REVIEW: Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse

2018 has certainly been a big year for Spider-Man, hasn't it? He's had a hit video game come out, his comics aren't bad for the first time in a good long while, and he DIED. Spider-Man (or rather, the entire concept of the character) is also the primary subject of Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse, brought to us by the fine folks at Sony Animation and produced by Clone High progenitors, Phil Lord and Chris Miller. Naturally, anything with Lord and Miller involved is sure to get my attention (their involvement with Solo being the only reason I ever had even a passing interest in that movie), so I couldn't wait to see what they did with a character like Miles Morales, who has always felt like a wealth of untapped potential. While the end result didn't utterly blow me away, I think it's safe to say that Into the Spider-Verse is a strong contender for the best animated film of 2018 (or at the very least, the best animated superhero film of 2018).

The primary focus of the story, as mentioned before, is young Miles Morales (Shameik Moore); after acquiring spider-powers of his own and witnessing the untimely demise of his universe's Spider-Man (Chris Pine) at the hands of the villainous Kingpin (Liev Schreiber), Miles is left feeling woefully under-prepared in the face of the great responsibility that's been bestowed upon him. Fortunately for Miles, he's not the only Spider-person crawling around New York. As a result of Kingpin's experiments, alternate Spider-Men from alternate realities have been plucked from their home dimensions and deposited in Miles' version of NYC, including an older, washed-up Peter Parker (Jake Johnson). With the help of his reluctant new mentor, Miles must live up to Peter Parker's legacy, defeat the Kingpin, and find a way to save his new friends and, indeed, the world.

SPOILER ALERT: The remainder of this Review spoils key plot elements of Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse!

Really, the plot is my only major issue with this movie, in that it feels as though it can't decide whether it wants to be a Miles Morales origin story or an experimental dimension-blending crossover event. It tries to go for both, but in the process ends up spreading itself too thin in some regards, neglecting elements from both sides of the story. A good example is Miles' relationship with his Uncle Aaron (Mahershala Ali); the film establishes a promising dynamic between the two, with Aaron acting as a sort of outlet for all the aspects of Miles' personality that his father, Jefferson (Brian Tyree Henry), has trouble relating to. The only problem is that Miles and Aaron really only share two scenes together. Miles hangs out with him when he gets his spider-powers (honestly one of the best sequences in the movie), then Aaron is the Prowler for the rest of the film, and then he dies and that's that. It just feels like a missed opportunity for something grander that lives up to the intrigue established early on, and perhaps less focus on the alternate universe Spider-people would have freed up more time to devote to their relationship.

On the other side of the story, we have other characters who don't get near their due in the form of Spider-Man Noir (Nic Cage), Peni Parker (Kimiko Glen), and Spider-Ham (John Mulaney). All three are brought to life through some stunningly imaginative animation and perfectly cast voice acting, yet at the same time feel wholly under-utilized. These characters dominated the trailers, yet they altogether have very little impact on the plot, entering in at about the midway point in the story and sharing what felt like a collective thirty lines between the three of them. Visually-speaking, they bring a lot to the table, but contextually they felt more like a mere aesthetic device; really, that sums up my main issue with the movie as a whole. Part of me wonders if this wouldn't be a stronger overall product if the amount of Spider-Men was capped at just Miles, Peter, and Gwen (Hailee Steinfeld), or even just Miles and Peter for that matter. Gwen, despite a cool costume and elegant fighting style, has very little to do here, and it felt like the movie didn't explore the older, dumpier Peter Parker nearly as much as it should have. 

Peter Parker, as a fictional character, is almost always trapped in a state of arrested development; writers tend to hesitate letting Pete advance beyond the stage where he's still going to school or working part-time for the Daily Bugle. The average consumer knows Spider-Man as a teenager (or vaguely 20-something at the oldest), so that's what tends to sell, meaning we rarely see portrayals of Spider-Man advance past that point (and even when they manage to, a retcon sending him back to that tried and true "aw jeez I've gotta get to class on time but now THE RHINO is attacking!" formula is never far away). Spider-Verse's take on an older, jaded Peter Parker who's simply fought too long and lost too much is a truly unique take on the character, and the film's way of twisting this archetype we all know so well presents a lot of potential for emotional depth; he's buried his Aunt May, Mary Jane divorced him, his metabolism is catching up with him, and he's just left to be a sad, lonely man in a spider onesie whose best years are long behind him. He makes the conscious decision to sacrifice himself for the greater good, even after Miles shows up during the climax to save the day. This is a Peter Parker who is actively ready and willing to die in action, yet his emotional struggle is more or less glossed over despite it having a significant impact on the plot. It's an issue we get with the Kingpin as well; the film wastes no time in establishing Wilson Fisk as a physical threat (his massive, angular design inspired by Bill Sienkiewicz's Daredevil: Love and War) and Liev Schreiber does a great job channeling his inner mafioso, but all we really get in the way of motivation is a 30-second flashback in the middle of an action sequence. The tragic reveal of why Kingpin is messing around with inter-dimensional portals makes narrative sense and sets the stage for an emotional climax, but the film doesn't really do anything with this new information. When it finally comes time for Miles to face Kingpin on his own, it's a pretty straightforward superhero fight; good guy punches bad guy, bad guy almost beats good guy, good guy triumphs, courtesy your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

The real strength of this movie (aside from the stunning animation, more on that later), is when it outright revels in the new and original. One of my absolute favorite characters was Kathryn Hahn's surprise turn as a female Doctor Octopus; while it's not exactly a brand-new concept, it's little differences like these that help cement the idea that Miles' universe is a world of new and exciting spider-possibilities. This version of Doc Ock truly feels like a fresh addition to the pantheon of superhero movie antagonists, and especially to the limited pool of female bad guys (a group where, as far as Marvel is concerned, Hela and Ayesha are the only antagonists who aren't redeemed or relegated to the role of your average henchwoman). She isn't secretly insecure about her appearance and she doesn't get off easy with a heroic turn because she's more sensitive than her male cohorts in crime. She's just a mad scientist who's really into the idea of brutally murdering Spider-Man, and I'd love to see more female antagonists show this much unabashed enthusiasm in their work.

It's through details like this that Into the Spider-Verse truly shines. While I found the overall plot to be a little unbalanced, it's when the movie goes all-in on presenting us with something that we haven't seen before that it ascends to heights worth raving about. My primary criticism of the MCU's take on the wall-crawler is that, for as enthusiastic as Tom Holland's performance is, the way in which his stories are told belies a deep-seated misunderstanding of not only the character of Peter Parker, but the very concept of Spider-Man as a whole. There's no such issue present with Spider-Verse; this is a movie with a reverent love and understanding of what makes Spider-Man tick (regardless of who's under the mask) and why his stories and struggles and assorted adventures resonate so deeply with such a wide audience again and again, and it often takes risks in how it presents itself in order to convey that sense of understanding to the viewer.

The character of Miles isn't simply "inoffensively brown Peter Parker" here. They're two radically different people in radically different circumstances, the only connecting thread between them having been weaved by a radioactive spider. Spider-Man, as a concept, is all about a person (typically a younger person) being thrust against their will into extraordinary circumstances. The weight of the world is placed upon Spidey's shoulders and it's his responsibility to carry that weight so that the world may spin on. It's Young Protagonist 101, and the film doesn't harbor the delusion that a legacy character need be a 1:1 copy of the more iconic hero who preceded them in order to fill the same shoes. Miles' relationship with Jefferson and Aaron is very different from Peter's relationship with Uncle Ben, and while I felt it could have been fleshed out more in a few areas, it still managed to hit me right where I live in the same kind of way that "with great power, there must also come great responsibility" does. Brian Tyree Henry gives an amazing performance as Jeff and his dynamic with Miles is honestly strong enough to have carried an origin story all on its own. It speaks volumes about the quality of a story when the only major complaint I have is "I liked everything it gave me so much, I wish it was either longer or less jam-packed so it could give me even more".

Also, hey, not sure if you're aware of this, but the movie is absolutely downright stunning to look at. We truly are living in the renaissance of computer-generated animation, as Into the Spider-Verse looks so fantastic that Sony have attempted the ultimate scumbag move of trying to patent the animation style used in this movie. It's the kind of film I can't wait to watch on Blu-Ray, just to pick apart all of the background details (a billboard in Times Square advertising Clone College made me equal parts excited and sad). There's just loads of visual information packed into every frame. Parts of the background that, in a live-action film, would be out of focus are rendered to resemble the dye blur found in older comic books. Ben Day dots are all over the place and sound-effects are typically accompanied by animated onomatopoeia floating across the screen. After Miles gets bitten and his Spidey-Sense starts to tingle, his interior monologues begin appearing in yellow boxes near the top of the screen, complete with little wavy effect lines emanating from his head. I hesitate to use the phrase "a feast for the eyes" here, first and foremost because it's terribly cliché, but also because it honestly doesn't do the visuals here justice. The animation and shot composition are not only used as a means of giving this movie its own unique identity, but also to further the story; when Miles jumps off the side of a skyscraper during the "What's Up Danger" sequence, the camera is inverted. Because Miles isn't falling, he's rising. What Spider-Verse occasionally lacks in narrative cohesion, it more than makes up for in visual flair. It's a movie with so much evident care and thoughtful design oozing out of every pore that I simply can't not recommend it to everyone, dedicated Spider-fan or no.

While I'd still hesitate to call Into the Spider-Verse the greatest Spider-Man movie ever made, it's an easy lock for one of the top 3, and I absolutely wouldn't fault someone who put it at the very top of their personal list. It's not without its flaws (personally, the soundtrack felt very hit-or-miss at times), but as a piece of Spider-Man media, it's not hard at all to place this near the top of the stack. Now that the origin-story bloat is over and dealt with, I can't wait to see what the creative team behind this has in-store for the sequel; if the post-credits scene is any indication of where the plot is heading (which I hope it is, seeing as how it was easily my favorite post-credits stinger of 2018, possibly of all time), I'm beyond excited to see what the future will bring. Congratulations, Sony. You actually did good. Now don't screw this up. I mean... good luck.

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: Venom

Now here's something I definitely didn't expect to see in theaters. When Sony Pictures, the "studio" behind such "movies" as Peter Rabbit and the Ghostbusters remake, announced a standalone film starring Spider-Man's longtime nemesis, Venom, I decided then and there that I'd abstain from paying money to see it as a form of protest. It was obvious to me that Sony was simply trying to extort more money from Marvel Studios, holding Spidey and friends ransom; if Kevin Feige wasn't gonna let Amy Pascal muck up his MCU clubhouse, then Sony would simply have to do everything they could to poison the Spider-Man brand in the meantime. They're hanging on by a thread as it is, might as well bet it all on black and hope for the best. The symbiote arc felt like a natural next step for the MCU's take on the wallcrawler (considering how Spider-Man Homecoming used Peter Parker's costume as a metaphor for him becoming his own hero, and Venom is literally a living Spider-Man suit looking to control its host, but I'm getting ahead of myself), and seeing Sony squander such a concept over petty company politics left a bad taste in my mouth. Venom was not a movie I needed to pay money to see, since any financial success it enjoyed would damage the MCU that I've come to love so well. But then Disney fired James Gunn, so screw it, go team Venom!

The plot, curiously enough, contains exactly no reference to Spider-Man whatsoever (despite Sony still clinging to the movie rights for the character and his entire supporting cast); a daunting prospect, seeing as how Venom is a supervillain spawned from one of Spider-Man's old costumes (actually an alien symbiote he picked up during the Secret Wars) bonding to a bitter journalist named Eddie Brock. This backstory is the entire reason Venom himself is a sort of dark reflection of Spider-Man; naturally, I was skeptical of Sony's ability to faithfully adapt the character to the big screen without once bringing the main hero into the mix. After all, we remember how well it turned out the last time a studio tried to spin-off a supervillain as an anti-hero in a standalone film that contained no trace of their comic book origins.

Surprisingly enough, the film more or less pulls off crafting a faithful depiction of Venom without once even alluding to the existence of Spider-Man (which is more than I can say for Topher Grace's take on the character in Spider-Man 3). The specific inspiration for this incarnation comes from Venom's Lethal Protector solo-series from the 90's, in which he took on the role of a wise-cracking anti-hero, rather than a tortured soul literally consumed by notions of vengeance. Make no mistake, this is not a serious film in any sense of the word. The Venom we get here is  much more "Strangers in the Night", as opposed to the "monster metaphor for addiction and abuse" we see in more modern stories. The result is a surprisingly silly buddy flick that ends up being the best superhero movie of 2006.

This is a movie that all but entirely ignores every bit of evolution the superhero genre has gone through in the past decade, to the point where I don't think I even need to talk about the plot (but will briefly anyway, because hey). Tom Hardy plays Eddie Brock, an investigative journalist who's down on his luck after attempting to expose the shady Life Foundation and its charismatic, Steve Jobs-ian CEO, Carlton Drake (Riz Ahmed). While snooping around Drake's sinister science lab, Eddie becomes bonded to an alien symbiote named Venom (also voiced by Hardy). Together, the two form an unlikely bromance as they attempt to stop Drake's sinister schemes and win back Eddie's ex-fiance (Michelle Williams). There's some action, some comedy, finish things up with the most obvious sequel tease of all time, and roll credits. Despite a near two hour runtime, it doesn't feel nearly that long, so while the story definitely isn't what I'd call good, I can at least say that it doesn't bother wasting anyone's time.

If there's one thing I definitely liked about this movie, it would be Tom Hardy. You can tell he's really having a blast with the role, elevating the clunky dialog and bland plot, and that makes all the difference in the world when everything else here is thoroughly mediocre to outright bad. Apparently 40 minutes of footage was slashed from the final cut, the majority of which supposedly contained additional scenes of Eddie and Venom getting to know one another (scenes which Tom Hardy cited as his favorite parts of the movie). While it may have hurt the pacing, giving Hardy more screentime to talk to himself would have only improved the film for me. Eddie and the symbiote have an oddly endearing dynamic, definitely moreso than any of the other characters in the film (although Venom's odd fondness for Williams' character was pretty cute as well).

It all works in service of the surprisingly light tone, which feels much more in line with a screwball buddy comedy than a horror/action/sci-fi adventure. Like I said before, this isn't the tortured, nuanced, modern Venom we all know, so much as it is the wacky, nutty, 90's Venom of the past; part of me really wishes this was a period piece set in the early 90's, chock full of references to The Fresh Prince and Beanie Babies. At least then the film would have some sort of identity, and you could maybe write off the generic plot and story beats as "a charming throwback to a simpler kind of superhero movie". As is, this just feels like the executives at Sony dusted off the crib notes Avi Arad has had stashed in his desk drawer for the past 20 years and used them to throw a movie together while they desperately try to get the SUMC (Sony Universe of Marvel Characters, for the uninitiated) off the ground.

Outside of Tom Hardy's performance (and the so-embarrassing-it's-amazing Eminem song during the credits), literally everything else in this movie falls flat. Ahmed and Williams are fine as the megalomaniacal villain and flat love interest, the special effects are nothing special, and the action is sparse and serviceable (except for the climax, in which a black goo monster and a gray goo monster fight in an industrial area at night against a pitch-black sky, reaching Bayformers levels of incomprehensible visual noise). It's one of the most by-the-numbers comic book movies I've ever seen, and while adhering to a formula isn't an inherently bad thing, you'd usually want at least one unique or extraordinary element to elevate the entire thing above the formula it adheres to. The only feather in Venom's cap is a pretty fun Tom Hardy performance, and it's not even close to being his best work. You can tell he's just goofing around, it's like a vacation for him in-between real movies. Tom Hardy is the one element at play here that keeps Venom from being a purely negative experience, but it's not like you can compare Eddie Brock to Max Rockatansky or Charlie Bronson. There's no emotion, no underlying themes or metaphors, it's just a series of mildly amusing sequences interspersed alongside markedly less amusing sequences.

It's no secret that Venom was originally going to be released with an R rating before being mercilessly trimmed down to a PG-13 (thus ensuring a wider audience would be able to see it in theaters). Judging from its respectable show at the October box office, I'd say this gambit paid off, but only from a purely financial standpoint. Like I've said so far, the only really positive thing about this movie is that it's kinda fun, and I can definitively say without a doubt in my mind that it would have been exponentially more fun if we got some gore, swearing, and nudity in there as well. With how CGI-intensive the fight scenes are, it's painfully obvious that the original end result was meant to be far bloodier than what we ended up with. During one sequence, in which Venom faces off against a bunch of riot cops, he picks one up over his head, one arm on the officer's torso, the other on his legs. He appears primed to tear the poor schlub clean in half, but instead just sort of gently tosses him off to the side, making me wonder why they gave that moment so much focus. And that's not even counting all the heads that are eaten off-screen and obvious four-letter words that were ADR'd out of existence. Despite a brisk pace, the film looks like it was edited with a chainsaw; it constantly feels as though it's holding back whenever it tries to be dark or comedic, which are the only two tones this movie has to offer. Venom made bank at the box office, so we're definitely getting a sequel (take a fat guess at what the sequel is going to be... congratulations, you guessed correctly). My only hope is that Venom 2 is a hard R, with Tom Hardy not only starring, but executive producing as well. He's more than earned some creative control of the franchise moving forward, considering he's literally the only thing keeping this from being a totally braindead, joyless experience.

Venom is not even close to being a good movie, but I can't say I had a bad time watching it. If you're a fan of the character (specifically his campy, dated, 90's roots), you're going to get the satisfaction of seeing Venom done justice on the big screen and exactly nothing else. The plot is clichéd nonsense, the action is toothless, and there's literally nothing special or notable about it aside from Tom Hardy. With the right audience, it could be a fun enough time, but that's all it is. I can't say I recommend it, but it's also far from the worst thing Sony has put out in recent years. If they could find some way to implement this version of Venom into the MCU, I'd be all for it. But as far as the actual movie goes, the best part part of the entire thing was the two minutes of Into the Spider-Verse footage we got to see after the credits had finished rolling.

REVIEW: The Predator

There are a few notable trends that I keep noticing in modern movies that I'd like to talk about for just a bit. The first (and most irritating) is Hollywood's obnoxious over-reliance on 80's nostalgia. G.I. Joe, Transformers, Ninja Turtles, Robocop, Terminator, Thundercats, Ghostbusters; if it existed in the 1980's, you're probably gonna see its fetid corpse unearthed and propped up by a hack studio to make a quick buck. We've also witnessed the rise of the soft-reboot; a film that is, for all intents and purposes, a remake/reboot of a classic film franchise, except it's stated to take place in the main series continuity, making it a sequel, and thus okay. I feel like the most notable of these is The Force Awakens, but it's hardly a rarity nowadays, especially for big-budget franchises with a lot of brand recognition. We've also been seeing a lot of movies get utterly destroyed through reshoots. Normally, reshoots are a relatively innocuous practice, but it feels like as of late, more and more big-budget projects are suffering the slings of studio interference, producing an end result that turns out worse than anyone could have possibly predicted. The reason I choose to mention all of these phenomena is that Shane Black's The Predator manages to be a sterling example of all three with shockingly little effort.

The film opens as one would expect a Predator film to, with a spaceship hurtling towards Earth. After crash-landing in the South American jungle, everyone's favorite human-hunting space monster has a run-in with an Army Ranger by the name of Quinn McKenna (Boyd Holbrook). Battered from the crash, the Predator (Brian A. Prince) is actually incapacitated by the hard-boiled sniper, who makes off with the creature's mask and wrist gauntlet. Sensing that he's seen something he wasn't meant to have seen, Quinn mails the alien tech back home before he's taken into custody by government agents. Naturally, the government has captured the Predator as well, who inevitably escapes and sets out in search of his stolen gear (which has since ended up in the hands of McKenna's autistic son, Rory, played by Jacob Tremblay). With the help of a renegade biologist (Olivia Munn) and a ragtag gang of disabled veterans, it's up to Quinn to keep his son out of the way of an interplanetary blood war, all while avoiding the shadowy government agents who want him disappeared. Despite how exciting that may sound, I assure you large chunks of this movie are dull as all get-out.

When this movie was first announced, I was understandably optimistic. Shane Black is a solid director (who also starred in/wrote parts of the original Predator), and a natural choice to helm the next entry in the franchise (redundant title notwithstanding). Predator is one of those rare films like Robocop that works both ironically and unironically well; it's the movie that made Arnold Schwarzenegger an action superstar, and it's chock-full of all the hilariously dated tropes and clichés one would expect from such a film. At the same time, it executes its deceptively simple premise startlingly well, balancing both action and suspense until things reach a head at the surprisingly small-scale climax. It's got all the excess that 80's action movies are lauded for to this day, but it also understands and appreciates the effect some quieter, more intimate moments can have when establishing atmosphere and tone. If they wanted to have a soft reboot of Predator that took itself seriously for the most part, they could certainly do so and have it work out nicely; 2010's Predators is living proof of this.

Alternatively, if Shane Black wanted to turn the whole thing into an utter farce, lampooning the various action tropes that the original Predator helped establish, I could see that working out as well; plenty of relatively serious films have successfully made the transition to more comedic fare as time's gone on (the most notable example that comes to mind being the Evil Dead trilogy). Black has a penchant for snappy dialog, and his role as Hawkins in the original film provided much of the early comedic relief. This appears to be the approach that The Predator is going for, but unfortunately the whole thing runs into a critical error; it's not particularly funny. There's a few one-liners that got a sensible chuckle out of me, and the gore has the tendency to reach Monty Python and the Holy Grail levels of cheap, slapstick-y excess, but I doubt anyone would describe The Predator as a rollicking good time (unless a character saying "get to da choppa" before escaping on a bunch of stolen motorcycles is your idea of clever writing). Really, the script here is so bad that it gives Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom a run for its money, with such winners as "Motherf-cker hacked our vehicles" and "F-ck me in the face with an aardvark".

In the film's defense, the first act is more or less exactly what I wanted it to be; it's by no means groundbreaking, but it's a reasonably fun monster movie with some solid action (in particular, the sequence in which the Predator escapes from a government lab). But everything goes downhill quickly soon after that scene, up until the point that our bigger, badder, entirely CGI rival Predator shows up. After this new monster is introduced, the entire film breaks and goes down the drain, devoid of any intellect or charm it may have possessed beforehand. Before that point, the lackluster performances, groan-worthy one-liners, and bland, forgettable characters were just sort of there, but it was around this time that it all compounded and started actively making the movie worse, dragging it down into the realm of pure trash. From what we've learned, apparently the entire third-act of the movie was rebuilt from the ground up at the behest of 20th Century Fox, so it seems as though this is another film that may have had the potential to actually be something not terrible before a bunch of studio suits decided to stick their slimy paws all over it. Honestly, I'd have happily accepted a Predator movie that was "just okay", but instead got something that appears to put active effort into being terrible. And that's not even touching the way The Predator attempts to tackle such weighty topics as mental illness and climate change.

There was a clear attempt at having some subtext, pitting a team of mentally-disturbed veterans and a young child with Asperger's up against an alien menace who has modified his own DNA to become a genetically-perfect being. Truth be told, giving the main group of heroes in an action/slasher flick a host of neuroses and disorders to deal with in addition to the impending extraterrestrial threat is a pretty fascinating idea that could really result in something spectacular if handled properly by a talented filmmaker (like, say, Shane Black). Instead what we get is a series of jokes where the punchline is "the guy with Tourette's said something profane" and a kid who can use the power of autism to operate alien technology as if he were R2-D2. The disorders in this movie are treated as either a punchline or a plot convenience; I'm not even going to harangue The Predator for how potentially offensive such a portrayal is, that's just lazy writing. I'm still struggling to wrap my head around how this even turned out so bad; this is a movie written by Shane Black and Fred Dekker. These are the guys who gave us The Monster Squad for crying out loud, what the hell happened? Was this a Producers-esque scam? Or did the studio seriously interfere that much? No amount of explanation is really going to save this trainwreck, but I'll admit that I'm the least bit curious.

I'll admit, for all of its problems, The Predator would actually make for a pretty good bad movie. I can easily see this working well in a room full of intoxicated friends, or with a rowdy audience at the local theater; but at the same time, it's important that everyone understand that statements such as these aren't exactly points in the film's favor. If the kindest thing you can say about a movie is "it's not offensively bad, it's just stupid and forgettable", there's clearly a problem, especially when talented people are involved. It could be fun with the right audience, but then again so is the first Predator. Predator didn't need to be "ironically good", it was just "good". Every idea we see here (Predator hounds, genetic modification, a crazed government alien-hunter, a ragtag gang of ex-military guys throwing out vulgar banter, etc.) was already done far better in other Predator movies (yes, even Predator 2). Is it the worst thing ever? No. But is there a solid reason to run out and watch it? Also no.

If you're at all curious about just how stupid the plot to The Predator can get, make sure to check out my fresh-out-of-the-theater plot rundown on YouTube!

REVIEW: Redline

I've been on something of an anime kick as of late (getting up to speed on both Konosuba and My Hero Academia in less than a week), so it felt appropriate to finally tick off a film that's been sitting in my backlog for a good couple of years now; 2009's Redline. I normally tend to avoid summarizing movies as "X crossed with Y", but I simply can't help myself in the case of Redline. This is Speed Racer crossed with Wacky Races in the style of Mad Max: Fury Road, but in space. It's a film every bit as absurd as that description, more than making up for what it lacks in plot with some of the most stunningly engaging animation I've ever seen.

Set in the far reaches of space, the film follows "Sweet" JP (Takuya Kimura), a rockabilly racer with a checkered past whose driving skills are nearly as impressive as his pompadour. When JP finds himself voted in as a participant in the titular Redline race (a highly anticipated annual event using traditional motors only), he can't help but say no, even though the race is set to be held on the aptly-named Roboworld, a planet populated entirely by cyborg zealots. The president of Roboworld (Kōsei Hirota) is staunchly against hosting the Redline on his planet, as he fears the broadcast of the race could reveal a number of illegal military operations (which would undoubtedly violate a great number of treaties); as such, he has pledged to terminate any and all racers he finds on his planet. As if that wasn't enough, JP is oblivious to the treachery of his longtime partner, Frisbee (Tadanobu Asano), a mechanic who's gotten in deep with the mob. Not only does he need to win the Redline, he has to survive, all while pursuing the heart of fellow racer, Sonoshee McLaren (Yû Aoi). It's a romance/drama/action/sci-fi extravaganza and I honestly had so so much fun with it.

I tend to use the term "feast for the eyes" regrettably often whenever it comes to discussing animated films, and Redline is definitely no slouch when it comes to visuals. I love everything about the way this movie looks, feels, and moves. The character designs are imaginative and endearing, never getting too silly or outlandish so as to distract from the action. Along with JP and Sonoshee, we have a dirty-cop gorilla man (chasing after the other participants for speeding, naturally), a pair of bounty hunters that definitely aren't parodies of Batman and Robin, and a well-mannered robot who literally is his own car (among others). It feels trite to say something like "this film is bursting at the seams with pure imagination", as if something as abstract and subjective as imagination could be measured, but I really can't think of a better way to express myself here. It's an animated feature that most definitely leaves a big impression. There are obvious influences from existing works (see the initial Speed Racer/Wacky Races/Mad Max comparison), but it's got its own distinct identity as well. The designs of everything from the racers to their vehicles to the various planets themselves are just so vivid and creative; it's one of those films like Wizards or Fantastic Planet, where I just want to completely immerse myself in the art direction and design.

With such fantastic designs, it should go without saying that the animation here is also top-knotch. I don't know if I've ever uttered, "wew, that looked expensive" at an animated film as often as I did with Redline. According to my rudimentary research, the film was in production for some seven years, and took over 100,000 individual drawings to complete; rest assured, the final project looks it. I especially loved the fish-eye effect used to convey mind-blistering speeds (a winning combo when paired with JP's towering hairdo). If you're into psychadelic visuals like those found in FLCL or Yellow Submarine, you'd be doing yourself a disservice not to add Redline to your "must watch" list.

If I have any real criticism, it simply has to do with the plot. Redline is by no means a complex or thematically-heavy movie; there's a race, our main character wants to win said race, said main character drives really really fast. That's about it. It's most definitely more about the visuals here than it is the plot, which I honestly feel is somewhat forgivable, given the circumstances. The entire plot of Redline focuses in on this one race, and damned if it isn't one hell of a race. It doesn't attempt to be anything more than it is by spouting off pseudo-intellectualisms in an attempt to trick the viewer into thinking that there's anything close to a healthy balance between style and substance. This is a film that 110% knows what it is about, and I honestly respect that. The filmmakers knew that they were making a movie about really cool-looking cars that drive really quickly across stunningly-detailed alien planets, and that's exactly what we get. 

Even then, with how simple the plot is, I found myself surprisingly invested in the drama between JP and Frisbee; the film does slow down at points to give us some insight into their history together, allowing us time to breathe between the insanely engaging action beats. For as simplistic as the plot is, the character interactions are given a good amount of attention (at least moreso than one might expect with a project as visually-focused as this). The time we spend with our main cast isn't just a formality before we can get back to the fast cars and hellacious crashes. Rather than having the characters outright state what their motivations are, the audience is left to piece everything together from implicit details after the credits roll; some might call this lazy, I call it efficient. Both the film and the audience are on the same page, the movie's strongest suit is the manner in which it liberally doles out speed and adrenaline. Additional exposition would have just weighed everything down, so I appreciate the film's confidence in its audience to figure out why certain characters act the way that they do without spoon-feeding it to us, getting in the way of the main event in the process.

I don't really have much else to say about Redline. It's an awesome little flick. If you're a fan of animation (or anime specifically), consider this mandatory viewing; the same goes for those of you who are into cars. It's not an overly-complicated movie, it's just an all-around good time. The plot isn't much to write home about, but Redline more than makes up for its lack of subtextual depth with its positively stunning animation and art direction; watch it on a big screen with a good sound system and all the lights turned off, it'll blow you away.

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.