Back Rowe Reviews
Real Time Movie Reviews from the Back Row of a Theater

December 2017

Justice League (PG-13)

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Directed by: Zack Snyder
Starring: Ben Affleck
November 2017

What follows is the full-length review based on comments that were originally tweeted in Real-time from the back row of a movie theater @BackRoweReviews. Though efforts were made to tease rather than ruin this movie’s memorable lines and moments, some spoilers may exist in the following evaluation. For concerns over objectionable content, please first refer to one of the many parental movie guide websites. Ratings are based on a four star system. Happy reading!

Though there are many comic book companies these days, the big two are DC and Marvel. In addition to producing comic books, both companies offer an array of entertainment on the small and big screens. Though achieving parity (in output and quality) has been a constant struggle for DC, the studio has, at long last, launched a cinematic version of its Justice League property—their answer to Marvel’s Avengers series. Aside from being five years behind their rival studio, DC also failed to properly establish all of its team members in solo movies as Marvel did for the Avengers (heck, they even stuck their neck out with Ant-Man, which turned out to be a crowd-pleasing success). JL members The Flash (Ezra Miller), Aquaman (Jason Momoa) and Cyborg (Ray Fisher) all make their first appearance in the franchise here, sans a cinematic origin story. Rounding out the super group is: Ben Affleck as Batman, Gal Gadot as Wonder Woman and…surprise, Henry Cavill as Superman. I made much of Superman’s absence from the JL poster in my review for Wonder Woman, which I now regret. I should’ve known that the indestructible Man of Steel would emerge just in the nick of time to mete out his particular brand of justice on the bad guys. It would’ve been senseless to exclude Superman from a JL movie since he’s the most recognizable superhero in the world. However, the way Superman is used in the movie is a whole other matter; his limited screen time and inconsequential involvement in the story is a super…uh, supreme disappointment. The story itself, written by Chris Terrio, Joss Whedon and director Zack Snyder, is one of the movie’s biggest drawbacks. The plot is a sprawling mess…it juggles multiple storylines and takes forever to get out of the starting gate. The action sequences are protracted and dizzying, yet are strangely absent of peril. Steppenwolf (the 70s called and want their rock band back) is a serviceable villain, but we already know he will be no match for Superman during their inevitable, climactic showdown. Steppenwolf’s (voiced by Ciaran Hinds) insectoid minions’ only function is to prevent the team from joining forces…because if that happened, the movie would be over in five minutes. The MacGuffins in this film are the three Mother Boxes (dumb name), which serve a similar function as Marvel’s Infinity Stones. Nothing new here. The movie makes an attempt at providing some personal background for each of the JL team members as well as some meaningful exchanges between the characters, like the lakeside chat between Bruce Wayne (Affleck) and Diana Prince (Gadot), but such efforts are still insufficient and perfunctory amid the rapid succession of action sequences. Other ancillary characters, like Commissioner Gordon (J.K. Simmons), are given ridiculously little to do in the film. Likewise, Lois Lane (Amy Adams) is called upon to be a Superman whisperer when her buffo boyfriend goes off the rails. Cyborg’s father, Silas Stone (Joe Morton), also has a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it part. The film’s tone is its Kryptonite. Much of the color has been removed from the picture so that the overall aesthetic is dismal and seedy, like a Batman comic book, but certainly not like a colorful Superman book. The story perfectly mirrors the tone…everything is done in earnest with a level of seriousness that allows only the occasional joke to penetrate the movie’s hard-boiled, world-weary exterior. By way of comparison, JL is less like Wonder Woman and more like Batman v Superman. In that regard, the studio is moving in the wrong direction. Bottom line: JL is a bleak blunder. It’s case in point for why Marvel is winning the comic book war, at least on the big screen. Marvel’s movies have become more colorful and humorous, while DCs have become increasingly dire, drab and dreary. DC’s gloomy outlook may be an accurate reflection of the world we live in, but Marvel’s optimistic, fun-filled adventures perfectly portray the world we want to live in. Is there any question why Marvel’s films continue to be more financially, commercially and critically successful than DC’s? If DC doesn’t step up its game, it will continue to Marvel at the success of its competitor.

Murder on the Orient Express (PG-13)

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Directed by: Kenneth Branagh
Starring: Kenneth Branagh
November 2017

What follows is the full-length review based on comments that were originally tweeted in Real-time from the back row of a movie theater @BackRoweReviews. Though efforts were made to tease rather than ruin this movie’s memorable lines and moments, some spoilers may exist in the following evaluation. For concerns over objectionable content, please first refer to one of the many parental movie guide websites. Ratings are based on a four star system. Happy reading!

The standard opening would say something like: “Based on the novel by Agatha Christie…” In this case, it’s more accurate to say: Loosely based on the novel of the same name by Agatha Christie, Murder on the Orient Express is a modern retelling of Christie’s seminal mystery yarn. Much to its detriment, this version of Christie’s magnum opus is more concerned with casting Hercule Poirot (Kenneth Branagh) as a superstar sleuth in the mold of Sherlock Holmes than as the humble, working man’s detective from the source material. The “loosely” argument is bolstered by the fact that director Branagh makes several significant alterations to the literary classic, the first of which comes during the movie’s opening when Poirot solves a mystery in the style of Holmes. Unfortunately, the case is exceedingly conventional and the specifics are muddled. We have no interest in the people involved in the whodunit since we just met them and could care less about the caper itself because we have no investment in its outcome. The whole sequence is gratuitous since it was designed solely for the purpose of demonstrating how marvelous a detective Poirot is…which we’ll figure out anyway once the titular murder has been committed. These are wasted minutes that could’ve been used for developing back stories or laying out the details of the homicide—both of which are cursory to the extreme in Branagh’s Murder. The procedural elements are breezed through—the clues (handkerchief with an embroidered H, pipe cleaner, broken watch and, later, scarlet kimono) are discussed in less than 30 seconds and the specifics of the murder (i.e., number of stabs, where and how severe the blows were, etc.) only take up about a minute of screen time. So what does Branagh spend the balance of the film on? Good question. It certainly isn’t on character development. Indeed, we get to know these train passengers far less than their counterparts in Sidney Lumet’s version of Murder (1974). That iteration of Christie’s book also had a decorated cast (Albert Finney, Sean Connery, Vanessa Redgrave, Michael York, Ingrid Bergman, et al.), but it could be argued that individuals in that movie were two-dimensional too. Branagh spends a few minutes of screen time on establishing shots of the train rolling along the European countryside. It’s a nice add since the technology didn’t exist in the 70s to create these sweeping, aerial landscape shots. However, the double-edged sword of technology is that it draws attention to itself. Here, our first impression is, “Wow, gorgeous vista,” and then our second thought is, “And it’s been rendered to death by CG artists.” As for the cinematography, Branagh makes the most of the cramped train set by using clever camera angles. Branagh employs a high angle shot twice—once when the body of loathsome Ratchett (Johnny Depp) is discovered and then during the examination of the corpse. One instance would’ve been sufficient, twice is overkill. Plus, both shots are long takes, which are more enjoyable for their artistic achievement than for their viewing pleasure. Another “loosely” item is the scene where Arbuthnot (Leslie Odom Jr.), who’s a doctor instead of a colonel in this rendition, shoots Poirot. Though his motivation is to protect Mary (Daisy Ridley), the good doctor earlier averred that he couldn’t harm a fly. This is the kind of inconsistency that drives Poirot, and savvy spectators, mad. Of course, the shooting serves the story as both a red herring and an action interlude, so its inclusion is understandable, if unacceptable. The next scene also has plenty of new material in it. For starters, none of the characters leave the train in Christie’s book. Here, all of the suspects sit at a table (where did it come from?) inside a train tunnel: the obvious visual antecedent here is da Vinci’s “The Last Supper.” This is the setting where Poirot solves the case, albeit in a less streamlined and cogent manner than in the book and earlier film. In particular, the two possible solutions aren’t explained very clearly. A compelling new scene involves Poirot offering himself up as a sacrificial lamb so that the guilty parties can go free. Poirot places a gun on the table, which affords the conspirators an opportunity to silence him. In a shocking twist, Mrs. Hubbard (Michelle Pfeiffer) grabs the gun and tries to off herself. Though not without entertainment value, this story embellishment falls flat when we learn that the gun is empty, making the whole sequence a pointless exercise, other than to generate some faux tension. Once the case has been solved and the train freed from the snow drift, the movie should come to an end. But the denouement is dragged out so that we can observe Poirot heading off to his next case—again, it’s obvious, and somewhat pathetic, that Branagh is so determined to portray Poirot as an in demand, top-shelf detective when he knows that the Belgium sleuth carries none of the clout or name recognition (at least in America) as Holmes, Spade, Marlowe or Hammer. Michael Green’s adaptation of Christie’s book is disappointing on so many levels there isn’t even a word to describe how poor his efforts are. Everything in the plot is done hastily. Like a runaway train, the story steamrolls along to its inevitable, predictable resolution. The elegance of Christie’s tale is in how it selectively dispenses clues and gradually reveals the motivations of its diverse, yet unified, characters. All of this is lost in Branagh’s Murder, which, in the end, is just a Reader’s Digest version of Christie’s masterwork. Murder’s expedience is its undoing. That’s a bitter reality since the film wastes a fine central performance by Branagh (which is much more enjoyable to watch than Finney’s, in my opinion). It’s also sad that the considerable talents of the rest of the spectacular cast were wasted on such perfunctory material. Ironically, that’s an even bigger crime than the one committed in the movie.

Blade Runner 2049 (R)

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Directed by: Denis Villeneuve
Starring: Ryan Gosling
October 2017

What follows is the full-length review based on comments that were originally tweeted in Real-time from the back row of a movie theater @BackRoweReviews. Though efforts were made to tease rather than ruin this movie’s memorable lines and moments, some spoilers may exist in the following evaluation. For concerns over objectionable content, please first refer to one of the many parental movie guide websites. Ratings are based on a four star system. Happy reading!

A sequel 35 years in the making, Blade Runner 2049 is a respectable, if not orbit-altering, follow-up to Ridley Scott’s 1982 cult classic, Blade Runner. There are several key production aspects to discuss right up front: First, even though Scott is a producer on the film, he didn’t direct it. That honor fell to Denis Villeneuve, who helmed the visually stunning, style-over-substance Arrival last year (more on the movie later). So why didn’t Scott direct the sequel himself? Unknown. What is known is that Villeneuve does a remarkable job of marrying his visual style to the aesthetic Scott established in the first film. The latest iteration of Runner’s future shock society is both a logical extension of the original’s style and a tribute to the cosmopolitan, seedy, neon world brought to life by Scott and cinematographer Jordan Cronenweth. Another keen production decision was to show a progression of design elements to reflect the sensibilities of the era—the first film was set in 2019, thirty years earlier than the sequel. If possible, things are even more dingy and rundown in the new film. Also, the showgirl sexploitation in the original has been digitized and supersized—a ten story tall nude woman interacts with oglers on the street. Just as our society has made a giant out of the porn industry since 1982 (due in large part to the internet), so too have the inhabitants of Runner’s neo-noir dystopia. Another scene depicts huge hovering trash trucks dumping garbage onto a vast plain, filled with segregated piles of trash a la the opening of WALL-E (2008). The environmental message here is clear. This setting becomes the locus of a brief, yet intense, action scene involving Ryan Gosling’s Officer K (not to be confused with Agents J and K from the Men in Black movies). Ironically, Gosling’s co-star had a memorable trash sequence of his own forty years earlier in Star Wars (1977). That co-star, of course, is Harrison Ford, who reprises his role as Rick Deckard, the central character from the first film. There’s good and bad news here. The good news is that Ford is extremely effective in his scenes, especially during the denouement (see below). The bad news is that Ford doesn’t show up until the movie’s halfway mark. Gosling and Ford appear to have good screen chemistry, but the sample size of their shared scenes is so small, it’s difficult to positively affirm that observation. Another original cast member, Edward James Olmos, appears here too. Sadly, Olmos is only in one scene and looks like Colonel Sanders with his gray mustache and pointed goatee. Other cast members shine in limited roles, such as: Dave Bautista, Jared Leto, Robin Wright and Mackenzie Davis. The production elements are finely crafted and are wholly immersive. Particularly eye-catching are the interior sets, which are lit with otherworldly hues or mesmerizing water ripple effects. If there’s one area of the movie that doesn’t succeed it’s the overlong, onerous, obtuse screenplay by Hampton Fancher and Michael Green (based on the story by Philip K. Dick). In general, the “show-don’t-tell” cardinal rule of writing should be followed to the letter. Here, that maxim is taken to the extreme as characters are often shown in contemplative poses or gazes for so long, you can get your popcorn refilled and still not miss anything. True, a plot should never be spelled out, but the audience needs something to go on. A string of scenes that “show-show-show” with no dialog, exposition or contextualization, can become tedious, as exemplified by this film. Granted, the pressure to follow up the original film with another instant classic must’ve been oppressive for the writers, but the insistence on skewing so far to the art side of the spectrum, while forgetting that a broad swath of the audience was drawn to the film for its commercial elements, was a serious miscalculation. Much like Villeneuve’s Arrival, Runner 2 has sacrificed meaning and accessibility for style points. Was the tradeoff worth it? Time, and ticket stubs, will tell. The seaside struggle is an intense sequence, but certainly isn’t the nail-biting climax the film needed to drive the story home. However, the final series of scenes are the finest in the film and help to boost its rating far above that of the refuse heaps of standard movies. Villeneuve stages some symbolic and synergistic parallel action sequences between Officer K and Deckard at movie’s end. K lies back on concrete steps as snow (in L.A.) sprinkles down around him. It’s a gorgeous shot, but I half expected Gosling to make a snow angel—perhaps he did in an outtake. The scene inside the building, where Deckard meets his daughter, Ana Stelline (Carla Juri), for the first time, is much more meaningful. Deckard places his hand on the glass wall that separates him from his daughter. It’s a moving scene of connection despite the division of walls and years. Ironically, we saw this same pose in another 1982 sci-fi release, Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan, when Kirk holds his hand against the Plexiglas wall that isolates him from a dying Spock. Now would be an appropriate time to mention that Ford is a tremendous “hand” actor. He channels enormous energy into scenes where he points an accusatory finger at someone (The Fugitive and Clear and Present Danger) and is also marvelous at grabbing and using objects around him (numerous instances in the Indiana Jones films, especially the idol scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark). Here, the simple action of placing his hand on a translucent wall carries with it tremendous power—the scene literally sent chills up my spine. It was the first time in the film I felt any kind of emotion. Sadly, it was the final shot of the movie. In the end, there can be no doubt that Runner 2 is a worthy film in its own right and that it has moved the series forward without being an embarrassment to the original. However, Runner 2, like its robotic replicants, has little emotion and heart. Still, Runner 2 is a beautiful film that bears repeat viewings to uncover all of its hidden meanings and Easter eggs. Speaking of which, Ana is creating snow with her hands when Deckard walks in to meet her. Is this the same snow that’s drifting down onto Officer K? And if so, is his character real? Or just dreaming? Of electric sheep?