jg_1977

I really wanted to like this movie. I've been a fan of Angourie Rice since her standout performance in The Nice Guys, and coupled with Gaten Matarazzo from Stranger Things, this film had a lot going for it. I even really dug the general plot: a girl, ranked 4th in her high school graduating class, plots to take down her competition by any means necessary in order to get into Harvard.

Unfortunately, the film leaned way too heavily on 4th wall breaking in the guise of humor, so much so that by five minutes in, the bit was old. While the intent was seemingly to provide meta-humor, the devise was clearly just a crutch to deliver exposition about what Honor (Rice) was thinking since she was established to have no real friends in school, so the only way to know what she was planning was by having her say so directly to camera. In addition to the strained comedy, it reduced just about every character besides Honor to a caricature of a typical high school cliche since her point of view dominated the narrative. In the end, you're left with just one well-defined character, for whom most of their dialogue is blatant exposition "hidden" by lame jokes.

But worse than the meta-humor was just how cringe-inducing large parts of the script were. Perhaps it is theoretically possible for a man in his late fifties to deeply understand the culture of the youth, a young woman no less, but that was not the case with screenwriter David A. Goodman (nearly 60 years old when this film was released). Several scenes of this movie, which I'm sure were intended as satire, made me cringe out of my skin for how poorly observed the commentary was. It honestly felt like an aging father's attempt to embarrass his teen daughter. And despite the meta-commentary, the film never seemed to grasp how out of touch it was.

In spite of these pretty significant problems, I can't give the film a firmly negative review. This is largely due to Rice and Matarazzo who gave excellent performances even with such subpar writing, proving yet again that they are stars to watch. And even more puzzling, is the fact that the film has many touching scenes that absolutely work (in a vacuum). A scene in which a son comes out to his father, which was thankfully devoid of any 4th wall breaking, actually registered a legitimate emotional response from me, despite having maybe 5 or 10 minutes of set up. And overall, Honor's arc is a very satisfying one, even if you saw the twists and turns coming. Sadly, these definitive strengths aren't able to save the movie, only make the weaknesses that much more stark and glaring by comparison.

Given that the film is a breezy 100 minutes with some worthy moments and stellar performances, I wouldn't discourage anyone from watching. But I regretfully didn't enjoy it as much as I hoped. However, maybe it will succeed in one thing, proving that Angourie Rice is a terrific actress and absolutely ready to deliver on the right project.

On paper, I think this approach to a Batman movie is perfect: a Fincher-esque detective story, with a film-noir visual palette, insightful social commentary, and flashes of stunningly rendered action. But sadly, I don't think Matt Reeves quite connected all the dots to make his perfect approach into a perfect film. It's absolutely entertaining, and has plenty to like, but fails to live up to its potential.

First, the things that work: Robert Pattinson was perfect for the role, managing to play all elements of the Batman/Bruce Wayne character just as they should be. He really nailed the physicality of the role, which is a must considering he spends upwards of 80% of his screen time behind the cowl. But as Bruce Wayne he also brings a serious "offness" that you would expect from a traumatized recluse. The rest of the cast is really great too, Paul Dano being the notable stand out aside from Pattinson.

The visual aesthetic is excellently realized as well. Hardly five minutes goes by without a shot being so beautifully lit and blocked that you wish it lingered on screen a bit longer. Cinematographer Greig Fraser delights in the gloominess and brings the absolute most he can to shots of dark alleys, moonless nights, and hauntingly empty mansions.

This film also walks the line brilliantly between action and suspense. The action scenes never last longer than they should and always leave you wanting more, a rare treat in modern blockbusters which are usually stuffed to the gils with superfluous car chases, gun fights, and explosions. And in between the action, there is genuine storytelling, getting you invested in the characters and plot so that the next fight scene feels earned.

Speaking of the storytelling, Reeves and co-writer Peter Craig made the wise decision to center the film on a great mystery, who is The Riddler and what's he going to do next? This is where Batman's detective side gets to shine, and is especially great considering how downplayed "The World's Greatest Detective" is in most film adaptations of the character. The narration from Bruce's journal evokes classic film-noir and goes hand in hand with the aesthetic and tone.

But despite having all these elements in its favor, I couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed by the end result. It's not that it did anything wrong, per say, it's what it didn't do but teased in moments that left me feeling unfulfilled.

The biggest offender is that Bruce/Batman's character arc is thematically pretty muddled and feels like its missing some major pieces. Considering how well the individual scenes are written, I'm guessing this isn't necessarily a failure of screenwriting; the full character arc most likely existed on the page, and was maybe even shot, but due to time constraints had to be cut (the movie is already 3 hours long so any more would have made it unbearably bloated). But what we're left with on screen is frustrating, they set up some great thematic conflicts that have to be dealt with by both Batman and Bruce, but only see them resolved by his caped persona. In the end we get about one-half a character arc for our protagonist.

Going in tandem with Bruce's missing character arc, are the superficial bits of social commentary that don't really serve any thematic purpose. In a few spots the film has characters quip about the privilege and inherent problems of the uber wealthy in a decaying society, but they never explore the issue any deeper - the commentary is completely surface level. To me this would be the perfect way to tie up Bruce's story, make him confront the fact that he's sitting on a pile of money while Gotham eats itself, and realize he has to do more than just fight crime in a bat-suit. I wouldn't necessarily demand that this commentary be included in the film, I can divorce cinema from reality enough to be fine with a Batman movie not addressing real world problems like the wealth gap, but they're the ones who point to the issue without making a point about it, making the "messaging" seem hollow.

Speaking of runtime, another issue with this film is that it is absolutely too long, especially considering my previous complaint that it felt incomplete in parts. What we got was about 50% great build up and setting up interesting conflicts, 25% big third act action at the end, and 25% unnecessary subplots (primarily involving Selena Kyle) that add nothing but runtime. I'm fine with a movie being long and slow paced, but not if it feels like it needed to be longer still to tell an actual complete story. As much as it might upset fans if Selena Kyle didn't have a mission of her own, I think the film would be far better without it as it would allow more time to pin down Bruce's character. Save the Catwoman subplot for the sequel.

Lastly, I mentioned the film is Fincher-esque, and Reeves was not shy about his love of Se7en and Zodiac. You can probably do scene-to-scene comparisons between Batman and Gordon solving The Riddler's mystery and Detectives Mills and Somerset searching for John Doe. To me this is a problem. It's one thing to wink at the audience and slyly pay respect to what inspired you creatively, but for the references to be so blatant and seemingly exist solely for the sake of making a reference, that really waters down the story you're trying to tell by making the audience think of a better film.

In the end, The Batman is an ambitious, fresh take on the character, with plenty to love both on a visual and emotional level, that fails to add up to more than the sum of its parts. Is it a great Batman film? Possibly one of the best. Is it a great film? Sadly no. But Reeves still managed to do enough to get me invested in both Pattinson's Batman and the world to see what they can cook up in the next film, and hope that it delivers on the promise of this film.

It's quite rare that a remake of a classic film ever reaches the same heights as the original, and even rarer for the updated version to surpass its predecessor. The Invisible Man (2020) is that rare remake. Leigh Whannell's follow up to 2018's Upgrade (a fantastic grind house sci-fi thriller) was always going to be an uphill battle, especially since he chose to adapt a classic novel that was made into one of the most iconic horror films of the 20th century. I personally had high expectations for this movie after seeing what Whannell did on Upgrade, and can thankfully say that he did not disappoint. The Invisible Man is a great movie, not a perfect movie, but damn near close. When judging the film against its apparent goals, it's hard not to tick off all of the boxes: it is legitimately suspenseful and scary, it actually has something deep to say that is thematically woven throughout, and the technical aspects of the film are expertly crafted. I'll address each of these points individually, starting with the horror elements. Whannell is no amateur when it comes to horror, and that is quite apparent in this film. He seems to understand the basic, yet often forgotten concept that is essential to any horror film: the audience must care about the character who is in danger for it to be scary, and you have to slowly ratchet up the tension throughout the scenes so that when the jump scare comes, it feels earned. Whannell wrote Elizabeth Moss' character Cecilia to be incredibly sympathetic, a victim of an abusive relationship who only wants to get her life back, yet he never strayed too far to make her seem helpless. We understand right away that she is smart, determined, and capable, but still vulnerable. This balance is executed perfectly thanks to Whannell's tight writing and Moss' stellar performance. This serves the horror aspects of the film so well, not only because you care when Cecilia is danger, but because since she isn't completely helpless, the audience can intuit that her stalker ex-boyfriend is that much more threatening to make her so unnerved. This movie also suited my taste quite well, in that more time was spent building suspense than throwing jump scares at the audience. When the jump scares do come, it's after the tension has been heightened to a fever-pitch so the resulting scare is amplified and legitimately frightening. Moving onto the deeper theme that motivates the action and horror, again Whannell knocks it out of the park. Abuse, gaslighting, and PTSD are real world problems that the audience can relate to, and Whannell ties them in perfectly with the antagonist of the titular invisible man. The whole idea works as a metaphor just as well as it does as a horror movie: women get tormented physically and psychologically by men in ways that the rest of the world can't see, and often are labeled as crazy because of it. This thematic statement is evident through every twist and turn the plot takes, every scare sequence, and every choice a character makes, and as a result, elevates the movie from good to great. Finally, I would be remiss if I didn't gush about the technical mastery that Whannell displays here. After seeing Upgrade, I knew that he had inventive and thrilling ways to stage and shoot action, so I was excited to see what he did in a horror setting. Throughout the film, and particularly in suspenseful scenes, Whannell's takes are long and lingering, often meander away from the subject to show an empty chair, or open doorway, before panning back to Cecilia. This tactic is brilliant because as the camera wanders around a space, seemingly showing nothing at all, the audience is on the edge of their seats, wondering if that empty chair actually has an invisible man sitting in it. This is just one way that Whannell uses the concept to adapt his visual style in a unique and effective way, but there are countless more scattered throughout including the return of the fixed-tracking shot fight scenes that he used so well in Upgrade. The Invisible Man is a meticulously crafted film, with a powerful and relevant message, that never fails to put the audience on edge and then scare the hell out of them. I wouldn't be surprised if in 5 or 10 years, this movie is considered to be one of the modern classics among others such as 28 Days Later, Get Out, and Midsommar. Go see this movie in theaters, it is well worth it.