drqshadow-reviews

Rolling Stone columnist Jay Bulger presents the cinematic biography of Ginger Baker, drum kit legend and certifiable maniac. In his prime, Ginger was probably the most innovative drummer in the world, combining aspects of improvisational jazz, tribal African beats and power rock to change the sound of popular music overnight. He may no longer be a household name, probably hasn't been in forty years, but fellow superstars Neil Peart (Rush), Stewart Copeland (The Police), Nick Mason (Pink Floyd), Chad Smith (Red Hot Chili Peppers) and about a dozen others are here to lend their considerable credentials and tell us exactly why he was so important to the sonic landscape. Like the metaphorical star that burns twice as bright, Ginger's meteoric career shot through the atmosphere in a flash. The passionate fire that fueled his scathing rhythms also made for unbearable heat in the dressing room, which is why he soon found himself the most talented drummer on the unemployment line.

Lunacy is not a new state of mind for Baker, who discarded styles like spent cigarettes and once left behind a tumultuous rock star's life to aimlessly pilot a Range Rover through the Sahara. Age has done little to dull his pointy edges. We're given ample evidence of that in the very first shot, where the irate old man cracks his biographer on the nose with a cane. Throughout his interviews, Baker proves to be a gruff, hostile subject, and that extends well beyond the physical attack. He scoffs at basic biographical questions, bristles over old beefs, gripes about disrespect and belittles the audience when informed they probably wouldn't recognize an obscure '60s band leader by first name only. In other words, he's a real peach, sequestered as he is in a fenced South African hideaway that mirrors his emotional seclusion. His story is plenty colorful though, with all sorts of unlikely connections, and his music still holds up through the intervening decades. And, as much of a prick as he can be, Ginger's honest and respectful when it comes to his influences. He's at his most open when speaking about a backstage encounter with Max Roach or his self-promoted "drum battles" against Art Blakey, Elvin Jones and Phil Seamen. The guy knew how to give back, even if he didn't exactly pay anything forward.

Rich musical homework with an intriguing subject. I didn't feel an ounce of pity for the man in the middle of the vortex, but instead mourned the greater influence he might have granted the world at large.

Big Blue goes back to basics, casting aside the grimdark Snyder-isms to reclaim his status as a beacon of hope, compassion and humanity. That last point is the real trick for this chapter, as arch-nemesis Lex Luthor sets out to prove Superman's extraterrestrial birth status makes him corrupt and unreliable as a sort of self-appointed world police. After doing a little unscrupulous rummaging through his foe's private documents, Luthor turns up some juicy dirt that sows the seeds of doubt, not just amidst the American public, but also within Superman himself.

When I heard James Gunn was taking over at DC, and more emphatically when the first production photos featured a giant, neon-colored starfish spewing laser beams over Metropolis, I hoped this iteration of Superman would lean into the character's weirder fantasy aspects. It does, to great effect, though primarily as plot vehicles and comic relief, which is understandable. Warner hopes to spin a major franchise out of this film, and while Gunn can probably be credited with lifting the MCU to a new level in Guardians of the Galaxy, there's a reason that wasn't the first film on Marvel's agenda. Gotta stash some goodwill in the bank before you can spend it on risky, wacky eccentricities. So the garish colors are nudged into the fringe, while the character, world-building and action beats are emphasized.

In these, thankfully, I found fresh air and progress. Superman operates with a very clear, visible concern for collateral damage, both great and small. He races to rescue a squirrel from concrete shrapnel, then pauses to do the math so his knockout punch on a thirty-story kaiju won't send it sprawling into any skyscrapers. He's easily exasperated by politics, because his M. O. is to save lives above all else and that raises a few world leaders' eyebrows. These notes represent many of the character's essential traits and conflicts, and their inclusion proves that the guys behind the camera understood the assignment. Our hero carries a heavy burden, and while he takes that very seriously, he's also not defined by it. Supes is still capable of lightening up and having a little fun, of opening his heart, of showing passion and vulnerability without abandoning his post. This Clark Kent is well-rounded and he fits snugly into his busy, bustling mirror world.

So the mechanics are good. The setting is a smash hit, the casting is on-point, the mood is right and the effects are wonderful. It takes the right notes from Richard Donner's 1978 original, particularly in borrowing the unforgettable John Williams theme at key moments. Luthor's big master plan, though, is underwhelming. The end game sags into serious "been-here-before" territory. Supes's big tell-off monologue isn't earned and falls flat. The plot's heaviest moments are given little room to breathe, so nothing carries much weight. Despite skimming the origin story in the name of efficiency, it still feels like there's too much meat on this bone.

Like Black Panther before, I came in expecting something transcendent and was disappointed to find that, instead, it's just an above-average, big-league superhero movie. Superman represents a major step up from the Snyder-verse, maybe enough to put DC back on level footing with their competition, but it doesn't go above and beyond.

Similar in concept to Tom Cruise's Edge of Tomorrow, Mickey 17 takes the idea of a real-life respawn and applies it to the bottom-dwelling janitor caste. Memory backups and exact physical clones are cutting-edge techniques in this timeline, albeit ones fraught with ethical concerns, but progress doesn't make its omelettes without sacrificing eggs. Besides, young Mickey seems thoroughly relieved to trade his terrestrial worries for a series of lab rat speed runs in outer space. As his new handlers are equally thrilled by the chance to poke, prod, poison and play with their new toy. This makes for an über-entertaining first act, as the limits of the concept (not to mention those of the human body) are stretched and exploited in a series of darkly hysterical scientific experiments. We get to know Mickey very quickly - nothing like a string of painful death throes to reveal one's character - and, likewise, learn to recognize the dismissive, inhumane attitudes of the men and women behind the needles.

Robert Pattinson is everywhere in Mickey 17, playing all seventeen versions of the ill-fated title character. Only two appear concurrently, but the movie magic Xerox effect is seamless and convincing in that extended case. Possibly even moreso than with Michael B. Jordan's twin roles in Sinners - and how odd that there have already been two such performances in 2025's major release calendar. Mark Ruffalo plays the primary foil: an impossibly ramped-up Trump caricature that doesn't even try to mask its real-world inspiration. The film makes a big point of mocking him for losing back-to-back elections and rushing off-world on a rocket stuffed with cheering devotees, which really doesn't seem all that impossible as an alternate real-world timeline. Ruffalo is funny in the role, a big ball of tacky smugness and selfish opportunism, but it does seem exceptionally easy and tasteless and his introduction leads us away from the story's more enjoyable bits.

The film's back end abandons the madcap humor of the cloning machine to pursue more traditional science fiction points. Humanity as the invading alien, corruption at the top of the food chain, broad social critique; these are handled well enough, but they represent a departure from what the audience was sold and lack the freshness factor that made the first half so different and exciting. By the end, it's become an entirely different movie, about entirely different things.

I loved it while I loved it, I just wish I'd loved it longer.