In the glut of remakes Disney has released in which they make a cash grab by simply reshooting their animated classics as live-action versions, their 2019 retelling of The Lion King is one I missed. (To be honest, I think 2019’s Aladdin is the only one of these that I’ve seen. To me, they seem like cynical bits of content trading on raw nostalgia. I found Aladdin superfluous at best.) The general impression I got of director Jon Favreau’s remake of The Lion King is that it was a CGI – so, basically animated – shot-for-shot remake of the original; a project lacking in purpose outside of making a huge sum of money.
Inspiration for something truly original can come from anywhere, though, and singer/songwriter/megastar Beyoncé – who played Nala in the Lion King remake – used the Disney property as a jumping-off point for something fresh, stunning, exciting, and unapologetically in praise of blackness. Black is King is a visual companion art piece to Beyoncé’s tie-in album The Lion King: The Gift, in which the artist “reimagines the lessons of The Lion King for today’s young kings and queens in search of their own crowns.”
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Do not believe director J.J. Abrams when he tells you that his movie, Star Wars Episode IX: The Rise of Skywalker, isn’t a rebuke of the hard left turn that Rian Johnson took with his installment, Episode VIII: The Last Jedi. This last trilogy in The Skywalker Saga – which includes Episodes I-IX – gives the world what I think is the first ever rap-style beef between film directors, at least in blockbuster filmmaking.
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Us is an example of the most thematically and intellectually satisfying kind of horror movie. There is a razor-sharp critique of our society running right underneath – and often on the surface of – what is otherwise an unsettling, scary film in its own right. Just like his previous effort, Get Out, writer/director Jordan Peele has something more on his mind with Us than scenes of blood-curdling horror, although he proves himself capable of delivering those as well.
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If you suffer from the condition known as Superhero Fatigue Syndrome, as I often do, you might be hesitant to see the latest Marvel movie, Black Panther. There’s no reason to be hesitant. In fact, Black Panther works as an antidote to the feeling that you’ve grown tired of just about anything based on a comic book or that is incorporated into Marvel’s sprawling, at times unwieldy, Cinematic Universe. Black Panther might just be the best Marvel movie yet.
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Rarely have the first 15 minutes of a movie given me more conflicting emotions than those at the start of Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi. My reservation during the opening crawl gave way to the thrill of a taut, explosive opening action sequence. The source of my initial unease stemmed from a sense of déjà vu.
The exposition contained in the iconic floating paragraphs for writer/director Rian Johnson’s first Star Wars adventure is a little too similar to that of Episode VII: The Force Awakens. The fascistic First Order, under the control of evil Supreme Leader Snoke, is ruthless in its pursuit of the Resistance, lead by General Leia Organa. The First Order is attempting to crush this rebellion so it can solidify its power and rule the galaxy unchallenged.
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