Author: T_Dot_Lane

Black Panther

About three years ago, Marvel announced a solo Black Panther movie. The news was met with enthusiasm, but the energy was largely confined to Marvel fans. Fast forward a couple of years later as buzz builds towards a Black History Month release date, and the masses have been whipped into a collective frenzy – myself included. I said that regardless of my opinion, I would be honest in my review of Black Panther. I told myself that I wouldn’t succumb to groupthink, as I admittedly did in my final grade of Moonlight. I needn’t have worried about that, because Black Panther met every expectation, living up to the hype in a dazzling display of Afro-futurism that left me swelling with pride. And while the film will undoubtedly appeal to a broad cross-section of viewers, there is something uniquely dope about Black Panther that resonates with Black folks particularly.

Chadwick Boseman (Marshall) returns as T’Challa, heir apparent to the throne of Wakanda after the death of his father King T’Chaka. Although the throne would seem T’Challa’s birthright, he still must compete for it, if challenged. In two exhilarating scenes T’Challa competes in tribal battle as inspired Wakandans look on, their shoulders rising and falling rhythmically in ritual witness to the spectacle. Untouched by European imperialism and Western civilization, Wakanda is a thriving bastion of technology due in part to its rich natural supply of Vibranium. Mined from a meteorite that landed thousands of years ago, Vibranium is used for everything from powering transportation to advanced weaponry. In fact, T’Challa’s younger sister Princess Shuri (Letitia Wright, The Commuter) has harnessed its properties brilliantly, unimpeded by Western ideals about traditional female roles.

T’Challa is an empathetic and even-tempered leader. He seems almost reticent to assume the throne, fueled by a sense of responsibility rather than hubris. He has lionized his father his entire life, but as Wakanda confronts new threats, T’Challa must contend with the harsh realization that T’Chaka had moral shortcomings that would prove dire. Enter Erik Killmonger (Michael B. Jordan, Creed), wayward son of Wakanda with questionable origins. He has aligned himself with Wakandan nemesis Ulysses Klaue (Andy Serkis, Star Wars: The Last Jedi), one of the few outsiders who are aware of Vibranium. Very few people know that Wakanda is a thriving epicenter of technology and innovation; most Westerners think it is a primitive, third world country, and it is that fallacy that has sustained Wakanda’s existence. People cannot colonize or exploit that which they do not know exists. But will T’Challa continue the path of isolationism that has sustained Wakanda until now, or will he step to the forefront of the global stage and reveal its greatness?

Black Panther was larger than life. I could fill page after page with praise for the entire cast, including writer/director Ryan Coogler (Creed), who gave the latest Marvel entrant an added layer of cultural significance while putting his signature Oakland twist on the story. He was my quiet favorite after his debut Fruitvale Station, but after pairing with Michael B. Jordan for a third time, the two are charting a relationship on par with DeNiro or DiCaprio and Scorsese. That may sound like lofty praise right now, but I think we are just scratching the surface. The film’s cultural impact cannot be overstated, and the power of film as a medium cannot be denied.

Marvel fans will enjoy the accurate interpretation of the Black Panther and his origins, while many Black moviegoers will recognize the film as a defining moment in the culture. The beauty, strength and power of African people was on glorious display throughout, and the film’s casting reflected a deliberate representation of beautiful, strong dark-skinned actresses like Lupita N’yongo (Star Wars: The Last Jedi) and Danai Gurira (All Eyez On Me) – a stark contrast to most mainstream movies. The film hinted at the greatness and untapped potential of the continent, and challenged its viewers with powerful themes that served as metaphors for the current state of our communities. At the risk of turning this review into a dissertation, I’ll conclude my thoughts by saying: Black Panther was flawless, and should be etched in the pantheon of Black cinema as required viewing.

Grade: A

Hostiles

Versatility. Range. To me, these are the hallmarks of great acting – and they have served Christian Bale (The Big Short) well, from The Fighter to American Hustle. Hostiles marks his return to the Western, his first since 2007’s 3:10 to Yuma. One would hope that the genre has evolved enough to be devoid of stereotypes, while maintaining historical accuracy in a way that doesn’t sacrifice artistic merit. Hostiles didn’t break new ground within the genre, but emotional dramatic turns from Bale and co-star Rosamund Pike (Gone Girl) make it a worthwhile film.

Set in 1892, the film depicts a rough and tumble American landscape of centuries past. Bale stars as Joseph Blocker, an Army captain tasked with a final mission before retirement, which he begrudgingly accepts. He must transport a dying Apache chief and his family back to their home state of Montana, as the elder is riddled with Cancer and has been granted mercy to die on his homeland. Violent and racist, Blocker’s visceral contempt for Native Americans could not be more obvious, and he pleads in futility to be excused from the mission. His superior officer ignores those complaints, and Blocker leads a small party of soldiers in the transport of Chief Yellow Hawk (Wes Studi, A Million Ways to Die in the West) and his family, including his adult children and grandson.

Historical accuracy is important, and while it is true that some early Native Americans terrorized White settlers expanding West, it is equally true that White colonizers terrorized the indigenous populations already here. Be that as it may, the film did an effective job in its first act, presenting both sides of a philosophical coin in its depiction of brutality. In a riveting opening scene, a Comanche tribe descends upon a family to steal their horses. They slaughtered them all, save for Pike’s character Rosalie, now a grieving mother and widow. Blocker and company encounter the woman en route, and she joins their small, weary procession.

Hostiles is quite simply a movie about a journey from point A to point B. The strength of the film is in the richness and depth of the characters and the performances. The Captain is a figure whom you can’t quite root for or against. Initially Blocker is cruel, failing to see the humanity in his charge. However, in moments with the soldiers under his command and in his interaction with Rosalie, we see genuine affection and tenderness, a reminder of the complexity of human nature and the duality that lies within all of us. He is an effective leader, engendering loyalty that is met with a deep and loving gratitude. As they encounter peril in their journey, circumstances force Blocker to amend his dealings with Yellow Hawk and to forge a new, albeit begrudging respect as they face a common enemy together.

An air of sadness hangs over the film, giving it a somber tone throughout. I was moved by its theme of reflection, as several characters bleakly assessed their own careers and lives, burdened by the weight of loss. I was particularly struck by a poignant scene between two lieutenants, as the younger (Jesse Plemons, The Post) reflects on his first killing. The contrast between the two men was powerful, the older immune to regret over certain lives but not others. This emotional compartmentalization exemplified the cynicism of war and of life generally, and it was portrayed beautifully.

My critique of the film boils down to a matter of taste, of whether or not one can get past the limitations of the genre and the fact that it isn’t a “feel good” movie.  Hostiles was a fine film, featuring another excellent performance by Christian Bale, and a rich emotional turn from Rosamund Pike, which may be enough for some moviegoers.

Grade: B+

The Post

In today’s climate, fake news and misinformation abound. Now more than ever, we should be able to rely on the press to disseminate truthful information. The Post hearkens back to a time in American history when the public still had trust in the fourth estate, and news publications prided themselves as gatekeepers: the last line of defense between the average citizen and a (potentially) corrupt government.

The Watergate scandal has been well-documented, but some may be unaware of the precursor to that tumultuous time, when public trust in our nation’s highest office previously began to be eroded. Incomparable director Steven Spielberg (Bridge of Spies) brings us The Post, an account of The Washington Post’s controversial publishing of The Pentagon Papers in 1971. Initially the classified information was brought to light by The New York Times, but The Post published a lengthier excerpt shortly thereafter. Specifically, The Pentagon Papers were a detailed report written by the Department of Defense revealing that the U.S. was essentially involved in a war that it knew it could not win. At least four administrations, including Kennedy and Johnson – had not been truthful about the Vietnam War with the American public – while still sending our young people off to die in a foreign jungle.

Tom Hanks (Sully) stars as editor Ben Bradlee, while his boss is owner Kay Graham (Meryl Streep, Ricki and the Flash), whose father owned the paper before her. In a sign of the times, her father willed the paper to his son-in-law and Kay’s husband rather than to his own daughter. This apparent invisibility in male-dominated spaces would require Kay to assert herself in courageous ways, and the film’s subtle depiction of Graham’s timidity in that sphere was spot-on. The strength of The Post is two-fold: Spielberg masterfully impresses upon us the weight of the classified information, and lends an equally deft hand to the agonizing dilemma with which Graham is faced: to publish or not to publish?

It was interesting to see an iconic newspaper such as The Washington Post depicted as a fledgling underdog but remember this was before Woodward & Bernstein. Hanks and Streep were effective, with the former showing the dogged tenacity of a grizzled vet and Streep delivering a quietly brilliant performance. Some Hollywood names are all hype, but Streep is as good as advertised. Kay Graham could’ve been imprisoned for publishing The Pentagon Papers, but she did so anyway, in bold defiance of the male members of the Board of Directors, blazing a new trail for the paper and positioning it as a bastion of truth through diligent investigative reporting.

The Post was deliberate, sharp and compelling. Spielberg, Hanks, and Streep elevated the film by virtue of their presence/involvement alone, which was enough of a draw for me. The accolades are well-deserved. I also enjoyed the limited screen time and supporting performances from Carrie Coon (Gone Girl) and Matthew Rhys (Burnt). My only criticism of the film is less of a ‘ding’ and more of an observation. It’s an important film but it’s not an exciting movie, and for that reason I recommend this movie to those who are fans of Hanks and Streep and to those who try to check out the Oscar contenders every year. I enjoyed The Post and hope it’s indicative of the films to come in 2018.

Grade: A-

Molly’s Game

The saying goes, if they wrote a book about your life, would anyone read it? Part of what makes the human experience beautiful is its variation. Two wildly different lives can both be compelling. For instance, Nelson Mandela and Al Capone don’t have much in common, but I’d watch a movie or read a book about either one of them. If you reduce a film to its most essential element, what you have is a story, and Molly’s is simply a great one.

Molly Bloom (Jessica Chastain, The Zookeeper’s Wife) was a competitive skier and former Olympian, an amazing feat by most standards. Like many Olympians, her father (Kevin Costner, Hidden Figures) doubled as coach/mentor – wielding influence that was instrumental to her success, yet stifling in its effect on her psychological makeup. The problem with many athletes or other uber talented people is that they run the risk of tying their entire self-identity to this one facet of their being, their gift. When it disappears, they’re often left asking, what now?

 Written by the incomparable Aaron Sorkin (The Social Network), Molly’s Game is replete with the auteur’s smart, succinct dialogue, often delivered through rapid-fire, omniscient narration. The film begins with the pivotal moment that changed the trajectory of Molly’s life, the last day she skied competitively. Through flashback Sorkin depicts her tragic final run, one that ends in a crash at the bottom of a hill instead of the medal podium. This opening scene was critical in establishing Molly’s relentless drive, type A personality, and her resilience. Not to mention it was just a fascinating look into a sport I know very little about. I always feel a bit smarter after watching Sorkin’s work, and Molly was expertly fleshed out from the beginning.

Forced to reinvent herself, Molly charts a new course, delaying law school to move to Hollywood. There she takes a job as an office assistant and moonlights as a cocktail waitress. Her boss Dean Keith (Jeremy Strong, The Big Short) runs a poker game for a collection of celebrities, including actors, rappers, athletes and titans of tech. He recruits Molly to assist, and soon she’s collecting hefty tips from rich gamers and rubbing elbows with A-listers. Her voracious intellect demands that she learn everything about poker, from the terminology to player “tells.” After a rift with Dean, she uses her newly acquired skillset to begin running her own games, and soon Molly’s game is the hot ticket in town.

By carefully skirting illegality, Molly was able to keep her nose clean. But when circumstances dictated a different clientele for the games, she runs afoul of the FBI. Again, Sorkin effectively uses pace and sequencing to paint a picture, establishing certain crucial events and expounding upon them later in the film. Chastain was endearing as the flawed Bloom, seeming to act out of necessity rather than greed. She relished the success of the game, but it never felt like she wanted more than what was owed and fair. It could be said that she facilitated people’s addiction, but can’t the same be said of casinos? She didn’t take money for the games (known as a “rake”), she didn’t employ muscle to collect from people who couldn’t pay up, and she even tried to talk the more degenerate amongst them from gambling their lives away.

Chastain is joined primarily by Costner and Idris Elba (Thor: Ragnarok) as her attorney Charlie Jaffey. The two actors buttress Chastain with earnest, warm performances – Costner as the domineering yet regretful father forced to revisit his mistakes in parenting, and Elba as her sympathetic advocate. Chastain rightly received a Golden Globe nomination and I’ve been impressed with her since 2010’s The Debt. This film is a bit dialogue heavy to be totally rewatchable, but it was superbly written and performed.

 Grade: A-

Justice League

There’s nothing like a good old-fashioned rivalry. As I write this review I’m trying to think of a fitting analogy to describe the comic rivalry that is Marvel vs. DC. The best recent comic book movies have been Marvel editions, from Captain America: Winter Soldier to Logan. However, The Dark Knight still reigns supreme, and Wonder Woman has rejuvenated DC. Regardless of how cool The Avengers are, when it comes to iconic superheroes, Batman and Superman are the standard bearers.

I’m still settling into the idea of Ben Affleck (Live By Night) as Batman/Bruce Wayne, but he at least looks the part, checking all the superficial boxes. I don’t get any real depth of character from him, but where Christian Bale (The Dark Knight Rises) brought an air of refinement to Bruce Wayne, Affleck is more of a rugged Everyman. In Justice League, he is the catalyst for their coalition. Still reeling from the loss of Superman, Bruce is rather downtrodden. Sensing trouble on the horizon, he feels compelled to gather a team who can be ready when impending doom finally darkens their doorstep.

Methodically and effectively, director Zac Snyder (Batman v. Superman: Dawn of Justice, Man of Steel) introduces us to the Justice League. We’re familiar with Bruce and Diana (Gal Gadot, Wonder Woman), and now we meet Cyborg, Aquaman (Jason Momoa, Once Upon a Time in Venice) and The Flash (Ezra Miller, Suicide Squad). Bruce’s sense of foreboding is confirmed with the appearance of “Steppenwolf,” a sinister being also known as the End of Worlds. He seeks to unite three motherboards, which are gleaming mythical cubes of energy/life force found in separate, remote locations. Their unification can bring about the end of the world, and the Justice League must stop Steppenwolf from obtaining all three.

One motherboard is on Themyscira, under Amazon guard on Diana’s home planet. I read that Justice League was re-shot to include more scenes with Wonder Woman, after the success of the solo film earlier this year. That was a shrewd decision, and it was effective from a storytelling perspective. Bruce challenges Diana to embrace her iconic role and to be more proactive than reactive, leveling the same criticism at the character that some feminists aimed at the Wonder Woman film. I’m paraphrasing, but he essentially states that all it took to break down this warrior woman was a little heartbreak. I thought that bit of dialogue was a clever nod to the fan base and legitimate acknowledgment of a perceived flaw in our beloved heroine.

Bruce Wayne has never been so humble and self-deprecating. He comically acknowledges that being rich is his only super power, and the rest of the team often challenges his quiet air of authority. The Flash is funny, his youth refreshing compared to his more jaded, skeptical counterparts. Cyborg has not fully embraced his altered body, still gingerly navigating his newfound abilities. Aquaman is aloof, but devoted. While they don’t always share the same approach, when they are called to action they are in perfect unison, highlighting the shared chemistry attendant of ensemble films.

Justice League was nearly as good as The Avengers, and much better than last year’s Suicide Squad, which felt like a hodgepodge collection of misfits. I appreciate a plot that isn’t needlessly complex, and I wasn’t disappointed here – although the premise is a trite one. As long as it continues to bring out the best in each franchise, the Marvel-DC rivalry is great for moviegoers. Justice League was simple, yet funny and entertaining. I can’t say unequivocally that one character stole the show, which is a testament to the shared star power on screen. There were no weak links, and now I have to think twice about what super squad I’d want to save me.

Grade: A-

Murder on the Orient Express

I’ve always loved a good mystery. When I was a kid I used to read Encyclopedia Brown, Nancy Drew and the like. I marveled at the mental dexterity and nearly prescient reasoning those young sleuths displayed. Moreover, there’s just something about a good mystery that feels comforting, yet thrilling. Couple my affinity for mystery with an enjoyment of ensemble films, and there was no way I’d miss Murder on the Orient Express. It was a treat to watch our charming protagonist, the affably eccentric Hercule Poirot in action, extracting information from suspects both willing and unwilling.

Although some viewers may be familiar with Poirot (Kenneth Branagh, Dunkirk), the film begins with an effective introduction to the genteel gumshoe, as he solves a theft by uncovering the smallest, most inconspicuous clue. Watching Poirot is like a master class in crime solving. His reputation precedes him, and those being interrogated often police themselves, dispensing with lies without bothering to try to stump the ever-observant Poirot. When our vaunted detective finds himself aboard the Orient Express, the stage is set. Poirot is headed to London to consult on a homicide, but not before meeting a colorful cast of characters aboard the train, one of whom will become a victim themselves.

Most notable among the passengers are Edward Ratchett (Johnny Depp, Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales), a seedy underworld type running from a mysterious foe, along with Dr. Arbuthnot (Leslie Odom Jr.) and his companion Mary (Daisy Ridley, Star Wars: The Force Awakens), two acquaintances who are curiously pretending to be strangers, and Caroline Hubbard (Michelle Pfeiffer, Mother!) a saucy older woman looking for a good time. Rounding out the bunch are an assortment of other passengers, including a wealthy grand dame (Judi Dench, Victoria and Abdul), a religious domestic worker (Penelope Cruz, Zoolander 2), and Mr. Ratchett’s assistant Hector MacQueen (Josh Gad, Beauty and the Beast).

Quite simply, the crux of the movie is the murder of one of the dozen or so passengers. The ambience of the confined space and the proximity of the guests to one another make for a taut and suspenseful journey. I found myself trying to think as Poirot, to observe as he did. Nothing was what it appeared to be, and the storyline kept me in suspense without being intellectually dishonest. While the pacing and emphasis on dialogue won’t appeal to everyone, I never lost interest thanks in large part to Kenneth Branagh’s jovial turn. He seemed to relish the role, and it was fun to watch him be the smartest person in the room. Or in this case, on the train.

Murder on the Orient Express will appeal more to grandmothers than millennials, due to its slow pace and the genteel nature of its protagonist. It wasn’t an action-packed nonstop thrill ride; it was a quiet, enjoyable film for those who enjoy a good mystery. This won’t be everyone’s cup of tea, but if the trailer piqued your curiosity at all, I think you’ll be pleased.

Grade: B+

Thor: Ragnarok

I don’t profess to be a comic book purist or Marvel aficionado, instead I take each movie at face value. I compare within the genre, and examine each film within the context of superhero film history. I’m not familiar enough with the source material to assess authenticity from that perspective; I’ll leave that critique to others. However, as we march toward Marvel’s epic culmination Infinity War, I thought it was the perfect time to round out the Marvel family. Thor: Ragnarok, the third installment in the series, was a fun ride, and significantly better than its predecessor.

Thor (Chris Hemsworth, Ghostbusters) has been a rather likeable hero, but besides being obvious eye candy, he is also a rather formidable opponent for most foes. When we find him in Thor: Ragnarok, his father Odin (Anthony Hopkins, Transformers: The Last Knight) has been exiled by Loki (Tom Hiddleston, Kong: Skull Island). The destruction of his home planet Asgard is imminent, as Ragnarok looms. Ragnarok is a kooky word describing the destruction of the 9 realms, including Asgard. Enter Hela (Cate Blanchett, Carol), Odin’s first born and elder sister to Thor and Loki. Blanchett smolders as the deliciously evil Goddess of Death, a nemesis the likes of which Thor hasn’t seen. In a stunning display of power, she crumbles Thor’s mighty hammer, gleefully letting it sift through her fingers like sand.

Loki and Thor don’t have much of a fraternal bond, with Thor justifiably wary of his sibling, given Loki’s history of betrayal. As they devise a plan to thwart Hela and save their home planet, they face assorted obstacles along the way, including a stay at the circus-like home of the Grandmaster (Jeff Goldblum, Independence Day: Resurgence), where he bumps into an old friend. Thor also finds an unlikely ally in Valkyrie (Tessa Thompson, Creed), so nicknamed in honor of the Asgardian defenders from whom she descends. With the help of new friends such as Valkyrie and old ones like Heimdall (Idris Elba, The Mountain Between Us), Thor treks back to Asgard to face Hela in a showdown to save his home planet.

The word “Ragnarok” sounds silly to me, and the previous Thor movie left much to be desired. As a result, I wasn’t particularly enthused about this latest installment – but I stand corrected. Writer/director Taika Waititi infused the movie with the perfect blend of action and humor. I hate corny, forced laughs and I’ve found it to be a common cinematic trick, in what I suspect is an attempt to appeal to kids. Ragnarok refrained from that, relying instead on Hemsworth’s natural charm and comedic timing. Thor is like the hot, cool guy who is surprisingly down to earth and doesn’t take himself too seriously. In other words, he’s perfect. Hemsworth displayed good chemistry with Tessa Thompson, and the actress was an effective foil and compliment to his character. Anthony Hopkins elevates anything he’s in (even if you think it’s beneath the Oscar winner), and Cate Blanchett is incomparable. She is becoming one of my favorite actresses, and her work here evinces an adaptable versatility. This was just a fun, well-executed movie.

Grade: A