GUILLERMO DEL TORO'S PINOCCHIO

Directing: B+
Acting: B+
Writing: B+
Cinematography: A-
Editing: B+
Animation: A-

The stop motion animation in Guillermo del Toro’s Pinoicchio may be the best I have ever seen. It’s not quite perfect, but then stop-motion never is. Usually it’s a lot easier to see how it’s done, with diorama scenes shot frame by frame, but for the most part in this film, the character movements are almost shockingly fluid. I can’t imagine the hours that would have had to go into this, and still, this is the longest stop-motion film ever made. (It clocks in at an hour and fifty-seven minutes, although the animation gives way to extended end credits at about 1:50.) The fact that virtually every frame is a uniquely beautiful work of art makes it all that much more of an achievement.

I only wish I could have seen it in a theater. It was released in select theaters on November 9, but apparently not in my local market—both rare and a disappointment. Now, exactly one month later and as of December 9, it is streaming on Netflix. At least a lot more people will now actually be able to see it, I guess. Will they bother, with Netflix’s massive library to choose from? It would seem so: it remains in their top 10 movies currently. Perhaps one day they will figure out they can get the best of both worlds by giving their movies a wide release in theaters, after which millions will still watch it streaming. I would have much preferred seeing this wonderful film in a cinema, but I’m just glad it exists.

Presumably co-writer and co-director Guillermo del Toro’s name is part of this film’s official title in order to differentiate itself from the critically reviled Disney live action version that was also released, all of three months ago. This one might as well be called The Pinocchio Movie Worth Watching.

Parents of small children may well want to be strongly cautioned, however. This is still del Toro we’re talking about: this film goes into some weird, very dark places. I can’t remember another animated feature film that deals with death so frankly—and so extensively. The entire narrative is bookended by deaths pivotal to the plot, and one of the story threads is about Pinocchio himself being impervious to death. Except, because this is a Guillermo del Toro film, Pinocchio is killed and revived several times, each time spending longer in a netherworld populated by card playing rabbit skeletons and a magical Chimera voiced by (naturally) Tilda Swinton. It should be noted that none of this suggests permanent immortality, as human death in this world is indeed permanent, and the rules are different for Pinocchio because he isn’t actually a real boy.

He is, however, a gift offered to Geppetto (David Bradley) by the Chimera’s empathetic sister Wood Sprite (also voiced by Tilda Swinton), in a misguided attempt to ease his grief still unabated many years after the death of his ten-year-old son, Carlo. Both Carlo and Pinocchio are voiced by the immensely talented Gregory Mann, a pubescent boy with a heavenly voice. (His voice reportedly changed during production, necessitating the editing of his voice to match how it sounded from the start.) I didn’t really expect this Pinocchio to be a musical, but it technically is, with characters breaking out into song, albeit not particularly frequently. The songs themselves are just fine, but the voices across the board are wonderful—including that of Ewan McGregor as Cricket. He sounds even better now than he did in the 2001 smash Moulin Rouge!

Cricket, incidentally, provides some much-needed comic relief in an otherwise rather dark movie. This humor itself is also dark much of the time (he keeps getting squished and saying things like “Life is such hideous pain,” which ironically brought me endless joy). In addition to McGregor, though, this deeply stacked cast also includes Christoph Waltz as the villanous carnival puppetmaster; Ron Perlman as a fascist government official in this film del Toro chose to set in World War II Italy; John Turturro as the local village doctor; Tim Blake Nelson as the aforementioned Black Rabbits (apparently based on “Undertaker Rabbits” from the original story). Most amusing of all is Cate Blanchett, who was reportedly so eager to be a part of this film that, when it was the only part left, she happily took the part of Spazzatura, an assistant carnival monkey who speaks almost exclusively in squawks and grunts.

All of these elements combined to leave me thoroughly charmed by Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio, which is both recognizably a product of his mind and a uniquely imaginative venture, narratively as well as visually. It does feel a bit more skewed toward adult interests, but it is appropriately rated PG, and older children may enjoy it. They may also be disturbed by it. And that is honestly the most fun thing about it.

Therein lies a rich world of discovery.

Overall: B+

2009'S AVATAR IN 2022

Directing: B-
Acting: B
Writing: C+
Cinematography: A-
Editing: A
Special Effects: A-

When I first saw Avatar in 2009, I was impressed enough with it that not only did I give it an A-, by the end of the year I put it on my annual top 10, placing it at #10.

With the film’s first sequel finally coming to theaters this December, the first film is once again in theaters now, this time only available in 3D—in 2009, I went to see it first in 3D, then again in 2D, and very much preferred the latter. I suspect I would feel the same way now, even though I must say, when viewed superficially as nothing more than blockbuster entertainment, that film remains a spectacular specimen. I cannot deny that I was wowed by the effects, the visual inventiveness, and how imaginative it was—possibly even more than I was thirteen years ago, when I spent an inordinate amount of time discussing the uselessness of 3D in my review.

And now, I am doing something I never did before: re-reviewing a movie in re-release many years later. My rule has always been against this because, well, I already reviewed it. Except in this case, there is the unusual burning question of how well the film holds up after all this time, both because of the amount of time that has passed, and the massive cultural shifts in the zeitgeist in that time, particularly when it comes to race.

There is no question that the “white savior” concept came up in criticism of this film in 2009, but I am somewhat disappointed in myself not to have mentioned it at all in my original review. In the year 2022, for anyone with any concerns about social justice at all, James Cameron’s narrative in this film certainly sits uncomfortably—and for many white people, less comfortably now than it did in 2009.

James Cameron is another massively successful straight white man, after all, and certainly there will be some who read my commentary now as just shitting on straight white men. It cannot be denied, however, that his gender and race informs the story he is telling here, about a white man (Jake Sully, played by Sam Worthington) who enters the “indigenous humanoid” population of a moon called Pandora, gets accepted as one of them, and then leads them in successful resistance to the “white people.” A lot of the problematic characterizations of this indigenous population are more glaring now, and further reading comes recommended. There is plenty out there about this if you make the slightest effort to look for it; I am hardly alone in thinking about these things.

One wonders whether Cameron will take any of these frankly fair criticisms to heart in the upcoming sequel. I have my doubts, but also I suppose it’s not impossible. The internal struggle I have with the original Avatar now is how much I genuinely enjoyed it. And surely, plenty of people might sensibly ask why we can’t just give ourselves over to blockbuster entertainment and simply be entertained. I can tell you this much: if you do that with Avatar, you absolutely will not be disappointed. Cameron’s script may be packed with stereotypes and tropes, but it is also incredibly tightly constructed, and the film is riveting from beginning to end. I just also had the space in my head for recognition of its many faults, some more subtle than others. I wasn’t even as bothered by the 3D this time around; the film is so wildly entertaining that you quickly forget about the sometimes awkward visual experience.

Would I recommend that you see this in the theater now, again? Only if you are a purist regarding the cinema experience: there is no question the stunning visuals work better in a theater, no matter how big your home TV screen is.

Also, there has been regular mention over the years that Avatar has the distinction of being the only film ever to become the biggest box office earner of all time which people don’t really still talk about, and no one can even remember what the characters names were. Sigourney Weaver plays Grace, the doctor who heads the “Avatar” program that links humans to hybrid Na’vi that can breathe and function in the local environment. Zoe Saldana plays Neytiri, the Na’vi woman Jake falls in love with. Michelle Rodriguez plays Trudy, a rebellious company employee. Stephen Lang plays Colonel Miles Quaritch, the man who becomes the very Cameronian villain of the film. Giovanni Ribisi is Parker, the corporate shill intent on ruining the Na’vi land in pursuit of the idiotically named “unobtanium.” Very seldom are any of these people’s names actually said onscreen.

Setting the problematic narrative aside, the reason to see Avatar remains its groundbreaking special effects. The Na’vi are CGI rendered in a way that precludes any genuine photorealism, and yet their environment on Pandora is so colorful and inventive, it is an unusually immersive experience. It feels very much like a fully realized world, wholly separate from the one we live in. Cameron simply grafts a very Dances with Wolves story onto it. I spent a lot of time not minding that so much, thinking maybe I should mind it more, and escaping into a science fiction fantasy. That descriptor can be applied in more ways than one, and which angle you take on it is really up to you. But, even the most spectacular entertainment is not above a more deeply critical look.

A Series of Unfortunate Events, Rendered Spectacularly

Overall: B+

THREE THOUSAND YEARS OF LONGING

Directing: B
Acting: B
Writing: B
Cinematography: B+
Editing: B+
Special Effects: B+

I keep imagining what Three Thousand Years of Longing will look like on small screens. The film is in theaters now, opened this past weekend, and to say people are not flocking to it would be an understatement—so far it has grossed all of $2.8 million. With a budget of $60 million, to call that a flop would practically be an insult to flops. And it’s really unfortunate, for two reasons: first, it suggests the movie is worse than it really is; it’s actually fairly compelling. And second, it looks fantastic on the big screen, in a way I fear will not translate to televisions and mobile devices, no matter how big the TVs are. At this point it will be a huge surprise if this movie even finds much of an audience in an eventual streaming landscape.

And this puts me in a tricky position, because while Three Thousand Years of Longing is both fine and in certain ways even provocative, inviting spirited discussion, I still can’t say it’s good enough to justify recommending you see it in theaters. What I can say is, if you do go see it in theaters, it won’t feel like time wasted. And in its defense, this film does not deserve to be flatly ignored by the public at large, which is essentially what’s happening.

I suppose it might have had better prospects for success if it were better than just fine. There seems to be a critical consensus that the story is a bit trifling, but the film is beautiful to look at. That is my assessment as well, but with an emphasis on its beauty being far best appreciated in actual cinemas. The visual effects seem to occupy a sort of middle ground, where it doesn’t look like a fortune was spent on them, but director George Miller has a deep talent for making the best of limited means. The visuals don’t ever look particularly cheap, either.

There’s one shot in particular, very brief and arguably unimportant to the story, that very much impressed me: when Idris Elba’s “Djinn” (known in the West as a genie) is released from his bottle by Tilda Swinton’s academic “narratologist” Alithea Binnie, he is at first huge by comparison, literally filling the entire space of her hotel room. As he slowly resizes down to better fit the space, there’s a moment when he gently grabs her by a hand that is itself nearly as large as her entire body. And this shot, blending live action footage with CGI animation, it looks incredibly convincing and real. There are other shots where the visual effects don’t look quite as real, but they don’t quite move into the realm of “fake,” either; they exists in an intermediate space of George Miller’s design, and thus easy to accept as an element of this very specific fantasy.

And here we move into another one of Three Thousand Years of Longing’s several contradictions. This movie is very much a fantasy, and in terms of production design, pacing, and visuals, all combine to make a film that is truly unlike any other, something that should be very much to its benefit. (It’s also fascinating to see a fantasy film that still acknowledges the residual effects of our modern, real-life pandemic, with sporadic extras wearing face masks in indoor scenes.) And yet, broadly speaking, it is still just another love story. Alithea and the Djinn spend a lot of time in her hotel room having intellectual discussions about the utility of being granted wishes, how all such stories are always cautionary tales, but as the Djinn regales her with many stories of his previous times spent outside of the confines of bottles (for the duration of the time indicated by this film’s title), they are all tragic tales of love, and meanwhile the affection brewing between Alithea and the Djinn is telegraphed very early on (and thus it’s really not a spoiler for me to reveal that here).

I was fully engaged through all of this, and most other viewers likely will be too, and yet for a story ostensibly themed on the eternal longing of romantic attachment, overall this film arrives at a place surprisingly shallow. It seems easy to deduce that a big part of its lack of success is how it doesn’t feel its feelings very deeply, much as its characters purport to; Miller, instead, is largely intellectualizing it all, as that is precisely what Alithea and the Djinn do as they discuss all this in her hotel room, through most of which she insists she is “content” and has no need for any wishes.

To be honest, this is where I really wish Miller had gone in a different direction. In the end, Alithea is not quite as contented as she insisted she was. But, there really are such people out there, rare as they may be, and it would have been nice to see some resolution where a contented woman—particularly an older, single, childless woman—managed to stay that way. I suppose Miller might argue, given the way that the film ends, that she does. But, I would argue otherwise. There is an assertion made in this film that there is something that “all women desire,” and although it is never said explicitly, there is very much the connotation that it is romance. And that’s a little reductive.

Nevertheless, I very much enjoyed the banter between Swinton and Elba in this movie, and would have liked even more of it than it offered. There’s a large amount of flashbacks to the Djinn’s previous experiences over thousands of years, and that is where most of the visual effects are found, but I found these sequences to be compelling as well. I particularly enjoyed the means by which the Djinn gets discovered by a new person after centuries or even millennia, which are fairly clever. That might be how I would summarize this movie overall, actually: fairly clever. It takes a universal theme and repackages it in a unique way. Most viewers would enjoy it just fine sometime later on a smaller screen at home, but as a visual experience, I was glad to have seen it at a cinema.

It’s a vivid experience, I’ll give it that.

Overall: B

DC LEAGUE OF SUPER PETS

Directing: C+
Acting: B+
Writing: C-
Cinematography: B-
Editing: C+
Animation: B

I suppose if you take your children, or your niece or your nephew, to see DC League of Super Pets, they will be suitably entertained, and you won’t hate the experience.

That’s about as close as I can get to heaping praise on this movie, which, even as an animated feature, embodies every cliché of comic book superhero movies developed over the past twenty years. It sticks to the formula, following the same story beats as nearly all of the rest of them, with a big, effects-laden climactic battle at the end, the fate of the world (or the city, or the galaxy, or the universe, take your pick) hanging in the balance. It has a few clever one-liners, most of which got burned through in the trailer. It wants you to think it has a sense of humor about itself, with self-referential meta humor, except that it’s all been done before ad nauseam, and ultimately it’s just another in a long line of cash grabs.

And League of Super Pets is very much in the “DC Cinematic Uniiverse,” the opening titles preceded by the glimpses of all the DC heroes in a graphic presentation long known to be part of their attempt at replicating Marvel’s runaway success. This movie doesn’t just feature Superman and his super dog, Krypto, but it features every quasi-human superhero member of the Justice League as a diversified ensemble supporting cast—each of them positioned to wind up with one of the “League of Super Pets” as their own pet.

To be fair, I did kind of enjoy this movie, for a while. Some of the humor, and a few of the animal-based puns (love Krypto’s dad, “Dog-El”), actually land. But, the shtick outlasts its welcome, and you feel all the exact same pieces of the “superhero story” clicking right into place. The truth is, DC League of Super Pets is just another superhero movie, just like countless others that came before it. Grafting the tropes onto domesticated animals doesn’t make it any more original.

If anything makes this movie watchable, it’s the voice talent, which is abundant: Dwayne Johnson as Krypto; Kevin Hart as Ace, the invulnerable dog; Vanessa Bayer as PB, the pig who can change her size; Diego Luna as Chip, the electrified squirrel; Natasha Lyonne as Merton, the speedy turtle; Kate McKinnon as Lulu, the villainous guinea pig; John Krasinski as Superman; Keanu Reeves as Batman; Marc Maron as Lex Luthor, of all people—his second major voice role in an animated feature this year (The Bad Guys isn’t exactly a classic either, but it’s a better movie)—and there are plenty more, in many cases recognizable voices in cameo parts. Every person voicing characters in this movie is clearly having a great time, and that alone makes it more fun to watch.

It’s still pretty forgettable once it’s over. DC League of Super Pets is fun while it lasts, but there’s nothing special about it. It’s just another movie that is almost literally paint-by-numbers and will disappear into the outer rims of the zeitgeist once opening weekend has passed.

Maybe if they’re cut enough you’ll be distracted from how stale it gets.

Overall: C+

THOR: LOVE AND THUNDER

Directing: B-
Acting: B-
Writing: C+
Cinematography: B
Editing: B
Special Effects: B-

Christian Bale. Russell Crow. Sam Neill. Melissa McCarthy! I swear to god, whether it’s a lead role or a cameo—and eventually, honestly, probably both at different times in most cases—every working actor today will one day find themselves in one of these Marvel movies. How does anyone find it in any way novel anymore?

There was this period where it felt like MCU movies were getting more consistently good. Now there’s a burgeoning attitude about post-Infinity War movies on average waning in quality. I’m thinking there is some truth to that. How many MCU movies have featured Thor as a character? This is the fourth in the “Thor series,” but I had to Google it: Chris Hemsworth has appeared as Thor in yet another four of the movies. He is hardly the only character for which this is an issue.

Much was made of how much life director Taika Waititi breathed into Thor with Thor: Ragnarok in 2017. The previous two films, directed by Kenneht Branagh in 2011 and Alan Taylor had taken themselves too seriously, the first one in particular given an unearned sense of “pedigree.” Taika Waititi came in with Ragnarok and gave it wit, made it fun in a way other MCU films thus far had not been, and it became widely regarded as one of the best of all the Marvel films. Even I think it remains one of the most fun.

So, Thor: Love and Thunder, also directed and co-written by Taika Waititi, arrives after hot anticipation—and a general let down. The trailers certainly titillated fans with the return of Natalie Portman as Jane Foster from the first two films, but attempting to mashup the sensibilities of the earlier films with that of Ragnarok resulted in something uneven at best, using an actor of Portman’s caliber only to leave her ample talents wasted. This kind of “quirky superhero movie,” in which her “Lady Thor” is trying in vain to come up with a catchphrase that sticks, just isn’t a good fit for her. Every minute Portman is onscreen is collectively the weakest element of Love and Thunder.

On the upside, we get to see Chris Hemsworth nude from behind for a split second in this one. And, Russell Crowe as Zeus is pretty fun, with the significant exception of a moment when he prances in a way that turns being effeminate into a punch line. There is another sequence, like in the previous film, with a re-enacted play featuring other actors playing the “characters” of Thor, in which several name actors make cameos. For a moment we get to see another Hemsworth.

The villain this time around is Christian Bale, playing “Gorr the God Butcher,” giving his all in a performance of a character who ultimately lacks substance, or even half the depth we’re supposed to feel. He is let down by gods who do nothing about his dying child, somehow gets his hands on a sword that can kill gods, and sets out to exact revenge on all gods as a result. Curiously, Gorr is the one character never afforded any humor; we are meant always to pity him. Villains in a movie like this always work better if they can offer at least some level of comedy. But, Gorr seems to exist in a different movie.

Honestly, Thor: Love and Thunder feels a bit rushed, with some CGI effects that feel like their seams are showing, and a sometimes incoherent plot. This movie has four credited editors. By and large the ensemble cast of actors have enough collective charisma to keep the proceedings engaging, so I was relatively entertained. But, it also tries to be all things to all people, and winds up being not-great for anyone. Well, except for the eager fanboys in the row behind me, I guess. Those kids would have lapped this movie up no matter how bad it was, though. One of them declared the movie “hilarious” when it ended, and I just found myself thinking about how that guy needs to broaden his horizons.

To be fair, a lot of it is funny. I got a few good chuckles out of it. But, this far in, it also feels like what genuine cleverness is left to Thor is being wrung out like a spent sponge. It’s feeling once again like these superhero movies are becoming more of the same shit, different cast. Except it’s just the supporting cast that’s different, because the principals are still the same. And as always, what reason is there to get emotionally invested when we know that gods never die? Even those supposedly threatened by a “god butcher” predictably find a way to better him in the end. Oh, oops. Spoiler alert! Thor: Love and Thunder is, in the end . . . adequate.

She doesn’t even look like it’s a comfortable fit.

Overall: B-

DOCTOR STRANGE IN THE MULTIIVERSE OF MADNESS

Directing: C+
Acting: B-
Writing: C-
Cinematography: B
Editing: C+
Special Effects: B

There are people genuinely convinced that Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness is a truly great film, and that makes me despair of humanity. Not because this movie is particularly bad, but because audiences are so conditioned by the “Marvel Cinematic Universe” that they can no longer distinguish between that which is quality cinema, and that which is average.

The thing is, this movie isn’t even all that great by MCU standards. I largely gave up on superhero movies over a decade ago, actively avoiding then for several years—because they were nearly all just like this one: rushing through expositional interludes between overly busy action sequences drenched in CGI that looked dated within a year, all in the service of the same story beats as the last film just like it, over and over again. But, over the past five or ten years, Marvel found better directors and better writers, and slowly but surely began to offer movies more worthy of regaining attention. This movie feels like a throwback to that earlier time.

The greatest disappointment about that is the fact that it was directed by the legendary Sam Raimi, of Army of Darkness (1992) fame, who directed the original Tobey MaGuire Spider-Man in 2002, and who has not directed a feature film in nine years (there’s nothing better to say about the equally mediocre Oz the Great and Powerful). It’s true that Multiverse of Madness gets better in its second half, and eventually it even gets genuinely weird, with quasi-horror elements that are only novel by MCU standards, but are still presented with recognizable Raimi flair. Alas, it doesn’t get sufficiently weird until at least three quarters of the way through, at which point it’s really too little, too late.

Multiverse of Madness comes up short by every measure. Even compared to other MCU movies, it’s not nearly as much quirky fun as Thor: Ragnarok (2017); it certainly has nothing of anywhere near as much substance to say as Black Panther (2018); it’s not even as interesting as the original Doctor Strange (2016). What it does do is rehash every concept imaginable, most of all the idea of a “multiverse,” something introduced brilliantly in the animated Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018, arguably the best year for Marvel) but which has already been revisited in Spider-Man: No Way Home (2021), a live action film that was better than anyone could have expected. But, here we are again, with fully expected diminishing returns.

And this Doctor Strange sequel is not helped at all by its very direct narrative ties to the Disney+ series WandaVision. I won’t say anyone who hasn’t seen the show will be lost in the plot here, but they’d certainly understand it a lot more having seen it. And what good does that do the movie itself? This is the twenty-eighth movie in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, all presented by a studio that increasingly expects its audiences not only to have seen but have remembered them all, plus increasing numbers of TV series. There comes a point when it’s just all too much, and that point arguably came and went a decade ago.

Elizabeth Olsen does a fairly impressive job as the villain, the Scarlet Witch, but it’s not as easy to recognize without having seen WandaVisison, which was itself, frankly, a bit overrated. Such is the case with a great majority of MCU films, with occasionally notable exceptions. Benedict Cumberbatch as the title character is . . . fine. The same could be said of the entire cast, none of who are given any room to breathe their performances in the overstuffed plot. This movie is 126 minutes long, almost “short” compared to many MCU movies, and too much is happening too quickly, whether it’s CGI spectacle action sequences or the rare quiet conversations between characters.

It just feels like a wildly missed opportunity, like a movie dictated by committee (it having only one writer notwithstanding; it should also be noted that this is Michael Waldron’s first feature film script), beholden to a multitude of strictures as part of the broader cinematic universe. That very much limits a filmmaker’s ability to put their own stamp on it—Chloé Zhao’s Eternals (2021) suffered from the same problem. If the studio could have loosened their evident grip, the uniquely dark and macabre Sam Raimi style could have permeated more than just the final quarter of the movie. With that alone, Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness would have been much improved.

To be fair, this particular movie was never going to be a masterpiece, no matter who wrote or directed it. It still had massively unrealized potential, and instead stuck with well-worn storytelling tropes that renders it the same shit in a different movie. I’d probably have enjoyed this exact same movie more had it been released seven or eight years ago, but time is not always kind to a decades-old franchise (consider what a challenge it has been for ages for anyone to make a truly great James Bond movie). Now, we’ve spent far too much time, year after year, with rushed storytelling wrapped in subpar special effects. Too few of these movies get any finessing, and are instead churned out as from an assembly line, all using a well worn template. Even well worn templates are tolerable if they can be given a novel enough spin, but Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness is convinced it’s taking a huge swing without realizing it’s stepping up to bat when the game is already nearly over.

I’d tell you more about the plot but it was so forgettable I forgot it.

Overall: C+

THE NORTHMAN

Directing: B+
Acting: A-
Writing: B
Cinematography: A-
Editing: B+
Special Effects: B+

Don’t let all the assertions that The Northman is by far Robert Eggers’s “most mainstream” film fool you—when measuring mainstream appeal of his work, the bar is frankly low. His last film, after all, The Lighthouse (2019), was so impenetrably weird that it’s the only movie I ever gave just a three-word review. I still stand by that review, by the way.

Rest assured, though, The Northman is uniquely bonkers. A transporting musical score largely using traditional instruments of the period is the tip of the iceberg . . . in Iceland, incidentally. This is fundamentally a tale of revenge, something the trailer made overtly clear, which is a tale as old as time. What Eggers does is tell it in a way you truly have never seen before, and well, let’s say, results may vary.

Even before the pandemic hastened inevitable changes in the U.S. cinema landscape, there’s no way this movie would be a huge hit. It’s just too weird, steeped as it is in historical viking details and traditions far more focused on historical accuracy than on anything even remotely close to viking cliches. It also detours into occasional, magical flourishes, making it a sort of fantasy epic for the viking set. Eggers managed to get Bjork to return to film for the first time in 17 years, appearing as an eyeless witch in just one scene. She offers a prophesy to Amleth (Alexander Skarsgård), who has returned to his homeland hell bent on avenging the death of his king father.

I have to admit, I spent much of The Northman unable to decide what to make of it, but once it ended, and I could consider the film in its entirety, I pretty quickly decided I really liked it. The landscapes of the North Atlantic are beautifully shot, and this story based on the 13th-century Scandinavian story Amleth, which is said to have later inspired Shakespeare’s Hamlet, predicts the ways in which simplistic quests for revenge are never actually simple. This is not just a “revenge flick,” but rather a text dense with lessons and textures. Some of them I found difficult to make out, but, whatever. Just surrender to it.

I’m not usually into something so drenched in testosterone. The Northman features a climactic battle sequence with two nude men navigating streams of volcanic lava. I mean, clearly the place is hot, they want to shed any extra layers. Still, one minute they’ve got clothes on, and suddenly they’re both buck naked. There’s nothing even remotely erotic about this scene, much as I had looked forward to it. Eggers’s point, clearly, is the deeply primal nature of what’s going on, and he conveys it incredibly well with his visual style. Most of this movie is, indeed, visual poetry, and this climactic battle is its zenith.

The primal tone exists from the beginning, however, when we meet Amleth as a teenage boy, his king father (Ethan Hawke) teaching him via memorably visceral rituals to commune with his inner beast. Amleth’s mother is played by Nicole Kidman in what may be secretly the best performance in the movie, even though she gets only one scene in which her acting talents are overtly showcased. But she is seen many other times, often in background or as a side presence, but paying close attention has its rewards. She gives a look in her very first scene that offers a glimpse of a twist to come many years later in the story.

As for Skarsgård, his clear talents tend to be more easily identified with the right directors who know how to draw them out of him. It could be argued he has never been more committed to a role. After being raised by a deeply animalistic group of pillagers (one impressive attack sequence features indiscriminate killing), Amleth disguises himself amongst a group of slaves that are being offered for sale to the murderous uncle who has now married his mother and had another child with her. Along the way, he forges a connection with a blonde slave woman (a suitably ethereal Anya Taylor-Joy), who is compelling enough on her own but ultimately just serves as a plot point and, in the end, a point of motivation for Amleth.

Along the way, The Northman goes some very strange places, and to some gruesome places, and some places that are both at once. A lot happens in this movie that is impossible to understand unless you are deeply versed in Scandinavian legend, history and mythology. And still, there’s something about this movie that I can’t shake—something that makes it feel greater than the sum of its parts. This film was absolutely worth seeing on the big screen, and even after being regularly baffled by it, I find myself thinking I might want to return to it for another look. I have a soft spot for such movies, which may not reach perfection yet somehow command reconsideration over time.

Careful where you’re swinging that rod!

Overall: B+

ETERNALS

Directing: B
Acting: B-
Writing: B-
Cinematography: B
Editing: B-
Special Effects: B+

Is Eternals any good? Reviews are decidedly mixed, with instant detractors calling it a misfire or a dud . . . I wouldn’t go that far. It’s not great either, but it’s better than that. I suppose one thing the movie has going for it is low expectations, because for me the movie thus exceeded them.

Bear in mind, this is an entirely new story in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, with a concept particularly vast in scope, downright Biblical—it begins with title cards that essentially reference the beginning of time, like an alternate version of Genesis. No need for me to explain it; it’s just a bunch of made-up jargon. Suffice it to say that these ten entities are the titular “Eternals,” immortal except apparently not as we discover in this story, tasked with helping humanity along in their grand plan of evolution.

Tasked by whom? Hell, I don’t remember the name of the being, nor do I know whether he’s supposed to be a god. One of the “celestials,” I think? Trust me on this one: if you go into Eternals with no working knowledge of the Marvel Comics source material, the backstory here is very complicated. I mean, the Eternals themselves are effectively gods, and they answer to what are effectively gods, and they apparently have more power than the superheroes who make up the Avengers who are also effectively (and a few of them are literally) gods. How does this hierarchy get decided, anyway?

The Avengers get one mention in this movie. Bizarrely, two DC comics superheroes—Superman and Batman—get more mentions, which I found confusing. And even though they clearly exist in the same universe, there is no interaction between Eternals and any of the standard Marvel superheroes. How would they reconcile that, anyway? Thor and Loki are gods, right? Eternals—spoiler alert!—are ultimately revealed not to be gods, but they might as well be. They hold sway over the literal destiny of the entire planet, and have been actively involved for thousands of years. We see several flashbacks to key points in Eternals history contextualized within ancient human history.

When “deviants” were mentioned in the trailer to Eternals, I thought I knew what they were talking about. There are also “deviants” in the Marvel series on Disney+, Loki. I was sure they must be one and the same—they’re all within the MCU, right? Well, apparently not. The “deviants” are these grotesque monster-creatures in Eternals, one of whom quickly evolves into a verbal humanoid as he absorbs the powers of the couple of Eternals he (it?) defeats. They exist exclusively as part of the backstory in just this movie, related to the birth and rebirth of “celestials,” the process of which leaves the fate of humanity in the balance. For most of Eternals, these are the villains the Eternals are battling.

Until their team fractures, and they begin battling each other, and that is when Eternals actually starts to get interesting. Until then, unfortunately, the previously exciting choice of Chloé Zhao as director proves fundamentally inconsequential. Nomadland, this is not. Zhao is the latest in a string of small movie directors who, after only one or two projects, gets thrust upon a gargantuan blockbuster project. At least with someone like Gareth Edwards, whose 2010 indie Monsters had a sense of scale and wonder well translated to Godzilla (2014), subpar as that movie was—in fact, Eternals is a better movie than Godzilla. That still doesn’t mean Zhao was the best choice, or that her talents are allowed to reach their full potential there.

There are moments within the first half hour or so of Eternals that feel almost like a bad omen, particularly with some of the actors’ delivery. These are ten great actors portraying the ten Eternals, and there’s no reason for any of their line readings to feel unrehearsed. This may be less the fault of the actors themselves than of the director and the editor.

Once the story gets going, though, so long as you can ignore the nitpicky details with which I started this review, Eternals becomes surprisingly entertaining—and it features a lot of well written humor, which lands well. This is especially the case with the storyline of Kingo, played by Kumail Nanjiani, who is re-introduced in the present day as a huge Bollywood star for over a century. (Kingo has a clever explanation for this which I won’t spoil.) There are much bigger movie stars in Eternals than Nanjiani, but his physical transformation into superhero buffness for the film granted him arguably the most shared press. An extra fun detail is veteran comic Indian actor Harish Patel, who gets a significant supporting role as Kingo’s longtime “valet.”

The other nine Eternals are played by the likes of Angelina Jolie; Salma Hayek (who plays the leader of the ten); Brian Tyree Henry; British Asian actor Gemma Chan; Richard Madden; South Korean actor Ma Dong-seok; The Walking Dead’s Lauren Ridloff; The Killing of a Sacred Deer’s Barry Keoghan (after roles like that, it’s impressive that guy manages not to be creepy here); and 15-year-old Lia McHugh, who plays an Eternal stuck for eternity as a teenager—something that gets a sort of clever fix by the end of this film, in the event of any sequels in which she would be noticeably older.

That list of actors does elicit the question: is Eternals the most broadly diverse Marvel movie made to date? Or even superhero movie, for that matter? One might want to mention Black Panther, except that has (completely appropriate) focus on Black characters as the majority of its cast, with a couple white people in principal supporting parts. The ten principals in Eternals represent people, or at least ancestry, from five of the six populated continents; I don’t believe any are from or have heritage from South America, but Salma Hayek is, of course, Mexican, so there is Latin representation. Of the ten principals, only four are unambiguously white, which is arguably still over-representative in a global context, but is certainly unusual in a U.S. context. If nothing else, it should help with the worldwide box office, particularly when it comes to actors actually from places like South Korea or India or Mexico.

This sort of both organic and careful curating of actors for the film can perhaps be at least party attributed to Zhao, in which case her involvement certainly made the movie better than it might otherwise have been. It just doesn’t have any identifying features that make the broad arc of the story feel like it couldn’t have been directed by anyone, who just happened to be competent. I want Zhao to be able to make movies that clearly have a singular touch. And at the end of the day, its many redeeming qualities notwithstanding, Eternals is just another, overlong, comic book movie. At least it’s engaging and entertaining, a fun time at the movies. I just wanted it to be more special than it is, that’s all.

Alright everybody hold that pose!

DUNE

Directing: B+
Acting: B+
Writing: B
Cinematography: A-
Editing: B+
Special Effects: A

It goes without saying that there’s a lot riding on Denis Villeneuve’s Dune, the latest literary adaptation of a novel beloved for decades. Frank Herbert’s original novel, the first in a series of six (not counting a further sixteen co-written by Herbert’s son Brian and Kevin J. Anderson, with still more to come), was published in 1965. Previous attempts at screen adaptations include a notorious feature film flop by David Lynch in 1984, and a Syfy miniseries in 2000. Legions of nerds love this property. No fewer than three people I spoke with earlier today were excited just to hear that I was going to see this movie.

And here’s the thing. I have never read the novel, descriptions of which make it honestly sound tedious. Nor have I seen the 1984 film, descriptions of which make it sound horrible. I didn’t even know a miniseries ever existed until this week. Thus, as always, I can only speak to how the 2021 Dune stands on its own merits, which of course is how I believe it should be judged anyway. I still had great interest in this Dune, simply because of its director, who has proven time and again (Prisoners, Sicario, Arrival, Blade Runner 2049) that his films are not to be missed.

I just can’t decide the degree to which I feel the same way about Dune. It depends, ironically, on your knowledge of and affection for the property itself. I have a feeling people who already love the Dune story and mythology will be pleased. It should be noted that this adaptation of the first novel only covers half of it; all the marketing materials just call it Dune, but the title card makes it explicit: Dune - Part One. Villeneuve is in pre-production for Part Two and only agreed to make the film if he could do it in two parts.

I’m glad he did. This is a completely different universe from ours, and fully realized—the run time of this film is two hours and 35 minutes, which never drags. There’s a lot to pack in here, but it never feels packed; allowing this adaptation to be of only the first half, and giving it that run time, simply allows the world it presents to breathe. “Epic” is a wildly overused word anymore, but this movie is an epic in every sense of the word. Every frame elicits a sense of grandeur.

I have to admit, though, that Dune just didn’t speak to me the way I wanted it to—certainly not the way Villeneuve’s previous films have (with the notably odd and incoherent exception of Enemy). It clearly does speak the way I wanted it to, to others; my husband loved it and immediately said he wants to read the novel. It’s also arguably nonsensical to assess this movie as a complete entity at all—because it isn’t complete, by definition. It even ends fairly abruptly, as though right in the middle of the story, because that’s indeed exactly where it is. My feelings about this film may differ significantly once Part Two is released. As it is, this very review is rather like reviewing any other movie after only watching the first hour. On the other hand, there was a similar experience with Quentin Tarantino’s Kill Bill films, and in that case I had been much more enthralled with Volume I than I had been with Volume II. Still, I did not know that until I had seen both films.

And besides, Dune takes its time, letting the story unfold gradually, in ways I constantly wish other movies would. There are indeed very thrilling set pieces, but this film is comparatively meditative in its first half. It’s all story establishment and world building, as we meet Paul (Timothée Chalamet) and his parents (Oscar Isaac and Rebecca Ferguson), rulers of their home world. And we are taken to other worlds and introduced to a stunning array of other key characters from across their universe, played by countless A-list actors (Josh Brolin, Jason Momoa, Javier Bardem, Stellan Skarsgård, Dave Bautista, Charlotte Rampling, Zendaya, Chen Chang). More often than not, a movie this packed with star power crushes under the weight of it and deflates into the realm of mediocrity. Dune is far from mediocre, however.

It’s certainly a technical marvel. A whole lot of it is set in desert landscapes (consider the title), in light of which it’s remarkable how stunning it is to look at most of the time. Otherworldly creatures and vehicles, notably gargantuan sand worms, are seen sparingly and thus very effectively. There’s also a fun mode of transportation that is basically a helicopter designed like a dragonfly. The effects are seamlessly blended into practical sets, and never call attention to themselves, instead always existing in service of the story.

The story, incidentally, is pretty typical for fantasy epics: Paul is identified as a messiah, a fate he predictably resists, until—spoiler alert!—he begins to accept his destiny. It remains unclear to me exactly what he’s meant to deliver to this universe as a messiah, and related details were consistently difficult for me to follow, but such considerations are secondary. What Villeneuve truly succeeds at here is establishment of a unique tone, in a broadly realized alternate universe, unlike any other, except perhaps the source material. It may not have been quite what I wanted it to be, but I can still see it as something it needed to be, and appreciate it for what it is. I will certainly be right back to see Part Two once it finally comes out.

Rebecca Ferguson, Zendaya, Javier Bardem, and Timothée Chalamet, striking a pose on a desert rock.

Overall: B+

SHANG-CHI AND THE LEGEND OF THE TEN RINGS

Directing: B+
Acting: B
Writing: B+
Cinematography: B+
Editing: B+
Special Effects: B

I spent several years actively avoiding superhero movies, which sometimes feel actively designed by Marvel Studios to be a punishment of sorts should you try to venture back into their “cinematic universe” without having seen everything. The thing is “everything” is a lot—and increasingly so as time goes on: Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings marks the twenty-fifth MCU film since this universe they all share was created in 2008. It’s pretty tempting to say that’s just too many. Who has time for this shit?

Well, to be fair, these movies work a lot better when thy barely acknowledge the events of the other films, if at all. Thankfully, this is done sparingly in Shang-Chi; a single passing reference to Thanos snapping half the universe out of existence is easily missed if you’re not paying attention. On the other hand, it depends on how you look at it: Ben Kingsley returns for a supporting role here as Trevor Slattery, who was originally seen in 2013’s Iron Man 3, one of the least memorable of the MCU films. Do we need to go back and re-watch old MCU movies to “bone up” now? I would argue no: Kingsley’s part is delightful on its own terms here, even if you can’t quite remember where Slattery originated.

Shang-Chi has a lot of other stuff going for it, anyway. That’s the point I’m getting at, really: my disillusionment with superhero movies seems to be healing a bit, not because the genre is inherently great, but because filmmakers are finding ways to make them better. Instead of movie after movie just adhering to the same tired story arcs, writers and directors are expanding on them. And in the current “phase,” diversity is justifying itself by example. It’s not just one white guy after another anymore—we’re spreading across continents: Black Panther took us to Africa; Shang-Chi takes us to Asia (specifically China). All we need now is a Marvel movie about a Latino superhero with deep familial roots somewhere in South America. Or better yet, an Indigenous superhero.

Of course, much like Black Panther to Black audiences, what Shang-Chi is likely to represent to Asian audiences should probably not be underestimated. Until now, the only high-profile mainstream film in which all of the leads were Asian was Crazy Rich Asians (which, incidentally, came out the same year as Black Panther). A lot of unfair representative responsibility and criticism was heaped on that film, for that very reason. Well, guess what? Now we have Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings, and it being of a completely different genre notwithstanding, it is an objectively better film.

Okay, sure, Shang-Chi does still get a little bogged down in its climactic battle sequence, far too busy and far too reliant on barely visually comprehensible CGI. (Once again, I find myself noticing flaws in the computer animation, certain that these visuals will look dated within the decade. There remains something to be said for practical effects, or at least practical effects well integrated with CGI touchups.) This movie also literally moves into another dimension, featuring an action sequence on the streets of San Francisco early on, only to later move to Macao and then to another dimension and then never returning. We find ourselves in a world with magical creatures, bat-like demon creatures, and dragons. It lends an air of the traditional fantasy genre, almost more so than the superhero genre. I suppose it’s a kind of mythology either way.

And I am at a disadvantage here, being so little versed in Chinese mythology and folklore. To what degree are the magical creatures we see here authentic to those sources? Black Panther had been famous for its authentically African-influenced design; one would hope Shang-Chi would have similarly authentically Asian influences. A giant dragon that appears in the third act, as well as some truly fantastic and adorably rendered giant Chinese lions, all look very much like what you would typically see in Chinese New Year celebrations. The giant demon soul-sucker, though … that one, I have no idea.

As you might imagine, Shang-Chi features several martial-arts-heavy battle sequences, which bear a passing resemblance to the battles from Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon and other films of its ilk. This is clearly not an accident, and these scenes are very well choreographed. In fact, they are consistently very exciting, much more so than, for instance, a runaway bus on the hills of San Francisco. And because the title character (played with just the right amount of charisma by Simu Liu) and his sister Xu Xialing (Meng'er Zhang) are the children of both a power-hungry man who has used the magical Ten Rings to live over a thousand years, and a woman from a village in another dimension accessed via a magical forest, their physics-defying movements don’t especially pose a problem.

The story details here are indeed fairly complex, and its team of script writers does an unusually skilled job of weaving them into the plot in a fairly organic way, not to mention presenting an origin story without it feeling like one. We even get Awkwafina as Katy, Shang-Chi’s longtime friend and comic sidekick. In retrospect she doesn’t ever prove to be vital to the story at all, but her presence is always fun. At least this time, as opposed to Raya and the Last Dragon, she is well cast and has good chemistry with her cast mates.

In any event, Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings is great fun from start to finish, in a way that actually makes me look forward to seeing more movies like it. After I spent several years actively resenting superhero films, that’s saying a lot.

It’s not as confused as they look!

Overall: B+