‘Tis The Season For Some Streaming: WONDER WOMAN 1984 & SOUL

Yesterday, it seemed that just about everybody on my social media feeds was watching WONDER WOMAN 1984, which premiered on HBO Max; and SOUL, which premiered on Disney Plus. Both were originally slated to be theatrically releases, but, well, you know why they’re getting rolled out this way. However, WONDER WOMAN is getting a limited theatrical release including at some IMAX venues, while SOUL is being released on some big screens overseas.

Christmas afternoon, I viewed WW84, as the film declares itself (guess it’s better than WWII), Patty Jenkins’ sequel to her ultra successful 2017 WW, which is maybe the best of the recent spate of DC movies. Gal Godot returns as Diana/WW, who now works as a Smithsonian Institute anthropologist in Washington D.C. and lives at the Watergate complex.

It’s the mid ‘80s, as if you couldn’t tell from the title, and our heroine appears to be sad, and friendless. That’s where Kristen Wiig, an odd choice for a superhero movie, comes in as an awkward co-worker named Barbara Ann Minerva, who is inspecting some ancient stone, which is referred to as a “dream rock.”

This stone is obviously the movie’s McGuffin, as it grants wishes and everyone is after it including, of course, the villain, oil tycoon Maxwell Lord (Pedro Pascal), who you can’t look at and not think of Donald Trump. The guy has a similar bogus billionaire background and even says “I’m not a conman; I’m a television personality!” 

Jenkins may say that the character is an amalgam that’s as inspired by Bernie Madoff as it is Trump, but c’mon! That’s about as convincing as Orson Welles saying that CITIZEN KANE was only partly based on William Randolph Hearst.

Trump, I mean Lord, steals the stone and wishes to become one with it so he can grant everybody their wishes, and predictably they all have Monkey’s Paw-style consequences.

Oh, I haven’t even mentioned the return of Chris Pine as Diana’s dead boyfriend, Steve Trevor, now resurrected by a wish. Not sure if Pine is really necessary as their romance feels a bit flat.

WW84 is a very mixed bag, the first half is mildly enjoyable, though I could’ve done with more ‘80s kitsch and tackiness, but it gets crazy convoluted with big bloated action scenes including a desert highway chase sequence with army trucks and heavy artillery that fails to be very exciting until the last minute of it. Wiig’s Minerva, whose arc reminded me of Michelle Pfeifer’s in BATMAN RETURNS, is another element that doesn’t quite gel as Jenkins and crew don’t seem to know what to do with her. Her entire role is as awkward as her character.

There’s only intermittent dumb fun in WW84, and those instances aren’t helped by the two and a half hour running time. Despite not having very interesting dialogue (a speech at the end tries to rectify this and almost succeeds), Gadot does her best as she flies, glides, and lassos her way through the messy set-pieces. She really deserves a sleeker, more polished narrative. It’s also disappointing that they felt the Trump guy is worth redemption. Because, man, he really isn’t.

I almost hesitated even blogging about this movie, because either most folks have already seen it or are going to anyway no matter what anybody says. Oh, and if you do - stay through the end credits. It’s worth it.

Much, much better is the Pixar film, SOUL, co-written and directed by Pete Docter, who’s worked on over two dozen Pixar productions. Jamie Foxx, who is the first African American protagonist in a Pixar movie (jeez it took over 20 of their movies for this to happen!) voices music teacher Joe Gardner, who on the verge of a big break playing piano in a band headed by acclaimed jazz saxophonist Dorothea Williams (Angela Bassett bringing the attitude) steps into an open manhole and finds that he’s become a glowing blue soul (sort of Casper-esque) in the afterlife set to be sent to “The Great Beyond.”

After Joe attempts to return to earth repeatedly, he meets a surly soul named 22 (voiced by a constantly quipping Tina Fey and they try to make the trip back together. But lo and behold a wacky mishap has Fey’s 22 entering Joe’s body, that’s in a coma in a hospital bed, while Joe takes over the body of a therapy cat resting at Joe’s feet on the bed. The mismatched duo frantically scramble from one farcical situation to another, but I’m not complaining as there are many hilarious moments. This is one of those films that makes me really miss the theater experience as I kept imagining an audience’s hysterical laughter in key places. Sigh.

The Pixar flick that this engaging romp most resembles is INSIDE/OUT, which Docter also directed, but it marches to its own beat aided by a delightful soundtrack by Trent Reznor, Atticus Ross, and Stephen Colbert’s bandleader Jon Batiste that should get some Oscar attention (that is, if they have the Oscars for this year).

I should also mention the rest of the well chosen supporting cast such as Phylicia Rashad as Joe’s mother, Questlove as a drummer in Bassett’s band, Phylicia Daveed Diggs as a rival of Joe’s, and Graham Norton as a spiritual hippy name Moonwind, who tries to help Joe and 22 solve their mixed-up shenanigans. 

It will be no surprise for Pixar fans, that the animation is gorgeous, especially in the photo-realistic New York street scenes. Eye-candy city, for sure.

A cute, charming, and heartwarming story about literally chasing your dreams, SOUL is another winner for Pixar. The only issue I had with it is the title made me think it was about a soul artist, not a jazz musician. I get that the title JAZZ wouldn’t really work, and that the premise concerns souls, so I guess it’s that I’ve got to have something to criticize here. So if you’re considering cancelling your Disney Plus subscription because you’ve finished watching season two of The Mandalorian, before you do make sure you see SOUL.

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BABY DRIVER: The Best Movie Of The Summer Is Here

Now playing at a multiplex near you, the much buzzed about movie that’s #2 at the box office (sadly following DESPICABLE ME 3):

BABY DRIVER (Dir. Edgar Wright, 2017)

Edgar Wright’s first film since 2013’s hilarious conclusion to the Cornetto trilogy, THE WORLD’S END, is the summer’s best film so far. It’s a wild ride concerning young newcomer Ansel Elgort as Baby, a getaway driver for a series of heists planned by Kevin Spacey as a slick, sinister crime kingpin named Doc. And the icing on the cake is that the nonstop action is fueled by a hip, hot nonstop soundtrack.

We meet Elgort’s Baby, who’s constantly plugged into one of his many iPods (“I’ve got iPods for different days, and moods” he explains), in the middle of a bank robbery with fellow felons played by Jon Bernthal, Jon Hamm, and Eiza González, synched to “Bellbottoms” by the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion. A chaotic car chase through downtown Atlanta follows in which Baby’s extremely fast-minded expert evading of the police makes Ryan Gosling in DRIVE look like an f-in’ amateur.

Baby continuously listens to music to drown out his tinnitus which was the result of a car accident that killed his parents when he was a kid. He lives in a shabby apartment with his foster father (CJ Jones), and makes mixes of sound bites he records daily adding beats and turn table effects.

Spacey’s Doc tells Baby that after one more job his debt will be paid off so he join a different crew made up of Jamie Foxx, Flea, and Lanny Goon for the robbery of an armored car.

The job doesn’t go as smoothly as before (meaning that there are casualties), but Baby is out of the game and goes legit taking a job as pizza delivery man. On a date with a cute waitress named Debora (cue: Beck’s “Debra”) he met earlier in the movie, he runs into Doc, who, of course, wants him to do one last job.

Wright’s film, which he’s had on the back burner since 1994, is full of kinetic energy with quick cuts, jolting thrills, and stunning visuals flashing by in intoxicating sequence after sequence. It recalls the exciting spark of Tarantino’s best work while being very much its own thing. It’s a shame that Wright’s ANT-MAN didn’t come to fruition (he was replaced by Peyton Reed as director due to artistic differences) but if that helped make this happen he still came out on top.

Elgort, best known for the DIVERGENT series and THE FAULT BEHIND THE STARS (though not by me as I haven't seen any of those movies), puts in an incredibly focused star-making turn in the title role. There were times that I wished he were cast as the young Han Solo in the upcoming STAR WARS spin-off. Especially since I hear that an acting coach had to be called in for Alden Ehrenreich.

My only complaint is that much of the cast gets lost in the mix. Although Bernthal makes a gruff, threatening mark in an early scene, he disappears for the rest of the movie (granted he does say “If you don’t see me again, it’s because I’m dead” but I wanted at least a call back). Hamm and González are very appealing in their sideline roles but don't really get much of a chance to make their characters very memorable.

However, Foxx does, ferociously sinking his teeth into his part as Leon “Bats” Jefferson III, who is deliciously trigger happy and quick to question Baby’s meticulous methods. Spacey does good work in his meaty roll as Doc, but it’s a part he could play in his sleep.

BABY DRIVER is so much fun that I’m really looking forward to seeing it again. Much of its well shot shoot-outs and crazy car stunt action goes by in such an ultra stylish blur (even including a song by the British band Blur) that I’m sure there’s a lot I missed.

And its rewatchability is also heightened by its amazing soundtrack, which will surely become a classic. Unlike, say, the GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY series’ musical platters, it’s dominated by largely obscure artists like the Damned, Googie René, Danger Mouse, Big Boi, Carla Thomas, Run The Jewels, and Bob & Earl. Even the songs by the better known artists like Commodores, T. Rex, Simon & Garfunkel, and the Beach Boys are deep cuts that are unfamiliar on film.

So take a break from all the summer superhero sequels and jump aboard the BABY DRIVER bandwagon. I seriously doubt that something better will come along this season.

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ANNIE: A Sickening Experience That Gets Worse Everytime Someone Sings

Now playing at a multiplex near you:

ANNIE (Dir. Will Gluck, 2014)

This new re-imagined adaptation of the 1977 musical “Annie” really made me see red. It’s a crassly commercial, hard-to-stomach, shameless spectacle that reduces the story points of the original into annoying contrivances, while it covers every actor and actress involved in unbearable ickiness.

Quvenzhané Wallis, who I liked so much better when she was Hushpuppy who lived with her daddy in the Bathtub, is our new updated African American Annie, now a foster child instead of an orphan. Wallis lives with other foster children with the mean alcoholic Miss Hannigan (an obnoxiously over-the-top Cameron Diaz) in Harlem, where she dreams that her real parents will come back to retrieve some day. Tomorrow, maybe?

Daddy Warbucks is now William “Will” Stacks played by Jamie Foxx, who seems fairly uncomfortable in the role. Wallis’ Annie and Foxx’s Stacks cross paths when he saves her from an oncoming car, an event that, of course, goes viral. As he’s in the middle of a campaign for Mayor of New York City, it’s decided by Foxx’s handlers (Rose Byrne and Bobby Cannavale), that Annie should come live with him in his bling heavy smart apartment (a smartment?).

What part of that plot description doesn’t make you want to vomit?

Wallis may or not be a decent singer, but I couldn’t tell with how auto-tuned every vocal is in every over-produced musical number. I’m pretty certain that Diaz, Cannavale, and especially Byrne shouldn’t be allowed to sing though. Foxx, is without a doubt the most talented vocalist here but he sure doesn’t seem like he’s giving it his all – his song “The City’s Yours” delivered in a helicopter hovering over the Big Apple really falls flat. It’s a performance that might as well be Skyped in.

I was not a fan of the 1982 ANNIE, directed by John Huston no less, but this plastic atrocity makes it look like THE GODFATHER. In that now elevated film, Daddy Warbucks (Albert Finney) takes Annie (Aidan Quinn, now residing in the where are they now file) to Radio City Music Hall to see the Rockettes and the 1936 classic CAMILLE.

In this awful update, Foxx takes Wallis to a movie premiere of a fictitious TWILIGHT-type production entitled “MoonQuake Lake,” featuring cameos by Ashton Kutcher, Mila Kunis, and Rihanna. This is only notable because it’s the rare example of an awful film within an awful film.

While suffering through this new fangled ANNIE, I remembered something I hadn’t thought about for a long time. My first major girlfriend had played “Annie” in a long run at the Governor’s Inn in the Research Triangle Park here in NC in the ‘80s. Her dog was even named “Sandy.” I think she told me she had also auditioned for the movie, which I’m not sure about as I probably wasn’t listening (I was a bad boyfriend) but she was the same age as Quinn who won the role so it surely seems plausible.

Anyway, as this was a long ass relationship that ended badly, I admit that this might make me biased against the whole Annie thing, but I doubt even without that factor, that I’d take to this new crappy retooling in any way shape or form.

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WHITE HOUSE DOWN: More Fun Than It Has A Right To Be

 Opening today at a multiplex near you:

WHITE HOUSE DOWN (Dir. Roland Emmerich, 2013)

So, yeah, it shares the same premise, and pretty much the same title as OLYMPUS HAS FALLEN from earlier this year (Olympus being the fictional code name for the White House in that movie), but Roland Emmerich’s WHITE HOUSE DOWN is bigger, dumber, and a lot more fun than that like-minded Gerald Butler action vehicle. 

They’re both stupid, but if watching OLYMPUS HAS FALLEN makes you shake your head, watching WHITE HOUSE DOWN makes you laugh out loud while you're shaking your head.

In Emmerich’s much more preferable take on the DIE HARD meets AIR FORCE ONE formula, Jamie Foxx is the President, Channing Tatum his Secret Service savior against an attack on the White House by a domestic paramilitary group. Actually, Tatum isn’t in the Secret Service; he just happens to be there applying for the job shortly before the hostile takeover occurs. 

Tatum gets turned down for the position by Maggie Gyllenhaal, as the chief Secret Service supervisor or something, so he takes his daughter (12-year old Joey King, who looks kinda like a tiny Sandra Bernhard) on a tour of the famous Pennsylvania Avenue residence.

Foxx (going from freed slave in DJANGO UNCHAINED to the Commander in Chief in six months - now there's an American success story!) is established right up front as a noble, dignified peace-seeking President of the people. 

Of course, one can’t help but think of Obama, especially when Foxx chews nicotine gum and mimics a few familiar mannerisms, but there’s no real statement being made here about our current administration, it’s just all in good fun.

Of course there’s corruption among all the President’s men with James Woods, seemingly reprising his role as H.R. Haldeman from Oliver Stone's NIXON, being the first baddie we can identify as a retiring Head of Presidential Detail who orchestrates the evil plan because he blames Foxx for the death of his son in the Middle East.

So Tatum’s tour group is taken hostage, and you know the DIE HARD drill - most of the action has Tatum, who strips down to the Bruce Willis-style wife beater tank top, and Foxx running around dodging machine gun bullets, getting into brutal fist fights, talking on walkie talkies, and making heroic wise-cracks all over the rooms, and hallways of the historical house.

There’s even a hilarious SUV chase all over the White House lawn to break up all the inside scenes. The leader of the thugs they fight, ZERO DARK THIRTY’s Jason Clarke is a particularly good bad guy, who gets angrier as the body count of baddies rises – these guys are usually related to each other or real close so there’s that revenge incentive growing.

Everybody appears to know how silly this all is, but they play every action movie cliché with a straight face, and that results in many genuine laughs, even if at times you can’t tell if something is intentionally funny or unintentionally funny. This move gleefully doesn’t care about the difference.

An incidental character, a know-it-all White House tour guide played by Nicholas Wright is responsible for some amusing moments as he’s personally offended by the thugs’ destruction of the house’s priceless artifacts. Michael Murphy has a thankless nothing role as the Vice President, who spends the movie aboard Air Force One, but Richard Jenkins has a better part as the Speaker of the House, but it’s a pretty transparent role too.

No matter, they’re just well-oiled parts of this machine of a movie that I bet movie-goers will enjoy than most of the other big ass offerings out there (WORLD WAR Z, MAN OF STEEL, and STAR TREK INTO DARKNESS, I’m looking in your direction). Emmerich has made big dumb disaster flicks before (INDEPENDENCE DAY, THE DAY AFTER TOMORROW, 2012), but this one has more appeal due to it tongue in cheek tone, and its confidently corny approach.

I’m tempted to call WHITE HOUSE DOWN the summer’s best brainless blockbuster wannabe, but then I haven’t seen FAST & FURIOUS 6 yet. So I’ll just say that it’s a gloriously stupid good time at the movies this summer (just in time for 4th of July celebrating), and a better DIE HARD movie than the last actual DIE HARD movie.

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DUE DATE: The Film Babble Blog Review

DUE DATE (Dir. Todd Phillips, 2010)

As surely every critic has said this is essentially a remake of PLANES, TRAINS & AUTOMOBILES except the trains are replaced with drugs and much more scatological humor.

In the Steve Martin role is Robert Downey Jr. who is trying to get from Atlanta to Los Angeles for his wife’s c-section and he’s saddled with Zack Galifinakis in the John Candy role.

Galifianakis is an air-headed pot-smoking eccentric with a perm toting around a small dog who dreams of going to Hollywood to become an actor.

Downey Jr. is, uh, I forget his profession, but he’s an uptight jerk.

Mix in Michelle Monaghan as Downey Jr.’s pregnant wife and cameos from Jamie Foxx, Juliette Lewis, Danny McBride (the only one who’s slightly funny here), and RZA and you’ve got yourself a wasted cast.

Downey Jr. and Galifianakis wreck a rental car, get in a high speed chase in a stolen Mexican security vehicle, and get stoned as well as other not worth mentioning shenanigans.

All the while Galifianakis has his recently deceased father's ashes in a coffee can. Inevitably somebody accidentally brews it as coffee. This actually results in one of the few good lines when Galifianakis says: "Well, that's the circle of life - my father enjoyed drinking coffee, and we enjoyed my father AS coffee."

There are laughs here and there in DUE DATE, but not enough to make this anywhere near a solid comedy.

Like in “The Hangover” Phillips shoots like he’s making a drama with too many close-ups and unnecessary crane shots.

It’s the parts that try to get personal that fall flattest. The much much funnier PLANES, TRAINS, AND AUTOMOBILES had a satisfactory sentimental tone in its earned conclusion, but this film’s heart is shoehorned in.

I mean what’s the point of giving Downey Jr. a serious monologue about how his father left when he was a kid? Oh yeah, I remember – it was a set-up to a lame joke by Galifianakis about how his father wouldn’t do that because he loved him. Ugh.

There’s also the badly handled subplot that Downey Jr. gets into his mind that his wife may have cheated on him with his best friend Foxx. Again that’s only there to set up another lame joke.

Both Downey Jr. and Galifianakis are likable credible actors, but here they are 2 guys that most people would want to stay away from. The same can be said about the movie.

But hey! If you like humor about slugging kids in the gut or masturbating dogs – this may be the movie for you.

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Dogs, DREAM GIRLS On DVD, And A Doc Full Of Diatribes

"Take myself and subtract movies and the remainder is zero." - Akira Kurosawa 

My sentiments exactly Mr. Kurosawa. More movies to cover so let's get to 'em. The first one I saw at my local home town theater a few days back and there was only one other person in attendance. Pretty fitting as my review makes plain: 

YEAR OF THE DOG (Dir. Mike White, 2007)


Likable Mike White's (screenwriter of CHUCK & BUCK, THE GOOD GIRL, SCHOOL OF ROCK) directorial debut features the very likable Molly Shannon in her first starring role since the SNL derived, and much derided, SUPERSTAR as a lonely woman who just got lonelier because of the death of her beloved beagle named Pencil. 

Encouraged by friends (mostly Regina King) she tries to use the incident to jump-start her love life but with such unlikely mates as gruff nextdoor neighbour John C. Reilly or touchy feely animal caretaker Peter Sarsgaard that doesn't look very likely.

The first half of this "situation tragedy" (as White calls it) is pretty breezy, quirky and mildly amusing. The second half in which Shannon sabotages her job and family ties while trying to rescue every dog at the pound takes a nose dive into tedious cringe-inducing and worse - predictable pathos. YOTD is lamentable - it's a movie with a very likable cast but not one likable character. Hell, even the dogs aren't very likable in this movie. 

More 2006 flicks that I didn't make it to in the theaters but now can catch up with on DVD. I'll start with with the big-ass mock Motown musical: 

DREAMGIRLS (Dir. Bill Condon, 2006)

"Maybe I should go see it with my lawyer." - Diana Ross on Letterman 1/07  
So, the rise and rise of the Supremes-styled girl group The Dreams was the central premise of the popular early 80's award-winning Broadway show that also tied together other R&B also-rans into a tight show-piece spectacular. For the movie version the Motown connection is enhanced - first by changing the locale directly from Chicago to Detroit, second by making slick but slimey Jamie Foxx's Berry Gordy-esque payola scandal into a pivitol plotpoint, and third by having the wardrobe mesmerizingly mirror every album-cover fashion trend in the African American community from '62-'79. 

Beyonce Knowles plays Deena - the Diana Ross of this piece with fellow Dreamettes Anika Noni Rose as wide-eyed innocent Lorrell (who doens't have much of a part) and most gloriously former American Idol loser Jennifer Hudson as Effie who steals the show and the movie from everybody and righteously got an Oscar for it. Eddie Murphy who didn't take home the gold still puts in his best acting in years as James "Early" Thunder who comes on like James Brown by way of Jackie Wilson in his 60's incarnation, then an almost complete transformation into message-music era Marvin Gaye right down to his Denign jacket and rainbow-knit hat. 

Director Condon's movies (KINSEY, GODS AND MONSTERS) are glitzy and glossy yet fairly conventional but that approach appears to work here. The songs as overwrought as the are at times are pretty convincing as pastiche homages and a few are catchy too. Not a miscasted role in sight - Danny Glover, Keith Robinson, John Lithgow, and Jaheel White (Urkel!) among others all play the right notes. Far from perfect DREAMGIRLS is pretty Effing good nonetheless. 

AL FRANKEN:GOD SPOKE

(Dirs. Nick Doob/Chris Hegedus, 2006) 

Very Loosely structured around the launching of liberal radio Air America, the ongoing spats with Right-wing rabble rousers Bill O'Reilly and Ann Coulter, the 2004 election and on the cuff of a possible senate campaign, this ramshackle documentary about comedy writer/performer turned politcal pundit Al Franken misses the mark.

Footage and commentary that should serve the tension is chopped into forgetful sound-bites while the perspective that a more thorough career evaluation could provide is severely lacking.

There's some tasty tidbits - Franken doing his Henry Kissinger impression right to Kissinger's face at a Newsweek party, angry tongue lashings of Michael Medved and Sean Hannity, and Franken's Republican party convention coverage all amuse but the random clips of SNL sketches and brief visit to the house of his childhood upbringing imply a bigger better story that just isn't being told.

There is no mention of Franken's long-time writing and performing partner Tom Davis or references to the shaky nature of Franken's years at SNL which included a notorious Weekend Update baiting of then NBC president Fred Silverman.

Former fellow writer Michael O'Donoghue (1940-1994) would joke that Franken's sole ambition when getting the SNL gig was the be the first person to say "fart" on TV. Katherine Lanpher, Franken's co-host on his Air America program jokes in this film that he just wants to say "pecker" on national radio.

Looks like the only thing I can gather as insight from GOD SPOKE is that Al Franken cares more about getting a cheap laugh than anything else - I know that's not the full picture but it's the only one on display here.

Finally, another end-of-post tribute to another recently deceased Film Babble Blog favorite - TOM POSTON (1921-2007) - Despite appearances in a number of films, it's his TV work that'll be his legacy. From The Steve Allen Show to What's My Line then onto Get Smart, Alice, CHiPS, Mork & Mindy, The Love Boat, Murphy Brown, The Simpsons, That 70's Show and just about every other show that ever existed, Poston was a solid steady presence in television from the beginning of that cathode-ray tube forum. 

His role as handyman George Utley in one of my all-time favorite shows Newhart gets to me the most. Check out this scene from one of the classic episodes - "A Midseason's Night Dream." It's how I want to remember the man.

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