Midnight Special: Bright-Eyed Boy, Phone Home

Jeremy BeckReviews
Jaeden Lieberher and Michael Shannon in "Midnight Special"

Alton Meyer is a strange boy. His nature and purpose are a subject of fierce dispute—some view him as the messiah, others as a danger—but there is no disputing his oddness. He has visions. He speaks in tongues. He has a knack for randomly uttering classified government information. And every so often, beams of bright blue light emanate from his eyes. This is not your typical eight-year-old.

And Midnight Special, the fourth film from writer-director Jeff Nichols, is not your typical movie. Exactly what it is, however, is harder to determine. Is it a science-fiction thriller? A magical fairytale? A parable of governmental interference? An admonition of cultish groupthink? Midnight Special carries hints of all of these, and its fractured, enigmatic identity is both tantalizing and, ultimately, dissatisfying. Its pieces are all strong—solid acting, impressive craft, moments of raw power—but it is so resistant to coherence that those pieces just sit in isolation, never coalescing into a compelling whole. It refuses to conform and ends up just being formless. Read More

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Eye in the Sky: Where Collateral Damage Is a Cherub, and Our Collective Soul

Jeremy BeckReviews
Aaron Paul in "Eye in the Sky"

Eye in the Sky is the kind of movie that seeks acclaim simply for existing. It is designed to ask thorny questions about geopolitical warfare in the terrorist age, to make you plumb your conscience and grapple with the inherent tensions between morality and security. It’s a noble objective—these are questions that we all should be asking ourselves, and our elected officials—but Eye in the Sky fails to execute its mission with the necessary nuance. It feints at complexity, but it is actually shrill, a didactic sermon that is less interested in probing than proselytizing. Ultimately, the only question it asks is this: “Are you willing to murder an angelic young girl just to stop a few terrorists?” Answer wrong, and ye be judged.

To be fair, Eye in the Sky takes its time before it sheds its camouflage of earnest inquiry. In its opening scenes, it hopscotches around the globe, introducing us to the various players who will take part in its game of philosophical purgatory. These include: Colonel Katherine Powell (Helen Mirren), a British military commander stationed in Sussex who is remotely overseeing an operation in Kenya; Lieutenant General Frank Benson (Alan Rickman, in his final onscreen performance), Powell’s superior who monitors the operation from London, in a roomful of anxious bureaucrats; Jama Farah (Barkhad Abdi, in his first role since Captain Phillips), a Kenyan field agent providing ground support; and Steve Watts (Aaron Paul), an Air Force pilot in Nevada charged with manning the surveillance drone that gives the film its title. Read More

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Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice: A Tale of Two Brooders

Jeremy BeckReviews
Henry Cavill as Superman, Gal Gadot as Wonder Woman, and Ben Affleck as Batman in "Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice"

“Nobody cares about Clark Kent taking on the Batman,” Perry White scoffs midway through Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, the long, lumbering, sporadically pleasing genre behemoth from Warner Brothers. Perry (Laurence Fishburne) is the editor-in-chief of The Daily Planet, but while he may be a decent newsman, he’d make a lousy studio executive. The honchos at Warner Bros. are quite confident that everyone—or, at least, a sizeable percentage of the ticket-buying populace—is intrigued by a faceoff between a bespectacled reporter and a caped vigilante, so much so that they’re banking on this $250 million seedling to flower into the Justice League, a confederation designed to rival Marvel’s unstoppable Avengers franchise. As with most modern superhero movies, this one feels less created than engineered, and you can see its readymade headline from space: Batman fights Superman, while Wonder Woman looks on in a skimpy outfit. Perry White just sold out three printings.

Now, I do not begrudge a business for trying to make money. To accuse Warner Bros. of profiting off the quenchless thirst of Batman and Superman’s fanboys is to chastise a lion for mauling a gazelle. But while the studio will view this film primarily as a savior to its balance sheet, the question remains just what kind of movie it is. And the answer, ironically enough, appears right there on the campaign’s promotional materials: It’s a movie directed by Zack Snyder. Read More

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10 Cloverfield Lane: Don’t Go Out There. What, Don’t You Trust Me?

Jeremy BeckReviews
Mary Elizabeth Winstead and John Goodman in "10 Cloverfield Lane"

Michelle is a runner. When trouble approaches, she takes off. This tendency toward flight makes her the perfect sufferer in 10 Cloverfield Lane, a tense, riveting thriller that filters hoary science-fiction and horror tropes through the lens of claustrophobic terror. It’s a lean and efficient film that takes place entirely in a single location, one that Michelle spends most of her time desperately trying to escape. Oh, and it might also be about the apocalypse; then again, maybe not. To Michelle, it hardly matters. When you’re trapped in an underground bunker, who cares about the rest of the world?

10 Cloverfield Lane opens with a brisk, eerie prologue, a near-silent montage that finds Michelle—you guessed it—on the run. She’s fleeing New Orleans after fighting with her fiancé—surely those reports on her car radio about rolling blackouts can’t be important—and though she receives a conciliatory phone call from him (his voice belongs to Bradley Cooper), she isn’t inclined to turn around. Instead, she keeps driving on a deserted two-lane road until WHAM! she’s the victim of a sudden car crash. And I do mean sudden. The collision, which director Dan Trachtenberg brilliantly intercuts with the film’s silent opening titles, is a heart-stopping moment, the kind that frays your nerves and rattles your bones. It is not the last time this sharp, merciless movie will provide a shock to your system. Read More

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Zootopia: Sly Fox and Smart Bunny Solve a Caper, Teach a Lesson

Jeremy BeckReviews
Jason Bateman as a sly fox and Ginnifer Goodwin as an earnest bunny in "Zootopia"

The cliché about modern animated movies is that they satisfy both kids and adults. In reality, they tend to satisfy kids or adults, with specific elements aimed exclusively at each demographic; kids are entertained by talking animals and scatological humor, while parents are placated by wry sarcasm and the sporadic literary or cinematic reference. Disney’s Zootopia isn’t entirely immune to this kind of bifurcation—there are broad gags about genitalia (groan), and there are subtle jabs like a group of critters who work at Lemming Brothers Bank (ha!)—but for the most part, it avoids the trap of pandering to its audience. This doesn’t mean it has nothing to say; on the contrary, Zootopia targets its younger viewers with a message that is familiar but also well-meaning and even resonant. It’s a kids’ movie made by adults.

The surprising power of that message is initially obscured by the film’s brisk setup and lively visuals. As the punny title suggests—this is presumably the first animated movie that will inspire parents to teach their children about the writings of Thomas More—Zootopia takes place in a universe populated by anthropomorphic animals who live in apparent harmony. Our heroine is Judy Hops (Ginnifer Goodwin), a perky bunny rabbit with big ears and a bigger heart who aspires to become the metropolis’s first cotton-tailed police officer. Judy may be small in stature, but her will is indomitable, and what she lacks in size she compensates for with quickness and guile. That’s an awfully familiar trope, and Judy’s quest for self-fulfillment results in the predictable recitation of trite platitudes found so often in children’s literature. Be yourself! Never give up! Follow your dreams! Read More

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