REVIEW: Aquaman

As I write this Review, James Wan's Aquaman has just blown past the $1 billion mark at the international box office. Aquaman. Even as a longtime fan of the comics, I can't exactly say I saw this coming. The DCEU has been chugging by on a wing and a prayer for years now, and while Wonder Woman earned the franchise enough good will to hold onto a glimmer of hope that the worst had long since passed, 2017's utterly abysmal Justice League tanked both critically and financially. Rumors swirled about Ben Affleck and Henry Cavill dropping out of the franchise for good, the upcoming Scorsese-produced Joker movie seemed to indicate that WB was pursuing other options, and we all had to wonder if Aquaman was merely a formality at this point; the last gasps of a dead franchise, pumped into theaters for no reason beyond recouping losses. I was excited to see one of my favorite superheroes (yes, seriously) portrayed on the big screen, but even I was apprehensive of what awaited me. One mind-numbingly long screening later and I found myself feeling something I seldom feel about many movies. Aquaman is by no means what I would call a "good" movie, and yet I had an absolute blast with it. It's flawed, bloated, and verges on being totally braindead at times, but there are also elements of this movie that I feel exemplify exactly what WB should aim to accomplish with future entries in the DCEU.

Set after the events of Justice League (let's not pretend that really matters, since the characters certainly don't), we find that Arthur Curry (Jason Momoa) has taken to superhero-ing like a fish to water, known throughout the seven seas (and his quiet hometown of Amnesty Bay) as the Aquaman. The son of a lighthouse keeper (Temuera Morrison) and the renegade Queen of Atlantis (Nicole Kidman), Curry has been reluctant to confront the wetter side of his heritage, believing the xenophobic Atlanteans to be responsible for the death of his mother. This all changes, however, after he is confronted by Princess Mera (Amber Heard, rocking one of the worst wigs this side of Spirit Halloween), who informs Arthur that his half-brother, King Orm (Patrick Wilson) intends to unite the seven undersea kingdoms and march on the surface world, establishing Atlantis' dominion over the entire planet. With the help of his mentor, Vulko (Willem Dafoe), Arthur joins Mera to locate the lost trident of King Atlan, usurp his brother's throne, and take his rightful place as the one true king of Atlantis.

Right off the bat, the movie suffers from a screenplay that toes the line between harmlessly campy and comically bad (which feels like something of a motif for 2018). While I was eventually able to adjust to the movie's cheese-factor, it doesn't change the fact that some of these lines feel like they were meant to be placeholders. The cast all do their best with what they've been given, but no actor could make a gem like "Your fish-ship has been marinating in chum-butter, I'm not coming out smelling like swamp butt" sound good. It doesn't help that we're stuck with this level of dialog for, as I mentioned, well over two hours. The plot essentially condenses the first three volumes of Geoff Johns' New52 run into a single story (which makes sense, seeing as how he has a story credit alongside James Wan and screenwriter Will Beall), so things naturally get more than a little crowded. You get the impression that WB assumed this would be their only shot at making an Aquaman movie, so very little is saved for the sequel. They put all their chips on the table and it more than paid off, so while this definitely doesn't feel like a bland corporate product, it definitely gets rather clunky here and there (especially during the first act). We get Arthur meeting Mera, contesting Ocean Master for the throne, reclaiming the lost trident of Atlan, and fighting Black Manta (Yahya Abdul-Mateen II), all in one movie. As a result, despite a reasonably brisk pace, the entire thing suffers from a distinct feeling of bloat. While I didn't necessarily dislike any of these storylines, I definitely would have been fine with cutting one or more in favor of saving it for the sequel; the end result is very much a concentrated dose of Aquaman, but it may prove a little too dense for anyone who isn't already a fan of the comics.

Aside from that, we have our two main leads played by Jason Momoa and Amber Heard. In my Review of Justice League, I said that they were by far the weakest links in the main cast, and the same holds true here. Don't get me wrong, they're both extraordinarily good-looking people with charisma to spare, but their relationship lacks chemistry (especially compared to, say, Wonder Woman and Steve Trevor) and their emotional range left me wanting, to say the least. The villains definitely steal the show, with Wilson and Abdul-Mateen cranking it up to 11 as Ocean Master and Black Manta. The cornball script and bombastic presentation only does these two favors, as we're treated to two separate scenes where our antagonists look right at the camera and proclaim, "CALL ME... *insert supervillain name here*!"; if that doesn't sound like the kind of thing you could get into, then I'd recommend giving the whole affair a pass right here and now. These are two comic book villains who make up for their apparent lack of depth with sheer screen presence, exemplifying just what makes James Wan's approach to this material stick the landing, despite its many flaws. Whereas other films may hesitate to embrace the over-the-top nature of adapting a superhero story to the big screen, Aquaman pulls its absurd, pulpy roots into a crushing bear-hug, splashing hefty doses of color and melodrama across the screen to remarkably fun effect.

I've noticed that many big-screen comic book adaptations (especially those found in the Marvel Cinematic Universe) are often more than a little hesitant to fully commit to the levels of absurdity found within the pages of its source material, using self-aware humor as a buffer to help sell the audience on something so seemingly childish. That isn't to say that I need my superhero movies to be dour and moody, there are definitely good ways to blend humor and intimate character drama, but there are definitely bad ways to go about it as well. If the film is constantly winking to me about how goofy the movie I'm watching is, it's only going to hurt itself in the long run. If the characters in the film don't take the situation, threat, or villain seriously, how can I, as the viewer, be expected to? This is where Aquaman uses its cheesy tone to its advantage; while this is a supremely weird, goofy movie with lots of fantastical locales and impractical costumes, the universe of the film takes itself entirely seriously. This is something the DCEU has attempted in the past, to disastrous results. Fortunately, James Wan is a talented enough filmmaker to not confuse a film taking itself seriously with being a joyless, dour slog.

This is a film that is fiercely committed to playing its role as a superhero movie, and there is zero cynicism to be found in how it approaches such a task. The tone very heavily reminds me of the Sam Raimi Spider-Man films; movies that were very intentionally made to be exaggerated, stylized, sometimes downright cartoonish action romps, yet never felt the need to justify that level of silliness to the audience by pretending it was "ironic" or "deconstructive". Aquaman wears its heart firmly on its sleeve, which I find somewhat refreshing in today's contemporary superhero scene. Its goal isn't to reinvent the wheel or get audiences to think Aquaman is a "realistic" portrayal of a superhero. The mission statement here is, without question, to entertain. And if I'm judging a film purely on how well it accomplishes the goals it has set for itself, I have no choice but to give Aquaman full marks. It's not very subtle or nuanced, there's a lot of terrible acting and dialog, and it's not at all conceptually ambitious in terms of displaying what a superhero movie can be in this modern age. But I was fiercely entertained, thanks very much in part to James Wan's talents as a director. 

There are countless other films that try to coast by on sheer spectacle and fail; Justice League is a prime example. For as messy and unrefined as aspects of Aquaman are, it at the very least feels like someone's vision, rather than a sanitized product that's been focus-tested and homogenized in an attempt to appeal to as many paying demographics as possible. And that's not to say that giving a director free reign to exercise their vision is a one-way ticket to success either; films like Batman V Superman and The Last Jedi prove that a filmmaker needs to understand and respect the subject they're working with in order to create something that, at the end of the day, isn't a frustrating chore to sit down and watch. This is something Aquaman definitely gets right, mixing goofball superhero aesthetics and melodrama with genuinely engaging direction and cinematography. It's not an exaggeration to say that the majority of this film takes place on a green screen, so when I'm praising the effects, you know it's something special. Atlantis feels like a fully realized world with countless depths worth exploring (in contrast to Black Panther's Wakanda, which felt like three soundstages and a grassy field) and there are loads of imaginative creature designs which give way to some truly spectacularly realized action setpieces (especially in the latter half of the film). There's a sequence later on in the second act involving the Trench, an ancient race of monstrous fish-people, that really exhibits Wan's talent as a horror filmmaker. Although clips from this scene made it into several of the trailers, they really don't do the sequence justice; it's clear from a quick visual gag in the beginning that he's a fan of H.P. Lovecraft, and this Trench sequence just makes me wonder how long I'm going to have to wait for an adaptation of The Shadow Over Innsmouth with James Wan in the director's chair.

While it's hardly what I'd call a groundbreaking success in the superhero genre, I simply can't hide the amount of fun I had with Aquaman. It's a movie with a myriad of problems holding it back from true greatness, yet it managed to keep me thoroughly entertained throughout its somewhat bloated runtime. There are glaring issues with the script, story, and performances, but there's such a distinct lack of cynicism here that I can't bring myself to hate it. This isn't a bad movie in the same way something like Batman V Superman or the Michael Bay Transformers films are, where the lack of quality comes off as insulting to the viewer. This is more akin to something like The Fate of the Furious, where you get the sense that everyone on set knew exactly what they were making; a bombastic, cartoonish spectacle that plays all of its candy-colored melodrama 100% straight. I caught myself groaning at the downright embarrassing dialog in the beginning, but then Black Manta shot Aquaman with an electric harpoon and said "I'm gonna gut you like the fish you are" and I realized this movie and I were, in a way, very much on the same page in regards to what an Aquaman film should be. The costumes are fantastic, the effects are impressive, and the last thirty minutes are pure visual opium. It's silly, it's stupid, and I had an absolute blast with it. If you're not a fan of superhero comics or prefer your cape stories to be a bit more on the low-key and serious side, there's little here that would be worth your time. But if you're a fan of the comics, nostalgic for a time when superheroes didn't have to be reimagined to make sense in the real world, Aquaman will definitely quench your thirst.

REVIEW: Ant-Man and the Wasp

Speaking as someone who liked the first Ant-Man, I feel like even I have to agree with everyone else in saying "who even cares about Ant-Man and The Wasp after THAT?" I mean, can you blame us? I figured I'd change my mind and come around after the hype from Infinity War died down, but it's two months later and I still can't fathom why Marvel decided to release their biggest and most-awaited film to date before their sequel to Ant-Man. I was reasonably excited for this movie, yet I still found myself saying "oh yeah, that did just came out, didn't it?" last weekend. I went to the theater, grabbed my ticket, and settled in with low expectations for an offbeat, inoffensive sci-fi/comedy romp. Unfortunately, I feel like the filmmakers approached this project with those same expectations in mind, and therein lies the problem.

Set two years after the first film, we find Scott Lang under house arrest after the airport incident in Captain America: Civil War. He hasn't worn the Ant-Man suit since, spending his sentence making up for lost time with his daughter, Cassie (Abby Ryder Fortson); this all changes when he's contacted once again by Hope Van Dyne (Evangeline Lilly) and her father, Hank (Michael Douglas). After the events of the first Ant-Man film, the two have been working on a device capable of accessing the Quantum Realm, the mysterious, sub-atomic dimension where Hope's mother (and Hank's wife), Janet (Michelle Pfeifer), is thought to be lost. Seeing as how Scott successfully navigated the Quantum Realm in the first movie, Hank and Hope believe him to be the key to locating and rescuing Janet. Naturally, it's not quite that easy; things are complicated, not only by Scott's incarceration, but by the Ghost (Hannah John-Kamen), a sinister operative with the ability to phase through solid matter and a keen interest in Hank's research on Quantum energy. With Janet's life hanging in the balance, it's up to Ant-Man and The Wasp to save the day without violating the terms of Scott's plea arrangement.

If this movie has a strong-suit, it's most definitely the character interactions. Scott Lang continues to be one of the most likeable protagonists in the MCU, and his dynamic with Hope reaches new heights this time around. It would have been so simple to go with the old cliché of "inept but loveable man/capable but angry woman", but instead we're allowed moments to see that Hope genuinely cares about Scott. This isn't a one-sided attraction, meant to act as wish-fulfillment for any divorced dads in the audience; they work well together, both as superheroes and human beings, and this is all thanks to Rudd and Lilly's charming "workplace romance"-style chemistry. I also really liked Scott's family dynamic this time around; his relationship with Cassie continues to be tooth-achingly adorable, and it's really nice to see a divorced couple interact in a realistic yet positive manner. There's no glimmer of hope that Scott and his ex-wife (played by Judy Greer) are going to get back together, but they're both totally invested in putting their daughter first, despite the circumstances of their family situation. There isn't any of that "my ex-wife is a shrew and her new man is a tool, they're gonna get some gratifying comuppance" nonsense to be found here; it's a genuinely sweet (if a tad idyllic) portrayal of how parents and step-parents can overcome personal drama and past disputes to make a positive impact in their child's life.

Really, this movie does a lot of interesting things regarding morality and the way people overcome personal conflicts with one another. Ghost is another excellent antagonist in the modern MCU, doing questionable things for perfectly understandable reasons. Her life is at risk, the same as Janet's, so our heroes are placed in a tricky spot; if they do as Ghost asks, they're throwing away their chance at saving Hope's mother. But if they "beat" Ghost the way a superhero usually might, they're essentially condemning her to a painful death, as her condition worsens to the point that it literally causes her to phase out of existence. It's a curious predicament that leads to an admittedly inventive outcome, albeit by way of a conflict resolution that completely dismisses any and all intrigue generated by this catch-22 of a situation (not unlike the way things were resolved in Black Panther). It gives us a host of charming character interactions and a villain who plays with the story and cast in ways you wouldn't necessarily expect, only to handicap itself with a complete and utter lack of any and all ambition in every other respect.

It's a film that, compared to its predecessor, feels much more confident and self-assured of its own identity. Typically, this would be a positive thing, except that the identity in question is painfully unremarkable in nearly every way. The first Ant-Man felt like a truly daring experiment for Marvel Studios; it's the film that made everyone say "okay, I liked The Avengers and Guardians of the Galaxy, but really? Ant-Man?" It had an uphill battle to fight in winning over mainstream audiences, and it more than succeeded. Ant-Man and The Wasp, however, feels like exactly what you'd expect if you asked someone to make a generic Marvel movie. It feels like it lacks an identity of its own, especially in a visual sense, which leads me to believe that everything I found so impressive and imaginative about the first Ant-Man was just left-over details from the original Edgar Wright draft. Unlike its predecessor, Ant-Man and The Wasp has no groundwork to build off of, so everything feels noticably flatter as a result.

The action in particular suffers the worst here; outside of a fun and engaging chase sequence through the streets of San Francisco, the fight scenes here are nothing to write home about. We rarely see things from Ant-Man or Wasp's tiny perspective (which, visually speaking, was the best thing about the first movie); instead, get ready to watch that "shrink, dodge, grow, kick, shrink, dodge, grow, kick" maneuver over and over and over again. I understand that it can be challenging to showcase shrinking powers when the main villain is a normal-sized human 100% of the time, but then that's sort of the challenge, isn't it? There's also next to no ant-based action, which was a huge disappointment for me, seeing as how that's easily Ant-Man's most unique ability. Remember that insane sequence in the first movie where Scott learned about all the different types of ants he'd be using during the heist? Here, the ants are purely set dressing and transportation, nothing more (in a movie called Ant-Man and The Wasp, no less). It's a nitpick, sure, but again, why do it at all if you're not even going to try? Ant-Man is a challenging character to bring to life on the big screen, but that's supposed to be the appeal; a movie about Ant-Man isn't going to be as straightforward in terms of its action, direction, or visuals as a movie about Captain America or The Hulk. Instead of rising to the occasion like the first movie did, Ant-Man and The Wasp puts all of its chips on its (admittedly endearing) cast and ends up feeling lesser overall because of it.

All of those flaws, however, more or less fell within my expectations. I came in expecting a lighthearted, low-stakes sci-fi adventure, nothing anywhere near on the same level as Infinity War, and that's basically what I got. I can excuse some preference-based hang-ups and nitpicks for a situation like this, where the film in question isn't really aspiring to be anything more than an enjoyable, down-to-earth romp. What I can't excuse, however, is the numerous plot holes, conveniences, and outright examples of laziness found within this film's storyline. I love Michelle Pfeifer and think she's a perfect choice for the role of Janet Van Dyne, but it's not hyperbole to say that her chunk of the story is held together with chewing gum and dental floss. Everyone's talking about the amount of technobabble in this film, which, to be fair, is to be expected from a character as deeply-rooted in the world of fantastical super-science as Ant-Man. Normally, a character like Scott Lang would act as the everyman, giving Hank and Hope an excuse to put everything in layman's terms for the audience. It's a well-worn trope, but it's more or less forgivable, seeing as how it plays a practical purpose in conveying plot details to the audience (i.e. the scene in Event Horizon in which Sam Niell sticks a pencil through a folded sheet of paper to explain warp-travel). 

The only problem is that we never really get that explanation. The constant repetition of the word "quantum" is just filler, to the point that the film itself makes it the punchline of a joke. You could make the argument that this is meant to be a clever subversion of a classic sci-fi trope (since, in reality, Hank Pym probably wouldn't waste his time explaining the ins and outs of quantum science to a schmo like Scott, especially while on the clock), but I feel that it's much more likely that the filmmakers realized that if they attempted to explain the technobabble, the entire plot would fall apart. The whole point of sci-fi is that it's fiction rooted in science; it's fascinating because, even though concepts like laser guns and robot suits are fantastical, we can more or less rationalize how they might work. Here, the Quantum Realm is essentially magic; if you were to remove every instance of the word "quantum" from the script, you'd end up with a story that answers every pertinent question with "because". How did Janet survive in the Quantum Realm for 30 years without starving or going insane? Because. Why do our heroes only have a set amount of time to rescue her? Because. I'd be fine if the Ant-Man series started to become more fantasy than sci-fi (hey, the opposite worked out alright for Thor), but this just feels indefensibly lazy. Any time a plot point has to happen, the film forces it through by way of some made-up science-y sounding words. It's the same issue I had with the black goo in Prometheus, and I honestly wouldn't care if all of these conveniences didn't occur in places that are integral to the plot we're supposed to care about. You can have harmless conveniences in your movie; it's convenient that Scott happened to be robbing a house with a shrink suit in the basement in the first Ant-Man, but the film isn't lesser for it. You can use coincidence to get your characters into a predicament, but you should never use it to get them out of it, which is something Ant-Man and The Wasp does at all the worst moments. A movie can be off-beat and endearing without insulting the viewer's intelligence, but then that's a balance that this film struggles to grasp (despite a few clever moments here and there).

Despite some really enjoyable performances and some occasionally fun action, Ant-Man and The Wasp only manages to feel painfully average at best. It's inoffensive, but altogether unremarkable, which is a shame, seeing as how this is the 20th film in the MCU. If you're just looking for an excuse to go to the cinema this summer, you could most definitely do worse, and I know kids are gonna love this just as much as they loved the first one (if you have small children, it's sure to inspire less awkward conversations about the nature of mortality than Infinity War did). That said, I'm not sure I need another Ant-Man adventure after this, if this is all they're going to aspire to be. There's nothing wrong with having more low-key entries in something as massive as the MCU; movies like Ant-Man can provide some much needed levity and breathing room in-between the larger blockbusters. But just because a movie aims to be fun and laid-back doesn't mean it has to feel this unambitious and lazy. It's just a victory lap after Infinity War, and I really hope Marvel Studios avoids this kind of attitude in the future. With how much time, effort, and money they've poured into crafting the MCU into an interwoven narrative of annual blockbusters, the one thing they should never aspire to be is "fun enough, but nonessential viewing", which is exactly what Ant-Man and The Wasp turned out to be.

REVIEW: Avengers Infinity War

Well, it's finally here. 10 years after Iron Man kicked off the modern superhero craze, 6 years after the first Avengers teased this particular storyline in its post-credits stinger, and just over two months since Black Panther set all those impressive box office records that this is inevitably going to demolish; Avengers: Infinity War is finally upon us. There are many who view this as the grand finale of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, the designated jumping-off point for anyone (like myself) beginning to feel the strain of superhero fatigue. It's taken 18 movies over the past decade to get to this point, so it's understandable if it's all starting to feel like a bit much nowadays. Having at long last seen Infinity War, I can safely say that Joe and Anthony Russo have accomplished the impossible; not only have they crafted a blockbuster with over 30 main characters that doesn't feel like an incoherent mess, they have reignited my excitement for the latent potential of the MCU, leaving me to eagerly await whatever comes next.

The film begins directly after the post-credits scene of Thor Ragnarok, as we find the mad titan Thanos (Josh Brolin) making his way across the galaxy collecting the ubiquitous Infinity Stones, six glowy ingots that each control some basic element of existence. With all six stones, Thanos would possess the power of a literal god, a power he intends to use to wipe out half of all living things in the universe (all for the supposedly-altruistic goal of restoring cosmic balance, naturally). As one might expect, his plans put him in conflict not only with the recently broken-up Avengers, but with the Guardians of the Galaxy as well. What follows is a two and a half hour long event, taking us from the streets of Manhattan to the far reaches of space, and right about now is probably a good time to mention that there will be mild, implicit spoilers from this point onward. I'm not going to be outright stating what happens to whom, but this isn't the kind of thing you'll want to read if you intend to go in totally blind. So once more, for the people in the back:

SPOILER ALERT: the remainder of this Review reveals certain plot elements of Avengers: Infinity War!

The most immediately striking thing about this movie, for me, was how smartly put-together it was. When describing this movie, it's understandable to assume it would sail about as smoothly as the Titanic; it's got over 30 superheroes in it and acts as a sequel/finale to 17 other movies (I'm not counting Ant-Man since Scott Lang isn't present here), all while acting as a part one to it's own finale. Balancing a stage full of spinning plates isn't even an apt metaphor, it's more like the Russos are balancing live tigers on top of lit sticks of dynamite while riding a tilt-a-whirl. There's no shortage of things that could go wrong with a situation like this, but it's obvious that everyone involved in the production of Infinity War was perfectly cognizant of these possibilities and did everything in their power to avoid making any fatal mistakes (not unlike a certain Sorcerer Supreme).

I've seen a fair share of critics accuse this film of being an exercise in excess, and I can only assume said critics are completely new to the superhero genre. Infinity War shows a frankly miraculous level of restraint in how it doles out its eye-candy; there's no headache-inducing, nigh-incomprehensible action bukkake here like you'd find in Age of Ultron or X-Men: Apocalypse. We aren't given an extended sequence where all 30+ characters attack Thanos at the same time, reducing the screen to an eye-melting visual cacophony of CGI laser beams; instead, everyone is divvied up into teams and given something important to do. Everyone has a plot line to contribute to and, as such, everyone feels as though they matter to some degree. Naturally some characters are more prominent than others (Doctor Strange and Thor play much bigger roles than Okoye and the Winter Soldier, for instance), but no one really feels completely tertiary or useless. It doesn't revel in its own scale this early on, not while there's still half a story left to be told in next year's Avengers: Untitled (a daring, but unique naming convention, if I do say so myself).

The filmmakers knew that, going in, all of our most pressing questions would involve Thanos. All he's done for the past decade is sit in a chair, so they waste no time at all in establishing him as a credible threat. How do they do this? By showing him beating the incredible Hulk (Mark Ruffalo) into submission with nothing but his bare hands in the first five minutes of the movie. The character that has been a trump card for essentially every film he's appeared in is dispatched in the very first scene and doesn't appear again for the rest of the movie (fake trailer shots like the one above are a trend I wholeheartedly endorse, incidentally). The inevitable rematch is something we're denied until the next Avengers film comes out; while some may find this unsatisfying, all it does is make me even more excited for next May.

I also appreciated how Infinity War refuses to waste its audience's time. We've waited this long to get here, so there's no justifiable excuse for any filler. There's a scene near the end of the first act where a broken and battered Thor (Chris Hemsworth) comes across the Guardians of the Galaxy. After an offhand mention that Gamora (Zoe Saldana) is Thanos' daughter, Thor begins to dramatically advance on her while the other Guardians try to fast-talk their way out of a godly beating. Things grow tense for just a moment, only for Thor to pat Gamora on the shoulder and remark "family can be tough". In a lesser film, we'd surely be subjected to a 5-10 minute action sequence where Thor fights the Guardians of the Galaxy over a misunderstanding. It would accomplish nothing beyond padding the runtime with more unnecessary action and feel like a trite waste of our time which, in a movie that's already well over two hours long, is something we cannot abide. Instead, Infinity War makes the mature choice to forego mindless action in favor of a small character moment. It knows exactly what it wants to accomplish and adjusts its priorities accordingly; we've already had entire movies about Black Panther (Chadwick Boseman) and Spider-Man (Tom Holland). This one is all about Thanos.

With the recent addition of characters like Killmonger, Ego the Living Planet, and the Vulture to the MCU pantheon, there've been rumblings that Marvel's supposed "villain problem" is finally over. Nowhere is this better illustrated than in Infinity War's handling of Thanos; Josh Brolin is far and above the breakout star here, delivering a performance that more than lives up to nearly ten years of hints and teases. I haven't been this taken with a villain performance since Heath Ledger's turn as the Joker in The Dark Knight, screenwriters Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely have somehow found a way to take a giant purple cartoon character who has done nothing but sit in a chair for the past decade and turn him into the most nuanced Marvel antagonist this side of Loki (Tom Hiddleston). I've seen a lot of people praising Thanos' motives as being relatable, which I honestly don't understand; his motivation for enacting a universe-wide culling is essentially to preserve resources and vastly improve the quality of life for those who survive (rather than an obsessive infatuation with Lady Death, as seen in the comics). His logic is inherently flawed (considering he could just make more resources appear with a snap of his fingers), but then that's sort of the point; he is the mad titan, and the film makes it perfectly clear that Thanos is insane. He truly believes in his heart of hearts that he's doing the right thing, that he's the iron-willed savior of life as we know it, and that's what makes him such a tangible threat. He isn't simply evil because (as the misleading trailers put it) murdering billions of people puts a smile on his face. He's the hero of his own story; if you watch Infinity War as a film where Thanos is the protagonist, the seemingly odd structure and pacing suddenly make perfect sense. This is a movie where the main character is the villain. It's got a horrifying, depressing, downer of an ending, unless you're watching from Thanos' perspective, in which case everything worked out exactly the way it was supposed to.

The film also takes an opportunity to put other, less prominent Avengers in the spotlight; after Infinity War, I think my favorite character in the entirety of the MCU may be Thor, which is an insane testament to how far we've come. Between Thor: The Dark World and Infinity War, the God of Thunder has been re-worked from a complete jobber with exactly one joke ("I say mortals, what is this "Twitter" you all speak of? Is it anything like the Casket of Ancient Winters???") into a true king who's lost everything. By the time he meets the Guardians in Infinity War, he's lost his family, his friends, his kingdom, his home, his hammer, and his eye, and we finally get a feel for how all of this senseless loss has affected him deep down. My favorite scene in the entire movie is a quiet moment between Thor and Rocket Raccoon (Bradley Cooper), in which his typical bravado is slowly chipped away as we see him truly begin to process his grief. Chris Hemsworth has truly come into his own with this character and I'm praying to Odin and Frigga and all the powers that be that he's not among the deceased in the next Avengers outing. I also came out really enjoying Benedict Cumberbatch's Doctor Strange, who (much like in Thor: Ragnarok) seems to shine best when he's got some other parts of the MCU to bounce off of. Special kudos must also be awarded to Tom Holland, who feels more like Spider-Man here than in any other MCU film (including his own).

With a budget falling somewhere between $300 and $400 million, Infinity War is easily one of the most expensive films ever made; and boy does it look it (can you imagine how embarrassing it would be if the visuals here were complete and utter trash?). It's safe to say that most Marvel movies don't look bad when it comes to their use of CGI, but this is the first time in a very long while where I've actually been impressed by the visual effects in a blockbuster like this. We've reached a sort of singularity where the visuals all mesh together perfectly, and we start to forget that characters like Thanos are made entirely inside a computer. Spider-Man has lost that offputting, overly-animated action figure look he had in Civil War and Homecoming, and I don't even bat an eye when I see Rocket Raccoon and Groot (Vin Diesel) interacting with a room full of real humans. This is also the first film to be shot entirely with IMAX cameras, so perhaps that distinction added something to the visual fidelity we're left to enjoy. When you're dealing with something of this scale, it's important that the action never feels overly-cluttered, and that's something the visual effects artists completely nailed.

The cinematography (care of longtime Russo collaborator, Trent Opaloch) is also quite good, maintaining the Russos' standard up-close-and-personal approach while (for the most part) ditching the requisite shaky-cam we find in The Winter Soldier and Civil War (I suppose shaking an IMAX camera would be both very difficult and potentially very expensive). One sequence in particular that I absolutely adore happens very early on, when two members of Thanos' Black Order (The Ebony Maw, played by Tom Vaughan-Lawlor, and Cull Obsidian, played by Terry Notary) do battle on the streets of New York with Iron Man (Robert Downy Jr), Doctor Strange, Spider-Man, and Wong (Benedict Wong). The beginning of the sequence, where we see the Black Order's ship descending on Bleeker Street, is shot entirely from street-level; we see the ship for the first time the same time Stark and Strange do, and it's this choice of camera angle (along with the seat-rattling sound design) that makes this sequence so immersive. Imagine being a civilian in a post-Avengers NYC; there's a big donut-shaped spacecraft ominously humming above a residential neighborhood and Tony Stark is running towards it alongside two wizards. Things are about to get real. It's a feeling I haven't gotten from one of these movies since I saw the first Avengers film back in 2012, and I think it's Infinity War's ability to not only recapture that same feeling, but to improve upon it that has me so taken with it.

Really, that sums up my entire takeaway here; Avengers was an unforgettable experience the first time I saw it, but it mostly coasts by on spectacle alone. Once you've seen it, it's never quite as good on repeat viewings (especially when you're at home and not in a theater). Infinity War, on the other hand, has so much more to offer right off the bat; already, I'm able to appreciate it on a level beyond the sheer scale of it all. Despite all my praise, it's not quite a perfect film. There are definitely some who will find the length and pacing exhausting, while others will be disappointed in how much screentime is given to certain characters (you can definitely tell this was made before Black Panther went on to make over a billion dollars, and I'm pretty sure Captain America has less than ten lines in the entire thing), but these minor speedbumps can't change the fact that this is an expertly-crafted event of a film that more than lives up to the hype Marvel Studios has spent so much time building. Anyone dismissing this for not feeling like a standard Marvel movie or requiring viewers to do their due-diligence in keeping up with the MCU canon is completely missing the point of this movie; this is not your traditional Marvel movie. At the same time, those who are quick to write off the numerous character deaths as "inconsequential" fail to realize that, in this situation, it's very much about the journey rather than the destination (mainly because we haven't reached the destination just yet). It should be obvious to anyone over the age of 10 that a number of the characters killed off in Infinity War will return for the next Avengers outing, but that doesn't invalidate this film's contributions to the overarching, multi-film narrative that is the MCU.

Avengers: Infinity War is a dark, daring blockbuster that soundly breaks the modern superhero movie mold while upholding and celebrating all the elements that made the genre the box office behemoth it is today. It's a modern-day Empire Strikes Back; in 20-30 years, when we ask the new generation of filmmakers what movie inspired them to pursue such a career, I would be shocked if at least one of them didn't cite Infinity War as the film that changed their life forever. It's a new high for the Marvel Cinematic Universe, and it made a True Believer out of me all over again. Go check it out.

REVIEW: Black Panther

Black Panther is the 18th movie in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. It is completely adequate. 

I could honestly end this Review there, that sums it all up; I know I'm more than a little late on this one and people are probably looking forward to what I have to say, but really now, am I seriously expected to say this is "one of the year's best films, and one that transcends the superhero genre to emerge as an epic of operatic proportions"? The zeitgeist surrounding this movie has been insane to say the least (not unlike the buildup to last year's Wonder Woman), and I can't say I don't blame the hype surrounding this film for building up my expectations to the point that I left the theater feeling somewhat underwhelmed. It seems as though a lot of this overwhelming praise has been awarded due to the film's primarily African setting and characters; representation is, naturally, important, but I just can't understand the mindset of people who only look at these films in terms of what color the actors are. I remember talking to a coworker about Black Panther before I had the chance to see it, and literally the only detail they bothered to discuss were how many women of color were in it. 

Don't get me wrong, that's great; variety is the spice of life, and I'm glad to see different kinds of characters getting to spend some time in the spotlight, especially in the increasingly-homogenous MCU (take a drink every time the protagonist is a snarky, inoffensively-likable white guy). But it still struck me as odd that that was the one positive takeaway they had after seeing it; not the plot, or the writing, or the cinematography, or any of the other aspects of the film that make it a film. I've just had to come to the conclusion that, when it comes to modern blockbusters like this, your average moviegoer is less concerned with the actual craft on display, compared to the messy, sensationalistic politics surrounding it. And despite all my griping, I had my fun with Black Panther; I'm really more disappointed in the fans than I am with the movie. They overhyped this totally passable superhero blockbuster for all the wrong reasons. To the film's credit, it actually does try (and for the most part, succeed) to break the tried and true Marvel movie mold where it can afford to, and those moments make all the difference in the world.

Following the events of Civil War, we see Prince T'Challa (Chadwick Boseman) taking on his late father's role of king and protector of Wakanda, a hyper-advanced nation hidden in the heart of Africa. Shortly after ascending to the throne, T'Challa finds himself pitted against Ulysses Klau (Andy Serkis, acting to the rafters), an arms dealer hellbent on stealing Wakanda's most precious natural resource, vibranium (the same miracle metal which makes up Captain America's shield). With Klau is a vicious mercenary by the name of Erik "Killmonger" Stevens (Michael B. Jordan), who hopes to usurp the throne and utilize Wakanda's vast advances in military technology to bend the world to his will. It's up to T'Challa to rise to the challenge and protect his family, his home, and the rest of the world at large as the stalwart defender of Wakanda, the Black Panther.

Right off the bat, we're given some clear and relevant social commentary regarding the conflict between the safety of isolationism and the moral responsibility that comes with wielding great power on the global stage. I hesitate to call this superhero popcorn flick a "political movie", but there is a fair amount of contemporary subtext, all of which it handles tactfully. The only issue is that the film seldom does anything truly interesting with it. Thanks to the technological advances granted by the nation's vast deposits of vibranium, Wakanda possesses technology far beyond that of other world superpowers; while they could easily use these advantages to help the less fortunate of the world, they choose to remain hidden, opting to not get involved. "You let refugees in, you let in all their problems", remarks Daniel Kaluuya's W'Kabi; a little on the nose, but it lets you know exactly what the conflict in this film is about. It's a situation where both sides of the argument are shown to have objectively valid points and there are no easy answers, yet the film gives us one anyway. The entire movie we're told that these opposing concerns matter (as it's this conflict which drives the entire plot), only for the film to abruptly tell us that none of those things actually matter and everything just works itself out. It's a shame, because I was actually invested in the political intrigue of this movie (moreso than I expected to, at least), only for it to be sold short like so many of the other positive aspects here.

That said, I actually quite enjoyed the performances here. While I'm not overly-familiar with his work, I've heard that Ryan Coogler is an actor's director, and Black Panther gives me no reason to doubt that. Everyone gives a strong performance, even if they're criminally under-utilized (Serkis and Kaluuya are the big two that come to mind) and even if I didn't particularly care for the character themself (such is the case with T'Challa's little sister, Shuri (played by Letitia Wright), who honest-to-god makes a "what are thooooose" joke in this, the year of our lord 2018). Chadwick Boseman continues to play the part of T'Challa with a reserved, dignified sense of cool; he's got an air of importance and unironic seriousness about him that you don't quite get with your Tony Stark or your Star Lord or your Mister Doctor Strange. He's both a superhero and a king, and the film treats him as such; the few comedic moments he gets typically involve him playing the straight man to another character, rather than spitting out sarcastic quips and pop culture references. Some have called his performance boring, I call it exactly the kind of hero the MCU needs more of to balance the tonal scales.

The highlight here, by far, is Michael B. Jordan as Erik Killmonger; in an ironic twist for the MCU, the villain this time around is fleshed-out and interesting, while the protagonists are all comparatively flat and underdeveloped. An American black-ops mercenary looking to give Wakanda a brutal premiere on the world stage, Killmonger is an ethno-nationalist who believes in subjugating (if not outright mudering) those he deems "privileged"; a topical villain if ever there was one. I don't want to spoil his backstory (although, given his aspirations, one could probably make a solid guess), but we'll say that he's completely and totally justified in his outrage; we understand why he feels the way he does and sympathize with his anger. At the same time, it's the way he expresses this outrage (typically through mass, unapologetic bloodshed) that makes him a villain; being able to understand where a character is coming from while being morally opposed to their actions is the stuff great antagonists are made of. I'll admit, when I saw the trailers and realized Black Panther would have to fight "evil Black Panther", I all but wrote the character off, only to be surprised by just how engaging he was. When we see what Killmonger has planned for Wakanda's resources, we understand the kind of responsibility that rests on T'Challa's shoulders; I'm fairly sick of Marvel villains who are "a dark reflection of the hero" (see Iron Man, Ant-Man, Doctor Strange, and most other MCU films), but this is an instance where the symmetry is more than just skin-deep. My only issue is that he unquestionably steals the show from the titular character, who ends up with the short end of the stick in terms of characterization and development.

Despite the strong direction and performances, I still can't help but feel as though Black Panther is a woefully inefficient movie. It's as though every positive aspect of the film has to have an ominous "but" attached to it; the performances are great, but the majority of the characters are under-developed. The cast is talented, but very few of them were utilized to their fullest potential. The subtext is engaging, but it lacks a satisfying payoff. This is a film that clocks in at just over two hours long, yet its main character is denied any kind of impactful, drastic arc. By the time the credits roll, T'Challa is basically the same person he was at the end of Civil War; a proud, young king who just wants to live up to his title, only now he views the past without the aid of rose-tinted glasses. There's a good twenty-minute stretch where the movie unironically pretends as though T'Challa is dead, despite Chadwick Boseman appearing in literally every piece of promotional material for next month's Infinity War. It's clear that, from the story concept to the art design, a lot of thought and care went into making this movie, but details such as this just make the whole thing feel lazy. 

The action is passible (I particularly enjoyed a close-quarters brawl that spilled out into a car chase on the streets of South Korea), but at the same time manages to feel utterly toothless to the point that I found myself growing bored during the film's climax. Early on, Shuri develops a new suit for T'Challa that allows him to harmlessly absorb the kinetic energy of any impact he's hit with; while it's definitely a cool power, it completely and utterly kills the tension in every following action sequence. The only fight scenes with any kind of dramatic weight to them are the moments where T'Challa is challenged for the crown and has his powers and costume ritualistically stripped away. We're given a character like Black Panther (whose powerset is built around acrobatic movement and close-combat martial arts) directed by the man who gave us Creed, yet the majority of the action is bloodless, tensionless, and pointless. It's not helped by the shockingly cheap-looking CGI; Wakanda is a fantastically imaginative concept, but it ends up feeling like nothing more than three or four sets and a green screen. The filmmakers were working with a budget of over $200 million, yet we're subjected to a scene with a CGI rhino that looks like something fresh out of Attack of the Clones. You can't honestly tell me that it was cheaper, quicker, and easier to synthesize a hilariously fake rhinoceros inside a computer than it would have been to take a day-trip to a nature preserve or sanctuary and just get some footage with a real rhino. They were working with one of the few superheros whose powers can be portrayed with nothing more than some martial arts training and tight choreography, yet the action looks like something out of a Playstation 2 cutscene. It's creative decisions like these that give the film an air of cheapness, which is a shame, since it's an utter joy from a conceptual standpoint. For as much as I'm ragging on this movie, I need to make clear that there were a lot of fantastic ideas here, it's just that very few of them were represented to their fullest potential.

Black Panther isn't a bad movie, nor is it a great one. It's fine. I don't regret paying for my ticket, but I can't help but cock a skeptical eyebrow in the direction of everyone who's spent the past month raving about it. That said, I guess you could say that I'm happy that people are happy with it; it's great to see a movie as large as this with a black protagonist that doesn't completely revolve around the pain and horrors of racism. This isn't 12 Years a Slave or Detroit; kids who watch this movie will think it's awesome to be like Black Panther, and that's an objectively positive thing to take away, regardless of what your personal take on the film itself is. While it's definitely not a bad movie, I just don't think it's one of Marvel's best. Like a lot of what the MCU has to offer, it's fairly likable and inoffensive, despite its faults; I only hope that Kevin Feige and company can aspire to something more substantial for King T'Challa and pals next time around.

REVIEW: The Cloverfield Paradox

I've said it before and I'll say it again; Netflix really will greenlight just about anything. True as that is, they can almost be forgiven for pulling the trigger on The Cloverfield Paradox, the latest entry in J.J. Abrams' Cloververse. After 10 Cloverfield Lane (my personal favorite film of 2016), a sci-fi horror anthology series seemed like a sure thing. With J.J. Abrams' considerable funds and studio clout being used to thrust smaller directors with new and original ideas into the spotlight, I found myself incredibly excited to see what would come out of this fresh take on the rapidly-aging "cinematic universe" gimmick. I remember being so excited during the Superbowl last Sunday; the next Cloverfield movie is already finished, and I can watch it right after the game. Even if you're not particularly a fan of these movies, it's impossible to deny how well J.J. Abrams and company understand the ins and outs of stunt marketing. Unfortunately, I'd later discover that stunt marketing is about all that The Cloverfield Paradox gets right as I took in what might be the first major disappointment of 2018.

The setting of The Cloverfield Paradox is something of a paradox in and of itself. It takes place in the year 2028; the world is caught in the grip of an energy crisis and war looms over the horizon. Orbiting around Earth is the aptly-named Cloverfield Space Station, manned by a team of scientists tasked with successfully activating a particle accelerator that could provide free, unlimited energy for the entire planet. And herein lies the first problem; we aren't certain if this is the same universe as the original Cloverfield or if it's a totally separate timeline (as was the case with 10 Cloverfield Lane). If this is the same timeline as the original Cloverfield, then the canon narrative is left with more retcons, plot holes, and timeline disparities than the Star Wars prequels and OT Special Editions combined. However, if this is it's own original universe, then the film is exposed for being a shallow cash-grab, incorporating existing elements from the first Cloverfield movie for marketability's sake and nothing more. As I said, it's a paradox (where neither outcome particularly works in the film's favor). I don't want to say much more regarding the plot, as the story is easily the most interesting and engaging aspect of this entire mess. 

This is a movie where the plot is driven moreso by the novel concept rather than the characters. The situation that the crew of the Cloverfield Station have been placed in is a frightening and fascinating one; imagine floating through the emptiness of space, only to look out the window to discover that planet Earth has disappeared. It reminds me a lot of Event Horizon in this regard, but done in a much more interesting, coherent way. The station  doesn't just turn into a haunted mansion, there's a steady rhythm of mystery and gradual payoff that keeps the viewer invested until the final act. However, the film also suffers from many of the same pitfalls that befell Event Horizon, namely paper-thin characters and tonal inconsistency.

The only actor really pulling their weight is Gugu Mbatha-Raw as our main character, Ava Hamilton. She gets all of the characterization and backstory, while everyone else gets basically nothing. There was one point in the story where I was certain her arc was going to take a sudden dark turn, only for things to play out in a much more conventional way. In fairness, I can't really hold that against the film; Gugu Mbatha-Raw gives a really solid performance whereas everyone else is passable at best, and while her character arc is nothing revolutionary, at least it's something. She's the only person we see with some kind of backstory and emotional stake in the events of the plot (aside from Elizabeth Debicki's character, but she hardly gets enough screentime to make it worthwhile).

The Cloverfield Paradox also commits the cardinal sin of utterly wasting Daniel Brühl. He's proven in films like Inglorious Basterds and Captain America: Civil War that he's capable of giving an intense, impactful performance (even when confined to a mere supporting role), but here he's given absolutely nothing to do. His character is the German guy, and that's it. There's a moment early on where the Russian crew member (played by Askel Hennie) accuses Brühl's character of sabotaging the particle accelerator; they've been trying to get it working for the past two years, and Germany is on the verge of taking military action against Russia. The implication here being that Brühl's character may be a German operative planted in the Cloverfield Station in order to ensure Germany has justification to invade Russia. It's a really fascinating idea with a lot of potential for engaging character drama, only to be dropped within minutes and never referenced again (except for a brief fake-out scene during the second act, which is similarly brushed aside without any fuss or muss).

That said, the hands-down weakest element in this entire cast is Chris O'Dowd as Mundy, the comic-relief Irish engineer. Look, I love The IT Crowd as much as the average person (considering the continent I'm on, likely more than the average person). And I totally get where they were coming from with this character; in films like this, it can help to introduce a little levity so the audience doesn't get burned out on tension. Even films like Alien (which Paradox takes obvious influence from in a number of areas) had moments of comedic banter to help endear the doomed crew to the audience. I get it. But O'Dowd just feels completely out-of-place in this movie, cracking jokes and one-liners at the most horrendously inappropriate of times. Again, I understand levity, but one doesn't typically pull out a wacky quip immediately after watching one of their friends and co-workers convulse to death, vomiting up blood and earthworms as they go. The rest of the characters weren't fleshed out in the slightest, but they at least generally acted like human beings might act when met a horrific or distressing circumstance. The material given to O'Dowd actively drags the rest of the movie down and completely kills what could have been a really solid sense of atmosphere.

The paper-thin characters are nothing, however, to this film's true fatal flaw. Like with 10 Cloverfield Lane, this was not originally a Cloverfield movie. Rather, it was to be a standalone film titled God Particle; it wasn't until part-way through production that J.J. Abrams decided it should be a sequel to the original Cloverfield, adding additional scenes during filming to tie the two stories closer together. Which brings us to our B-story, where we follow Hamilton's husband, Michael (Roger Davies) on Earth where (presumably, it's never 100% confirmed) the events of the first Cloverfield film are taking place. This side-plot is the death-knell for this movie; whenever it shows up, it distracts from the main plot, adding nothing substantial beyond a series of potential plot holes. The only purpose it serves is to justify billing this half-decent sci-fi film as a Cloverfield movie. 

It's worth noting that a similar thing happened with 10 Cloverfield Lane (originally a spec-script known as Cellar), but it's also worth noting that 10 Cloverfield Lane wasn't a direct continuation of the Cloverfield story. It took place in a totally different universe, and while some were naturally disappointed not to get any further context on the mysteries established in the first movie, it managed to stand on its own as a well-made film. The Cloverfield name was slapped on for marquee value, but the overall plot and script were more or less unchanged. Compare this to The Cloverfield Paradox where (prepare for the most obvious spoiler of all time) the iconic Cloverfield monster does make an on-screen appearance. Now normally I might write this off as a creative choice; the filmmakers laying the groundwork for more films to come. But we know explicitly why this thing was put in the movie. We know that J.J. Abrams and director Julius Onah didn't plan for this to be a Cloverfield movie when they started filming. Which brings me to a major problem I've noticed with a lot of Abram's recent work.

Looking at Star Wars: The Force Awakens and now this, it's clear that J.J. Abrams doesn't think long-term when it comes to plotting out his stories. The Force Awakens seemed ripe with set-up for future films, but after The Last Jedi came out, we learned that that wasn't the case at all. Abrams simply wrote a bunch of unanswered questions and passed the buck to Rian Johnson, assuming it would all work out. It's a storytelling technique Abrams refers to as "the mystery box"; while I can appreciate the intentions behind wanting to preserve a sense of wonder and mystery to surprise the audience, there's a fine line between creating engaging mysteries and simply making things up as you go. And that's not to say that filmmakers can't create something great by accident; we only remember Jaws as a masterpiece of suspense because Steven Spielberg couldn't get the mechanical shark to work. He didn't intend to shoot the film the way he did, the end product is simply the result of a filmmaker having to creatively work around a technical problem on-set. 

With The Cloverfield Paradox, I'm reminded of the Halloween franchise; originally intended to be an anthology of horror films (each telling a different story set on Halloween), the series turned back to relying on the established characters and story of the first two films after Halloween 3 had people wondering where Michael Meyers was. It's the same exact situation here, but with the Cloverfield monster. As the film ended, I was left thinking less about the actual plot and characters and more about how this could possibly fit into the existing canon of the first film (if it even does at all). Shoehorning in all these elements from Cloverfield comes off as nothing more than a cheap and transparent marketing gimmick; I know I likely wouldn't have given this a chance, had it not been called The Cloverfield Paradox. I don't like to admit it, but it's true. They got me, hook, line, and sinker. The film pretends like it's going to explain the origins of the Cloverfield monster in order to distract from the weaker elements of the main plot, but in doing so only serves to introduce the most flagrant flaws of the entire film. They soundly shot themselves in the foot on this one and the end result is downright embarrassing.

The Cloverfield Paradox is not a good film. Granted, it's not terrible, but it's certainly not good. The only reason I'm not angrier about it is that I didn't pay money to see this in a theater; Abrams and company made the right decision in unloading this on Netflix. I feel like most people lower their expectations for anything labeled a "Netflix Original", and while the reviews for The Cloverfield Paradox are hardly glowing as is, I guarantee the response would have been downright brutal had it actually gone to cinemas. This works out great for J.J. and pals, covering up their lazy storytelling with a soundly lowered-bar, but the real victim here is Netflix. They've worked so hard in recent years to establish themselves as the next big entertainment outlet, only to constantly put their energy behind projects like this. Granted, there are gems on there if you're willing to look, but constantly giving top billing to its more mediocre fare like The Cloverfield Paradox is what keeps people from taking Netflix seriously as a legitimate media empire. It's why "Netflix original movie" has all the punch and legitimacy of "made-for-TV movie". There was a time when everyone assumed Netflix was ahead of the curve, taking risks with their content and thinking outside the box. But now, much like with J.J. Abrams, it's clear that they're just throwing everything at the wall to see what sticks. Which is fine, until things just stop sticking. If you're a fan of the Cloverfield series thus far, there's a good chance you've already watched The Cloverfield Paradox. If you're just tuning in, this is without a doubt the weakest entry in the series. As far as horror/sci-fi films go, you could certainly do worse, but you could also objectively do better. My advice? Just watch 10 Cloverfield Lane. If you've already seen it, watch it again. You'll get more out of it than I did with this.