The Naked Gun: Burden of Spoof

Pamela Anderson and Liam Neeson in The Naked Gun

Wander into The Naked Gun at the exact wrong (or right) moment, and you may suspect that you’ve mistakenly arrived at the latest Mission: Impossible flick. As a henchman lies handcuffed to a hospital bed, a detective coaxes incriminating information from him under the pretense that the villain’s master plan has already succeeded. Once the crucial details are revealed—and just before the room’s false walls fall away to reveal a phony set, confirming the elaborate masquerade—the cop asks his unseen colleagues, “Did you get all that?”

You probably didn’t. The chief attribute of The Naked Gun, the new sorta-sequel to the Leslie Nielsen-led franchise from the ’80s and ’90s, is density. It runs 85 minutes and features roughly 10 times as many jokes, to the point where your brain can’t possibly process all of the purported humor in real time. The assault is relentless but also oddly reassuring. If a line or gag or reference sails over your head, you need not spend time chasing it; another one will be arriving within 10 seconds. Read More

Eddington: Sicking and Screaming

Joaquin Phoenix in Eddington

Some films yearn to transport you to days bygone, preying on your nostalgia for the glories of the past. Then there’s Eddington, the latest freak-out from Ari Aster and the exact opposite of a whimsical memory-lane venture, instead regarding its chosen era with suspicion and exasperation. Set in May 2020 at the outset of the COVID-19 pandemic, it’s an unholy time machine of a movie—the kind that will have you clawing at the walls, breaking your fingernails as you search for a way out.

Aster made his bones with Hereditary, a skin-crawling nightmare that refused to let you ever look at your parents or telephone poles the same way again. Eddington has no curses or demons or decapitations, but thematically speaking, it’s even scarier than his debut, seeing as it grapples with society’s collective cluelessness in response to an encroaching plague. Sure, supernatural forces are disturbing and all, but they’ve got nothing on human stupidity. Read More

Superman: Planet of the Capes

Rachel Brosnahan and David Corenswet in Superman

In some ways, Krypto is a bad dog. He doesn’t obey commands. He’s easily distracted, especially by flying squirrels. His affection borders on violence. “It’s more of a foster situation,” his caretaker says, quick to disclaim ownership of this mutant mutt with white fur, a red cape, and asymmetrical ears. Just because Krypto proves crucial in saving the world doesn’t make him any less embarrassing in public.

The spirit of Krypto—playful, excitable, anarchic—is one of the two lodestars guiding writer-director James Gunn in his reboot of Superman, the first feature he’s made for DC Studios since becoming co-chair of the company three years ago. The other animating principle on display is an invisible sense of duty—an obligation to reshape the Man of Steel into a wholesome and commercially pleasing figure. Gunn rose to prominence with his Guardians of the Galaxy pictures, which leavened the grandiose planet-saving of the Marvel Cinematic Universe with impishness and swagger. His challenge here is to retain those films’ sparky vivacity while still delivering a quality-controlled product with mass appeal—to merge comic with comic-book. Read More

28 Years Later: The Secret Life of Zombies

Aaron Taylor-Johnson and Alfie Williams in 28 Years Later

If you thought Danny Boyle’s zombies were fast, wait until you see his editing. Back in 2003, Boyle’s 28 Days Later infused the cinematic undead with new and decidedly speedier life; unlike the plodding and implacable flesh-eaters immortalized in George A. Romero’s Night of the Living Dead and its progeny, these creatures were frenzied and enraged, rushing after our human characters with haste as well as determination. Not all of the monsters in 28 Years Later, Boyle’s return to the franchise, are so athletic—a new species of beast called slow-lows lumber through the vacant countryside like sickly golems—but the pace of his filmmaking mirrors the deranged vigor of his most rapid marauders. One of the scariest things about zombies is that they never tire—they are always craving their next meal—and when it comes to pure energy, Boyle similarly exhibits no signs of slowing down.

Whether his skill matches his verve is another matter. For much of its first half, 28 Years Later adopts a style that proves less exhilarating than simply exhausting. The camera (often an iPhone) whipsaws through the scenery, attempting to mimic the characters’ rising heart rates and sowing chaos in the process. When arrows pierce the brains of rampaging zombies, Boyle invariably reshows the tearing of viscera from a different angle, like we’re watching a marksman’s overzealous highlight reel. Most curious is the hyperactive editing, which repeatedly splices the main action with bygone footage of antiquated warfare, like goose-stepping German troops or medieval British archers from Laurence Olivier’s adaptation of Henry V. It’s a historical seminar crossed with a Jason Bourne movie. Read More

Materialists, The Life of Chuck, and the Pleasure of Brute Force

Dakota Johnson and Pedro Pascal in Materialists; Annalise Basso and Tom Hiddleston in The Life of Chuck

Movie critics are supposed to crave subtlety. We like to complain about obviousness, whether it appears in the form of voiceover, backstory, or exposition. Bluntness is axiomatically amateurish; true artistry lies in the oblique, the implied, the invisible.

I’m mostly joking, even if I acknowledge that I’m not immune to this sort of rhetoric. But directness in cinema can be satisfying, provided the story is told well. Last weekend saw the release of two new movies, Materialists and The Life of Chuck, which exhibit a plainspoken quality that’s more appealing than insulting. They wear their hearts on their sleeves and get yours pumping in the process. Read More