Animation

Dark Magic Duo: Clayface and Wildwood, reviewed

Jeremy BeckReviews
Tom Rhys Harries in Clayface; Prue in Wildwood

I won’t pretend that Clayface and Wildwood are similar movies. One is a dark, despairing odyssey about a man plagued by demons, external and internal; the other is a vibrant animated children’s tale that venerates both individual pluck and collective camaraderie. Still, the release calendar provides its little serendipities, and despite their tonal polarity, both films traffic in a kind of sorcery, be it couched in the language of comic books or fairy tales. Also, I wanted to write about both.

Directed by James Watkins from a screenplay by Mike Flanagan and Hossein Amini, Clayface represents the third installment in James Gunn’s reconstituted DC Universe, though it’s fair to wonder what percentage of its audience knows this. Sure, much of the movie takes place in Batman’s hometown of Gotham City, but there are no references to Superman or Supergirl, nor any of the fretful fan service or mid-credits stingers that are the hallmarks of the Marvel Cinematic Universe (DC’s ostensible rival). And while the film centers on a famous actor, Clayface himself isn’t exactly an A-lister in comic-book circles. (My lone knowledge of him derives from HBO’s animated Harley Quinn series, where he’s voiced with operatic foolishness by Alan Tudyk.) For a piece of synergized corporate entertainment, it feels less like a spinoff than a footnote. Read More

Read more

Toy Story 5 review: If It Makes You Happy, It Can’t Be That iPad

Jeremy BeckReviews
Jessie and Bullseye in Toy Story 5

The two main characters in Toy Story 5 are named Joy and Anxiety. Wait, sorry, that was Inside Out 2. But like most outputs from the Pixar animation factory, the Toy Story franchise has always mingled childlike delight with gnawing apprehension. Its titular playthings, be they cowboys or spacemen or dinosaurs, perpetually worry about their charge’s well-being, to say nothing of their own potential obsolescence. They’ve battled maniacal prospectors and tyrannical bears and possessive dummies, but none of that has prepared them for their most daunting challenge yet: an iPad.

Technically she’s a smart tablet. Her name is Lilypad, as befits her glossy green bezel, but despite her smooth finish and smoother voice (as provided by Greta Lee), she isn’t here to make friends—at least, not with toys. Lily is the property of eight-year-old Bonnie (Scarlett Spears), the kindhearted, soft-spoken girl whom we first met in Toy Story 3, when she became custodian of the action figures and stuffed animals who previously belonged to Andy. Those relics have plenty of experience assimilating new arrivals—the thrust of Toy Story 4 involved Woody (Tom Hanks) looking after the freshly assembled Forky (Tony Hale), a misshapen utensil who was less interested in playing with children than diving into trash—but Lily represents a different sort of threat to their established ecosystem. She may have the same prime directive (ensure Bonnie’s welfare), but whereas our existing toys are products of spit-and-glue physicality, Lily operates in the digital ether, using her online functionality and programming savvy to connect Bonnie with screen-wielding peers. What is the labor of a sandcastle or the complexity of a racetrack compared to the ease of a group chat? Read More

Read more

Thanksgiving Roundup: Zootopia 2, Frankenstein, Train Dreams, Rental Family, Sentimental Value

Jeremy BeckReviews
The fox in Zootopia 2; Oscar Isaac in Frankenstein; Joel Edgerton in Train Dreams; Brendan Fraser in Rental Family; Renate Reinsve in Sentimental Value

In a perfect world, I’d use this website to write long-form reviews of every new movie I watched. Sadly, I lack both the time and the talent to do so. Yet my combination of OCD and narcissism compels me to always register my opinions in some fashion—typically via Letterboxd, where I can scribble down two-paragraph capsules that convey my overarching thoughts without adhering to the formal style and detail of a proper review. (For example, I never found the time to review Hamnet, but my spoiler-heavy Letterboxd blurb digs into that film’s majestic ending.) I try not to shill for corporations, but whether you’re the dorkiest of cinephiles or just a casual viewer, it’s a free and useful app, and—what was I saying about narcissism again?—if you’re ever searching for my thoughts on a movie that I didn’t review here, you can likely find them there.

This week, though, rather than choosing a single title to highlight, we’re going rapid-fire through some recent releases—a blend of audience-pleasing blockbusters, independent fare, and streamers that Netflix refused to let you see in a theater. Let’s get to it. Read More

Read more

In “Long Story Short,” Jews Will Not Be Replaced

Jeremy BeckFeatures
A scene with the full family in Long Story Short

Long Story Short is a surrealistic animated comedy whose plot points include wolves invading schools, mattresses bursting from tubes, and donors misplacing sperm. It’s the most relatable TV show I’ve seen in years.

This dissonance isn’t exactly unthinkable. Raphael Bob-Waksberg, the creator of Long Story Short, is best known for BoJack Horseman, the wonderfully ridiculous Netflix series that anthropomorphized animals and afflicted them with decidedly human problems. Compared to the absurdity of BoJack, Bob-Waksberg’s newest effort can feel downright grounded; there are no talking cats, no underwater festivals, no three kids standing on top of each other in a trench coat presenting as “Vincent Adultman.” But aside from confining its speaking parts to two-legged creatures—there is a cute dog named The Undeniable Isadora Duncan, but it merely barks—Long Story Short resonates with me for a more specific reason: It’s a rich and complex portrait of American Jewishness. Read More

Read more

Moana 2: Consider the Coconut, Consider It’s Twee

Jeremy BeckReviews
A scene of Moana and Maui in Moana 2

Bracing herself for yet another hazardous journey, Moana insists to a village elder that “It’s not like last time.” Isn’t it, though? In Moana 2, a princess abandons the security of her homeland and embarks on a high-seas escapade, where she teams up with a vainglorious demigod and battles an existential threat. If that sounds familiar, it’s because it’s basically the logline for Moana, Disney’s heartfelt and winning 2016 animated feature. Rather than messing with success, Moana 2 strives to recapture its predecessor’s magic by faithfully adhering to its venerable blueprint.

That it fails is no great shame or surprise; any topographic survey of the modern cinematic landscape will uncover countless inferior sequels. What’s strange about Moana 2 isn’t that it’s a lesser movie but that it’s a work of lesser ambition. Most sequels are doomed by the obligation to provide more, invariably diluting their ancestor’s charms in a frenzy of self-defeating one-upmanship. Moana 2, by contrast, doesn’t try to do much of anything bigger or different or even interesting. It just sets sail and allows itself to be borne on the waves of its forerunner. Read More

Read more