2017 End of the Year Retrospective Extravaganza!

365 days later (give or take a week or so) and here we are once again. The new year is, traditionally speaking, a time when we look back and reflect on what we've accomplished. A time of hellacious binge-drinking and brutal hangovers, of ill-fated gym memberships that collect dust after the first week and celebrity death pools that are never quite as entertaining as they seem on New Year's Day. And naturally, if you're anything like me, the new year is the time when everyone comes together to fight it out over which movies represented the best (or worst) the past year had to offer. 

If I'm being real, I feel like 2017 was a pretty damn good year for movies (despite a few obvious low-points); there was certainly a lot to talk about in the realm of cinema, so before I get to my rankings, I think it'd be best to reiterate some ground rules:

• I don't get paid to do this blog. It's purely a hobby of mine and a lack of both time and finances prevents me from seeing everything that comes out in a given year. By no means should you expect anything professional or definitive; the opinions expressed here are purely my own, so take them with how ever many grains of salt suits your fancy.
• Not every movie I discuss here has to have come out in 2017; this is a look back on my year, specifically on the movies I watched in 2017.
• I'm only featuring things I've watched for the first time. That means nothing like Spectacular Spider-Man or Prince of Egypt (though they may receive an Honorable Mention at the end).

So without further ado, let's get right to it!

The Haruo Nakajima Award for Most Fun Monster Movies I Watched in 2017

We lost a lot of talented people in 2017, one of the most underrated being Haruo Nakajima, the original suit actor for the Godzilla movies (as well as countless other kaiju films of the 50's, 60's, and 70's). However, we also got two tremendously enjoyable giant monster movies this past year in the form of Shin Godzilla and Kong: Skull Island. It does my heart good to see these kinds of larger-than-life creature features making a comeback in such a big way, especially when they're done with so much care. Shin Godzilla was a stellar return to form for the king of the monsters, yet it still managed to innovate in so many important ways. It's not often that my reaction to the last shot of a movie is "WAIT, WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?", but I sure wish it would happen more often. Meanwhile, Kong: Skull Island was simply a blast, a monster romp that knew exactly what it wanted to be and exactly what it wanted to do. Inspired by everything from Apocalypse Now to Princess Mononoke, it's a prime example of how much a little care, effort, and imagination can bolster a project that, in less passionate hands, could have turned out totally unremarkable. I feel like these movies didn't really set the world on fire with mainstream audiences, but they both represent the kind of commitment to vision that I'd like to see out of more big-budget blockbusters moving forward.

The Spooky-Scary Award for Best Horror I Watched All Year

Horror is, without question, easily one of my favorite genres. Rarely do I find a pair of horror films (back-to-back, no less) of such quality as The VVitch and Get Out. These are two of my absolute favorite films I watched this entire year, films that I plan to enthusiastically revisit time and time again in the future. The VVitch is a positively stunning effort for a first-time director. Low-key and slowly paced, it's not exactly in line with the majority of modern horror films. Jump scares and obnoxious musical stings are replaced with a genuine atmosphere of creeping, natural dread that stuck with me well after the credits stopped rolling. Make no mistake, this is a masterpiece in the same league as The Shining and The Exorcist, and I honestly have no idea how Robert Eggers expects to top it (though he has my sympathies). Get Out, meanwhile, definitely errs more on the side of satire and outright comedy than pure horror, but it was still a very clever, well-crafted, and effective film. Jordan Peele's sense of subtlety and foreshadowing is the rich glue that makes this film such a blast (especially on repeat viewings). It feels like a loving throwback to things like The Twilight Zone and They Live, wrapped up in an eternally topical bundle of modern sensibilities. I simply can't recommend either of these enough; they represent so many of the things I love about the horror genre and I hope to see more from both Eggers and Peele in the future.

The Awesome Mix Award for Best Use of Established Music in 2017

After the first Guardians of the Galaxy took the box office by storm with its "bombastic action sequences set to pop music" approach back in the summer of 2014, it seems like every blockbuster under the sun is out to give it a try (though some are far less successful than others). Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 and Baby Driver show how to use this stylistic trick the right way. Anyone can slap a popular song over a given sequence without any finesse or nuance, but that doesn't mean it'll work. Why was Fortunate Son playing when we were introduced to Killer Croc? Was the implication that he served in Vietnam? When music is added to a sequence with no rhyme or reason, it comes off as totally shallow; as though the filmmakers are banking on the audience dully exclaiming "HEY, I KNOW THAT SONG" before declaring it the best movie of the year. Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 and Baby Driver are two films that make it extremely evident that a lot of care and discretion was used when making selections for the soundtrack. The Brandy sequence in Guardians (between Kurt Russell and Chris Pratt) is the first breadcrumb James Gunn gives us, illustrating the parallels between the soundtrack and the events of the plot. After some investigation, the true genius of the film begins to reveal itself (such as how the opening sequence, set to ELO's Mr. Blue Sky, foreshadows the climax). Meanwhile, the visual flair Edgar Wright uses in tandem with the sound design of Baby Driver is just something to behold; watch the opening sequence a few times and see if you can't pick up on all the extraordinarily subtle details in the background and dialog (spoiler alert, it's going to take a good couple viewings to even spot most of them). These are two films that take what many use as nothing more than a cheap gimmick and turn it into a multi-sensory experience; when filmmakers put this kind of thought, care, and hard work into these subtle details, the end result is all the more satisfying to watch. Take note, this is how it's done.

The Hugh Mungous Award for Most Pointless Controversy

I'd hoped we could leave all the endless internet slap-fighting over garbage that doesn't matter in 2016 with the bombed-out corpse of the Ghostbusters remake, but alas, 2017 was no stranger to pointless controversy and squabbling either. Despite enjoying Patty Jenkins' sincere take on an iconic superhero with Wonder Woman, the lead-up to the film's release was so intolerable that I actually added "wonder woman" to my list of blocked keywords on Twitter. First we had complaints about Gal Gadot's hairless armpits and the news that the Alamo Drafthouse planned to host woman-only screenings during the opening weekend. We saw Wonder Woman symbolically inducted into the UN as an ambassador for peace and women's rights, only to have that title revoked for being conventionally-attractive and white. Then the film came out and we had to endure the sour grapes of countless critics who championed Wonder Woman as the most important film of 2017, only to find themselves disappointed by the heterosexual romance and lack of misandry. It was an absolute mess; all of this anger and vitriol over a totally okay superhero movie marketed to children. Similarly, we have the eternally divisive fan reactions to Star Wars: The Last Jedi. Some fans proudly declared "NOT MUH LUKE" and labelled the film as (somehow) worse than the prequels. Others displayed such a fanatical devotion to this flawed, messy sequel that it's a wonder Jedi haven't emerged as a real-world extremist group. Either you're a Disney shill who's been paid off by the Mouse, or you're an unapologetic racist who "just didn't get it". Both sides are pathetic, both sides are wrong, both sides need to stay in 2017, because I will be damned if I have to go through this all again when Black Panther comes out next month.

The Poochy Award for Plot Points 

That Died on the Way Back to Their Home Planets

One of the biggest problems with building films around the framework of a cinematic universe is the danger that not every detail will eventually carry over into anything that matters. We watched Age of Ultron all but ignore the character development present in Iron Man 3 and Captain American: The Winter Soldier; this is the price of attempting to tell a long-form narrative between dozens of different creative teams, generating a clash between studio direction and artistic intent. Sometimes, however, it's not entirely the studio's fault. Sometimes a a bad idea is just a bad idea; such is the case with Spider-Man Homecoming's Michelle (played by Zendaya). This character almost made Homecoming a shoe-in for Most Pointless Controversy, but it just missed out for the simple fact that, in 10 years, I'm willing to bet people will still be arguing about The Last Jedi; not a soul will have anything to say about the character of Michelle. She was used exclusively to drum up clickbait drama before the release of the film, only to amount to barely more than nothing. We get a quick gag in which she mentions that her friends call her "MJ" and that's it. Based off of Kevin Feige's explanation, I wouldn't be surprised if this character was nothing more than a stress test to see what the studio could get away with from a stunt-marketing standpoint. Michelle was hardly the breakout star of Homecoming, so I doubt we'll be seeing "MJ" in any kind of major capacity down the line (especially since Gwen Stacy has already been confirmed for the sequel). On the other hand, we have Justice League. As in, all of it. The entirety of Justice League is, as far as I'm concerned, dead-on-arrival at this point, it's absolutely pitiful how little public faith WB appears to have in their own franchise. We can't officially declare it until Aquaman comes out (since that's been in active production for a while), but the writing is on the wall. The days of the DCEU (at least, in its current iteration) are numbered. With the Flashpoint movie around the corner, I wouldn't be surprised if major parts of this cinematic universe are retconned out of existence, with a number of major roles recast in favor of actors who are much less expensive and emotionally broken than Ben Affleck (and that's assuming WB doesn't just cut their losses and reboot the entire miserable mess a few years from now).

The Unpoppable Bubble Award for Best Superhero Stuff of 2017

On a more positive (yet still superhero-themed) note, we have my absolute favorite comic book films to come out in 2017, Logan and Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2. Tonal opposites, perhaps, but these are the two superhero movies that, I feel, exemplify that the genre still has more to offer beyond firing blue beams into the sky. I never thought I would be one of those suffering from superhero fatigue, yet here we are. My excitement for Infinity War, a film I've literally been waiting a decade for, is lukewarm at best. I didn't even bother watching The Defenders. Hell, I didn't even bother watching The Punisher. I haven't even seen the trailer for season 2 of Jessica Jones. It's all just becoming too much, we've eaten so much delicious Marvel-branded candy that we've become sick of it. It dawned on me around the time I saw Baby Driver that it was the first film I had seen in the theaters in 2017 that wasn't a comic book adaptation, a sequel, or a sequel to a comic book adaptation. But whenever the looming death of cinema gets me down, I take comfort in knowing that all is not lost; we can still get genuinely effective, well-made films out of this blockbuster fad. Both Logan and Guardians made enough of an emotional impact on me that I still think about them to this day. If you're like me and harbor the occasional fear that the MCU is slowly revealing itself as the outcome of a monkey's paw wish, give these two a look. There are still stories to be told, but it takes a talented filmmaker (like James Gunn and James Mangold) to make them into stories worth telling.

The Bill Finger (Not Bob Kane) Award for 

the Only Good Film of 2017 to Feature Batman

This is the only category on this Retrospective with only one winner, simply because I find it so insane that, out of all of the DC movies featuring Batman to come out in 2017, the best one was the animated comedy where the caped crusader is portrayed by a plastic building toy and voiced by Gob from Arrested Development. The LEGO Batman Movie is many things. It's a heartwarming family film, a hilarious comedy, and a gorgeously-put-together display of computer animation. Above all else, it's also the best portrayal of Batman and pals since The Dark Knight. There's something about that fact that I find hilarious in a cosmic sort of way. If you went back in time to 2007 and told everyone "ten years from now, a movie about Batman LEGO sets is going to be way better than a movie about the Justice League", not a soul would believe you. Hell, they probably wouldn't believe that a LEGO Batman movie would even exist. Yet here we are. It's a grand old time and, aside from most of the first two acts of Wonder Woman, it was the only bit of mercy WB decided to show us DC fans in 2017. Here's hoping with Aquaman and Batman Ninja coming out later this year that 2018 is a damn sight better.

The Martyr Award for the Worst Things I Made Myself Watch This Year

You know, this was supposed to be fun. When I put this blog together, I thought "huh, well if I only watch stuff that looks interesting, there'll be way too many positive reviews, and things will get boring, so I should watch some really terrible stuff every month, just to mix it up!" What an idealistic fool I was. But now it's tradition, so I can't escape it. I bet you thought Ivan the Incredible was gonna be here, didn't you? Surprise, for as horrid as that was, at least there was a sort of mean-spirited entertainment one could get out of it. It wasn't a good trip by any means, but man was it a trip. Dragonball: Evolution and Jurassic School, on the other hand, represent everything I hate to see in film. There's something to be said in defense of movies that are so bad they're good (more on that later), but I can't abide laziness. Both of these are just such boring, bland, cynical cash-grabs; if I had to say anything nice about either of them, I feel like Dragonball has the potential to be a blast with the proper company and potent enough refreshments. Jurassic School is just hopeless, such a gross scam of a movie that it actually makes me angry. This blog is something I look forward to making each week, but it's movies like these that really put me through my paces, so I guess I've at least got that to be grateful for.

The "And I've Got the Ticket Stubs to Prove It" Award for Worst Movies of 2017

Like I said at the start of all this, 2017 was (all things considered) a damn good year for movies. That said, even the best year isn't exempt from its low points; and my God, where these some low points. Alien: Covenant is the latest in the exciting saga of me gradually losing any and all faith in Ridley Scott as a filmmaker. It feels like Scott only learned the most superficial of lessons from Prometheus; RedLetterMedia wants to know what the black goo was? Let us explain! People were upset there was no xenomorph? Here's the cheapest-looking, least exciting xenomorph in the history of the franchise for exactly the last 20 minutes of the film! Everyone says the scientists acted like idiots? Well now they're not scientists anymore, so they can be as stupid, shortsighted, and incompetent as the plot requires! It's seriously an insultingly stupid movie; it doesn't feel as insufferably full of itself as Prometheus and Michael Fassbender continues to prove himself one of the finest actors of our time, but there's only so much that can be done to salvage such a broken concept. And there's still two more sequels on the way. Meanwhile, we also have DC making their second-annual appearance in the Worst Of category with Batman and Harley Quinn, an animated abomination so heinous that I had to get a buzz going just to finish it. I honestly feel bad about lumping Covenant in with something as horrendous as Batman and Harley Quinn; there's a fair power gap between the two. At least Covenant, braindead as it is, has a handful of decent ideas that it occasionally executes in a serviceable way; that's infinitely more than I can say about Batman and Harley Quinn. To be totally transparent, the title of this category is a bit of a misnomer, in that I didn't even pay to watch Batman and Harley Quinn. Despite this, I still want my money back. It's bad.

The "So-Bad-It's-Good" Award for Guiltiest Pleasure of the Year

There's something really special about finding a movie that's legitimately worthy of the title "so bad it's good". You can't get that kind of magic with a movie that goes out of its way to be bad; if it's sincere and it's entertaining, the end result is often something sincerely entertaining. I was so surprised to see just how many people behind Netflix's westernized adaptation of Death Note legitimately believed in it; the idea of taking a famous anime property and setting it in an American high school is riddled with red flags for a reason (just ask Dragonball: Evolution). But the end result is something so hilariously entertaining, I just can't hate it. It's got everything one could want; an interesting concept wasted on a nonsensical story, laughably over-the-top performances (complete with melodramatic monologues), absurd choices in music, and Willem DaFoe. Death Note may have been the film I recommended most to people in 2017 and I'm not even joking; that's how funny it is. Meanwhile, we have another film that I did not expect to enjoy as much as I did. This one came right at the end of the year when I was positively swamped with Reviews, so it didn't get it's own blog post. Here's the jist of Fate of the Furious, the first Fast and The Furious film I've ever seen; Vin Diesel starts committing crimes for Charlize Theron and Tormund Giantsbane with his car, so Kurt Russell recruits The Rock and pals to use their cars to capture Vin Diesel, but his car is better than their cars. Then we get to the climax, where Charlize Theron (in her blonde dreads) remotely pilots a nuclear submarine while Jason Statham rescues a baby from a private jet and The Rock kicks a torpedo into a car full of Russian soldiers. It's insane. I could criticize the cheesy performances, or the over-the-top plot, or the action setpieces that took my suspension of disbelief, curbstomped it, and dissolved the corpse in a vat of quicklime. I could do any number of those things, but I'd just be shouting into the void. This movie knows exactly what it wants to be and doesn't care what anyone has to say about it, and that's why I absolutely goddamn loved it. I'll admit, I was hesitant to watch this at first, but by the time the credits rolled, I wanted to give it a standing ovation for being one of the most unironically entertaining things I had ever seen in my entire life. I get it now. It's about family.

The Business/Pleasure Award for Favorite Movies I Watched for This Blog

and

The Rock and Rule Award for Underrated Animation

Take anyone who says "animation is for children" and show them these two films. Kubo and the Two Strings remains my deepest regret of 2016; rather than paying to see Kubo in theaters, I saw... another movie, and it's haunted me ever since. I can only hope that I'm able to make amends by never, ever shutting up about how spellbindingly brilliant this movie is. The geniuses at Laika continue to demonstrate why they are the name in modern stop-motion; the amount of blood, sweat, and tears that went into making something like Kubo is the stuff of Renaissance-era legend. I don't want to gush too much over the animation, lest I give the impression that visuals are all Kubo has to offer. There's some films where I want to boil them down to their sheer essence, the artistry and effort and imagination that gave it being, and inject it into my veins; Kubo is one such film. We also have Wizards, from animation legend Ralph Bakshi. This is the film that really sparked an interest in 70's animation for me. While it may be too obtuse for some, I was hooked on its incredible art design and insanely original story right from the get-go. There's so much to dissect and explore with Wizards; it's a movie that doesn't start to show its full hand until the viewer cares enough to take a look for themselves, and that's something that I treasure (whenever I'm lucky enough to find it).

The Best of the Year Award for Best Movies of 2017

As if there was any doubt how this was gonna turn out. I apologize if anyone is disappointed that my Best of 2017 picks are two films already featured in the Retrospective, but come on now. Logan is, without question, my favorite film of 2017 (hell, it's my favorite film of the past several years). It took nearly 20 years of superhero iconography and used it as a jumping-off point to tell a story that was small in scope, yet with incredible emotional weight to it. It's just perfect. The culmination of Logan's journey after all this time, the conflict between the hero he was built up to be and the weapon he never wanted to become. His relationship with Xavier and the Professor's struggle against the steady march of time. The mutual fatigue of these two main characters, their temptation to just give up and die, and the fleeting hope that helping Laura could be the last good thing either has a chance to do. It's all just so perfect. The more I think about it, the more I fall in love with it. Baby Driver, conversely, takes the silver medal this year, which is nothing to be ashamed of by any means. True, I had my nitpicks with the story (and it's tragic that such an excellent film will always have to be associated with Kevin Spacey), but at the end of the day, Baby Driver is pure art. Edgar Wright continues to prove himself as one of the most talented directors of our time, instilling all of his movies with a distinct comedic flair and attention to detail, managing to mix scenery, music, humor, drama, and action in such a stylish, seamless, yet altogether human fashion that you might as well just say it's magic and call it a day. These were my two favorite films of 2017; if 2018 has anything to offer that even comes close to these two, then we've definitely got something to look forward to in the new year.

So without further ado...

Thank you. Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you all so much for stopping by each week. I seriously can't properly articulate how surreal and wonderful it feels whenever anyone tells me that they read what I write on this blog, and I don't think I'm ever going to get used to it. 2017 has been a big year from me; I graduated college, got a new job, and started working towards a Master's Degree. There's been a lot of changes and there have been times where the transition has hardly been smooth; I missed more deadlines this past year than I would like to admit, yet you all stuck with me through thick and thin. In 2017 alone, Jurassic Mark has received nearly 100 Thousand page views. At this time last year, we were right around 8,000 total. Again, I can't properly articulate how that makes me feel, so I'll simply say this.

Honestly, sincerely, from the bottom of my heart; thank you for reading.

And here's wishing you and yours a happy, safe, prosperous 2018!

And like always, here's a list of Honorable Mentions that just didn't make the cut for one reason or another: The Disaster Artist, Over the Garden Wall, Dunkirk, The Spectacular Spider-Man, Tarzan, Clue, The Prince of Egypt, Pete's Dragon (2016), The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974), and Fargo.

REVIEW: It (2017)

As I've said before, modern horror seems to be in something of a rut. For the past decade (starting noticeably with the release and success of Paranormal Activity), it seems as though the majority of recent horror films tend to focus on delivering nothing more than predictable jump-scares to a PG-13 audience. The market is oversaturated with small-budget event films that offer very little in the way of plot or ingenuity, designed to appeal to middle-schoolers getting dropped off at the local cinema for their first big date-night. I can't exactly fault studios for exploiting this marketing model; the teenage spook-show has been a time-tested venture since the 1950's. Films like Annabelle Creation and Lights Out go on to gross upwards of twenty-times their modest budgets, so it's understandable why the market seems so flooded with these types of horror films; if it ain't broke, don't innovate, after all. 

That said, it's still disappointing that we've entered an age of film without any monsters. Sure, there's generic ghosts and demons, but there's no personality or character to it anymore. This is a generation without a Freddy Kreuger, a Jason Voorhees, or even a Chucky. Sure, occasionally you'll get a nice, low-concept horror film like Get Out, or even something like The Conjuring or Insidious (which manages to tell an interesting story despite being littered with popcorn-flinging jump scares), but for each of these films you have at least a dozen generic, toothless "upper-middle class family moves into suburban house, haunting ensues" projects designed to turn a $4 million budget into a $200 million profit. Which is why I was so excited for a new adaptation of Stephen King's iconic novel, It. As messy as the source material can be at times, the story is anything but generic or simplistic; it explores themes such as maturation and the loss of innocence, involves Lovecraftian cosmic entities from parallel dimensions, and is all tied together by the OG killer clown, Pennywise (once iconically portrayed by the immortal Tim Curry). Not to mention, this was promised to be a hard-R horror movie that stuck closer to the novel than the campy 90's made-for-TV miniseries. I went into the theater with high hopes and, while It most definitely has a host of flaws, I still found myself more or less satisfied with what I had seen.

The original novel tells the story of a gang of misfits who twice encounter a demonic entity known only as It; once as children, and again as adults, 27 years later. This particular adaptation exclusively follows the former part of the story (with the adult section to take place in the planned sequel). It is a notoriously dense book, so whereas dividing a novel into multiple films usually reads like a blatant cash-grab (I'm looking in your direction, The Hobbit), here it feels entirely justified and definitely works in the film's favor. The story takes place in the town of Derry, Maine in the year 1989 (updated from the novel's setting of 1958) as we follow a group of plucky youths known as The Losers Club; over the course of the summer, each child shares a terrifying encounter with the same supernatural being (usually taking the form of a dancing clown named Pennywise, played by Bill Skarsgård). Coming to the conclusion that the entity is responsible for the long history of annual tragedies in their sleepy hometown (most-recently a string of missing and murdered children), the Losers decide to take a stand and confront the darkness which lies at the heart of Derry, facing their deepest fears in the process.

While I don't think this film is by any means perfect or mind-blowing, there's definitely a lot it gets right, namely in terms of tone and character interactions. This is, oddly enough, a very feel-good horror movie; I hesitate to even call it a horror film at all, considering there's so little about it that is genuinely scary. The film moreso excels at establishing a very strong sense of atmosphere and tension which, unfortunately never leads to a payoff as strong as the buildup. There's a very foreboding, oppressive atmosphere that the film really gets down perfectly, yet things never feel overly depressing or outright unpleasant for the sake of unpleasantness or shock value. There is considerable darkness here, yes, but it's all overcome through the power of courage and friendship. We aren't left feeling like the film flipped us a sardonic middle finger as with Alien: Covenant; the Losers are all likeable, endearing characters and we all want to see them overcome the oppressive fear that permeates so much of their day-to-day lives.

It can also be quite tricky when the majority of your cast is composed of child actors, but the talent at play here completely makes this movie. The dialog doesn't shy away from prepubescent vulgarity and it all flows very naturally, thanks both in part to the talented writing staff (Chase Palmer, Cary Fukunaga, and Gary Dauberman) and the talented group of child actors the filmmakers had assembled to portray the Losers (Jaeden Lieberher, Jeremy Ray Taylor, Sophia Lillis, Chosen Jacobs, Jack Dylan Grazer, Wyatt Olef, and Stranger Things' Finn Wolfhard). They really come off like a group of friends hanging out during the summertime, even when forced to band together to destroy a trans-dimensional clown creature. Which brings me to, arguably, the star of the show; Bill Skarsgård as Pennywise, the dancing clown.

When you've got a role as iconic as Pennywise (especially when said character is famously portrayed by an actor as beloved as Tim Curry), it's obvious that arguments are going to spring up as to who's portrayal of the character is the definitive version. I'm going to put that entire debate to bed right now with an unsurprisingly anticlimactic answer; they're both good. First of all, we haven't seen the entirety of Skarsgård's take on the clown, considering this is only the first half of a greater whole. But even ignoring that and simply going off of what we've already got, it's hard to say who truly had the better take on the titular monster. Curry had a certain whimsy to his performance that isn't really present in the more modern take; Skarsgård's Pennywise is overtly threatening, whereas Curry's was silly on the surface with something sinister lurking underneath. Conversely, Curry's take was very much limited by the 1990's television budget they were working with; while Curry's Pennywise shows a greater range of emotion, Skarsgård's is far easier to take seriously as a legitimate threat. Where each interpretation of the character is weaker, the other is stronger; at the end of the day, they're two very different takes on the same character and any question of who is better than who simply boils down to personal taste. For my money, Skarsgård did an excellent job, especially in regards to the physicality and screen presence he brought to the role; while I can't in good faith say he'll eclipse Tim Curry anytime soon in the eyes of the public, his is most definitely a respectable and original interpretation.

I also have to compliment the cinematography; in conjunction with the tone, dialog, and performances, this film creates a number of memorable moments and images that are still seared into my head. There's a lot of detail in terms of set design and dynamic camera angles that really adds a lot to the film as a whole and I simply must praise everyone involved for not going full "80's nostalgia" with this. There's a few out-of-focus movie posters, a handfull of New Kids on the Block jokes, and a reference or two to Street Fighter; other than that, the film deftly avoids that modern pitfall of confusing references to 80's iconography with actual story development (ironically enough, I got a trailer for Ready Player One before the movie began). Overall, the film presents an organic and immersive atmosphere that really ropes the viewer in; it's easy to care about these characters and the mission they undertake, and the visuals are a big part of what make this movie as good as it is. Unfortunately, I can't say as much for the sound design. 

As I mentioned before, despite this being a reboot of the film that gave so many 90's kids a severe case of coulrophobia, this just isn't a very scary film. Tense, yes, but far from terrifying. The scares lack any and all subtlety (take a shot every time you hear that obnoxious "HEHSHENNKH!!!" sound during a jump-scare, double up if it's with that same shot of a befanged Pennywise lunching at the camera) and a little restraint (especially in the audio department) would have gone a long way in terms of complimenting the existing air of dread and suspense. It feels as if everything has to be big, loud, and bombastic, simply because this is a big-budget theatrical release; for example, the scene in which Beverly Marsh's bathroom sink erupts into a comical geyser of blood. While the buildup is solid (and the red-tinted lighting that follows is a nice artistic touch), all of the tension leading up to this moment is entirely done away with (and that's ignoring how this scene is one of the majority of scares which was spoiled through various promotional materials). And that's truly the biggest problem with this movie; the payoff never lives up to the buildup.

Don't misunderstand me; the rising action here is rock-solid. The buildup will have you on the edge of your seat, waiting for something terrifying to happen. However, once that terrifying thing actually does happen, it immediately stops being scary. The most chilling scene involves a character simply flipping through an old history book; there's no jump scare or obnoxious sound sting, just good old fashioned tension and atmosphere. When the film works, it truly works, but the majority of scares feel like a terrifyingly-long climb to the top of a rollercoaster, only for the car to drop about ten feet before slowly returning to the station. Horror demands a certain rhythm; just like comedy, timing is everything. It displays masterful skill when it comes to setup, but the punchline falls flat nearly every time. It's this sense of unbalance that causes the majority of the film's primary hiccups. 

It, as a villain, is tremendously interesting, yet it feels like we hardly get to see him; whenever we do, he's interrupting the vastly more engaging character interactions of the Loser's Club. There's a strong sense of mystery, which is good, but it's also easy to feel a little cheated when we're given so little of what is clearly an imaginative, charismatic, well-acted antagonist. Conversely, all of the Losers are well-acted and likeable, but several of them definitely get the short end of the stick when it comes to character development (Chosen Jacobs' Mike Hanlon disappears for a good twenty minutes during the first act and Wyatt Olef's Stan Uris gets hardly an ounce of the development his peers receive, which is troubling, considering the role his character is presumably going to play in Chapter 2). There's also a severe dip during the second act in terms of pacing; the first and final acts are by far the most engaging parts of the film. Once the film falls into a pattern of "Losers scene, Pennywise scene, Losers scene, Pennywise scene", the movie slows to a crawl despite each of these scenes being more or less enjoyable in their own right.

Don't get me wrong, I very much enjoyed this movie, but there's definitely a lot of room for improvement. It's clear that this is meant to be watched back-to-back with the eventual follow-up, but on its own it feels a little lacking in some regards. My hope is that the filmmakers can learn from the mistakes and missteps present in It, so that Part 2 can become the kind of sequel that retroactively improves its predecessor (such as the case with the first two Insidious films). All that said, I would definitely recommend It; it's definitely got its flaws, but there's certainly a lot to like (heck, there's a lot to love). If you're a fan of Stephen King or the original 1990 miniseries, or if you're like me and just long for the kind of chilling monster movies we'd see before found footage was deemed the most cost-effective option, definitely give It a watch. It's got loads of atmosphere and enough heart to match, which is more than I can say for the vast majority of horror films we see today; there was clearly a lot of love and artistic elbow-grease put into what could have been a sloppy nostalgia-job, and for that much at least I have to give it some kudos.

REVIEW: Pete's Dragon (2016)

Despite how much I loved the recent remake of The Jungle Book, I think it's safe to say that Disney's modern trend of remaking their classic films is getting to be a bit stale. Part of why that movie worked out so well, I think, is because the original film is somewhat less-than-remarkable. If you ask someone what their favorite Disney movie is, chances are they won't say "the original version of The Jungle Book". Movies like Beauty and the Beast and Mulan and even Sleeping Beauty still hold up to this day; the Disney brand is dripping with the iconography of these films for a reason. They're classics, so unless you're going to stray drastically from the original material (and if you're banking on the original film's status as an acclaimed classic, why would you?) there's no real point in re-making them. If the source material is less popular, however, a whole new world of creative potential opens up. Case-in-point, last year's remake of Pete's Dragon. The original film was one of many live-action musicals Disney released in the 60's and 70's in an attempt to recapture the magic of Mary Poppins; all it really has going for it in terms of legacy is some fun animation, a few decent songs, and an iconic float in the Main Street Electrical Parade. I recall picking it up as a kid because of the cartoon dragon on the front, only to discover the dragon spent most of the movie invisible in order to save money on animation. It's a film that few people feel especially passionate about, which makes it a perfectly acceptable candidate for reinterpretation. 

Set in 1977, the story begins with a family driving into the mountains on vacation. After swerving to avoid a deer, the car flips and goes off the road, leaving a young boy named Pete (Oakes Fegley) the only survivor. Scared and alone, he wanders the woods before coming across a giant, friendly dragon (with vocals provided by John Kassir). Six years go by and the two live happily together in the forest until Pete is discovered during a logging operation. He ends up in the care of a park ranger (Bryce Dallas Howard) while a group of loggers comb the woods in search of the dragon (now named Elliot); what follows is a surprisingly low-key, reserved tale of Pete struggling to come to terms with where he belongs. It's a story about friendship and family and the responsibilities that come with loving someone (or something).

For me the most striking thing about this movie was its tone. One might expect a movie about a boy and his dragon to be chock-full of fantastical adventure; imagine my surprise when this turned out to be a movie that put much more emphasis on character drama. The implications of a little orphaned boy living away from society for six years is played totally straight, as is the reality that this boy was living alongside a fire-breathing dragon. Despite its fantasy trimming, this is very much a film that is meant to take place in the real world. It's one of those rare films that doesn't talk down to its intended audience. Sure, there are plenty of cute moments where Pete and Elliot romp through the woods, but the subject matter tends to get surprisingly heavy in some places. I imagine the opening sequence in particular must have sent several angry moms and bawling toddlers back to the lobby in search of a refund. I wouldn't exactly describe the places this movie goes to as "dark", but "dreary" definitely seems like an appropriate term.

While I certainly don't think such a subversive tone a bad thing (honestly, it's the reason I enjoy and respect this movie as much as I do), I can't help but feel that Pete's Dragon will miss the mark for its target audience. I enjoyed it immensely, but there were a number of times I openly thought "if I was a kid, I'd be bored to tears right now". That's not to say that every kid will dislike this, but anyone looking for an upbeat adventure about a magic dragon will be disappointed. The pacing is especially slow, Elliot barely appears in the second act, and there's little to no action until the climax. Again, none of these are outright negatives, but they're definitely things to consider when recommending this movie. If you're in the mood for a more traditional Disney film, this certainly isn't it.

The cast is quite good, made up of talented actors who all play their parts well. Oakes Fegley gives a performance that is surprisingly easy to take seriously and Bryce Dallas Howard injects a good amount of motherly emotion into her part. Robert Redford is beyond charming as Howard's elderly father and I really loved Karl Urban as a lumberjack who becomes obsessed with capturing Elliot. He plays the role entirely straight, even when shouting lines like "FOLLOW THAT DRAGON!" and I really appreciated how he turned out to not be the same flat, greedy stereotype we've seen a million times before. The CGI on Elliot is quite good, as the green of his fur meshes well with the surrounding forests. This is a creature who comes off as appropriately charming and fantastical, while not clashing too cartoonishly against our real actors. All in all, this is a very verdant movie, sure to have anyone who watches it feeling the urge to go hit the hiking trails in search of adventure.

I really must commend the film's director, David Lowery. While so many of these remakes seem to have absolutely no ambition beyond "retell the animated story with five additional minutes of original content", this is a film that actively takes some risks in terms of its story and presentation. I'll be honest, when I first saw the trailer for this, I assumed it wouldn't be anything special; the idea of a gritty reboot for Pete's Dragon seemed downright laughable, but sure if this movie didn't prove me wrong. I can understand the logic behind all these reboots; if kids are still buying merchandise for a film that came out in the early 90's, why not try and squeeze a little more milk from that proverbial cow? But it wasn't that long ago that the market was flooded with superfluous straight-to-video sequels of famous Disney films (with Cinderella 3: A Twist in Time somehow being one of the best). It cheapened the brand and the studio only started to get back on track when John Lasseter took over Disney Animation in 2006. 

If Disney isn't careful, they could very easily see themselves poisoning their own brand with a series of middling, unambitious retreads of their most celebrated films. If anything, Pete's Dragon is proof they should do the opposite, repurposing their less fondly-remembered films into something new and original. Rather than bloating their stable of movies with projects that don't offer anything new, they could simply refine what they already have, acting as a bastion of experimentation and artistic integrity. Then again, Pete's Dragon barely made its budget back while the Beauty and the Beast remake is on track to cross the billion-dollar mark, so I guess that's all the incentive they need to stay the course until that bubble eventually pops.

REVIEW: Kong- Skull Island

"Cinematic Universe" seems to be the defining phrase in this era of film history. Considering the runaway success of the MCU, it's not exactly difficult to understand why studios seem so smitten with the idea of tying their various franchises together in massive, theatrical crossover events. However, the idea of mashing profitable properties together is hardly a modern one; after all, Frankenstein's monster met the Wolfman long before the Avengers ever assembled (and that's counting the comics, too). Monster Mash films like Godzilla vs Mothra and House of Frankenstein were immensely popular all throughout the 40's, 50's, and 60's. Now that shared universes are making a comeback, studios are taking note by resurrecting the monsters who started it all. While Universal's upcoming reboot of The Mummy seems to be mimicking the superhero action of the Marvel films rather than sticking to the franchises' horror/suspense roots, Legendary's MonsterVerse (which began with 2014's Godzilla) skews much more towards presenting classic monster movie tropes and conventions with modern style and sensibilities. This remains true for the second film in this new series, Kong: Skull Island. It's a classic monster adventure with flair to spare, and I absolutely loved it.

The film acts as a reboot of the King Kong franchise, introducing Kong to this new continuity through an original story, rather than retelling the classic tale of beauty and beast. Set in 1973 right at the end of the Vietnam War, the film follows a team of scientists, government agents, and military personnel on a research expedition to the enigmatic Skull Island (recently discovered by Landsat satellites). As one might expect, our crew of explorers get more than they bargained for once they reach the island, running afoul of the local fauna (most notably, a 100-foot tall ape deity known as Kong). The plot is as straightforward as it gets and the characters are, for the most part, static and paper-thin. However, it's the sheer amount of care and competence that this movie was obviously made with that makes it work so well.

The film's visual style completely took me by surprise; the folly of so many modern blockbusters is an over-reliance of CGI to the point where everything looks flat and unimpressive (despite the immense amount of man-hours and artistry required to bring these effects to life). Imagine my shock when this offbeat, schlocky monster reboot ends up taking visual influence from everything from Apocalypse Now to Princess Mononoke. Skull Island is brimming with life, looking both organic and fantastical at the same time. Director Jordan Vogt-Roberts opted not to use dinosaurs, instead populating Skull Island with a number of bizarre but brilliantly-imaginative creatures and monsters. Early on, John Goodman's Bill Randa (an agent for the Monarch agency from Gareth Edwards' Godzilla) describes the titular island as "a place where God never finished creation", and everything from the vegetation to the inhabitants most certainly looks the part. Kong himself is more of a mythic beast than a big gorilla (no offense meant to Peter Jackson's loving 2006 tribute), covered in moss and algae as he lopes around his South Pacific home.

This is a movie that isn't afraid to get weird and inventive with its cinematography, and I feel the creativity at work here really pays off. During the initial helicopter battle with Kong, we are treated to a wonderful POV shot from inside a downed chopper. Our view of the outside world is restricted to an open side door, as we see the landscape slowly shift while Kong lifts the helicopter above his head. A hapless soldier falls into the ape's mouth and the film immediately hard-cuts to a research technician biting into a sandwich. Moments like these set the artistic tone for the entire movie; a larger-than-life adventure with dazzling contrasts of warm and cool colors shot from dynamic, engaging camera angles. There are several moments that I think would make for excellent posters (though I of course chose the bombastic Japanese variant for this Review); it's clear that the shots and visuals were composited with great care and attention to detail. Moreover, the film doesn't waste an ounce of its 1970's framework, enveloping its atmosphere in the iconography of the era.

Bucking the usual King Kong motif of "lovestruck beast martyred by the greed of man", Skull Island presents a positively Aliens-esque Vietnam parallel involving headstrong military types travelling to an unknown land to fight an enemy they don't understand. The film's antagonist, Lieutenant Colonel Preston Packard (Samuel L. Jackson), suffers from disillusionment and denial after US forces are recalled from Vietnam. Whereas all of his men are just thankful to go home to their families, Packard is left questioning the point of his sacrifice and service (as he explains to Brie Larson's wartime photographer, "we didn't lose the war, we abandoned it"). He's a soldier without a war to fight who happens to find an enemy in Kong. Despite Kong merely defending his territory from bomb-dropping intruders, his retaliation still wipes out a good amount of Packard's men. The best kind of villains are the ones with motives we can sympathize with; Packard is clearly consumed by a desire for vengeance, but we can completely rationalize his motives (to a point, of course). When a film's conflict boils down to "man vs nature", it's important for the human element to not be irrationally cruel. If the antagonist is a strawman who hates nature "just because", the audience will fail to see any reflection of themselves in the villain and the conflict loses all sense of interest and nuance.

That said, while I appreciate Skull Island's engaging stylistic choices and classically straightforward plot, I can't really defend the flat, uninteresting cast of characters. The film assembles an incredibly talented stable of actors (Tom Hiddleston, John Goodman, Brie Larson, Samuel L. Jackson, John C. Reilly, etc.) and then gives them nothing particularly interesting to do aside from escape from an island full of monsters. Samuel L. Jackson was an effective antagonist (though the role is very clearly in his comfort zone) and no one really gives a bad performance, but no one really stood out too much either. The script isn't anything to write home about (aside from a few good action movie monologues and one-liners here and there) and there are simply too many characters who are spread too thin in terms of motivation and emotional appeal. I didn't particularly care when anyone died and I was moreso engaged in Kong's conflict rather than if our team of protagonists could make it off the island. The only exception, unexpectedly enough, was the comedic relief played by John C. Reilly. He plays a US Air Force pilot who crash landed on Skull Island during World War 2 and has been living among the natives ever since (as you'd expect, there's culture shock jokes galore, a surprising amount of which hit). He actually gets a really nice amount of characterization and pathos, and I was really pulling for him to make it home; out of the entire cast, his was the only character that actually made me think "I hope he makes it out alive". Not to say that I actively wanted to see anyone die (like I said, the performances are all strong enough), but I wouldn't have necessarily cared if they did. This is a tremendously fun monster movie, but it could have really been something special if it had a stronger sense of focus when it came to the human element.

Kong: Skull Island is, shortcomings aside, an absolute blast. Is it a totally original movie? No. But is it a well-made movie? Most definitely. While the cast of characters is somewhat lacking (with John C. Reilly and Samuel L. Jackson carrying most of the weight), it's clear that this is a movie made with a loving artistic vision. It may not be as groundbreaking as the 1933 original or as epic as Peter Jackson's 2006 remake, but it's enjoyable in its own way, paying tribute to classic monster films both new and old. This is by no means a movie which attempts to reinvent the wheel; it knows exactly what it wants to be and exactly what it wants to do. It's made up of existing genre conventions, all executed with a great deal of finesse and style. The only question is, is that enough to make this worthwhile? I definitely think so; if you're looking for something to scratch that giant-monster movie itch, Kong: Skull Island is a worthy choice. While it's no eighth wonder of the world, it's still a ton of fun.

REVIEW: Shin Godzilla

The Godzilla franchise, I feel, is one that doesn't get nearly the respect it deserves. Yes, we're all too familiar with the hilariously bad dubbing jobs and overwhelming silliness of the 60's and 70's, but Godzilla represents a very culturally significant moment in the history of Japan. The first film was released in 1954, not even a decade after the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The first film, while somewhat quaint in terms of its special effects budget, represents a national catharsis. Godzilla was created as a symbol of nuclear destruction, bathing the landscape in a hellstorm of atomic fire. Despite the sometimes corny special effects, the original film is played entirely straight. There's very little levity and it all comes off more like a natural disaster than a goofy sci-fi monster flick. It wasn't until later that the franchise took a cue from Gamera and recast the Big G as a friend to children and champion of the Earth. After countless sequels, reboots, and re-imaginings, we finally have a new Godzilla film from Toho, the studio that started it all. With Legendary Pictures' Monsterverse seeking to establish its own, Westernized brand of Godzilla movies in the coming years, is there still a place for homegrown kaiju action? At the end of the day, does Shin Godzilla deserve a place at the table?

Like many Godzilla films before it, Shin Godzilla is a complete and total reboot. The events of all prior films are ignored, even those of the 1954 original. Unlike many of the later Godzilla films, however, the plot is as straightforward as they come; after a massive aquatic creature makes landfall near Tokyo Bay, the Japanese government amasses every expert available to assess the situation. By the time a response is readied, the creature has seemingly evolved into a larger form before returning to the sea. Research indicates that the creature is the result of genetic mutation, dubbed "Godzilla" by the United States. By the time Godzilla reappears, he is twice his original size and still showing signs of evolution; the world flies into a panic and the UN proposes using nuclear weapons to stop the impending threat. It's up to a small team of Japanese researchers to develop a means of stopping Godzilla before the rest of the world drops the bomb, sacrificing all of Tokyo in the process.

It's amusing to compare this to 2014's Godzilla, as it suffers from many of the same problems. Mainly, a lack of interesting characters. We're introduced to a great many scientists, government employees, and military personnel over the course of the film, but very few are all that memorable. No one truly gets a chance to develop, since the threat of a giant monster and nuclear annihilation takes precedent in the plot. There isn't really anyone for the audience to latch onto and connect with, though I also feel that the movie isn't exactly going for anything particularly intimate. It sacrifices in-depth character development for a massive scale and scope, and in those aspects it definitely succeeds.

Godzilla, in this film, is treated like a pure force of nature (even moreso than Legendary's take on the character). This Godzilla is an inexpressive, deep-sea abomination, bane of all mankind. A monster in every sense of the word. This is a movie that definitely gets what makes Godzilla scary and understands how to convey him as a legitimate threat (even his doofy, huggable early forms). There's a specific moment in which we first see his iconic atomic breath put to work; where Legendary's take on this classic ability was unquestionably awesome, Shin Godzilla manages to turn something as absurd as a giant dinosaur firing laser beams from his mouth into a legitimately shocking, horrifying moment. The destruction on display here never feels cheap or over-indulgent. If there's one thing this movie gets right, it's the tone.

Just as the original Gojira was inspired by a nuclear tragedy, so was Shin Godzilla. Despite being released in 2016, it's clear that it took some direct inspiration from the infamous Fukushima disaster of 2011. The sense of destruction, the displaced civilians, the trail of nuclear fallout; it's all clearly meant to put the viewer in a specific kind of headspace. Even moreso when one considers the snide social commentary at play here, taking digs at the way the Japanese government responded to the disaster. When Godzilla first makes landfall, precious time is wasted in the name of decorum. The PM takes his sweet time to convene with his advisers, attend various conferences, and essentially do everything in his power to delay making a difficult decision. When the time finally arrives, it's far too late, and Godzilla is nigh-invincible. 

While there isn't much going on with the characters, the story has more layers of meaning than one would expect from a giant monster movie. It was directed by Hideaki Anno and Shinji Higuchi (known mainly for their work on Neon Genesis Evangelion), and their influence is definitely felt here. The film espouses the virtues of teamwork in the face of crisis; the group of researchers assembled to stop Godzilla are told outright from the beginning that titles and decorum no longer matter. Those who remain hung up on protocol and procedure when the situation has clearly escalated beyond such trivial matters are resigned to failure. Meanwhile, it is those who are able to sort their priorities and think outside of the box who eventually save the day.

Shin Godzilla is notable for receiving overwhelming praise within its native Japan and a more lukewarm reception everywhere else. Having given it some thought, I have to side with the Japanese on this one; Shin Godzilla is an excellent movie. It's by no means perfect (the characters are for the most part bland and some of the dialog scenes can drag here and there), but it represents a true return to form for the King of the Monsters. Boasting surprisingly excellent special effects (considering it was made on roughly a tenth of the budget of Legendary's Godzilla) and an engaging plot, Shin Godzilla is a true treat for any kaiju nut. Whether you're new to the franchise or a long-time fan, this is an exemplary monster flick, not to be missed.