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Jurassic World Rebirth: Yawn of the Dinosaurs

Jeremy BeckReviews
Jonathan Bailey and Scarlett Johansson in Jurassic World Rebirth

Do people still like dinosaurs? The box office data would seem to say so, but the deflated characters of the new Jurassic World movie aren’t so sure. “Nobody cares about these animals anymore,” bemoans Dr. Henry Loomis (Jonathan Bailey), the curator of a prehistoric museum with flagging attendance. Shortly before, we learn that a brachiosaur has escaped from confinement in New York City, yet while the sight of a mighty beast roaming the Big Apple’s sidewalks might have once provoked astonishment or panic, now it results in a simple traffic jam. The return of ancient “terrible lizards” to contemporary civilization is no longer cause for wonder or terror. It’s just an annoyance.

The chief innovation (or regression) of this latest episode in the Jurassic World franchise—which is subtitled Rebirth, and which has been directed by Gareth Edwards from a script by David Koepp—is that it’s aware of its own potential obsolescence. Now that hulking computer-generated monsters are pro forma in mainstream cinema, a new Jurassic flick has little hope of conjuring the sense of majesty that accompanied Steven Spielberg’s 1993 classic. So despite some cheeky references to that picture—the shot of a car’s mirror with its famous “Objects are closer than they appear” warning; a faded banner proclaiming “When dinosaurs ruled the earth”—Rebirth doesn’t attempt to match its conceptual grandeur or vast ambition. It’s a blockbuster about huge creatures that keeps things relatively small. Read More

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Mission: Impossible—The Final Reckoning: This Wreckage Will Self-Construct

Jeremy BeckReviews
Tom Cruise and Hayley Atwell in Mission Impossible, the Final Reckoning

It’s been a long journey for Ethan Hunt. Over 29 years and eight increasingly elaborate movies, he’s gained friends and lost wives, donned masks and exposed traitors, defied superiors while obeying his own code of justice. He’s infiltrated impenetrable buildings and sprinted down the façades of skyscrapers and clung to the wings of aircraft mid-flight. But while his maximal effort has remained constant, the pictures around him have quietly executed a rare and curious mid-series pivot.

For its first decade and a half, the Mission: Impossible franchise comprised essentially four standalone films, unified only by Tom Cruise’s ageless star power. Sure, they shared certain features—globe-trotting hijinks, duplicitous bosses, incredible stunt work, self-destructing messages—but their stories had virtually nothing to do with one another; their styles were also distinct, in part because they were all directed by different people. But with Rogue Nation, Christopher McQuarrie took and then kept the reins, retaining the operatic flair but constructing a more sprawling and interlaced cinematic universe. As its title suggests, The Final Reckoning—the eighth and (presumably) last Cruise-led episode of world-saving and death-defying—is designed to function as a capstone, taking the series to new heights of derring-do while also bringing retroactive meaning and connectivity to its once-independent predecessors. Read More

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The Accountant 2: In Autism’s Life, No Second Tax

Jeremy BeckReviews
Jon Bernthal and Ben Affleck in The Accountant 2

The Accountant 2 could’ve been a pretty good movie, if it weren’t a sequel to The Accountant. It’s best suited as a hangout picture, sporting playful dialogue, a light comic touch, and a pair of appealing performances. Yet because this emergent franchise made its bones as a hot-blooded crime yarn, it subjugates its mild-mannered strengths in favor byzantine plotting and stale gunplay. It’s guilty of genre evasion.

Yet the Hollywood IP machine cranks on, and there are worse figures to resuscitate than Christian Wolff, the autistic genius and assassin who first appeared on screen nine years ago in the hunky, bespectacled form of Ben Affleck. The decade away hasn’t improved Christian’s social skills: When we first catch up with him, he’s the eye of a speed-dating hurricane, only we learn that single ladies are throwing themselves at him because he hacked the app’s algorithm; once he opens his mouth and starts rambling about appreciating assets, their excitement quickly curdles into dismay. Read More

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Gladiator II: And the Rome of the Slave

Jeremy BeckReviews
Paul Mescal and Pedro Pascal in Gladiator II

One of the more memorable lines of Ridley Scott’s Gladiator was its hero’s insistence that what we do in life echoes in eternity. Maybe not, but it definitely echoes in sequels. Gladiator II, Scott’s quarter-century-later follow-up to the Best Picture winner of 2000, takes great pains to (strength and) honor its predecessor—not just by recalling dialogue or by repeating themes (the screenplay is by David Scarpa), but by crafting a story that latches onto the original’s skeleton like a necromantic barnacle. The result is less a mighty statue than a wispy hologram, aiming to resemble its predecessor but struggling to acquire its weight or texture.

The concept of diminishing returns in Hollywood is hardly new, and besides, it seems unfair to ding Scott and Scarpa for modeling so faithfully off of their existing blueprint. After all, what is a sequel but a continuation? Still, in its early going, Gladiator II threatens to develop its own personality, hinting toward narrative independence, if not stylistic novelty. Sure, the first time we see Hanno (Paul Mescal), he’s tending crops on his farm, a symbol of classical masculinity that inevitably recalls Russell Crowe’s Maximus dreaming of golden fields of swaying wheat. But any thoughts of gladiatorial combat or imperial destiny are far from Hanno’s mind; a legionnaire living in the humble province of Numidia, his more pressing concern is the advancing Roman army, led by a brilliant and ruthless general named Acacius (Pedro Pascal). Read More

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Rebel Ridge: Duck the Police

Jeremy BeckReviews
Don Johnson and Aaron Pierre in Rebel Ridge

Up until now, Jeremy Saulnier has been something of an “Imagine if” filmmaker. Whether centering on a hapless schmo embroiled in a deadly noir (Blue Ruin) or a punk-rock band trapped by bloodthirsty Nazis (Green Room), his movies have thrust ordinary people into impossible situations, forcing you to contemplate how you might respond in such drastic scenarios. With Rebel Ridge, he attempts to heighten both sides of his unbalanced equation while retaining the same fundamental sense of helplessness. The hero here is the opposite of an everyman; he’s smart, determined, and physically gifted. But he’s still the underdog, because the foe he’s facing is no less than the very institution of American policing.

The chief pleasure of Rebel Ridge is how it packages its big ideas—about racism, class entrenchment, and state-sanctioned violence—into a story that’s small-scale and tidy. Well, initially; as the film progresses, its thematic ambitions grow broader, which has the paradoxical effect of diminishing its boldness. Still, even if Saulnier isn’t always in full control of his thornier ideas, he remains in complete command of his immediate environment. As a polemic, Rebel Ridge is provocative but also uneven; as an action movie, it’s terrific. Read More

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