Don't Breathe (2016) Review

Three young, small time criminals spend most of their time breaking into various homes, stealing only what is requested of their superiors or employers. Despite seemingly enjoying what they do on a regular basis, at least two are growing frustrated with this profession, longing to leave this life behind and begin anew. When one receives a tip about a residence that supposedly contains upwards of $300,000 in cash stashed inside of a basement, the group agree to one last heist. While on stakeout, they discover that not only is this abode inhabited by one, older man, but that the homeowner is blind. Later that evening, as the break-in is commencing, the solitary resident is revealed to be nowhere near as defenseless as he may appear to others, and that this dilapidated dwelling houses some very sinister secrets.

"I'm sorry, but North America just doesn't produce any good horror films anymore." 

As a movie lover and reviewer, if I may be able to request one thing these days, it would be that such a statement as that be put out to pasture. Over the last six years, we have been lucky enough to receive a large number of motion pictures that serve as not only adoring love letters to the fanbase and the genre's past, but a good chunk of releases, be they released to on-demand services or cineplexes, that have also managed to gather the necessary testicular fortitude to push it into a daring, new direction. Yes, there are still a myriad of unnecessary remakes and reboots that seem to come out more frequently than even I would expect, but they rarely affect the legacy of the originals, and are often forgotten about within a staggeringly short amount of time. Naturally, the response to some of the previously mentioned pictures in mind has been rather divisive, but that is expected from nearly anything to come along these days. To say that cynicism and hints of nihilism is a large problem in the communities of nearly everything that I personally like would be an understatement. However, with something as prominent as the "home invasion" sub-genre occasionally being forgotten about (save for gems such as Adam Wingard's You're Next), taking a risk by switching things up and having those who are burglarizing end up as the victims instead, is an opportunity that I believe is vital for the genre's survival.

As it turns out, 2016's Don't Breathe, written/directed by Fede Alvarez (Evil Dead 2013) and distributed by Robert Tapert and Sam Raimi's (Army of Darkness, Spider-Man) Ghost House Productions (Drag Me To Hell, 30 Days Of Night), is one of the best theatrically-released horror films that I have seen in recent memory. Heck, even though I am typing this in the month of August, I would not be shocked whatsoever to see this end up in my own personal "top ten" list towards the end of the year. A horror/thriller piece that is ripe with this much tension throughout its eighty-eight minute running time deserves all of the praise that is bestowed upon it. If you are the type of fan that pays good money to see horror flicks with the intention of being scared, or at least feeling so nervous that it could potentially induce nausea, this could be like discovering that the finest bottle of sake that you normally would go out of your way to seek is suddenly available right down the road. What a rather glorious feeling. What is sure to elicit the most amount of recognition during this feature's run over the course of the next month or two will be the wonderful cinematography and lighting, which is powerful enough to make the most claustrophobic and nyctophobic of people want to soil themselves. Unfortunately, that rules out the possibility of my own father ever viewing Don't Breathe, but you can't please everyone folks. It also packs a creepily effective score courtesy of Sexy Beast's Roque Banos, who knows not to be overbearing or obnoxious with a project such as this.

One of the wiser choices from somewhat-new heads sitting in the director's chair, as well as up-and-coming casting directors such as Rich Delia (Dallas Buyers Club, 2017's It), is to choose relatively unrecognizable faces as both heroes and villains. With this, Fede Alvarez manages to conjure up some exceptionally well done acting from our relatively minuscule list of performers. Evil Dead alumni Jane Levy is back after what seems like an eternity of absence from the big screen (hey, three years can seem that much longer in a horror fanatic's world), and reminds folks yet again about why publications and websites such as Forbes and Complex were so high on the very talented woman and her future in the world of entertainment. Her other companions, portrayed by Goosebumps' Dylan Minnette, and It Follows' Daniel Zovatto, are also in very fine form, with both adding more humanity to Don't Breathe to help keep it grounded and interesting. Quite often, you can pick out a weak link among any sort of ensemble, no matter the size, but that is far from the case in Don't Breathe. Admittedly, I have complained multiple times in the past about my personal gripes with how some characters act in situations such as these (it was my main reason for being unenthused with 2006's Them, a.ka. Ils), but when you consider their circumstances, personalities, and disappointing lives outside of their profession, being cross at them for taking certain actions becomes far more understandable.

Of course, what is a good horror movie without a diabolical reprobate? Avatar's Stephen Lang delivers one hell of a nerve-racking performance as The Blind Man (if my memory serves me right, our trio of robbers never learn his real name), and he is easily the most unique foe to come along in one of these films in several years. The aged citizen is cold, creepy, and underneath it all, assuredly deranged. While you do feel more than a few ounces of sympathy for the elderly gentlemen throughout the first half of the film's running time, its twists and turns slowly remind you that even handicapped individuals such as this one can keep terrible, awful mysteries hidden from the general public. At the risk of minor spoilers, to say that you experience a complete 180 degree turnaround on your opinion of the man, especially if you are a woman, is the most obvious statement of the year. It makes the events surrounding these poor souls, and Don't Breathe as a whole, that much more demented and daring. The Blind Man is also accompanied by a rather intimidating, relentless pet Rottweiler, who at times, manages to disturb and freak you out more than his own master can do. After witnessing the crazed canines in this year's Green Room, I think it may be safe to say that assorted writers in Hollywood have been doing a damn fine job of reminding audiences that man's best friend can be more difficult to deal with than you would think.

Don't Breathe is an often quiet, firm, yet exhilarating piece of suspenseful horror that both respectful devotees and casual fans of the genre will greatly be able to appreciate, while never feeling like it has to be desperate and scare the audience with cheap thrills and predictable cliches found in releases that are of lesser quality and take very few chances. No, it is well aware that have paid good money to be thrilled and frightened, and that after barking for so long that you "deserve a better class of fear," it is going to do the very best to stand and deliver on that request. As I have stated multiple times before, if you are willing to let yourself be sucked into a movie's world, absorbing every necessary detail and looking at these human beings as something more than just characters stuck in a scary movie, I am more than convinced that you can have just as fantastic of a time as I did. After all, when a sizable gathering of moviegoers* are eliciting several audible moans, gasps, and flat-out "NO!"s during a majority of the right moments when you are supposed to, you know that you have done your job as a filmmaker particularly well.

Now, perhaps if it isn't too much to ask for, can we hire someone to write a new character for Stephen Lang to play in the Marvel Cinematic Universe? Perhaps a "Reverse-Daredevil," ala the antagonist for the CW's adaptation of The Flash? Yes, I know that the actor is not legally blind, but one can dream, can't I?

......Wait, there are TWO OTHER individuals in the Marvel Comics world for him to potentially tackle? Well, I suppose that can suffice...for now....

Note: I only say "sizable" because, and I hate to say it, some moviegoers will venture into every picture in this field with the worst of intentions; sporting a defiant, arrogant attitude that says they lack a willingness to be scared. Don't be that person. Let your guard down. Be afraid. Be very afraid. :)

Sausage Party (2016) Review

It's another morning at local supermarket Shopwell's, and confident, excitable wiener Frank has only two goals for the day: to end up with Brenda, a neighboring hot dog bun, and to be handpicked by the hands of the "gods" themselves. According to legend, those who are chosen to take the journey to the great beyond will experience pure bliss, being treated like royalty while surrounded by their utmost desires. After one fateful, but rather messy day, the two find themselves separated from their packs, while the rest of their respective groups of friends are taken away to the promised land. Banding together with a whiny bread product named Sammy Bagel Jr. and a rather grumpy Vash named Lavash, the group set out on an adventure that will expose a horrifying reality for all consumable items that could change the very means of their own fragile existence and once-thought perfect future.



Honestly, after pasting that poster and typing up that synopsis seen above, how does one even properly start a review about a theatrical release such as this? Admittedly, conjuring up something worth saying about a film that was most likely born out of way too much free time and entirely way too much marijuana and psychedelic use is far more difficult than it sounds. Writer/producers Seth Rogen and Evan Goldberg, who at this point on are the furthest things from strangers to regular cinephiles, seemingly have some of the biggest balls in the entertainment industry. They have not only managed to keep the idea of the "stoner comedy" alive and well, but recently even managed to finally adapt one of the most popular comic books of all time to television after so many before them attempted or failed to do so. Conceptualizing and realizing a motion picture such as Sausage Party is just so incredibly strange though. After all, an animated tale about food that must band together once they realize that their ultimate fate is to end up inside the mouths and stomachs of those who they once cherished and revered? That....is a really, really silly basis for any big screen show that cost nineteen million dollars to make. In fact, it borders on just plain idiotic, with the possibility of this series of niche jokes wearing thin after a shockingly short amount of time has passed.


Thankfully, Sausage Party, directed by animation veteran Conrad Vernon (Shrek 2, Monsters vs Aliens) and relative newcomer Greg Tiernan, is also incredibly, absurdly funny. In fact, next to February's Deadpool (the argument for which flick is more crude will certainly pop up soon), I can't recall a time this year where I laughed this much in a theater. A sizable chunk of the movie's humor is built off of running with the "ridiculous" factor, managing to appeal to a wider array of fans than even those who viewed the trailer would believe that it could accomplish. True, most audiences will still consist of real-life counterparts of those who we saw throughout pictures like Half Baked and Harold And Kumar Go To White Castle, but it won't be made up of solely dopes like some critics think that it will be. It's like picking up a cheap item on the menu from a restaurant that you expect to be at least decent, but are surprised that its taste and size is actually comparable to that of the more expensive entrees.


For a premise that looks fairly simple on paper, there actually is more going on in Sausage Party that one would suspect. There are the food equivalents of race wars and divides, religious conflicts, and multiple discussions about sexuality that permeate throughout its crisp, smooth running time. Of course, the obvious hot dog and bun jokes are something that even your average eighth grader could come up with, as are some of the puns and one-liners from our primary antagonist of the picture (hilariously voiced by the supremely underrated Nick Kroll), but they're forgivable in the long run considering how many quips, one-liners, and amusing anecdotes manage to stick their landing so well. There is also a fairly funny allegory for arguments about one's views on deities. It also strays away from one of my very few fears that I had about the trailer by not shoving any sort of theme into the picture about not consuming certain products. Every single piece of produce, meat, spice, and sauce are treated equally in the film, and you feel horrible for any segment that involves their grisly demise. Mind you, there is a good chance that you will be laughing heartily during said sequences too like I was doing more times than I could count.


Some may complain that Sausage Party's animation is pretty average, and you wouldn't be incorrect. Hell, I can think of a myriad of pictures released by DreamWorks during the first half of the 2000s that look better than this. But if you were looking for that to be your main draw or attraction, then I believe that you are searching for the wrong type of flick. As one would also suspect, the voice cast is rather large and in fine form. Sure, Seth Rogen and his usual band of misfits and cohorts are here (ask me who in particular shows up, and I can answer "yes" to each guess before you even finish their full name), but after this many products have been released that feature his name attached to it, you should fully expect that. Some Saturday Night Live alumni also pop up, including Bill Hader (Trainwreck, Cloudy With A Chance Of Meatballs) as an aged bottle of whiskey who somehow manages to convince me that one can smoke assorted things through a kazoo, and Kristen Wiig (Ghostbusters, Welcome To Me) as Frank's buxom, fluffy love interest. However, snagging veteran performers like Edward Norton (American History X, Fight Club) and Salma Hayek (From Dusk Til Dawn, Frida) could not have been an easy task. Then again, if I was the former actor, I might relish the chance to voice a bagel who utters the phrase "mashugana cunt" if the opportunity presented itself to me.


I am well aware that there are younger people who occasionally check out my own reviews, but I would say that as a closet one myself, Seth Rogen and Evan Goldberg are living proof that all stoners or potheads should not be stereotyped. Heck, movies like this were made to be enjoyed with friends who are equally sick-minded and willing to drink a beer or partake in smoking something that should not be illegal before the screening takes place. Sausage Party is a much more well-crafted project than it has the right to be, balancing outrageous, vulgar humor with some heart, a clever script, and a fairly good message about solidarity during times of chaos and violence. Oh, and its third act manages to jump the shark in the type of manner that drives it from "good" to "great." In a way, it's the foulmouthed, deranged cousin of another animated release from earlier in the year that also had fine intentions and preached what we all need to be hearing in this tough climate that we are waiting for to be over in several months from now.



Let's just hope that's the last time I ever compare a motion picture from Disney to another film containing rampant use of bath salts though.

Suicide Squad (2016) Review

Superpowered beings have emerged from the skies and the shadows, and because of it, a wave of destruction and battles have ravaged cities and increased the number of civilian casualties. Cautious of any potential future threats, intelligence officer Amanda Waller presents a curious concept to government officials that could benefit them more than they could ever imagine: a group of expendable convicts, some imbued with powers of their own, will be lead by Special Forces standout Rick Flag. They will proceed to carry out dirty and dangerous missions in order to have their own sentences reduced, all while being closely monitored by Waller herself, who will implant small explosives in their heads to ensure that they do not stray from the path. When one of the intended recruits goes rogue, intending to annihilate all of mankind, the idea is made concrete, and the team of expendables is hastily assembled and sent to work.



In case you have been living under a rather heavy rock, Warner Bros' track record for big screen adaptations of DC Comics properties during the new decade has been rather...well, rocky to say the least. While a good number of us are anticipating future installments in this newfound universe over the course of the next five years, we seem to be doing so with arguably massive hesitations. After all, when your flagship and launching point for this was the extremely divisive Man of Steel, one can't be entirely surprised that nervousness has reached highs that no fans should ever have to experience. So, during this downtime between superhero films, the decision to bring Task Force X, also known by the more familiar, catchier-sounding "Suicide Squad" to cinemas around the country, sounded like an awfully risky thing to do. Choosing to handle a group of villains whose entire purpose is to forcefully and begrudgingly serve a higher, more noble power against their wills seems unusual. Why not focus on a more guaranteed money-maker like the Teen Titans? Or try to do a bigger, better, and more proper handling of the Green Lantern? True, we are getting those down the line, but the questions still linger in the back of your mind.


In a weird, yet tragic sort of way, the handling of Suicide Squad is not too different from that of another installment in the realm of "comic book" movies that came out just last year. You have an established property, known decently well by hardcore fans, with just enough recognizable names (be they fictional characters or real-life performers) to ensure a good box office intake and high merchandise sales. You have a talented individual sitting in the director's chair and writing the script (in this case, David Ayer, whose track record includes writing Training Day and directing End Of Watch), who has been able to provide more than their fair share of respectable and/or good motion pictures in the past. However, you are also at the mercy of your distributor, who can be rather ruthless, demanding, or pestering at times. Because of this, a myriad of problems arise, shining all too bright for even the blindest of fans to ignore. Much of the humor that was added in due to the backlash that this year's Batman v. Superman: Dawn Of Justice received for being what many called "too dark" feels incredibly forced, with one or two quips and lines out of twelve producing a chuckle. Whenever a filmmaker is forced to go back and do reshoots, or add in material against their will, it rarely ever works to the flick's advantage. Even if someone such as me thought that Batman v. Superan had far more problems than not being fun enough, this decision ends up as more of a grave misfire rather than helping to provide anything extra on the positive side of things. As I said above, there are a small handful of laughs, most coming from Will Smith's Deadshot, but that has more to do with the charismatic actor playing an exaggerated version of himself rather than the iconic ruthless assassin that he has been cast as. For somebody who is a cold, mostly humorless killer in the comics, all you end up waiting on is for him to spout his usual "aw hell nah" rhetoric that he's so well known for. For her first time appearing on the big screen, psychotic fan favorite Harley Quinn is given more than enough time to provide the laughs, even if not all of them hit (and god knows there were a LOT of gags and wisecracks that she spits out). Next to the two cameos from two particular protagonists whose names I will not give away, and an entertainingly ruthless job by Viola Davis as government official Amanda Waller, she's easily the best part of the picture, and Margot Robbie seems to be relishing every minute and moment that she gets to appear on screen. How much of that can steeped in reality and how much is rooted in fiction I'll never know, but I digress. They are the most akin to what we define as a "complete" character, which is oddly one of the main problems that Suicide Squad has, though it's far from its biggest fault.


In fact, the technical and behind-the-scenes aspects of Suicide Squad could realistically be its worst offenders. The computer-generated imagery and effects are, at their best, passable, with the highlight being the earliest version of primary antagonist The Enchantress (played by Cara Delevingne, whose performance devolves into complete B-movie camp towards the end). At their worst, they are inexcusably horrendous. There are far too many instances where they are eerily reminiscent of the work seen in Alex Proyas' Gods Of Egypt, and I assure you, that is the furthest thing from a compliment (and boy do the Enchantress and her brother make for lousy, corny villains). Suddenly, Doomsday's ugly, crowbarred appearance in Batman v. Superman isn't looking so bad after all. It also suffers from some of the choppiest editing that I've seen in a bigger budget film to date. I know that its predecessor had at least a good half hour removed from its running time, but one wonders exactly how much of Suicide Squad was left on the cutting room floor. To my knowledge, Jared Leto's Joker had a large number of his scenes removed from the theatrical print, which may partially explain as to why his character ultimately serves no purpose for being there, contributing essentially nothing to the overall main story arc during his shockingly short amount of screen time. Supporting members of Task Force X, such as Japanese swordswoman Kitana and the quirky Captain Boomerang, though certainly anticipated by readers and familiars such as myself, are barely utilized. I kept wondering if Ayer forgot that they were in the picture to begin with, and others such as Killer Croc and El Diablo, as close as they may come to being "cool," feel an awful lot like MacGuffins, and badly stereotyped ones at that. Truth be told, you could remove nearly every member of the team save for about two or three, and you would end up with nearly the same movie that we get in the end. Say what you will about Marvel's team-up movies and their occasional tendency to overcrowd things, but they attempted to make every single member have a purpose (and a more fleshed out personality) that didn't only matter until the final moments of the third act. Another gigantic snafu comes from what I can only assume was Zack Snyder's influence (he serves as executive producer here), and that is the grating, stupefyingly bad soundtrack that was added in during post-production. Similar to what that director decided to do with the false feminism disaster known as Sucker Punch, we are barraged with an endless amount of recognizable songs for nearly half of the film's length (it's enough to pack onto three LPs). I'm certain that this was meant to be their version of what Marvel's Guardians Of The Galaxy did with its unabashed love of songs from the 1970s and 1980s, but control is what separates those two pictures from one another. It's the movie equivalent of when your friend makes a sixty minute long playlist in iTunes, then proceeds to play every song on it for the first fifteen to twenty seconds before skipping to the next one. You just want to ask them to stop, take a breather, and remind them that you're starting to annoy every single person that you're trying to please. At the very least, they mercifully didn't play Ozzy Osbourne's "Crazy Train" during the Joker's introduction.


Speaking of the Oscar winner's portrayal as the Joker, I was really hoping that I would not have to discuss this or even type some of those sentences in the paragraph above. However, given that so much of the marketing has been built around seeing him pop up in the picture, it feels inevitable. I am open for different interpretations of a classic character, but given that nearly every incarnation of Batman's primary adversary has at least had the common decency to make him intimidating or even frightening, the decision to write this version of the Clown Prince of Crime as nothing more than an inked, irritating, wannabe Juggalo gangster does nothing but disappoint you in the end. It's a shame, as even with the more photos that were revealed during the buildup to this movie's release, I still had some faith that there would be some semblance of a good Joker buried underneath the platinum grills and horrendous tattoos. If fans and moviegoers are satisfied with this performance, more power to them. But I dreaded seeing him every time that he appeared in the movie's two hour running time, fearful that his overacting and poor mimicry of Heath Ledger was just going to increase my disappointment with the overall product.


I know that I am occasionally labeled by friends, cohorts, and familiars as being too fickle when it comes to reviewing flicks like Suicide Squad. On more than one occasion, I have been labeled a Marvel fanboy, which...well, I can't fully argue against (though I implore that you don't get me started on the recently released X-Men: Apocalypse). At the end of the day, for as much as I think that this is a wasted opportunity and just an all-around rubbish movie, I will come to its defense. While I am currently finishing my own review for this, there is a petition to get websites such as RottenTomatoes.com shut down, due to the backlash that Suicide Squad and its DC brethren have been receiving (thank you to fellow reviewer John Squires for hilariously pointing out that the movie's distributor owns the aforementioned site as well). In a time where nerds are seemingly divided over the silliest, and most trivial of things, I implore that you direct your rage towards those who truly deserve it.


And that, my fellow geeks, is Warner Bros. Please tell them to have confidence in their directors and their vision, even if it garners mixed reviews from fans and critics alike (I'd rather witness this bringing in 50/50 opinions, rather than 30/70). Tell them that going back to shoot additional scenes to make a picture more "lighthearted" or "amusing" isn't always necessary, and that by coupling that decision with the one to noticeably edit out material that feels like it is obviously crucial, can sometimes end up turning your release into an absolute mess, harming the franchise and box office numbers in the end. Tell them to not influence someone in such a way, that they end up going to a red carpet premiere, shouting "FUCK MARVEL!" at the top of their lungs out of what we assume is due to anger, frustration, jealousy, or a combination of all three. There isn't anything wrong with enjoying a nice bowl of pasta without having the need to drown it in shredded parmesan cheese and pounds of grounded black pepper, and yelling at the kitchen staff to bring out the next dish for your guest within five minutes isn't going to help matters either. You are allowed to take things slow. There isn't a need to catch up to Marvel Studios or Fox, as it isn't like these characters are going to be forgotten about tomorrow by the public at large. At this rate, I'm more scared for Wonder Woman and Justice League than I ever thought that I was going to be.



........Of course, I'll be there opening night for both though. I have nothing better to do these days.

Batman: The Killing Joke (2016) Review

After a small group of dead bodies are discovered at a crime scene by Detective Harvey Bullock and Batman, Gotham City's sworn protector decides to pay a visit to one particular criminal, his longtime enemy The Joker, inside the confines of Arkham Asylum, hoping to unravel the meaning behind them. When he arrives, his usually harsher, more physically dangerous methods of getting someone to spill the beans take a back seat to the decision to just talk to his nemesis, in the hopes that after all of these years feuding, they should not end up killing each other in the end. Very shortly thereafter, Batman discovers that The Joker has escaped his prison. Unknown to everyone involved, the psychopath has been devising his most fiendish and sick plan to date: the kidnapping and slow, almost ritualistic torture of the city's own Gordon family, wherein he aims to prove that all it takes is one bad day to reduce the sanest man alive to lunacy.

For all of the continuously negative feedback that DC Comics Inc. has been receiving over the past few years, I believe that not all of it is warranted. Yes, their live-action franchises have been of varying quality, and admittedly, I have little desire to watch that one motion picture released earlier this year ever again. And yet, there is always a beacon of hope. In the television department, we have the unabashed fun of shows such as The Flash and future releases like Justice League Action. In the realm of video games, Injustice 2, the highly-anticipated sequel to one of the better fighting games for this last generation of consoles, is set to be released within the first quarter of 2017 (if you haven't watched the Wonder Woman and Blue Beetle reveal trailer, check it out here!). Finally, as I have discussed many times before, Warner Bros. Animation has been pumping out at least two or three new animated films per year for over a decade, with several consisting of popular and beloved storylines from the pages of their own books. During last year's San Diego Comic-Con, producer and friend-of-all-nerds Bruce Timm announced that an adaptation of Alan Moore's Batman: The Killing Joke, a highly influential work whose actions and decisions still ripple throughout the pages of their biggest titles today, was in the plans and set to be released a year later. Over time, further details kept emerging, as did animatics, casting news, and all-too-brief clips of this dream that was finally becoming a reality. I was certainly excited, but even amongst all of this, I had my reservations about what the finished product would look like.

The animation is certainly a step above DC's occasional tendency to hit or miss in the straight-to-home video department. Brian Bolland's design for the Joker has always been one of my favorites, and bringing even the smallest of details to life, such as the shadows surrounding and blocking out his eyes in the infamous "apartment" scene, or his emergence from a pond of hazardous chemicals, look rather splendid. Other technical aspects, such as the score by longtime DCAU composer Kristopher Carter (Batman Beyond) are also exceptional. Obviously, the thing that will attract most fans (other than the sheer intrigue of the movie's existence) is the return of veteran Batman voice actors such as Kevin Conroy, Mark Hamill, and Tara Strong. As predicted, they are all in top form, with Hamill delivering one of his finest performances to date as our crazed main antagonist. Some men were just destined to stay attached to a character for as long as they live, and as much as I have respected other portrayals over the years from the likes of Heath Ledger (R.I.P.) Richard Epcar, and John DiMaggio, ol' Luke Skywalker is just irreplaceable to someone like me. Prior to the actual flick starting, the audience was even treated to a short, taped interview with the man himself, wherein he discussed his history with voicing this fictional nutjob, including how he initially thought that he would be selected for a villain such as Two-Face or Ra's Al Ghul instead. It was certainly a nice treat for every fan in attendance.

Okay, so now that we have gotten through the positive aspects of Batman: The Killing Joke, I can kick off my shoes and remove my gloves. Firstly, my fear of the source material being far too short to adapt into any sort of feature length film was realized in a way that I could have never imagined. Without trying to spoil anything for those that are reading, only the second half of The Killing Joke is dedicated to the comic of the same name. While I understand that filler is necessary when the time calls for it (I am a twenty plus year fan of the Dragon Ball franchise after all), attempting to recreate any writing style as unique as Alan Moore's just feels far too difficult to do, especially when your lead-in consists of a weak Batgirl-centric story (with a villain named Paris Franz....not making that up) that does more to harm the reputation and respect that you have for the well-known protagonists. Even if you are not well-versed with Batman outside of the big or small screens, you can meticulously pick out every single portion of this that feels like it was written solely for this picture and every other chunk that was lifted from the printed story. This is all the more shocking when you notice that this project's script was penned by the immensely talented Brian Azzarello of 100 Bullets and Wonder Woman fame. It's the cinematic equivalent of when you go to a fancy restaurant, pining for your favorite dish. Once you receive said entree, somebody that you know walks by, observes what it is that you are eating, and says "Hey, that looks pretty good. But I think it's missing something." This person proceeds to pull ingredients out of their pocket, dumping them onto your meal and making it nearly indigestable as a result, then walks away before you can get a good word in about why they think that this was a good idea.

There has also been a humongous amount of outrage surrounding said filler, as it changes and scrambles the connection between two of our four central characters of Batman: The Killing Joke. While it initially didn't make me fume as badly as it has for others, and I feel that it may have been due to the need for stirring "more controversy" just as Moore and Boland's work did back during its initial release, all it took was about two hours for me to realize that this bold decision was anything but. In fact, it was really, really bad. As a fan of cinema, I've always believed that implications are sometimes best left as just that. It reminded me of the assortment of unnecessary backstories to other madmen in the world of entertainment such as Freddy Krueger and Michael Myers, or when two characters from your favorite form of media would do something completely out of left field because producers and writers thought that a small collection of fans that wanted this could somehow outweigh the larger amount of opinions of those that didn't. Sure, there will always be an air of mystery to it that a select few want to see explained, but a majority of fans prefer to just leave things be. It also casts a broken, dim light on our titular hero that no fan of the Dark Knight would ever wish to see, and worse yet, makes another champion of the DC universe into something that even a modern day Frank Miller would shake his head at. That, or make him wish that he had thought of something so "brilliant." And before I am accused of being an elitist or purist fanboy by my fellow geeks, I am one hundred percent fine with attempting to change or add something to an adaptation. Heck, it's one of the things that is keeping AMC's Preacher, which still stands as my favorite series of graphic novels ever written, so entertaining. But when you're taking one of the very best comic books about the perplexing, dark, and surprisingly complicated relationship between the Caped Crusader and the Clown Prince of Crime, and tacking on an incredible amount of groan-inducing stupid writing, thusly twisting at least half of it into something that more closely resembles high school fan-fiction written by a misogynist masquerading as a feminist, you aren't exactly going to please a good portion of your fanbase. 

Though these following sentences may come across as childish, I am at the point where I just can not wear a fake smile (even with the help of patented Joker gas) and give this a good recommendation. Yes, the handling of the original source material is, for the most part, done decently well, but in the end, it isn't enough to lift this above the most definitive labeling of "an eternal disappointment." Personally, I feel that a shorter, more compact iteration would have worked far better, perhaps in the form of an anthology along the lines of the excellent DC Showcase Original Shorts Collection, especially when you consider that the eccentric English author behind this has a myriad of tales that have yet to receive the animated treatment (Superman: Whatever Happened To The Man Of Tomorrow? comes to mind). If you're an Alan Moore or Batman completist, I know that there isn't anything that I've said that will ultimately tell you to save your money and just stick to the graphic novel instead, but if you're paying money in the double digits to see this (I paid THIRTEEN DOLLARS to see this in a theater), I worry that you may be just as insane as any of the inmates in Arkham Asylum.

Speaking of that, I'd highly suggest that you go and watch the Killing Joke recreations in that series of games instead. They're shorter, creepier, and also feature the same top notch voice actors.

Lights Out (2016) Review

Years ago, during an evening shift at work, Martin's father was brutally killed without explanation by someone or something that was never caught or figured out. After time has gone by, the young man is living with his seemingly emotionally broken mother, and has been experiencing frightening episodes during the night brought upon by a woman named Diana. After he bares his soul to older sister Rebecca, the woman confesses to Martin that she herself has also been the victim of these same terrors throughout her life. The emergence of this malevolent spirit is no coincidence, however, and together with Rebecca's new boyfriend, the trio set out to discover the true meaning of its existence, and the potential connection it has to their own clouded family history.



Considering my tendency to unfortunately avoid seeing newer releases in the horror genre inside of a theater (this is something that I am in dire need of correcting), the decision to choose Lights Out, the full-length feature based on the short of the same name by first time director David F. Sandberg, over a gigantic blockbuster like the newest entry in the Star Trek franchise, is riskier than I thought it would be. But, given my surprisingly good run of films steeped in said genre that I've viewed lately, diving into a third one in less than a month could make for a nice grand slam. Of course, if this particular project ended up being less than stellar, I may find myself with several eggs on my face, adjourned with Enterprise logos.


Smack dab on the poster for Lights Out is the production credit for one Mr. James Wan, the Malaysian-Australian director/producer whose credits include The Conjuring, Fast 7, and more motion pictures that I am certain you have seen before (and possibly even own). Without even having to see a single frame of this flick, you can sense the fellow's influence that permeates throughout Lights Out. First, there's the emphasis on long moments of silence, only to be topped off by absolutely startling moments of terror that range in terms of volume projected forth. Secondly, the idea of any benevolent spirit being attached to a human being, potentially suffering from trauma kept secret from others, rather than merely haunting an establishment. Wan's own Insidious comes to mind, as does the terrific The Babadook by Jennifer Kent, of which I can tell Sandberg and his crew are clearly big fans of. Thirdly, the unmistakeable decision to keep the body count low. With the exception of his debut effort Saw, Wan has the idea that bloodshed and stacking up the corpses isn't wholly necessary for wresting real fear from human beings. As much of a sucker as I am for films that pile on the bodies like I do with calories, I sympathize and agree with that mindset. Perhaps it's because I have gotten older over time, as I'm certain that I would have loathed a film like this one in my younger, more ignorant teenage years. Still, as respectable as that may be, the scares in Lights Out didn't seem to come in as strongly as I would have wanted them to. Mercifully, they never enter into comical territory, but the over-reliance on the dreaded jump scare tactic does wear thin as time goes on, even if there are some very good ones that pop up during its shockingly short eighty-one minute running time. Thanks to some fairly good cinematography, the mood is kept moderately tense whenever light does escape, adding a real feeling that nothing can truly be done to defeat whatever it is that is persistently disturbing this family.


Two of our main protagonists are portrayed by Teresa Palmer (Take Me Home Tonight, Warm Bodies) and Alexander DiPersia, who I believe is a relative newcomer when it comes to taking larger roles in theatrically released movies. Admittedly, they are a bit hit or miss during sequences that don't directly deal with this mostly unseen force, but young newcomer Gabriel Bateman, who was previously cast in another Wan-related project titled Annabelle, does stand out among the tortured cast as Rebecca's younger brother Martin. He is rather good at emitting genuine fear when the time is right, and you feel for him more than any other individual caught in the madness that surrounds them. Plus, he doesn't have an Avenged Sevenfold poster hanging at his flat like the aforementioned couple discussed in the first sentence of this paragraph. While I did expect veteran performer Maria Bello (A History of Violence, The Cooler) to deliver a quality performance as their deeply disturbed, psychologically tortured mother, it did seem to take more than a couple of scenes for that to occur, and she does end up showing why I firmly believe that she's one of the most criminally overlooked actresses in Hollywood. The rest of the cast, for what there is, are fine too, if not underused or just serving the purpose of being "redshirts" or existing as pieces in occasionally shoddy flashback sequences.


Lights Out serves as an interesting, if not evidently flawed experience that depends entirely on your expectations of what you think horror of this ilk can or should be. Well, that and if you can stomach being surrounded by the unmistakable idiots that fill the cineplexes these days during the opening weekend of newer scary releases. For a PG-13 motion picture without a recognizable name attached as director and a modest budget of roughly five million dollars, the film isn't terribly bad, nor is it terribly good. At the end of the day, it is a fine and durable effort with some decent jumps and heart from a director who I will do the best to keep my eye on for the next few years. After all, all one has to do is look back at James Wan's own filmography to notice the rise in quality and increase of bigger/better projects that came his way.



God help us all if Aquaman somehow screws that up though.

Ghostbusters (2016) Review

Columbia University teacher Dr. Erin Gilbert has been living a rather meager, uneventful life following the bombing of her book which discusses the possibility of existence beyond the realm of the living. When she discovers that the work has been republished by her co-author Dr. Abby Yates, who has continued throughout the years on her own research alongside the quirky and intelligent Dr. Jillian Holtzmann, Erin leaves to meet with her old acquaintance in hopes of finding out why. It doesn't take long for the trio to discover that not only is there life beyond death, but that the ghosts who inhabit our planet are the furthest thing from welcoming or friendly. With the assistance of streetwise, MTA worker Patricia Tolan, the new group open their own business so that they may help those in need, but find there may be something far more sinister brewing around Manhattan, and worse yet, that the rise of these phantoms is anything but coincidental.



Attention fellow nerds, geeks, and all-around lovers of things peculiar or out of the ordinary: Paul Feig's 2016 remake of Ghostbusters, the beloved 1984 supernatural horror/comedy, is a perfectly serviceable and fun motion picture. You can calm down, go about your daily lives, and save your incessant complaining for something far more important that truly deserves it.


Okay, that certainly isn't the most eloquent way to start an actual review, as it pretty much saves you the trouble of have to traverse and read the rest of my collected thoughts. And yet, getting that out of the way feels so incredibly satisfying. Prior to its opening day, I can not recall one particular cinematic release receiving this much blatant and ugly backlash solely based on it even daring to exist. It's honestly made me look at fans of the original in a much different, if not grim light. Even as somebody who never found myself laughing too much at the trailers that were released prior to 07/15/16, I felt like an alien by telling people to "give it a chance. Trailers lie. This is a FACT." I feel that years ago, people who were into very "niche" culture, which would include something like Ghostbusters, or things far more idiosyncratic such as Japanese animation, tabletop games, or comic books, could band together and stand as one. These days, I get the feeling that there is this mentality that if one person does not enjoy something, every other single person must know that they are inferior and wrong for finding joy in it. It's turning my fellow weirdos into the very things that they hated throughout high school and before. Vince McMahon of the WWE had a saying back in the latter half of the 2000s (albeit in character): "You don't like what you like." If such a stranger, if not more eerily prophetic thing has been uttered, then I would love to hear it.


Anyway, there's a flick to review here, right? I do indeed share fond memories and adoration for Ivan Reitman's classic about the emergence of a number of spirits and poltergeists, with a small assortment of scientists gathering together to develop a way to contain them before something truly catastrophic can occur. Whenever Ghostbusters comes on television, I feel the need to stop whatever I'm doing and watch, even if I'm in the midst of doing my taxes or trying to find a way to bury a body....erm, scratch that last part. There is some sort of magic present in that film that can never be replicated again, especially since co-star and writer Harold Ramis has unfortunately passed away. Before you ask, no, he does NOT make an appearance as a ghost in this iteration. While I'll admit that I'm not the hugest fan of its subsequent followup (I'll even go so far as to say that a lot of it felt kind of forced), I was never completely opposed to them reviving the franchise. Even if we ended up with a steaming turd, we have a plethora of memorabilia and other sources to provide us with entertainment, including two television shows, comic books, and video games. Hell, Activision came out with a new one this week!


The announcement of a newer installment did have me slightly worried though, as I am not the biggest fan of director Paul Feig's previous works. The decision to cast all female performers as our four protagonists never particularly bothered me, as there was never any signs that clearly pointed to the Ghostbusters having to be humans that share the Y chromosome. As luck would have it though, our cast ends up being one of the best aspects of 2016's Ghostbusters, as there is an indelible chemistry between our four leads that makes the audience feel quite welcome in this universe. I firmly believe that most of that comes from three fourths of the team having spent years together (in one way, shape, or form) on the nearly immortal sketch comedy program Saturday Night Live. Kate McKinnon (who I'm admittedly sad I'll never be able to ask out on a date) and Leslie Jones steal the show with nearly every facial expression, twitch, and line they are given, and Kristen Wiig is becoming more and more confident with being able to carry a majority of the weight of a picture with a larger budget on her back. One extra credit must also be given to Melissa McCarthy, who I still think is a very talented woman when she isn't starring in a vehicle spearheaded and written by her husband. Chris Hemsworth (Thor) also provides for some great comic relief, though he does start veering into the type of territory that makes you wonder if somebody can truly be this stupid and still breathing. I would much rather have this sense of camaraderie from a crew than to see a look of absolute dread or trepidation from older performers who want nothing to do with a series that they left behind oh so many years ago (see: Zoolander 2 and X-Men: Apocalypse).


Ghostbusters also does boast some fairly impressive visuals, even if the abundance of CGI does start to drag the product down a bit during the final act. The apparitions that are first encountered look fairly good, bringing to mind some of the otherworldly entities from cult favorites like The Frighteners. Some, such as the 2016 version of fan favorite Slimer, look nearly identical to their thirty-two year old ancestor, albeit with a brighter coat of paint (I hope people recall that the forerunner was played by a woman. Deal with that sexist douchebags). Others, like an absurdly large, skinny patriotic specter, do suffer from looking a tad bit, well, fake. But as someone who recently sat through the nearly insufferable Gods Of Egypt, I'll take any of the effects here every single time if somebody forces me to choose between the two properties. Newer technology is introduced to the franchise as well, and even those who come out unimpressed with the film should still be able to admit that the myriad of new devices shown off by McKinnon's Jillian Holtzmann are actually clever, if not adequately cool. I do wonder if a large chunk of these were devised to help sell toys though, and it certainly isn't beneath the movie to sneak in a few quick product placements here and there.


Is 2016's Ghostbusters perfect? Given the extreme rarity of that distinction, of course it isn't. Not every line delivers the laughs that it intends to, some of the supporting cast are blatant copies of characters from the 1984 version, and the various nods to Reitman's flick, though unabashedly charming, aren't fully necessary. But above all else, it has one essential, very important deciding factor that matters the most out of any cinematic experience: you never find yourself becoming bored. Paul Feig and co-writer Kate Dippold (of Parks and Rec fame) understand that this was a very difficult and nearly impossible job to take, and the two make damn sure that you will never find yourself rudely checking your cellphone or watch, wondering when you can go home. For that, I tip my hat to this new installment and can say that I didn't regret spending a single penny on it. Wait, my gigantic head can't fit a hat no matter how hard I try (it's clearly full of my own ego).



And if even after all of this, you're still spewing venom about the fact that this is playing in a theater near you and you think it's some sort of blight on the world of geek culture, ruining your childhood (a phrase that is beyond tiresome at this point), I give you this picture of Kristen Wiig on the red carpet premiere with a young female fan, eager and noticeably excited to meet her one of new favorite movie stars and someone to potentially look up to.

The world is a pretty sad, scary place right now, but observing something as simple as this makes it a tiny bit less terrible to a simple movie fan (and someone who still has a semblance of faith in humanity) like me. Just because your world is filled with darkness doesn't mean that you have to kill the light of those who haven't been enveloped in it yet. If this doesn't make you crack even half a smile, or still brings about rage from your festering, Burger King Mac and Cheetos-filled heart, let professional wrestling legend The Iron Sheik give you a proper response that I could never imitate, no matter how hard I try.

The Shallows (2016) Review

Medical school student Nancy Adams is still reeling from the passing of her mother, who has unfortunately succumbed to cancer. Feeling the need to clear her head and seek out some sort of tranquility, the young lady travels to a cloistered, seemingly remote beach, bringing along her surfboard for good measure. While there, she meets and manages to briefly interact with other fellow surfers. As the the latter decide to leave one day, Nancy paddles out further to the sea, glancing at what appears to be a large rock. After coming closer, however, she makes a horrifying discovery that leads to the woman beginning a fight for her own life, beached on a large object while a large great white shark circles nearby, waiting for her to become its next meal.



Over a good number of years, the reputation of theatrical and home releases in the realm of "natural horror" has gone downhill at an alarmingly quick rate. There may exist the possibility that this generation believes that given the number of options and useful tools at their disposal, there is truly no other way to be harmed or maimed by mother nature. Perhaps the most unfortunate victim in this decline of quality has been the always recognizable shark family. Yes, we are still blessed from time to time with a project like 2003's Open Water, but for every one of those exceptional efforts, we were treated to FAR inferior, or worse yet, laughingly bad forays that were clearly meant to appeal to the lowest common denominator. I'm speaking of motion pictures along the lines of Shark Night 3D, any and every film that premiered on the SyFy Channel, or the rather rubbish creations by production company The Asylum. Maybe it was just the old man in me that was shining through, but I went into Jaume Collet-Serra's fourth foray into the horror genre, the cleverly-titled The Shallows (fun fact: the original title was "In The Deep," which makes the tagline that much more clever), with a very open mind and an eagerness to finally find anything that reminds you that yes, sharks are very, very dangerous, and you should absolutely, positively be afraid (especially when they aren't being thrown around inside of tornados).


At first glance, The Shallows could be misconstrued as Buried at sea (don't you dare throw in a joke about the band that shares such a name). If your familiarity with the aforementioned film is poor or nonexistent, I can simply describe Rodrigo Cortes' underrated gem as "Ryan Reynolds is buried alive inside of a coffin for ninety minutes with little-to-no contact or help." And for the first act or so, it does appear to be a similar sort of dilemma for our protagonist Nancy (coincidentally played by Reynolds' current wife Blake Lively). But when it comes to this particular problem, she isn't lucky enough to have a cellular phone with her when she finds herself stranded on a rock or other nearby commodities. The only thing our heroine is blessed with is a decent amount of medical knowledge, a paltry understanding of the Spanish language, and a willingness to not give up, as tempting as it might be. Though the marketing of The Shallows as just another "killer shark" movie isn't too surprising, this is arguably more of a breakout performance from the actress herself, who manages to one-up and conquer her previous accolades in other masterful works like The Town. You are given just enough background and brief chattering between others so that you may get to know her and root for her should things go south.


And man oh manischewitz do they ever. Once our slow game of death between Nancy and the great white shark begins, the tension is palpable. At no point did I ever find myself bored or feeling that The Shallows was losing me. I felt as if I had melted into my seat, eyes glued to the screen, with nervousness coursing through my veins. The pacing and cinematography (it is a deceptively beautiful piece to look at) help up the ante, as does a criminally overlooked score from Marco Beltrami, who has worked with juggernauts such as Guillermo del Toro and Kathryn Bigelow in the past, and has even received a Satellite award for another film he scored that has small connections to this. Impressively, the cherry on the top of this palette of quality comes is the surprisingly great guiding and commanding from the usually, if not unfortunately maligned Jaume Collet-Serra, whose previous releases included the 2005 remake of Williams Castle's House Of Wax and 2009's Orphan. It goes without saying that this is the man's best job to date, and one can only imagine of what is to come in the future from the Catalonian director.


Oh, and before anyone asks, why yes, the shark that lurks beneath the ocean, stalking the oh-so-talented and lovely Nancy like something out of a slasher movie, is unquestionably relentless and flat-out intimidating. It may sound like high praise, but I can't recall the last time that I uttered as many concerned grunts or whispered "oh jeez" on more than one occasion, at least when it comes to a movie about an adult being pursued by, well, a carnivorous fish. Bruce the shark may be long gone, but his legacy lives on, and I would go so far as to say that our villain seen here is equally as frightening, even if this ancestor is computer generated (though it is incredibly hard to tell) . Hell, at least Brody and co. had a boat to climb onto, alcohol to drink, and food to eat in between daily sessions! Blake Lively? Well, she's got a seagull who happens to like hanging around her. And she has some fairly gross crabs..............yeah, I don't feel very good about that one either.


I am fairly certain that The Shallows could prove to be slightly divisive to what makes up most of today's pickier horror audiences. Some may be put off by the idea that you couldn't just try to fight back when swimming towards safety (which easy to say, but it's far from being the easiest thing to do. Also, IT'S A GREAT WHITE SHARK). Others may wish for a higher body count, complaining that you can't make a truly frightening killer shark flick unless it's been given a hard "R" by the MPAA (not true). For me personally, I highly recommend letting your guard down (because the best kind of scares are the ones where you're willing to let it happen), and taking a trip out to the cinemas to give this one a try, especially if you have longed for an honest-to-god great reminder of why the ocean can be cruel, ghastly, and unforgiving.



Plus, if you have the courage to stick around after the credits have finished, you will be graced with the presence of an unearthly, horrifying, familiar terror that has been waiting nearly twenty years to resurface.