded fingerprints drive what is one of the best films of the year. The movie takes you on a surprisingly epic journey, chronicling his rise from drunken college fail out to Vice President of the United States, and weaves a phenomenal story that is a complex mix of oddity, awfulness, revelation, and devastation... and that's all without mentioning the all-timer performances from its remarkable leads.

We first meet Dick (Christian Bale) as a slovenly drunk, hitting a turning point in his life when he gets arrested for driving while intoxicated. Motivation from his would-be wife, Lynne (Amy Adams), drives him to start to fix himself, and seven years later he finds himself a path via a congressional internship. With no actual ideology of his own, just an attraction to power, Dick hitches his wagon to Richard Nixon's brash and blunt Director of the Office of Economic Opportunity, Donald Rumsfeld (Steve Carell).

This was in 1969, and from there he finds his way into every Republican administration, his title becoming more prominent with each new President. His coup de grace, however, is performed in the year 2001 when he is able to exploit the presidency of George W. Bush (Sam Rockwell) to essentially become the most powerful man in the world and orchestrate some of the most significant events in modern history.

Biopics like these are occasionally problematic, as opting for a sprawling narrative over something more specific can sometimes make a film feel disjointed or slow, but Dick Cheney is, frankly, too fascinating a figure to succumb to these issues. He's not a particularly passionate or captivating persona (emphasized when shown on the campaign trail delivering a speech to a totally disengaged audience), but his stoicism and strategic mind keep you on the edge and curious about his process -- even if it's all history that you already know about. And, of course, these key chess moves all play out around Cheney's multiple heart attacks, telling Senator Patrick Leahy to go fuck himself on the floor of the Senate, and the infamous time he shot a man in the face during a hunting expedition.

Like he did with The Big Short, Adam McKay also includes some smart fourth-wall breaking to help handle some of the complex-yet-necessary exposition -- particularly through the film's mysterious but important narrator, played by Jesse Plemons -- and it's here where the writer/director's style is extra important and effective. As dirty as the word may seem in a world of entertainment, Vice can be described as an educational movie, but it's an easy-to-swallow pill because of the style and charisma of the teacher. We don't have Margot Robbie in a bubble bath explaining complex financial terms to us in this one, but we do have Dick Cheney's exemplary persuasion skills illustrated with a discussion about putting clown wigs on penises during a meeting with President Gerald Ford.

The story and storytelling are the reward you get for purchasing a ticket to Vice, but what is clearly selling the film are the transformative performances by Christian Bale and Amy Adams -- both of whom live up to the hype in every single way. In the case of the former, I'm still wondering how anybody considered the star of The Dark Knight and The Fighter and said, "That guy could look like a perfect clone of Dick Cheney," but the ultimate truth is that the results are absolutely stunning (with tremendous credit also belonging to the makeup department). The actor utterly vanishes into this part, matching every mannerism of the notorious politician, and it's a sight to behold. It's remarkable that Bale can be both a headliner star and the chameleon that he is, but it's a true testament to his incredible gifts.

Amy Adams' turn is more subtle on the transformative side of things, but she is a force to be reckoned with here. It's easy to make Lady Macbeth/"woman behind the man" comparisons, but that makes them no less accurate, as it's her relationship with her husband that motivates him to be the grimacing, power-hungry golem he becomes. And Adams makes you believe it. It's a power unlike anything she's wielded in any performance before -- long removed from Susan in Talladega Nights-- and some of the best work of her career.

It's always been easy to love Adam McKay's work, as his collaborations with Will Ferrell stand as some of the most hilarious, re-watchable comedies of the young millennium, but the work he is doing now is definitely next level. Vice is vital and important filmmaking, delivered in a unique and incredible way by an exceptional filmmaker. One can pray that he doesn't only delve into these arenas going forward, as the world needs his goofiness as well, but what's guaranteed is that anything he now takes on deserves special attention.

On The Basis Of Sex Review

Simply a solid and serviceable biopic, but not really anything special.

Ruth Bader Ginsberg is a true icon. There are few women in history who have done more for gender equality at such a high level, and her legacy will forever be as a world-changer. She is a remarkable and inspirational figure, and that status was given appropriate big screen attention in 2018 with both a documentary, Betsy West and Julie Cohen's RBG, and a narrative feature, Mimi Leder's On The Basis Of Sex. But while the former did an awesome job covering the incredible scope and span of Ginsberg's life and career, sparked by a great, fun energy, the latter doesn't quite reach the same heights, coalescing as simply a solid and serviceable biopic, but not really anything special.

Based on an original screenplay by Daniel Stiepleman -- who happens to be Ruth Bader Ginsberg's nephew -- On The Basis Of Sex primarily centers on the early years of its subject's career, making her way through law school and then arguing one of the most significant cases of her early years as lawyer: 1972's Moritz v. Commissioner Of Internal Revenue.

Despite facing some rather extreme sexism from professors and department heads, not to mention raising an infant daughter and helping her husband, Martin (Armie Hammer), continue his law studies following a cancer diagnosis, Ginsberg (Felicity Jones) begins the story successfully graduating at the top of her class -- but unable to find work because no firm takes her seriously due to her gender. This rejection leads to a short-lived teaching career, becoming a professor at Rutgers Law School, but also the discovery of a certain niche: the relationship between the law and gender discrimination.

Her work in this area eventually leads to her discovering the story of Charles Moritz (Chris Mulkey), a single man in Denver, Colorado who finds himself unable to receive a tax deduction for nursing care for his mother because the code was specifically created for women, with the assumption that they take care of the house and family while men work. Understanding the extra difficulties that would come with trying to argue against gender bias with a female plaintiff, Ginsberg takes on the case in an attempt to establish an important precedent that would allow for the challenging of any standing law that discriminates on the basis of sex.

It's a challenging legal road to tread, particularly with "allies" like the ACLU's Mel Wulf (Justin Theroux) -- a sexist in his own right working on Ruth Bader Ginsberg's team -- but with a real understanding of society's evolution, and great determination she makes her case to the Tenth Circuit Court of Appeals, and begins a career that would eventually see her start to make significant changes in the American legal system, and set her on a path to the Supreme Court.

There is no denying the significance of the subject matter here, which is both well performed and well shot, but it's also not exactly material that pops, or is super engaging. It's certainly rough to see the unabashed sexism that Ruth Bader Ginsberg had to deal with on a daily basis, and it's effectively jarring, and there is certainly real passion exhibited for the cause -- but the film does also somewhat suffer just from the nature of the story on which it chooses to focus. It's easy to understand why this particular point in Ginsberg's life was chosen for highlighting, as it was a landmark case that jumpstarted her career, but there is also very good reason why most courtroom dramas don't center on legal arguments about the tax code.

What helps to elevate the material is a wide collection of impressive performances from the movie's talented ensemble, with Felicity Jones being the standout that she should be. On The Basis Of Sex opens with her as one of nine women in a Harvard Law School class of about 500, and but she immediately demonstrates Ginsberg's renowned strength of character, and it's fortitude that is prominently on display through Jones' entire performance.

She has a great back up system as well, though, including the affable and ever-supportive Marty -- who Armie Hammer plays with every ounce of his charm. And even though there are some pretty vile things spilling out of their mouths at a regular rate throughout the film, credit must also be given to Justin Theroux and Sam Waterston (as the dean of Harvard Law) for fully and effectively demonstrating the very real discrimination that Ginsberg had to fight so hard against.

Mimi Leder and the various production departments also deserve notice, as On The Basis Of Sex is certainly aesthetically beautiful -- from its elegant period production design and costuming, to the lush lighting and use of contrast to illuminate deep colors. In that way it's transportive, as you are certainly enveloped in the setting when you're not fully enveloped in the story, and it's also highlighted some wonderful scene construction, allowing Ruth Bader Ginsberg's presence to shine throughout in a noticeably mostly male-dominated world.

On The Basis Of Sex is surely a film that deserved to be made, and it is absolutely a great education about one of the most influential figures of the late 20th and early 21st centuries. At the same time, however, it's not a movie that ever really blows you back -- particularly if it's a story with which you are already familiar. It's worth seeing for the history and the performances, but is never as brilliant as its central subject.

Escape Room Review

Escape Room is a fun morsel of junk food, ready to be devoured by its PG-13 target audience and anyone looking for something new in this desert of content known as January.

2019 is a year that's already overstuffed with familiar faces, as proven franchises are returning to the field of battle to continue their streaks or start anew with a reboot / reimagining. So if you're a scrappy newcomer like Escape Room that's looking to make a big impression, or at least a modest means, you're going to need to strike while the iron is hot. It's a good thing this film arrived when it did though, because while it's a mild entertainment that makes for easy off-season distraction, it would have been eaten alive during any other window of prime competition.

Escape Room puts six total strangers (Deborah Ann Woll, Taylor Russell, Tyler Labine, Logan Miller, Nik Dodani and Jay Ellis) into a situation resembling the popular craze that it takes its name from. Except, instead of just fun puzzles based on different themes of popular culture, these six contestants are dropped in the middle of harrowing circumstances, with extremely real consequences. The prize for making it through the experience: $10,000. The consequence for failing: death.

Escape Room borrows from two cinematic fast food franchises that started off promising, but became gradually more ridiculous as time went on: Saw and Resident Evil. In the case of the former, which serves as the predominant influence, the litany of traps, and even a line of dialogue reading that seems to exist because the screenwriter ran "Live or die, make your choice" through a thesaurus, make it all but readily apparent that this is meant to be a yearly franchise. There's even space for future ret-cons to fill in further backstory for our characters, as well as introduce new players to the pool, making for a pretty cozy pre-fabricated franchise up for option.

For Resident Evil's half of the influencial gene pool, a sinister conspiracy bent presents itself throughout the film at opportune moments in Escape Room's plot, with the final reveal cementing an effectively intriguing, but still rushed, hook for another round of mayhem. There's even a young female protagonist in Taylor Russell's Zoey that's primed to be the next Alice, should this film's sequel tease pay off.

But for all of Escape Room's appropriation from other franchises, there's still some interesting ideas that could have taken form throughout the twisted maze of activities we're shown in the film. Not to mention, for a PG-13 film that likes to try and be the next Saw, Escape Room does seem to have fun playing around with the puzzle solving aspect, rather than just delivering a load of contestants to the slaughter.

If you want to peg what makes Escape Room work, it's two key factors: adrenaline, and a convincing cast. One would assume that without those ingredients, director Adam Robitel's final product from the screenplay penned by Bragi F. Schut and Maria Melnik would have fallen flat, or moved slow enough to easily see the cracks in the film's story. Or, for that matter, the shortcomings of the characters intended to play the cyphers the audience latches onto throughout the perilous journey.

In fact, if the ensemble of familiar and fresh faces (including Daredevil's Deborah Ann Woll, Insecure's Jay Ellis, and veteran character actor Tyler Labine) had been developed as more fulfilling characters, their struggles in Escape Room's various set-pieces might have hit harder. Alas, one of Escape Room's major weaknesses is the fact that it pays more attention to the puzzles than it does the players; which doesn't serve the story's overall ambition of having you care about said pawns.

Even secure in its puzzle solving ambitions, Escape Room falters with its first two puzzles, as they're not all that exciting, and they set up a potential twist that never pans out. However, once the third challenge comes into play, the stakes are raised and they pretty much stay that way throughout the film.

Playing to its strengths more than its weaknesses at that point, it's not hard to have fun with what remains, though Escape Room still falls short of essential viewing. As it stands, Escape Room is a fun morsel of junk food, ready to be devoured by its PG-13 target audience and anyone looking for something new in this desert of content known as January.

However, it could be the promising start to a franchise that could see its best work ahead of it, if the audience makes it worth Sony's while. It wouldn't hurt to see another entry in the entertaining series Escape Room is trying to build, but at the same time, it doesn't seem like something that'll break a lot of hearts if it doesn't happen.

A Dog’s Way Home Review

It's ruff to sit and stay through A Dog's Way Home, and anyone who can do so without walking out deserves a treat.

No one could have predicted A Dog's Purpose being the box office hit that it was last year. However, once that cat was out of the bag, it wasn't hard to foresee a follow-up on the horizon. A Dog's Way Home isn't that follow-up everyone's been expecting, but rather the next best thing: a separate story from the canon of the author that started it all, W. Bruce Cameron. While it's easily better than the film it owes its existence to, this dog bone doesn't fall too far from the tree.

In A Dog's Way Home, we follow Bella (Bryce Dallas Howard), a stray puppy raised by a mother cat and adopted by Lucas (Jonah Hauer-King) and his war veteran mother (Ashley Judd.) Told through her eyes, the story shows Bella's journey back to her family, after being temporarily separated from them for her protection. Along the way, the intrepid dog meets animals and humans she's never seen before, as she follows the invisible tug home.

The good news when it comes to director Charles Martin Smith's A Dog's Way Home is that, thankfully, its story doesn't grind on a person's nerves as much as A Dog's Purpose. The pseudo-spiritual angle focuses more on the pull between a pet and their humans, which is not only identifiable, it's heartwarming. Not to mention, with one dog being the focus of the film's narrative, you're not going to have to watch multiple dogs die in order to teach the audience a lesson.

While the story at the center of A Dog's Way Home isn't as cloying as its spiritual predecessor, it's still not that good. The basic premise is pretty flimsy, with no excitement to carry it as a visually stunning experience. Hurting the film further is the fact that there are several different stories at play in A Dog's Way Home. Chiefly among them are the two main storylines with very different sub-stories within them.

If either of these story combinations were given their due, they could have worked adequately. Thrown together in the fashion that writers W. Bruce Cameron and Cathryn Michon patch them together though, neither story gets the attention it needs to truly work. As such, A Dog's Way Home can't decide if it wants to be about a dog separated from her owner, with a sub focus on supporting wounded veterans; or a dog separated from the two families she forms with members of the feline species, with a sub focus on animal rescue efforts.

As for the required narration to tell Bella's story, that's another achilles heel that weakens A Dog's Way Home. Howard gives her performance everything she's got, but even her skills can't save dialogue that's written as if it's been created by a first grader. There's only so many times an adult can hear, "I wanted to do go home," spoken allowed before they spontaneously turn into a proofreader.

A Dog's Way Home has its heart in the right place for the most part, but its mind doesn't know which car to chase to completion. As a result, the story is formless with no real drive to its telling, making for a film that's not very interesting to watch. In fact, it's ruff to sit and stay through A Dog's Way Home, and anyone who can do so without walking out deserves a treat. Otherwise, the audiences considering this film as a weekend entertainment may want to heed this piece of advice: you don't have to find your way home if you stay home in the first place.

The Upside Review

It's sad to say it, but there's very little upside to seeing The Upside.

Hollywood should pass a law that if you're going to remake a movie, you'd better have a damned good reason to do so. Some films just don't require another go around, especially when the source material isn't that old. A case in point for the passage of such a law is The Upside, a remake of the French film The Intouchables, which is based on a true story itself. On its own, the film is a jumbled mess that starts clumsily and finishes with some endearing moments. But compared to the original, it doesn't justify its existence terribly well.

The Upside's version of events casts Bryan Cranston as Philip, a quadriplegic business guru in need of a live auxiliary to help him live a somewhat normal life. Being in the right place at the right time, Kevin Hart's Dell gets hired for the job, as he's an out-of-the-box thinker that Philip takes to for some reason. As with any dramedy of this ilk, hilarity ensues, and the two men are challenged to learn from each other in their vital partnership.

Somewhere, in the almost two year limbo that saw The Upside sitting on a shelf, a better version of this movie could have been created. But, as director Neil Burger's finished product stands, it's one of those remakes that caters to an audience that just doesn't want to read subtitles. Save for a few story notes here and there, The Upside almost feels like a lazily reskinned version of The Intouchables, which rearranges some of the basic furniture of the piece in hopes that it'll really tie the room together.

This leads to the first half of the film feeling like an excuse to deploy gag after gag, all in the name of frontloading The Upside with so much Kevin Hart schtick that it'll keep the audience coming to see him interested past the threshold of walking out for a refund. There's also clichéd attempts to manufacture drama in his own life, that if handled better, could have been written off as simply laying the groundwork.

However, The Upside does have some moments of true connection between its leads as it crosses over into the more serious half of the film. Once Bryan Cranston's Philip opens up more about his circumstance, not only does he get to really show his talents on full display, it also gives Hart a chance to get in on the action, too.

Perhaps the best thing The Upside can do for its audience is show them that, if they'd trusted Kevin Hart to be a capable dramatic lead throughout the film, he could have handled it. If the entire film had trusted its audience, and its leads, like the results of The Upside's second half did, this could have been something pretty special, or at least better than what was delivered.

By no means is this review saying that The Intouchables is a hallowed film that shouldn't be touched, for fear of desecrating it. Rather, the message here should be that if you're going to remake a film into a project such as The Upside, you need to make it your own. Sadly, even with the charm that its stars display in the Cranston-centric back half of the film, the movie is incapable of doing so.

The Upside isn't bad enough to be totally panned, nor is it good enough to be recommended. Rather, it's just a middling translation of a foreign film that switches from zany fish out of water comedy to serious, life-affirming drama at the moment of its choosing. It wastes not only the opportunity to improve upon the original, it also wastes the full potential of its cast, and the time of the audience. It's sad to say it, but there's very little upside to seeing The Upside.