REVIEW: Logan

It's almost easy to forget just how old the X-Men film franchise is. The first movie came out back in 2000 and very few things since have stayed consistent (especially when it comes to both quality and continuity). After nearly two decades, we've had some excellent films (X2, Deadpool) and some not-so excellent films (X-Men Origins: Wolverine, X-Men: Apocalypse), as well as more in-universe reboots, retcons, and time-travel shenanigans than anyone could have predicted (X-Men: First Class, X-Men: Days of Future Past). Throughout all of these sequels and prequels and alternate timelines, there has been one constant in each and every X-film (with the exception of Deadpool); Hugh Jackman as Wolverine. For the past 17 years, Jackman has been the only actor to portray Logan on the big screen; he made the role his own and now, in Logan, he sets out to give the character the swan song he deserves in his final appearance as Wolverine.

The year is 2029 and mutants are all but extinct. The X-Men are a distant memory and Logan (Hugh Jackman) finds himself working as a chauffeur to support an ailing Professor Xavier (Patrick Stewart). The years haven't been kind to them; Logan's healing factor isn't what it used to be and Xavier is suffering from a degenerative brain disease (which, considering his telepathic abilities, makes things far more dangerous and complicated than one would hope). Their quest to escape persecution and live out their remaining days at sea is interrupted by the introduction of Laura (Dafne Keen), an 11-year old mutant who's on the run from the shadowy Transigen corporation. At Xavier's insistence, the three set off on a cross-country road trip to shepherd Laura to safety, all the while being pursued by Transigen's head of security, Pierce (Boyd Holbrook), and his team of Reavers.

This is the very definition of a multi-genre film. Naturally, it's a comic adaptation, and while it falls into the superhero genre, it's far more low-key than something like The Avengers. This is the story of a broken man learning how to be a hero once more, and the overall themes of sacrifice and redemption are core ideals of the superhero archetype. At the same time it's also a western, taking inspiration from classics like Shane and employing hefty doses of Johnny Cash music and iconography throughout. The dusty, southwestern landscapes give things a vaguely post-apocalyptic feeling, despite plenty of evidence to the contrary (Las Vegas is as popular as ever and limousine services are still in high demand); as far as Logan and the Professor are concerned, the world may as well have ended years ago. 

Director James Mangold also took inspiration from classic film noir and German expressionism, citing their similarity to comic book panels in terms of lighting and framing. As a result, we have an utterly gorgeous film that manages to leave a real visual imprint, and all without a single destroyed city or exploding setpiece. The action here is purely in service of the story and characters (rather than what will make for a good "wow" moment in the trailer), so every fight scene feels both necessary and incredibly visceral. Wolverine's most obvious superpower is built entirely around slashing and stabbing, and here we finally get to see that power at its goriest. Similarly, the stakes are far lower than your standard superhero fare. Like Deadpool, this is a film where the world isn't hanging in the balance; the conflict is far more personal, allowing us to form a more intimate connection to our protagonists. This is a film that isn't afraid to get close to its audience and sink its proverbial claws right into your heart.

It might sound like a laugh to call this a family road trip movie, but that's not an entirely inaccurate description. The X-Men series is very much about family; in Logan, we see Professor X and Wolverine coping with the loss of that dynamic. With the addition of Laura (who has never been able to experience life as a normal little girl), the three are able to come together and rediscover what it feels like to love and be loved. It's fitting how Logan, a film starring a character whose mutant power is regenerating from wounds, is thematically all about healing after past traumas. Logan, Xavier, and Laura all have their crosses to bear, and they gradually learn to make peace with themselves over the course of the film. It's a really excellent character study that doesn't miss a beat; I sometimes found myself surprised by just how invested I had become whenever the tension flared up. This is a movie that will make you feel things, especially if you're one for parent-child dynamics.

Of course, all of that emotion is thanks largely in-part to a stellar lineup of actors. The supporting cast members all do their jobs well (Holbrook is easy to root against and Stephen Merchant wields a surprising amount of dramatic energy as Caliban), but this movie is very clearly all about the main trio of Logan, Charles, and Laura. These three are so good that I really can't decide who I liked more. Hugh Jackman meant for this to be his swan-song as Wolverine, and I honestly can't think of a more fitting send-off for the role. As I mentioned, he's played the part for the past 17 years. In that time, he's completely captured every aspect of Logan's personality; both the tortured immortal and the feral beast. We've watched him portray this character for nearly two decades, and every ounce of emotion implied by that statement is visible in his performance. 

Meanwhile, Patrick Stewart takes the character of Charles Xavier in a very different direction. Normally the calm, collected voice of reason, we now see Xavier's age starting to get to him. His mind isn't what it once was and Logan is forced to assume the role of his primary caregiver, very much in the way that many adults are eventually forced to care for their elderly parents. Gone are the days when Charles Xavier owned and operated a school for gifted youngsters; now he needs physical assistance to use the bathroom and get into bed. It's a humbling portrayal of a character who acted as a mentor to generations; children who saw him command the X-Men in 2000 are now adults themselves. His is a situation that is all too real, and is sure to hit close to home for many (myself included). This is just as much of a send-off for Patrick Stewart as it is for Hugh Jackman, and I wholly believe this is something they can (and should) be proud of. That said, the standout of the main cast for me was newcomer Dafne Keen as Laura (better known to comic and fighting game aficionados as X-23). This is her film debut, yet she manages to match the intensity and emotion of Hugh Jackman and Patrick Stewart (who are both very much on their A-game here). That feat alone, I feel, is worthy of note; I hope to see her in more.

What else can I say about Logan? It's basically a perfect film. Plenty of condescending snobs will say things like "Logan is an excellent film, despite being a comic book movie" or "surprisingly, Logan manages to transcend its superhero trappings and deliver something of genuine quality". Not only are statements such as these unapologetically pretentious, they're also completely missing the point; Logan hits as hard as it does, not in spite of its comic book origins, but because of them. Had this film existed on its own with no X-Men franchise behind it, it would still be a well-made, well-acted movie. But the fact that this feels like a culmination of 17 years' worth of ups, downs, and blockbuster iconography (and manages to exceed all expectations to boot) adds a vital element that simply wouldn't exist, were this not part of a long-running superhero franchise. More to the point, Logan is proof that comic books can lead to films that amount to more than a series of expensive CGI laser beams being fired at a bland villain. This is proof that a superhero blockbuster need not rely on city-leveling climaxes and sneaky sequel teasers in order to make money and please an audience. Moreover, Logan is proof that, when a film is motivated by artistic vision rather than by revenue, movies about superhumans can end up being the most human stories of them all.

REVIEW: The Big Lebowski

The Big Lebowski is one of my favorite films of all time. I could watch it a million times over and discover something new with each viewing. It combines elements of comedies, mysteries, westerns, and film noir, while at the same time taking inspiration from the works of authors such as Raymond Chandler and Mark Twain. While it was hardly a runaway hit when it opened in March of 1998, the film has gone on to become a cult classic, the namesake for two different breeds of African spider, and the basis of an entire religion. Suffice to say, it's a masterpiece. Sit on back, crack open a good sarsaparilla, and allow me to explain why.

The movie begins in 1991 Los Angeles with a case of mistaken identity; after being accosted by two thugs, Jeffery "The Dude" Lebowski (Jeff Bridges, in the role he was born to play) seeks compensation from the other Jeffery Lebowski (the late David Huddelston), a crippled billionaire. It seems this Lebowski's young trophy wife, Bunny (Tara Reid), had accumulated a sizable debt with a porn producer/loan shark by the name of Jackie Treehorn (Ben Gazzara), and his goons attempted to collect from The Dude by mistake. Everything seems cut-and-dry until Lebowski contacts The Dude, informing him that Bunny has been kidnapped. The Big Lebowski enlists the help of The Dude (who in turn enlists the help of Walter and Donnie, his bowling teammates played by John Goodman and Steve Buscemi) to drop off the ransom; the plan goes swimmingly until Walter suggests they keep the money for themselves and give the kidnappers a decoy. What follows is a complex mystery filled with twists, turns, and revelations, all in the name of avenging a rug that really tied the room together.

This movie is a film analyst's dream. Every last detail, from the dialog to the sound effects to the music is handled with the utmost care. Notice how a ringing phone always heralds an important change. Or how the condition of The Dude's apartment and car gradually deteriorate as the film progresses and the situation becomes more convoluted and dire. Or even how the vast majority of the film's iconic conversations at the bowling alley are conveyed via long, uncut takes. The Dude is a simple guy with a simple quest, but this is a film with enough depth to warrant hours upon hours of dissection and discussion. It's a perfect choice to introduce someone to the concept of studying a film's aesthetic; a kind of artistic gateway drug. Once they start to recognize how much of an impact these subtle-yet-intentional touches can make on a film, they'll never look at the medium in quite the same way again.

On paper, it's merely the story of a fella who wants to get his rug back, but in truth, it's about much more. The film is a clear commentary on the societal differences between the upper class and the so-called lower class. As Sam Elliot informs us in the beginning, The Dude is unapologetically lazy; he's not currently employed and spends most of his time smoking weed and going bowling. However, despite his layabout lifestyle, The Dude is very much a positive figure. He's found a way to live his life in which he is both comfortable and in a position to harm no one. His is a mellow existence, going with the flow and bringing little aside from good times and positivity into the lives of his fellow man. On the flip side, we have the other Jeffery Lebowski; fabulously wealthy, but altogether incompetent. He's a self-absorbed stuffed shirt who looks down on people like The Dude, referring to the poor or unemployed as "bums". He's seldom anything but an antagonistic force for the entirety of the movie, hammering in the film's overall theme that it's not what you have that matters, but what you choose to do with what you've got.

Aside from all of that, the film is flat-out hilarious. It manages to be one of my favorite "film" films and one of my favorite comedies all at once. Bridges, Goodman, and Buscemi have amazing chemistry together; it's nigh impossible to picture their dialog as having originated on a script, given how naturally their discourse flows right off the rails. Whenever John Goodman opens his mouth, you know something amazing is going to come out; he's the most quotable character in this supremely quotable movie. As I write this, I'm looking at the "Nobody F*cks with the Jesus!" poster I've got hung above my door. I love every aspect of this movie and I want nothing more than to submerge myself in it, to see it everywhere I go. Every performance is notable, from the main cast, to comparatively smaller roles like Jeffery Lebowski's yes-man, Brandt (Philip Seymour Hoffman) and Jesus Quintana (a pederast and bowler played by John Turturro); everyone manages to leave an impression, no matter how big or small their role is. It's a movie with no real lows or weak links, everything's remarkably consistent quality-wise despite how eccentric the plot is.

In all honesty, what else can I possibly say about The Big Lebowski? What possible justice could I do it? It's one of my favorite movies of all time and, in my humble opinion, one of the best movies of all time. Though the story progression may come off as dauntingly absurd to some, there's honestly something for everyone to appreciate. It's a film that can be enjoyed as much as the viewer is willing to explore it, and I find that that's something both rare and special. This is a movie you could easily write an entire academic paper on (I would know, seeing as how I've done just that); at the same time, you could definitely just pop it in after a long day and lose yourself in the iconic bits of roundabout dialog (as I did tonight). It's a tremendously versatile piece of film. If you haven't seen it before, obviously, I recommend it. Give it a watch, and remember to take it easy. The Dude abides.

REVIEW: Zootopia

When I go see an animated film from the folks at the iconic Disney Animation Studios, I usually expect something of general quality. In the case of Zootopia, I figured I'd be getting a well-made, well-animated little flick with lots of fun jokes delivered by adorably expressive talking animals. Having seen the film, I can safely say that my expectations were met; however, nothing could have prepared me for the hefty dose of clever, even-handed, and above all topical social commentary that lay within. Below all the impressive art design and Shakira cameos, this is a film with a lot to say, and it gets it all across with subtlety, finesse, and class.

Judy Hopps (Ginnifer Goodwin) is a rookie police officer, the first bunny to ever make it onto the force, trying to make a positive impact in the bustling metropolis of Zootopia. After a string of cases involving mysteriously missing mammals spring up throughout the city, Judy teams up with Nick Wilde (Jason Bateman), a con-artist fox, in order to get to the bottom of what's causing the disappearances. At first glance, this is a standard underdog story with a dash of crime mystery; the cute, fuzzy bunny must prove her worth as a cop by solving the crime with her comically mismatched accomplice. However, it's around the end of the second act when the real meat of the story begins to fully present itself.

In the world of Zootopia, there are two kinds of animals who make up society; predators and prey. As explained in the opening of the film, there was once a time long ago when predators would viciously hunt and kill the prey animals as a food source. As time progressed, so had society; predators and prey now live more or less in harmony. They wear clothes, hold jobs, and build civilizations. Both classes of creature are, for all intents and purposes, equal. However, due to the ingrained unpleasantness of the past, there still remains a constant underlying societal tension between the two. Judy (a rabbit) is initially distrustful of Nick (a fox) simply because of his species. When she first walks into her new precinct, she has to explain to a fellow officer who calls her "cute" that, while it's okay for rabbits to call other rabbits cute, it's offensive when a non-rabbit uses that word. If anyone isn't quite getting it yet, I'll come right out with it; at its core, Zootopia is a film about race relations.

It's somewhat masterful how subtly this film lays the threads of this theme within its own plot; all throughout the movie, the dynamic between predators and prey is evident and called upon, sometimes as nothing more than a joke. It's only later on in the film that it reveals itself as being at the very core of the plot; when a number of animals seemingly turn feral and begin attacking their fellow Zootopians, the one connecting factor between all of the assailants is that they all happen to be predators such as panthers, tigers, and even otters. As disturbances continue, a cycle of equating correlation with causation results in widespread discrimination throughout the animal community. All of this is done in the least ham-handed way possible, mostly because our characters and story are so wholly engaging. It doesn't feel like a film attempting to feed you a moral, but rather a film telling a good story that happens to have a moral seamlessly woven within it.

As much as I adore the maturity and skill with which this film handles its subject matter, I must say that I was slightly surprised at how laid-back its sense of humor was. Not to say it's unfunny (one extremely subtle reference to Frozen had me chortling for a good minute), but it's definitely less jam-packed with jokes than I would have expected; it's a mystery first and a comedy second, but the humor that's there is rock-solid. It manages to bank heavily on referential humor (it's 2016 and children still apparently love it when cartoons spoof The Godfather) and still work, since it never quite resorts to "x scene from a different movie, but with animal puns". I suppose "smart" is a good way to describe this movie. Smart humor, smart plot, smart subtext. Not exactly full of bombastic action or wall-to-wall laughs, but a rewarding experience nonetheless.

Though we're only barely over two months into 2016, I feel confident in saying that Zootopia may turn out to be one of the best films of the year. While it's not the most high-energy entry into the realm of animation Disney has ever produced, it's easily one of the most clever and one of the most mature (in the "rewarding compliment from a parent or teacher" sense, not in the "contains naughty words and violence" sense). Ginnifer Goodwin and Jason Bateman have wonderfully layered chemistry together as Judy and Nick, helping cement this as one of the few Disney films I would love to see get a sequel somewhere down the line. If you need anymore proof that Disney Animation is entering a second renaissance after films like Wreck-It Ralph and Tangled, Zootopia should certainly help convince you.

REVIEW: Marvel's Jessica Jones

After the rousing success of Daredevil, Marvel Studios has finally released the second of their Netflix-exclusive series, Jessica Jones. Marvel has become a money-making powerhouse in recent years; they've captured our wallets, ingrained themselves in the public consciousness, and now have free reign to introduce projects centered around characters that have little mainstream recognition (such as Ant-Man and the upcoming Inhumans). Regardless of the quality of what the studio pumps out, it's essentially guaranteed money at this point, leaving people asking when this superhero bubble will pop. Eventually there will come a project that falls short and begins to reveal the cracks in the genre, bringing the Marvel money-making formula to a shuddering halt. It begs the question, is Jessica Jones that project? Was Daredevil merely lighting in a bottle? The answer, as I happily found out, is no on both accounts. This is a show that works just as well as Daredevil, all while establishing itself as its own unique entity, both among Marvel's Netflix lineup and the rest of the MCU.

The basic storyline of the season follows the titular Jessica Jones (Krysten Ritter), a hard-drinking, foul tempered, super-powered private investigator attempting to escape the demons of her past. After a seemingly ordinary case turns bad and a young woman is framed for murder, Jessica finds herself attempting to track down and capture the real perpetrator, a mysterious figure known as Kilgrave (David Tennant). Compared to Daredevil, Jessica Jones is decidedly less action-heavy; there are a good amount of fight scenes, but nothing anywhere close to the level of Daredevil's now-famous hallway fight. Underwhelming action aside, Jones more than makes up for it with a wholly compelling plot and genuinely interesting characters. Kilgrave is an antagonist with the ability to compel people to do as he says; this is a powerset much more suited to, say, The Avengers' rogue's gallery rather than a street-level bruiser and friends. His powers are just as dangerous as they sound and the show seems to revel in exploring all of the interesting ways a malcontent with such abilities would affect people in the modern day. For example, at one point in the series, several of his former playthings form a support group in which they try to readjust to life after serving as a puppet for an egotistical rapist. It's a show that pulls no punches when it comes to matters of story and subject matter.

This is also another one of those productions where the entire cast give excellent performances. Ritter is wonderfully gruff as Jessica, showing just how hard it can be to be a hero. She isn't rich, she isn't bulletproof, and she has no Avengers or SHIELD to back her up. She's strong enough to handle most of her problems, but is mostly lacking in defense, both for herself and those close to her. David Tennant seems to be having a blast as Kilgrave, channeling personified spite, desire, and greed. The best kind of villain is one that you can understand; while Kilgrave is an abhorrent human being, he represents feelings present in every single person, taken to the extreme. Everyone has always desired love or wealth or power in some way, Kilgrave is simply that raw desire given form. He's relatable in the most disquieting kind of ways, making him by far my favorite of the villains Marvel Studios has committed to screen so far.

In the supporting cast, we have Rachael Taylor as Trish "Patsy" Walker (better known to comic book readers as Hellcat), Jessica's closest (and arguably only) friend. Taylor provides an excellent, upbeat attitude to contrast against Ritter's sardonic murkiness without diverting into "irritating sidekick" territory. There's also Carrie-Anne Moss as Jeri Hogarth, a ruthless shark of a lawyer. While her subplot has very little to do with the overall story, I just loved watching this character on screen. She's a lying, cheating, manipulative person, yet I still wouldn't classify her as a "villain" per-say (at least not next to Kilgrave). Her scenes feel like something we'd never otherwise see in a Marvel production and Moss just gives an excellently despicable performance. There's also Jessica's various neighbors who get roped into her business by proximity and association (Eka Darville, Colby Minifie, and Kieran Mulcare); each of them is really excellent, providing interesting perspectives on metahuman conflicts (considering they themselves are normal, everyday people). Even with Minifie and Mulcare's obvious comedic relief, their characters are far from static or one-note, adding tons to the overall feeling of the show. This is a show where the only time I didn't care about a particular subplot or group of characters is because David Tennant hadn't shown up in a while; everyone here is excellent, but Tennant was easily my favorite.

That said, there was also another very significant character in the supporting cast; Power Man himself, Luke Cage (as played by Mike Coulter). Cage is the next Marvel hero scheduled to receive his own Netflix series sometime in 2016, and his appearance acted as a good introduction to the character. We know very little about him (he mentions offhand that his abilities were obtained in "an experiment"), but Coulter's performance is impressive enough to get anyone who isn't already excited for Luke Cage hooked in before the show premieres. 

If I have to criticize anything about Jessica Jones, I'd probably go with the pacing. Each episode is about an hour long, but feels more like it was written and paced as two half-hour episodes instead. There's some filler here and there and some plot points are swept under the rug with little explanation. It does an incredibly good job of building up a despicable, powerful antagonist and establishing tension and anticipation when it comes to facing him, only for the finale to come off as a little lackluster. Its strongest episodes definitely lie in the middle-end of the season, as the series takes some time to set everything up and find its legs. Once Kilgrave becomes a regular player, things really pick up, considering he is arguably the most interesting character in the entire thing (thanks in no small part to the fantastic amount of gravitas his character is treated with, especially early on).

While it isn't perfect, Jessica Jones is yet another well-crafted Marvel Studios production. Despite the action being a tad lacking and episodes containing some degree of fluff, the tone, performances, and cinematography are all simply excellent and a good load of fun to witness. There are themes here which you won't find in many other superhero movies or shows and Marvel continues to grow and explore the already impressive world they've built on screen. If you're a Marvel fanatic or are just looking for a good, compelling detective-noir style program, I definitely think you owe it to yourself to give Jessica Jones a watch.