Atomic Blonde Review (2017)

David Leitch’s “Atomic Blonde” is a sleek and stylish action/thriller set at the tail end of the Cold War. It’s easy to get lost in the airbrushed 80’s aesthetic, Jonathan Sela’s lush, meticulously crafted visuals and the all around unruffled attitude the film (and its characters) exhibits in every frame. There is a plot but it’s extremely rote and superficially complex; at about the halfway point I simply stopped caring about where things were going. Still, the picture oozes style. It’s more about secret agents looking cool and smoking cigarettes and beating each other up than anything else. Furthermore, the film is bolstered by a magnetic Charlize Theron who plays the titular badass blonde, a character that combines the classiness of James Bond with the brutality of John Wick.

Visually, “Atomic Blonde” is marked by two distinct styles: during the day the color palette is muted, dominated by grey and white. But at night, Berlin transformers into a neon lit wonderland--multicolored lights are everywhere, at the various bars and clubs. A cramped, unassuming watch shop where cold war spies sometimes do business is lit in curious green. The hotel room where MI6 agent Lorraine Broughton (Theron) stays is aggressively lit by blue, pink and red. In fact, the neon lighting appears to be installed underneath and behind her bedframe. The lighting design gives the film a seedy yet romantic glow.

The various spies and authority figures that populate “Atomic Blonde” are always cool and mysterious, trying to act nonchalant (and not doing a very good job at it most of the time. They really do a poor job of blending in with their environment) as they conduct their shady spy business in the streets of paranoia drenched Berlin and fight one other. Relationships are surface level and loyalties are for sale--the characters are driven by their own agendas. They walk around with a detached, self-assured swagger. Leitch turns Berlin into a colorful, hypnotic labyrinth, teeming with Cold War dread.

The coolest and most mysterious of the characters is Lorraine. She wears nothing but snazzy outfits— a new elegant and sexy dress every night. During the daytime she wears a pristine white pea coat, red heels and large shades, an outfit that compliments her straightened blonde hair. Lorraine’s movements are graceful and calculating. She knows instinctively when she’s in trouble, or being set up (which happens a lot in this movie) and quickly switches into action mode. Her hands turn into lethal melee weapons and she takes care of business, looking good while doing it. Even when Lorraine simply sits in her neon lit hotel room smoking a cigarette she emits an effortless glamour, like a Femme Fatal in an old school film noir. Theron is mesmerizing. Understated and ruthless, cold and detached but also very aware of the alluring effect she has on the men around her, which she uses to her advantage. 

The espionage narrative is expectedly twisty and underwhelming. It’s simultaneously convoluted and not as clever as it thinks it is. Most of the major plot twists and character revelations are obvious long before they happen. The screenplay by Kurt Johnstad (based on a graphic novel series by Antony Johnson and Sam Hart) relies on a lot of well-worn spy movie clichés. Lorraine and the rest of the characters are after a top-secret list containing the true identities of thousands of agents from the around the world, an overused MacGuffin. Overall, the film contains a lot of bland, familiar plotting that adds up to very little.

 Ultimately, “Atomic Blonde” is too derivative and muddled to be a great film but it’s still entertaining thanks to its enthralling style and Theron’s onscreen radiance. There’s also a much buzzed about five minute long single take action sequence that’s a real doozy. It’s captured with a blunt handheld clarity. The melee combat is brutal and visceral (you can feel every punch, kick and shove) and clumsy and sluggish at the same time.  Lorraine and the various henchmen take turns slugging each other and then go to catch their breath. It plays out in a more realistic manner, rather than being choreographed like a dance. The sequence is exhilarating and it gives Lorraine’s character a layer of vulnerability. It might be worth the price of admission alone.

B- 

A Ghost Story Review (2017)

I’m ready to declare 2017 the year of the art house ghost movie. Both Oliver Assayas’ “Personal Shopper” and now David Lowery’s “A Ghost Story” are mundane, quietly eerie supernatural dramas about grappling with grief and finding closure. “Personal Shopper,” which came out in March, starred Kristen Stewart as an amateur medium desperately trying to make contact with the spirit of her recently deceased twin brother. Meanwhile, “A Ghost Story” takes the point of view of a grieving ghost stuck in a purgatorial state.

That ghost is/was C, (Casey Affleck) a musician who died in a sudden car accident. After his widow M (Rooney Mara) goes to identify his body at the morgue, the ghost…wakes up. He stands up and proceeds to walk out of the room with a white sheet still covering him. Out in the hallway, a portal containing a blinding white light materializes in front of him, presumably a door to the afterlife. However C chooses not to go and instead walks across roads and fields, back to his suburban house to see his grieving wife. What does he do? Does he try to make contact with her? Does he help her make pottery? No, he just watches her, still dawning that white bed sheet, now with a pair of eyeholes, reminiscent of a child’s Halloween costume. This low-tech costume choice is oddly effective--creepy, mysterious and refreshing.

Of the two films, “A Ghost Story” is more experimental and abstract. Aside from containing very little plot and action, it’s primarily composed of lengthy single take shots that sometimes go on for five to seven minutes. This deliberate visual style mimics C’s onscreen behavior and desires. He wants to spend as much time as he can with M before he passes on. He wants to cherish every moment, every movement and every grief inspired breakdown. There’s a palpable, aching feeling of longing and sorrow pulsing through these lengthy scenes.

Admittedly, these scenes can be frustrating at times. There’s a much talked about scene involving M grief eating an entire pie while C watches from beyond that’s kind of painful to sit through. It’s moving and Mara’s performance is subtly devastating but it’s also a…really really long scene of a woman eating an entire pie. A really long scene. I admit I zoned out during the picture a few times. “A Ghost Story” may be the longest hour and twenty-seven minute movie I’ve ever seen.

“A Ghost Story” can be difficult to endure but after the first thirty minutes or so, the movie really picks up steam. Time itself accelerates, while space rapidly changes shape. Days, years, decades, centuries pass before our eyes in a matter of seconds. Before you even have a chance to blink, a small suburban house materializes into a mighty skyscraper. It’s exhilarating and beautiful. “A Ghost Story” goes from being a claustrophobic film about a wandering soul (yanked out of his body too soon) trying to find closure with his beloved, to a more expansive, ambitious affair. It morphs into a lyrical mediation on the fluidity of time, the nature of legacy, the significance a certain place (a cherished family home, a plot of land) can hold for someone, the vastness of the universe and our minuscule place in it. Lowery manages to pack quite a bit into such a brief run time.

The film becomes one long, surreal, mind-bending montage. Time keeps pushing forward until suddenly it stops and starts over from the beginning, taking our white sheet-wearing friend with it like a current pushing a stick down a river. If you were bored and frustrated with the film before, you won’t be able to take your eyes off it now. “A Ghost Story” can be rough going, especially at the beginning but once it changes into this bigger, more thought provoking film, it’s endlessly absorbing.

B

Valerian and the City of a Thousand Planets Review (2017)

“Valerian and the City of a Thousand Planets,” is a sprawling, overwhelming, exhausting Sci fi epic.  Writer/director Luc Besson (“The Fifth Element,” “Lucy”) crafts a weird, vibrant Sci fi world bursting at the seams with creativity and visual splendor. A plethora of diverse alien cultures, civilizations, eco systems and nifty gadgets mesh together in absurd and exhilarating ways. As in “The Fifth Element,” world building is this film’s greatest strength and it almost distracts you from the bland protagonists and overly convoluted plot.

The titular ‘City of a Thousand Planets” (known as Alpha in the movie) is actually the new and improved International Space Station. As we see in the film’s inventive opening credit montage, what was once a station inhabited by humans from thousands of countries around the world has slowly grown into a home for hundreds of alien races and species from across the universe. In another section, we’re transported to a seemingly barren desert planet called Kyrien that’s home to a massive, bustling marketplace that exists in another dimension and can only be accessed via special equipment.

Besson and production designer Hugues Tissandier create a living, breathing cinematic environment. The City of a Thousand Planets isn’t just a one-dimensional backdrop for the characters to stand in front of and play out the central plot; it’s a character in and of itself. There’s a lot of detail and texture here; you’re overwhelmed by it but you also can’t get enough. The first hour and a half of the picture is an immersive, breathless wonder-- Besson guides us through this chaotic and intricate filmic space, introducing us to dozens of eccentric bit characters and creatures (that could have their own movies) along the way.

If only the rest of “Valerian” had been better. The plot is that of a socially conscious mystery involving government cover-ups, alien refugees and the importance of not covering up ones ugly past. This all sounds intriguing enough and it can be but it also gets needlessly convoluted. During the last third the cool and irreverent world building ceases and the film just becomes a confusing slog. When we reach the pivotal moment, wherein all facets of the central mystery are finally revealed, a lot of additional exposition is shoehorned in, making for a tedious and mind-numbing finale. Besson ties up all the narrative lose ends in sloppy, overly melodramatic and even heavy-handed ways.

“Valerian” also suffers from ho hum main characters. Our protagonists are Valerian (Dane DeHaan) and Laureline, (Cara Delevinge) two young agents that work for Alpha and are semi dating. Valerian and Laureline are standard issue: he’s the laid back, cocky playboy while she’s uptight and no nonsense. Pretty much all of their personal and romantic drama consists of Valerian trying to prove to Laureline he’s mature enough for her. Yawn. For a movie that takes place in such a vivid futuristic world and loaded with various alien species, it’s kind of disappointing that our protagonists are so run of the mill. There’s nothing particularly memorable or unique about them.

DeHaan does his best to play slick and charming but his low voiced, too-cool-for- school attitude is affected to the point of obnoxiousness. He consistently takes you out of the film. Delevinge fairs a little better but even her performance, her runway model-esque body movements and facial expressions, can come off robotic. Although Besson’s screenplay doesn’t do either actor any favors. It’s full of terribly cliché dialogue—the romantic banter is cloying while the comedic banter is painfully awkward and unfunny. Valerian and Laureline’s romance is cornball to say the least, which isn’t inherently a bad thing but the script renders it inauthentic.

Ultimately, I stopped caring about Valerian and Laureline, instead wanting to go exploring in this rich and colorful Sci fi world on my own. There’s a lot to look at and experience in “Valerian,” which means I can’t totally dismiss the film. But it certainly could have been better.

C+ 

War for the Planet of the Apes Review (2017)

Matt Reeves’ “War for the Planet of the Apes,” the third and final installment of this new “Apes” series, is a big bummer. We’re a long way from the rousingly cheesy, self-reflexivity of “Rise of the Planet of the Apes,” and even the somber tone of “Dawn of the Planet of the Apes” seems light when compared this film’s apocalyptic outlook.

An impending, unavoidable sense of doom lingers in every scene. Michael Seresin’s cinematography is muted and grey hued; death and destruction is everywhere. There’s no getting around it: you’re screwed. Well, you’re screwed if you're a human. Humans were the ones who experimented on apes in the first place, indirectly sparking a smart ape rebellion, and they’re the ones who developed the virus that wiped out a sizable chunk of the population, a virus that’s still inflicting damage. And now the humans want to blame the apes for the human concocted devastation. In “Dawn,” ape-human conflict was also unavoidable but the ending provided a modicum of hope; humans and apes could get along. In this film, there is no hope. Humans are determined to annihilate the apes…and each other.

“War for the Planet of the Apes” is an uncomfortable, morose drama about the sheer ugliness of humanity. “Rise” and “Dawn” tried to create sympathetic, likable human characters but in “War” there are none. * In fact, the only fleshed out human is a delusional, psychopathic military colonel simply known as The Colonel (Woody Harrelson, bald, menacing, resembling Colonel Kurtz) who’s leading the charge against the intelligent simians and even runs an ape concentration camp. Yes, an ape concentration camp. Watching the film, you can’t help but root for humanity’s demise. And honestly, that’s okay. The sympathetic human characters were always the weakest links in “Rise” and “Dawn.” Talented actors like James Franco, Jason Clarke and Keri Russell played such thin, inconsequential characters whose sole purpose was to demonstrate that not all humans were cruel or obsessed with senseless destruction.

The apes are who we really care about--especially their noble and assertive leader Caesar (Andy Serkis, remarkable as always). These movies have always been about Caesar and his coming of age, from carefree chimp raised in a human environment, to the gracious but fierce leader of the apes he is now, trying to find an ape paradise and live in peace away from brutal, self imploding humanity. We always rooted for the apes to rebel against their cruel captors. What visceral joy we felt when a young Caesar stood up to Draco Malfoy and defiantly roared “No!” breaking his kind out of captivity and running amuck in San Francisco.

Instead of trying to create more James Franco’s and Jason Clarke’s, “War” gives us nothing but Draco Malfoy’s. This decision feels appropriate given the series’ tonal shift from silly popcorn action to somber, end of the world drama and it makes for a more focused movie.  Now we don’t have to pretend we care about the humans. Just go ahead and destroy yourselves, please!

Reeves’ frames the narrative entirely from the point of view of the apes. The film takes place a few years after the turbulent events of “Dawn,” as Caesar and his tribe of simians have taken refuge in a cave deep in the forest. Now grizzled and battle worn, Cesar desperately wants peace but that’s not possible right now. Caesar is compassionate and clear-headed, with a violent and sometimes uncontrollable temper. “War for the Planet of the Apes” sees him grapple with his impulsive, animalistic tendencies. After suffering heavy, personal losses at the hands of The Colonel, Caesar loses his cool and embarks on an admirable but single-minded quest for vengeance that puts his entire tribe in jeopardy. Instead of getting satisfaction, Caesar gets more suffering.

Despite what the title suggests, there’s very little in the way of action in the film, outside of an introductory forest set battle and a climactic battle set near a small mountain. It’s more of a misanthropic drama about the costs of war and impulsive aggression than a full-fledged war movie.

One of this franchise’s greatest strengths is the way it emphasizes character and emotional vitality over spectacle and action. In “War,” the action is pared down to the essentials, making room for more intimate character interactions— conversations between Caesar and Maurice (Karin Konoval) and Rocket (Terry Notary) his loyal comrades who accompany him on his journey. Understated, poignant moments are prioritized over large, bombastic ones. Caesar’s conversation with The Colonel where we catch a glimpse inside the soldier’s dark and tormented soul is bone chilling, while the look of immense pain and regret on Caesar’s face when he first discovers the damage his revenge quest has done is heartbreaking.

I’ll be curious to see how well this film does with general audiences. It’s not action packed and it’s not very fun. It’s one of the most cynical blockbusters I’ve ever seen. Additionally, the marketing has been all over the place, with TV spots suggesting plotlines that don’t exist and a string of wildly misleading patriotic themed posters. 20^th Century Fox is having trouble selling “War for the Planet of the Apes” because it’s a hard sell. It’s deeply unsettling, with a very ugly view of humanity. But it’s also a very moving, rewarding experience and an excellent conclusion to a superb trilogy.  

 A-

*That’s not entirely true. There is a little blonde girl, Nova (Amiah Miller) who is picked up by Caesar during his journey. It’s difficult to not care about a child in a movie but there isn’t much to her character. Despite what certain trailers will tell you, Nova does very little. In the end, she does sort of serve a purpose but she could have been removed from the film without any problems.