Tag: netflix

The King


The King (2019)
★★★★ / ★★★★

Leave it to director David Michôd for pushing a more introspective take on a typical historical drama in which a person who does not wish to be king ends up with the throne, the crown, and every problem that comes with it. Based on several plays from William Shakespeare’s “Henriad,” “The King” stars Timothée Chalamet as Henry Prince of Wales (referred to as “Hal” by those closest to him), the wayward son of King Henry IV of England (Ben Mendelsohn) who would rather drink all night, sleep all day, and spend time with muddy commoners than to learn the finer points of how to lead a kingdom. It is an inspired choice of casting because the performer knows precisely how to convey crippling loneliness, as he has shown in Luca Guadagnino’s sublime “Call Me by Your Name,” and Hal is a subject plagued with this emotion from the moment he agrees to take on the responsibilities of a king.

Propelled by a slow but calculated pacing, I admired the writers’ decision (Michôd, Joel Edgerton) to focus solely on who Hal is as person—a young man with a title but without power—for about a third of the picture. (An exploration of who he is as a leader comprises the rest of the film.) It is a risk because political machinations are pushed to the background and we hear of civil unrest and war abroad mostly in passing. It would have been the more generic choice to insert confrontations among old men of power—whether it be war of words or weapons—in between moments of characterization in order to compel the audience into paying attention. Here, overt action is used sparingly; most of the action employed is internal.

Instead, the viewers are flooded with instances of Hal being tested prior to becoming ruler. We learn about his level of patience, what gets him angry, who he considers a friend, what qualities he respects in a person, his fears. We take note of his weaknesses which may come to haunt him later. And so when he becomes king eventually, we have an understanding or appreciation of his core values. We expect how he might react to certain challenges surrounding his crown and country, but he retains the ability to surprise—just like a real person. Chalamet ensures to highlight the flaws of his character, especially during moments of deafening silence, because imperfection is interesting.

The relationship between Hal and Falstaff (Edgerton) is begging for refinement. For far too long Falstaff is shown as a jesting fool who just so happens to possess bouts of wisdom. Later, he is revealed to have a prodigious reputation. It would have been a compelling angle to tell their stories in parallel: the directionless young man who would don the crown and the drunken buffoon who must revert to becoming a warrior-tactician. Particularly during the latter part of the story, when political machinations and war have migrated to the forefront, I felt as though the friendship is somewhat disconnected rather than one that functions as symbiosis. I did not feel the big emotions being conveyed during critical moments.

It is without question the filmmakers are intrigued with political chess. The number of meetings that must be had is somewhat amusing, and these give way for the more colorful personalities to stand out or be introduced. Most memorable is the Dauphin of France who claims to enjoy speaking in English because it is simple and sounds ugly. This rough, vile, hilarious character who deems himself superior to everyone else is played with infectious joy by Robert Pattinson. He demands to be heard, to be seen, to be respected—just like Hal, interestingly enough. But there is a vast difference between the two figures. It is a risk-taking performance because most will regard the Dauphin as a joke. Yet he proves to have a venomous bite.

“The King” shows that a period drama need to be stuffy to be respectable. It is accessible, intelligent, aware of how human nature and psychology works. There are short as well as drawn-out battle scenes—every single one well-choreographed—but these are not the central attractions. Instead, we are invited to learn about a person who must find peace—peace for his kingdom, peace within himself—amidst the chaos he inherited. Ultimately, it is a sad story, I think, because although Hal is a king, an argument can be made that from the second he agreed to carry on the torch, he has chosen to become a prisoner of tradition, of great expectations.

Assimilate


Assimilate (2019)
★ / ★★★★

Take any version of “Invasion of the Body Snatchers” and dilute the creativity, energy, surprises about ten to twenty times and you get close to the crushing blandness of “Assimilate,” a horrible, unconvincing sci-fi horror knockoff by writer-director John Murlowski (Steven Palmer Peterson also serving as co-writer). With a smorgasbord of mainstream and independent movies pushing a similar premise right at the writers’ fingertips, it is astounding that just about every decision is uninspired, predictable, and boring. I felt sorry for the young performers on-screen because they are actually quite watchable. They deserve better. And we do, too.

The story opens with Zach (Joel Courtney) and Randy (Calum Worthy) starting yet another video project that they hope would become a success since their last foray was a complete failure. They live in middle-of-nowhere Multon, Missouri and their goal is to show the residents—should they actually choose to watch the enthusiastic duo’s videos—who they really are. Their approach is to attach small cameras onto their shirt collars and capture raw, unedited moments. But something strange is afoot. People are beginning to claim that their loved ones have been replaced by near-perfect copies somehow. These copies stand out because they fail to show emotions. Zach and Randy decide to investigate.

A critical element that the writers seem to forget is the fact that body invasion movies are not just about regular people running all over town to avoid becoming copies themselves. The sub-genre is a tool by which to exorcise fears or concerns of a specific time period and so the movie becomes an allegory. By taking this familiar premise as is, it doesn’t work because the project is reduced to a regurgitation of what came before… but devoid of meaning or context.

There is, I think, a way to circumvent this—and it is not easy. The screenplay must function on such a high level that every scenario must have a twist on the familiar. This way, we are forced to stand on our toes and constantly evaluate situations opposite of what we expect. There must be suspense, foreplay, irony, perhaps even a savage sense of humor prior to pummeling us with truly horrific imagery. This route can offer entertainment value. But the movie is not at all ambitious. Too many times we are forced to endure the usual motions of a character looking sad after the discovery that his or her family members have fallen victims to the extraterrestrial invaders.

It opens with some promise. It is established early on that Multon is a small town where religion is of dire importance. If this weren’t the case, the pastor (Terry Dale Parks) would not be such a respected figure of authority. It is a shame that the material fails to expand upon the idea that religion can be utilized as a weapon to brainwash a population. (Hence why the copies act like zombies.) Maybe this angle is rendered less sharp in order to appeal to more people? But that does not make sense because “Body Snatchers” films are risks; they are meant to function as social commentary.

Despite its lack of thrills and scares, the young actors share good chemistry. I wanted to know more about Zach and Randy’s failed video projects because Courtney and Worthy exhibit an effortless goodness and a sense of camaraderie when playing off each other. There is also a cute—but predictable and at times syrupy—romantic subplot concerning Zach and a childhood friend named Kayla (Andi Matichak). As the movie crawls toward the tired finale, I wished for the three leads to find work in the future that would actually make use of their talents.

Rattlesnake


Rattlesnake (2019)
★ / ★★★★

With a premise that brings Stephen King stories to mind, it is a disappointment that “Rattlesnake,” written and directed by Zak Hilditch, fails to take off after the first act. Instead, we are subjected to repetitive sequences of a character running about all over a Texan town with one goal in mind but few inspired ideas on how to reach it. Because we find ourselves smarter than the protagonist, following her is a chore and a bore. The picture might have benefited from a major rewrite—not of its premise but of the details that make up the story.

A flat tire on a desert highway forces Katrina (Carmen Ejogo) to pull over and deal with the matter. Her daughter, Clara (Apollonia Pratt), explores from a few feet away but eventually finds herself bitten by a rattlesnake. Panic-stricken and desperate to save her daughter’s life, Katrina spots a nearby trailer, sprints toward it with Clara in tow, and enters. A woman (Debrianna Mansini)—preternaturally calm—agrees to help. She claims that payment for her service will be discussed at a later time, but for now Katrina must fix the flat tire so when her daughter regains consciousness, she could be taken immediately to the nearest hospital.

While at the hospital, the girl in recovery, the mother gets a visitor. The man in the suit (Bruce Davis) claims that for the soul that was saved, Katrina must offer the same in return: She must murder another person. She has seven hours—until sunset—to pay the debt in full. Should she fail, Clara’s soul would be reclaimed.

The first twenty minutes command a high level of urgency. It buries the audience neck-deep with all sorts of information, questions, and assumptions. Most interesting is the magical element in the picture; it is unsettling that the faces we come to meet—those who are aware of what Katrina must do—are those who have passed on. We see their faces on missing persons ads and on online articles citing violent deaths. On the surface, Ejogo looks convincing as a desperate mother who is willing to do whatever it takes to save her daughter. It is in her eyes.

Less impressive, however, is how the character is written. Ejogo could deliver the most layered acting, but if the screenplay remains flat, the performer’s effort would amount to nothing. In the attempt to show Katrina as a good person, there are far too many moments that depict her hesitancy and guilt. They drag on and on—to the point by which the momentum of the movie is significantly impaired. In the middle of it, I wondered why the writer-director is so desperate for viewers to like the character, to see her as good. It isn’t necessary. What matters is that we understand the plight of the character, what she must do to save her daughter. I would rather have an interesting protagonist who is willing to partake in questionable things than a likable, boring one. Katrina is example of the latter and there is no excuse for it.

For a race against time story, there is an astonishing lack of urgency. Notice instances of Katrina measuring up her potential victims. She considers older folks, children, women who come across physically weak by comparison to her. This comes across rather… amusing instead of chilling. The reason is because, at this point, we do not know how she thinks. Because she is written to be so safe and so nice, it is difficult to imagine the extent of her dark thoughts—or if she is even capable of having such ideations. And so what we see during these moments is simply behavior. There is no tension, no believability to the whole charade.

“Rattlesnake” bites but it lacks potent venom. Not enough is done with the black magic angle of the story whether it be a constant, forceful, mysterious element never to be explained nor as a possible facet of the plot that must be explored thoroughly. Instead, it is used merely as a tool to propel the plot forward and brought up whenever convenient. I was annoyed by the screenplay’s fondness for easy solutions and so the work is never fascinating, just barely good enough to pass the time. I hold a higher standard than that.

Eli


Eli (2019)
★ / ★★★★

Ciarán Foy’s “Eli” is yet another substandard horror film with little on its mind other than to deliver a big twist during the final fifteen minutes. The journey toward the destination is slow, interminable, and peppered with scares that rarely land on target. For a story that unfolds in an estate in the middle of the country—perfect for a haunted house movie—there is no intrigue, just clichés that pile on top of one another until the viewer is compelled to no longer care.

It begins with a curious medical case about a boy named Eli (Charlie Shotwell) who began to exhibit signs of an unnamed autoimmune disorder four years prior. When exposed to the environment, red spots appear on his skin aggressively and so he is forced to live in a bubble. His parents (Kelly Reilly, Max Martini) found a new hope: Dr. Horn (Lili Taylor), an immunologist who plans to employ viral gene therapy to repair the boy’s defective genes.

Although a mysterious premise, the science aspect of the picture is almost immediately thrown out the window from the moment the desperate family steps inside the palatial home. It does not help that the immunologist and her nurses are written as villains in the most obvious way possible: stern-faced, cold, impersonal, robotic. It does not provide the audience a chance to decide for themselves whether or not to trust the poker-faced trio. You see, the reason is because every decision must serve the rug to be pulled from right underneath our feet. If the screenplay by David Chirchirillo, Ian Goldberg, and Richard Naing really cared about engaging the audience, it would have been willing to entertain possibilities.

The middle portion drags to the point of futility. Every time day turns into night, you can bet that Eli would have a nightmare, get up from the bed, and explore the creepy facility. Sometimes he encounters ghostly figures that breathe on windowpanes, a few of them whisper clues, and one or two reveal themselves, CGI and all. It is formulaic, exhausting, and not at all scary. There is a lack of patience during the buildup and so the would-be payoffs are not at all impactful. Shotwell is quite convincing at looking terrified, but we do not believe the emotions on his face because there is nothing special about the craft propelling such encounters.

As for the drama between a desperate mother and seemingly cold father, I found it to be recycled fluff. There is a scene early in the picture which shows the family’s financial struggle due to the boy’s rising medical costs. However, this fact—this reality—is never brought up again. I think the movie could have used more searing honesty. It is common knowledge that family members tend to fight among one another when money is tight. People get desperate not knowing how to pay for rent or how to pay for the next meal. Pretty much everybody can relate or empathize with this. However, the movie would rather focus on parents fighting because one has lied, or has kept a secret, or some vanilla reason. Be direct. Deliver raw drama.

Admittedly, the twist is quite smart. I did not see it coming. But a good twist—even a great one—is not worth a recommendation when everything else around it is uninspired, from the unsubtle dialogue, forgettable set decor, down to a resolution that hints at a possible sequel should the movie become a success. It is pessimistic filmmaking.

The Hurricane Heist


The Hurricane Heist (2018)
★★★ / ★★★★

There’s something freeing about action films that commit to an idea so completely that they risk being labeled dumb, nonsensical, pointless, or all of the above. “The Hurricane Heist,” directed by Rob Cohen, is one of those movies. It presents a simple premise and everything around it is cheesy popcorn—and might say mindless—entertainment. One must be in the right mood and mindset to appreciate this kind of movie because an argument can be made it is a one-note joke throughout.

The plot revolves around bad guys who wish to steal six hundred million dollars from the U.S. Treasury as a massive hurricane rages on outside. Not only does the natural disaster serve as a distraction, should the government become aware of what they are up to, sending soldiers to the facility would not be an easy task. The “old money” is meant to be shredded anyway so it is only logical, at least to the bandits, that they take and make use of the cash. Naturally, there are already rogue agents inside the facility. All would have gone according to plan if it weren’t for the pesky Special Agent Casey Corbyn (Maggie Grace); the exposition reminds us several times that she always does the right thing. She is smart, cautious, and resourceful. The thieves’ ringleader, Perkins (Ralph Ineson), has a habit of underestimating her, and the allies she acquires along the way, despite his team members dropping off like flies.

You know a movie doesn’t care about how it comes across as long as it knows it is providing entertainment when the actors who are supposed to underline the heart of the picture play their American characters—brothers from American south (Toby Kebbell, Ryan Kwanten)—with variants of Australian and English accents. (The brothers, one who runs a repair business and the other a weatherman, lost their father in 1992 as Category 5 Hurricane Andrew ripped through the south.) While initially distracting and amusing, particularly when the brothers reconnect after from what it seems to be several years of not seeing each other in person, eventually we forget about how they pronounce certain words. The action pieces get so big and so busy that words no longer matter.

And here comes the physics-defying stunts. For example, there is an amazing black, tank-like, Batmobile-looking rig (à la “Batman Begins”) that has these drills underneath that could pierce through the surface of the road. Doing so would tether the vehicle in place. Should it get hit with an amazing amount of force, it would be able to withstand it with minimal wear and tear. Its passengers would feel shaken for a few seconds but suffer no broken bones. Not even bruises, it seems, because they are able to run around with ease and get thrown about (more stunts!) in every imaginable way. It is a wonderful ad to a fictitious vehicle. Truly, they have fun with the idea.

And then there is the hurricane. It makes the movie “Twister” (underrated) look like a documentary. While the monstrous mix of wind, rain, thunderstorms, and occasional livestock does not look particularly first-rate, it is so exaggerated to the point where it looks genuinely threatening. Seeing bad guys getting sucked into its vortex is pretty fun. (The screaming remains audible despite the barrage of sounds.) And then there is science-talk about the eye of the hurricane and its edges. I don’t think it is possible for a cyclone to go around 600 miles per hour in the first place. And yet some buildings remain intact, more or less. Clearly, the movie is meant to be unbelievable. I cannot deny I had a good time.

Triple Frontier


Triple Frontier (2019)
★★★ / ★★★★

Planning and executing a heist in order to steal over seventy-five million dollars from a drug lord in the middle of the Colombian jungle is only about a third of the fun in “Triple Frontier,” co-written by Mark Boal and J.C. Chandor, an adrenaline-fueled and entertaining action picture saddled with occasional dialogue regarding guilt and morality. The attempt to humanize the characters, all of whom are former Special Forces, is appreciated, but the work is most enjoyable when guns are armed and the men must depart hurriedly before they are outnumbered and flanked by the enemy.

The star-studded cast is made up of Oscar Isaac, Ben Affleck, Charlie Hunnam, Pedro Pascal, and Garrett Hedlund. Each one is able to bring something special to the table, not relying simply on their looks or celebrity persona to cruise through the material. The screenwriters ensure to communicate why each member of the heist team is critical to the mission. Particularly important is why Santiago (Isaac) is the leader even though he is not the strongest, or smartest, or even the most technologically savvy. More generic action films tend to reduce team leaders as archetypes. Here, we are given a chance to appreciate specific moments when our central protagonist, for instance, is being pragmatic, weak, emotional, empathetic. He holds himself accountable when things go right and, perhaps more importantly, when things go south.

There is a wonderful rapport among the cast which makes us believe that the soldiers have shared a strong history. When they get together, although there is the expected hugging and patting on the back, we are able to capture recognition in their eyes. This is where Chandor’s direction comes into play. He gives time for the men acclimate to one another after years of separation instead of simply parading one breathless action piece right after another. It shows that we are in the hands of a patient filmmaker, the helmer of high caliber works—“All is Lost” being one of them.

Shoot ‘em up scenes command tension because we care for the soldiers who decide they now want a big piece of the pie after years of hardships yet not having much to show for it. Another reason is that suspense is allowed to build and swell until it can no longer be sustained. An excellent example is the well-planned robbery. There is far too much money to be put in bags but so little time. We can almost hear the clock ticking because every second counts. Every room entered that contains no money feels all the more disappointing. But when finally faced with stacks upon stacks of cash, the characters we think we know change almost instantaneously. It becomes one of those movies where the viewer is compelled to yell instructions at the screen—in a good way.

Another element that separates the work from other action flicks is its use of setting. Instead of relying on action scenes that take place indoors—a house, a building—it takes advantage of the beautiful South American landscapes: jungles, mountains, farms, beaches. In a way, doing so adds a level of thrill because being out in the open space constantly puts our protagonists at a disadvantage. They could be seen from afar and wouldn’t know it until a rain of bullets come flying.

Your Son


Your Son (2018)
★★★ / ★★★★

It has the framework of a revenge-thriller: A father (Jose Coronado) receives news that his son (Pol Monen) has been beaten so badly outside a nightclub that he is now in a coma. But instead of going the expected route and exploring familiar themes, “Your Son,” co-written by Alberto Marini and Miguel Ángel Vivas, directed by the latter, turns out to be a character study of a man so used to being in control and respected (he is a surgeon), that when life deals him an impossible hand, certainly a losing hand, he realizes he is a coward. It is a fascinating portrait, one that is worthy of discussion, one that left me shaken but wanting to talk about what I’d just seen.

For about half the picture, it takes its time in feeding us what we come to expect from the familiar template of a grieving parent who becomes obsessed with the idea of getting some sort of retribution for a family member’s honor. We follow Jaime from the moment he gets word that his son is fighting for his life, as he listens to a detective going over video footages that capture the final minutes that lead to the crime, as he returns in an empty home from a sleepless night, and as he finds the first clue that may lead to one of the perpetrators. These scenes are directed with such patience and calculation that I began to think that although am highly invested in the story, there is nothing about it that is fresh.

As it the material gathers power, however, it dares to test the viewer’s patience. Why is it that although Jaime has found one of the suspects, he simply would not—or could not—concoct a plan to isolate the person of interest, nab him, get more information out of him, and finally punish him? After all, isn’t inflicting punishment what he wants? Or is that we what we want to see? The reason is because the film is not interested in the usual points of catharsis. Showing violence when we expect it is to create entertainment out of something that should not be entertaining especially given the film’s recurring themes. Clearly, there is discipline in the screenplay; it trusts us to try and figure out how the pieces actually go together when they do not fit with our initial assumptions.

Coronado’s face is front and center for nearly half of the picture. We see him devolve from a tired but relatively happy man to someone rather unrecognizable in thought and action. There is irony in the fact that despite the son being the one whose face became disfigured, it is the father who undergoes a more horrifying transformation. Like the best performers, Coronado’s eyes are able to communicate at least two emotions at any given moment. The manner in which Jaime looks into the void and then suddenly being forced to focus on a person or a matter at hand is masterclass. His extensive experience shines through every beat which makes watching him quite mesmerizing.

“Tu hijo” is not interested in a tidy or happy ending as long as the journey is complete. More films should follow its example since the approach leaves something for the viewer to think about. The final few minutes is maddening but appropriate—an excellent way of unveiling what the story is really about rather than what we hope for it to be about. The work is helmed with intelligence and class.