Adam Sandler is the perfect star for the near complete disaster that is Pixels. The actor hasn’t had a critical hit in over half a decade, and the box office takes for his movies have been trending in the wrong direction for almost as long. So, a project that looks back to the good old days fits nicely with how the Sand Man might feel personally, because Pixels is steeped in the worst kind of nostalgia. The kind that plays on those false notions lingering at the back of your mind; everything used to be so awesome back in the day. If now could be like then, I would rule the world.
The story is about as high concept as they come. Sam Brenner (Sandler) was a teenage arcade game superstar who became a tech geek when he grew up. He is called to save the world when an alien planet intercepts a space capsule and misinterprets a videotape containing footage from an arcade game tournament as an act of war. Instead of nuclear weapons and ICBMs, they send Pac-Man.
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I need to write about Double Indemnity. True, it’s a movie already eloquently written about by the likes of Roger Ebert, among many others. It was selected in 1992 for preservation in the National Film Registry by the Library of Congress, and ranked in the top 50 of the best American films by the American Film Institute. So, it certainly isn’t in danger of being forgotten.
When I sat down to type, I wondered what I could hope to write that hasn’t already been written about this Oscar nominated classic; one of the most thrilling films noir ever made. I needed to do it because Double Indemnity is a movie that demands to be discussed. I was able to see it in a theatrical exhibition thanks to Turner Classic Movies’ celebration of the film noir genre, called Summer of Darkness. At almost three-quarters of a century old, the film is still gripping. The story of Walter Neff (Fred MacMurray), the libidinous insurance salesman who gets in over his head when he meets Phyllis Deitrichson (Barbara Stanwyck), is masterfully executed by director Billy Wilder. See it if you care about watching the best cinema has to offer, or if you just love being entertained.
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Mary Ann Bernard knows how to give the audience what they want. After a quick establishing shot, the editor of Magic Mike XXL cuts to a close-up of star Channing Tatum’s dreamy face for the first ten seconds of the movie. The crowd I attended the movie with (made up of about 95% women) started cheering and clapping as soon as he appeared, sitting quietly in repose staring at a beach at sunrise. Mary Ann Bernard is actually the pseudonym for filmmaker Steven Soderbergh. In addition to editing, he also handled cinematography under his alias Peter Andrews. For this sequel to his 2012 exploration of the male exotic dancing world, he handed over directing duties to his long-time assistant director Gregory Jacobs. Together, the two made a movie – with the help of screenwriter Reid Carolin – that really surprised me.
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If you had asked me for my immediate reaction when I learned there was a new Terminator movie coming out, I would have rolled my eyes and asked why they were even bothering. This is a franchise that had more than worn out its welcome. The first two films in the series are classics. Director James Cameron built an exciting world and mythology in The Terminator, and then exceeded audience expectation in Terminator 2: Judgment Day, not an easy thing to do. When Cameron moved on to other creative endeavors, the property began to suffer.
Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines didn’t carry anywhere near the weight of its predecessors. The TV series, Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles, was mostly uneven, but at times fairly entertaining. Then 2009’s Terminator Salvation, a completely forgettable mess directed by McG that was mind-numbingly boring. The franchise seemed to be sapped of all creative energy. So, when Terminator Genisys was announced, I wasn’t expecting much. They couldn’t even spell genesis right, for crying out loud! Imagine my surprise when, thirty minutes in, I turned to my partner and whispered, “I am REALLY into this!”
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Many adults love Pixar movies just as much as the actual target audience for their childlike animated films. I’m no exception. The creative minds at Pixar are fond of plumbing the depths of melancholy and nostalgia to create sophisticated features adored by people of all ages. One of their efforts – 2008’s Wall-E – even rises to the level of film art. The movie is gorgeous to look at, and the technique of minimal dialog employed in the first half is gutsy and inspired. It may be unfair to put those kinds of expectations on any movie, but that’s what I do every time Pixar announces a new release. They are victims of their own quality and consistency. That’s why what I’m about to type feels strangely dismissive: Inside Out is a solidly entertaining kid’s movie. It’s well-paced, energetic, and engaging. The trademark characteristic of a Pixar movie, though – being swept up by the emotion, usually to the point of tears – was missing for me this time.
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At some point in our lives, almost all of us feel like outsiders. That outsider status can be alienating enough on its own, but when it can also get you killed, life becomes a harrowing game of survival. That experience is what writer/director Rick Famuyiwa explores in his new film, Dope. What’s really surprising is how funny investigating that premise can be. The movie is a fresh, hilarious, and heartfelt take on growing up in the hood, and what that means for kids whose only familiarity with “dope” is using the word to describe their favorite obsession: early 90s hip hop culture. Famuyiwa uses comedy to explore a unique cultural experience, but he also employs a serious tone, and never lets the latter slip away into overblown melodrama. His talent has produced a coming-of-age story for a new generation.
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The park is finally open. Two decades ago, fictional bioengineering titan John Hammond tried to give the public a theme park with living, breathing dinosaurs as the main attraction. This “Jurassic Park” was a disaster in the world of the movie’s franchise, but Hammond’s successors have a new park up and running twenty years later. As you might expect, most of the action in Jurassic World comes from things going horribly, horribly wrong. Unfortunately for the movie, the storytelling mirrors the plot. An unwieldy, bloated structure keeps the film from gaining any type of forward momentum. Watching it gave me a whole new respect for the incredibly tight construction of the original Jurassic Park, a movie I already greatly admired.
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I got up from my seat in the theater and did the math. I spent eight solid hours – a full work day – in a dark room with no windows watching Sergio Leone’s tribute to, and redefining of, the Hollywood Western genre. Most people would probably call me crazy, but I was hardly alone in the theater. There were 50 or so of us taking advantage of the special screening offered by the Alamo Drafthouse Cinema chain, which was celebrating Clint Eastwood’s 85th birthday by screening Leone’s Dollars Trilogy: A Fistful of Dollars (1967), For a Few Dollars More (1967), and the epic The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly (1967). Three iconic films shown back-to-back-to-back, paired with all you could eat spaghetti. What did I get out of the experience, you might ask? Did I gain any new insight into the movies, myself, or life in general? I’m not sure that I did, but I can tell you I had a hell of a lot of fun either way.
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“Who would have a box full of clowns?” That’s the question young Griffin Bowen (Kyle Catlett) asks his father, Eric (Sam Rockwell), upon discovering said box while exploring his new attic bedroom. That question begs infinitely more while watching Poltergeist, the remake of the classic 1982 horror film of the same name. By the end, only one question ultimately mattered: Why re-do such a popular and well-regarded movie if you’re going to do it with absolutely no style? I’m relatively sure no filmmaker goes into a project with that intention, but that’s the end result with this version of Poltergeist. The movie is as bland as baby food.
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The sequel to the 2012 hit Pitch Perfect – which I marginally liked – is so desperate to entertain that it becomes a tonal mess amid all the clashing performances. Combined with a profoundly mean-spirited sense of humor, Pitch Perfect 2 is a slog to get through. Thankfully, the movie does the musical numbers skillfully, which was a highlight of the first film, too. Otherwise this sequel is a disappointment.
The movie starts with an ill-fated performance by our heroes – female a cappella singing group, the Barden University Bellas – at the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts. Using the magic of fairly unconvincing stock footage, President and First Lady Obama are in attendance to see Fat Amy (Rebel Wilson) flash her crotch in front of the entire black-tie-festooned audience. Pitch Perfect 2 is not an exercise in subtlety. As a result of the inevitable media firestorm that ensues, the Bellas are punished with something even worse than Delta House’s Double Secret Probation: They are forbidden from holding tryouts for new members, and all their future appearances on the a cappella performance circuit are cancelled.
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When done right, comic book movie adaptations can be interesting, exciting, and every bit as engrossing as any other genre of film. See Christopher Nolan’s take on Batman. Marvel’s big budget blockbuster entry for last summer, Guardians of the Galaxy, is another good example. But Avengers: Age of Ultron, the second in a so-far-planned series of four films, doesn’t quite make the grade, and it definitely doesn’t live up to the massive amount of hype surrounding it. Then again, almost no movie could.
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George Miller spent a decade and a half working to get the latest installment of his Mad Max series onto the screen. The film was plagued with everything from budgetary problems, to original star Mel Gibson’s personal melt down, to uncharacteristic heavy rains in Australia that forced production to move to Africa. Many people, the director included, thought the project might never make it to theaters. Miller never gave up, though, and Mad Max: Fury Road was worth every minute of the wait. The movie is visually arresting, packed with action and suspense. It’s also just plain bonkers.
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Ex Machina is a little movie with some big ideas. It’s a movie that makes you think. Writer/director Alex Garland – who wrote the screenplay for the fatally flawed, but otherwise brilliantly conceived sci-fi film Sunshine – constructs a story so packed with ideas, I was thinking about them long after I left the theater.
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We can all imagine what a post-apocalyptic world might look like. So many films and TV shows have depicted fallen worlds that we take the iconography of those tales for granted: riots, deserted cities, violence at every turn. What about just before the crumble? What would those last days preceding utter chaos look like? That’s the scenario Ryan Gosling explores in his first directorial effort, Lost River. Within that framework, Gosling – who wrote the script as well as directed – uses magical realism to create a fairy tale, the story ever so slightly blurring the lines between fantasy and reality. He has made a rather haunting film.
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Wim Wenders and co-director Juliano Ribeiro Salgado get to the heart of the human experience with their documentary The Salt of the Earth. By exploring the life of Brazilian photographer Sebastião Salgado, the filmmakers simultaneously examine the boundless compassion and unimaginable cruelty we are capable of toward one another. They do all this while also committing to film some of the most starkly beautiful and terrifying images ever put on screen.
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Furious 7 represents the dawn of a new age in the action movie genre, and one in which I have no interest. At an interminable two hours and seventeen minutes, there are no human stakes to be found in this film, just set piece after set piece of supposed humans bludgeoning each other after performing feats that would make Sir Isaac Newton spin in his grave like a top. I blame comic book superhero movies.
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Compelling deconstructions of how our society functions can be found in the unlikeliest of places. Insurgent, the adaptation of the second novel in the Divergent series is a surprisingly excellent example. The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences would likely never recognize a movie like this, though a dystopian future sci-fi franchise aimed at a young adult audience can be more interesting in terms of gender equality than many of today’s “serious” films.
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The first five minutes of the vampire comedy What We Do in the Shadows let me know I was in good hands. In those opening minutes, the filmmakers pay homage to both the classic silent film Nosferatu and Francis Ford Coppola’s stab at the most famous fanged tale, Bram Stoker’s Dracula.
Shadows is the brainchild of Jemaine Clement, one half of the comedy rock duo Flight of the Concords, and Taika Waititi, who wrote and directed several episodes of the Concords’ TV show. Clement and Waititi also collaborated on the 2007 comedy Eagle vs. Shark, and have made a very literate comedy in Shadows. They use the conventions of horror movies in general, and vampire movies specifically, to inform their film. Not incidentally, they have also made a very funny movie.
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In terms of music, I’m a 70s guy. Pink Floyd, Grateful Dead, The Allman Brothers Band. I have an affinity for those groups comprised of musicians who find each other, form a band, and write and play all their own songs. I enjoy the majority of groups that were popular in the late 50s and 60s less so. Those bands tended to be assembled by producers, and most did not play their own instruments on the records they cut, nor did they write any of the songs. Enter the 20-30 studio musicians -- no one can quite agree on an exact number -- known as The Wrecking Crew.
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In Maps to the Stars, body horror auteur David Cronenberg’s latest film, the backdrop to this lurid tale of sex and violence is that most people in Hollywood are screwed up and emotionally broken... News flash, David, this is not a new idea. Hell, most people outside of Hollywood are screwed up and emotionally broken. The only difference is that insane amounts of money allow successful people in the entertainment industry to indulge in every crazy whim.
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