Alex McPherson

Total Post: 80

Alex McPherson is an unabashed pop culture nerd and a member of the St. Louis Film Critics Association.

‘Renfield’ Is Intriguing Concept Needing Sharper Fangs

‘Renfield’ Is Intriguing Concept Needing Sharper Fangs

By Alex McPherson

Despite an entertainingly unhinged performance from Nicolas Cage and some impressive kills, director Chris McKay’s “Renfield” is a horror-action-comedy hybrid full of unexplored potential.

Positioned as a quasi-sequel to Tod Browning’s 1931 “Dracula,” “Renfield” begins with a black-and-white prologue introducing us to the story’s characters, creatively inserting Cage and Nicholas Hoult into footage from the original film.

In the present day, R. M. Renfield (Hoult) is caring for his decaying master, Dracula (Cage), in a creepy New Orleans hotel after skilled vampire hunters nearly kill him 90 years prior. Renfield, given powers through consuming insects instead of blood, is Dracula’s “familiar.”

This involves him looking after the Count and retrieving victims. Renfield’s not a monster, though — he targets “bad” folks to bring back — and attends a support group for people in codependent relationships to track down their tormentors for fresh blood. But Renfield’s quite unhappy, guilted and threatened into continued servitude by his narcissistic manipulator, who seeks world domination.

On one of his errands, Renfield has a run-in with Teddy Lobo (Ben Schwartz), a chatterbox enforcer and member of the Lobo crime family, led by his mother Bella-Francesca (Shohreh Aghdashloo), which has ties all over New Orleans and immunity from local police.

Well, everyone except Rebecca Quincy (Awkwafina), an exasperated traffic cop whose father, also a policeman, was gunned down by the Lobos. She seeks justice and revenge, as coworkers and her FBI-agent sister, Kate (Camille Chen), do little to support her. Before long, Renfield and Rebecca cross paths, teaming up to take down the Lobos and Dracula — developing a will-they-won’t-they relationship as each gathers courage to confront their demons.

Fumbling opportunities to be a clever look at codependency and overcoming (literal and figurative) demons, “Renfield” ultimately needs more meat on its bones. The cast is game, the gore is flowing, but pacing is erratic, editing is imprecise, and the script (by Ryan Ridley, from an idea by Robert Kirkman) doesn’t have the guts to go all-in on the concept, leaving a more promising story tantalizingly out of reach.

That’s not to say there’s not fun to be had, particularly regarding Cage and Hoult’s performances. Cage was practically born to play Dracula, and he delivers, providing a satisfying mixture of his characteristic craziness with deadpan wit and, crucially, menace when proceedings call for it.

“Renfield” provides another vehicle for him to flex his chops — aided by masterfully gross makeup effects that at one point see him bully the titular lad while resembling a mangled sack of meat not unlike the Nazis at the end of “Raiders of the Lost Ark.” 

Hoult as Renfield is similarly well-cast, bringing an anxious, sad-sack energy to the film that’s simultaneously quite funny and, in some scenes, poignant, as we witness his (exceedingly rushed) arc towards empowerment. When he’s not engaging in splatterific brawls (one featuring newly removed arms being used as weapons), Hoult brings real pathos to scenes where Dracula berates and mistreats him.

In one memorable sequence, Renfield fruitlessly tries to stand up for himself while reciting lines from a self-help book. The Count laughs and dismisses his arguments with a mocking mean-spiritedness that feels oddly grounded in reality, posturing that “Renfield” aims to be higher-brow than it actually is.

Indeed, the film’s 93-minute runtime and tacked-on subplots limit the development of this central dynamic, which begins as the film’s main focus, but abandons any and all complexity by the finale.

Additionally, “Renfield” clearly tries to paint parallels between Renfield and Rebecca overcoming adversity, but neither are given enough time to leave an impact. Awkwafina is perfectly fine, having serviceable chemistry with Hoult, but she and the rest of the ensemble can only do so much with obvious, reference-heavy humor that lacks wit or surprise — with the exception of the support group, who provide most of the film’s twisted laughs.

The Rebecca/Lobo subplot does, at least, provide opportunities for over-the-top action sequences, which deliver amusing slapstick comedy. “Renfield” won’t disappoint gore-hounds with its abundance of decapitations, impalings, and other fateful excesses, accompanied by fountains of (fake-looking) blood.

If only the film’s cinematography and editing gave more clarity to the carnage; quick cuts and overuse of slow-motion distract from the choreography. More broadly, this imprecision extends to dialogue-heavy scenes, too. The rushed pacing leads to oddly cut sequences sans rhythm or flair — a disappointment, given the detailed production design and capable cast.

We’re left with a fun-enough, though unfortunately generic, experience that plays like an R-rated Saturday morning cartoon. Perhaps that’s acceptable, but “Renfield” dulls its promising conceit into something with considerably less bite.

“Renfield” is a 2023 horror comedy directed by Chris McKay and starring Nicolas Cage, Nicholas Hoult, Ben Schwartz, Awkwafina, Shohreh Aghdashloo, and Camille Chen. It is Rated R for bloody violence, some gore, language throughout and some drug use, and the runtime is 93 minutes. It opened in theatres April 14. Alex’s Grade: B-.   

‘How to Blow Up a Pipeline’ A Gripping Yet Frustrating Climate Thriller

‘How to Blow Up a Pipeline’ A Gripping Yet Frustrating Climate Thriller

“How to Blow Up a Pipeline” Movie Review — A Gripping Yet Frustrating Climate Change Thriller

An urgent call to action, director Daniel Goldhaber’s “How to Blow Up a Pipeline” is riveting, nail-biting, and heavily streamlined — impossible to look away from but not taking full advantage of its narrative potential.

Inspired by the 2021 nonfiction book of the same name by Andreas Malm — an eco-manifesto arguing for sabotage as a form of climate activism and critiquing pacifist protest — Goldhaber’s film presents a fictionalized dramatization of Malm’s thesis. In the film, a group of rebellious, righteous, mostly Gen-Z characters from across the U.S. attempt to blow up an oil pipeline in West Texas. 

Each of them is personally affected by climate change and the oil industry. Xochitl (Ariela Barer), the de facto leader of the group, is mourning her mother who died during a heat wave. Theo (Sasha Lane) suffers from a rare form of leukemia caused by environmental pollution. She’s joined by her girlfriend, Alisha (Jayme Lawson), who’s committed to the cause and supportive of Theo’s ideals, yet fearful of the repercussions.

There’s Shawn (Marcus Scribner), a filmmaker’s assistant wanting to make a tangible impact on the world; the severe Michael (Forrest Goodluck), an amateur bomb maker enraged that his home in North Dakota has been taken over by oil workers; and Dwayne (Jake Weary), a Texas local whose land has been encroached on by the pipeline. They’re joined by the grungy couple Rowan (Kristine Froseth) and Logan (Lukas Gage), unruly souls wanting to fight the system and take plenty of drugs along the way.

With a tight, 99-minute runtime, Goldhaber and co. never let the film’s stranglehold grip subside, keeping suspense dialed up to 11 throughout. Complemented by lived-in performances, immersive cinematography, a no-frills structure, and Gavin Brivik’s panic-inducing score, “Pipeline” raises important questions about a real threat against humanity and what can be done to combat it. Goldhaber’s film, however, functions better as a set of ideas (vividly brought to life) than a traditional narrative. Simplified characterizations and a rushed dénoument hold it back from digging into its topics on a deeper level. 

Despite its limitations, “Pipeline” is marvelously watchable: presented with fly-on-the-wall immediacy that consistently presents new hurdles for the team to overcome. Cinematographer Tehillah De Castro uses swirling long takes, ‘70’s-esque zooms, and intense close-ups, captured in 16 mm, to convey ratcheting stress amid stinging sand and dripping sweat. Shots positioning characters against backdrops of oil refineries (reminiscent of fire-spewing beasts) are particularly evocative.

Combined with Brivik’s whirring, electronic-infused score, stellar sound design amplifying elements including each “click” of Michael’s bomb-making materials, the hair-raising thud of an improvised explosive being lugged into position, or a rope beginning to fray, “Pipeline” is rarely less than intense. Each sequence is presented with a grounded, lower-budget style that doesn’t feel overly sensationalized or polished, in keeping with the characters’ guerilla tactics. 

The film’s structure is similarly stripped-down, with both benefits and drawbacks. Goldhaber and co. break up the action — often right before or after moments of peril — to provide one-or-two-scene backgrounds to each person, occasionally revealing (somewhat contrived) plot twists. Although this approach maintains momentum, it sets up cliff-hanger scenarios frustratingly interrupted by backstory, prompting a manipulative cycle of anticipation and release as we’re abruptly zapped back-and-forth in time at pivotal junctions. 

This structural “efficiency” also creates emotional distance. Indeed, “Pipeline” tries to check a wide swath of motivational boxes with its characters — they are symbols rather than three-dimensional human beings. They’re painted in broad strokes, packaged with heavy-handed dialogue lacking textured insight. 

Unlike other “heist” films, there are no experts to be found here, only passionate, somewhat impulsive people eager to take direct action against an issue that threatens their future, regardless of consequences. It’s a shame, then, that “Pipeline” doesn’t treat them with the depth they deserve, especially Shawn, who isn’t as overtly impacted by the oil industry, but feels a need to act anyway. His perspective and arc, given less obvious motivation than Xochitl or Theo, is comparably surface level.

The ensemble is ever-watchable as they nonverbally manifest inner drives and mounting nervousness — Goodluck and Weary stand out with their reserved roles; Michael and Dwayne simmer with pent-up rage — but in attempting to remain a piece of propulsive entertainment, the film isn’t really focused on who they are as people, or what the aftermath of their decisions entails. “Pipeline” centers the titular act itself over the people involved — sparking a conversation about what tactics are “ethical” to confront existential issues when people in power refuse to act, but simultaneously shrouding its actors behind an ideological curtain.

It’s saying a lot that, despite all these issues, “Pipeline” remains an absorbing watch. Goldhaber is a talented director with a clear point of view and formal skill, albeit one grasping, and falling short, of achieving a more radical, involving story for our times.

“How to Blow Up a Pipeline” is a 2022 drama-crime-thriller directed by Daniel Goldhaber and starring Forrest Goodluck, Jake Weary, Ariela Barer, Jayme Lawson and Sasha Lane. It is rated R for language throughout and some drug use and the runtime is 1 hour and 43 minutes. The movie opens in theaters April 14. Alex’s Rating: B.

‘Super Mario Bros. Movie’ Is a Fun, High Scoring Love Letter to Franchise

‘Super Mario Bros. Movie’ Is a Fun, High Scoring Love Letter to Franchise

By Alex McPherson

A heart-warming and speedily paced adventure that respects its source material, “The Super Mario Bros. Movie” succeeds as enjoyable, family-friendly entertainment, elevated by a committed ensemble and the directors’ understanding of the franchise’s expansive possibilities.

Quirky, inseparable brothers Mario (Chris Pratt) and Luigi (Charlie Day) operate a newly opened plumbing business in Brooklyn, trying to make a name for themselves and live up to the expectations of their judgmental father (Charles Martinet). After a hilariously unfortunate incident on their first job involving a pissed-off pooch and explosive collateral damage, the brothers decide to prove themselves by attempting to fix a sewer issue that is wreaking havoc on the populace above. 

Alas, this doesn’t go according to plan. Mario and Luigi are sucked via a “warp pipe” into the vibrant, fittingly nonsensical Mushroom Kingdom. Luigi is separated en route and sent tumbling towards the malevolent domain of King Bowser (Jack Black), who has just acquired the all-powerful “Super Star,” seeking to rule the world with his army of Koopas, Goombas, Bullet Bills, and Boos (am I getting all that right?). Bowser also wants to marry Princess Peach (Anya Taylor-Joy), a fearless leader commanding a legion of cutesy Mushroom people.

Thrown into this colorful universe of floating boxes, edible powerups, and traversable pipes out the wazoo, Mario is determined to rescue his dear brother. He eventually teams up with Peach, Toad (Keegan Michael-Key), Donkey Kong (Seth Rogen), and others to save the Kingdom and, as always, leave the door open for future sequel films. To combat Bowser, Mario must be brave, cooperative, and persistent. He can’t let other’s negative perceptions of his capabilities affect him because, by golly, this lovable plumber has to find his brother. 

Indeed, “The Super Mario Bros. Movie” isn’t trying to be high art or tell a dramatically impactful story. This is a whimsical, action-packed, fast-moving, easter egg-filled watch. It falls victim to generic clichés from time to time, but maintains a lively sense of fun from start to finish. Directors Aaron Horvath and Michael Jelenic don’t overdose on nostalgia or low-brow humor — crafting a film that isn’t groundbreaking by any stretch, yet one that put a bounce in my step leaving the theater.

First, let’s address the elephant in the room. Much has been debated about Pratt taking on the role, but it turns out the toxicity was unwarranted. As the lead, Pratt is perfectly fine and inoffensive, using a slightly naturalistic tinge to Mario’s traditional accent that allows for range and doesn’t distract from the experience itself. His generally more grounded delivery (apart from moments of terror where he yells “Mamma Mia!” in extravagant fashion) works well with the fish-out-of-water narrative, letting the wacky supporting characters stretch their wings and lean into the absurdity. 

Day is excellent as Luigi, albeit sidelined for a good portion of the runtime. He and Pratt have satisfying chemistry, and the screenplay (by Matthew Fogel) foregrounds their sense of brotherly love, giving “The Super Mario Bros Movie” an emotional throughline. This element could have been strengthened by a few additional scenes showing their background together, but there’s enough there to latch onto, and a handful of genuinely poignant moments sprinkled throughout to supplement the zanier ones.

Taylor-Joy brings characteristic dignity to Peach, despite some eye-rolling dialogue regarding her budding romance with Mario and heavy-handed, though welcome, pivot towards empowerment. Peach certainly doesn’t need “saving” this time around. Michael-Key showcases his usual great comedic timing, and Rogen (with his instantly recognizable laugh) is a hoot, selling Kong’s impulsiveness, goofiness, and insecurity. The real star of the film, though, is Black, who imbues Bowser with a deranged, unpredictable, entitled rage — especially apparent in a couple of over-the-top musical numbers, with Black belting out ridiculous lyrics with his whole heart. It’s both amusing and somewhat off-putting — perfect for a nefarious villain.

The film’s visuals, as expected from Illumination, are dazzling: bright, crisp, and filled with minute details that fans of the games will eat up — not aiming for realism in any sense and all the better for it. From far-reaching vistas of giant, candy-colored mushrooms, to a floating castle scorched by fire, and a road/race track on a rainbow, “The Super Mario Bros. Movie” quickly ferries viewers through various locales, never stopping long to smell the roses. Directors Horvath and Jelenic pack in as much as they can during the 92-minute runtime, which remains a blessing and a curse; the film moves too fast for its own good, shepherding viewers at a clip that proves draining by the finale.

The film’s cinematography creatively emulates the games’ style, too, recreating iconic left-to-right platforming, brawls, and surprisingly violent vehicular carnage with camerawork that glides through the craziness, crisply presenting the action from characters’ perspectives. Similarly, Brian Tyler’s score effectively reworks familiar Mario tracks to accentuate pivotal moments. 

While still a bit top-heavy on slapstick comedy, the film’s self-aware humor mostly lands, maintaining a sense of good-naturedness (with one enjoyably nihilistic exception that I won’t spoil) that should please youngsters and prompt occasional giggles from older folks. Gamers who grew up with the characters are sure to get a kick out of certain sequences, such as a power-up-filled face-off between Mario and Donkey Kong. 

“The Super Mario Bros. Movie” falls prey to sensory overload in the last act — becoming numbing and predictable amid the destruction — and the film’s pervasive ‘80s needle drops are a strange, tired choice, but the film wholeheartedly succeeds where it counts. Initial skepticism aside, it’s surprisingly engaging, and, after HBO’s “The Last of Us,” another example of a video game adaptation done right.

“The Super Mario Bros. Movie” is a 2023 animated comedy-fantasy directed by Aaron Horvath and Michael Jelenic and starring Chris Pratt, Charlie Day, Seth Rogen, Jack Black, Charles Martinet, Anya Taylor-Joy and Keegan-Michael Key. The run time is 92 minutes and it is Rated PG for action and mild violence. It opened in theaters April 5. Alex’s Grade: B

‘John Wick: Chapter 4’ Is A Stunning, Emotional Spectacle

‘John Wick: Chapter 4’ Is A Stunning, Emotional Spectacle

An action extravaganza delivering unforgettable set pieces while adding more layers to its damaged protagonist, director Chad Stahelski’s “John Wick: Chapter 4” is a masterclass in balletic bloodletting that rivals the likes of “The Raid: Redemption.”

Continuing the story from 2018’s “Parabellum,” “Chapter 4” sees our titular gun-fu master recovering after being “rescued” by the charismatic and street-smart Winston (Ian McShane), one of his comrades and manager of the iconic New York Continental hotel (a safe harbor for assassins, so long as they stay in line): that is, being shot in his bullet-proof suit by Winston, falling off a building, and tumbling to the ground with only an awning to lessen the impact. That’s life in the Wick universe, and believe me, there’s plenty more falls to be taken this go around. 

With the help of The Bowery King (Laurence Fishburne, relishing his over-the-top dialogue), an underground crime boss and ally, John sets his sights on the all-powerful “High Table” — an international network of contract killers and pompous overlords dressing up savagery in finely tailored suits. They’re governed by strict rules based around golden coins, blood oaths, and age-old traditions — ignored by traditional authorities and the general populace, possessing connections so deep that anyone could be a contract killer. Indeed, this “impossible task” is John’s most challenging yet.

Keanu Reeves as John Wick, a.k.a The Baba Yaga. Courtesy of Lionsgate.

After John executes a key figure of the High Table, they enlist the help of the Marquis Vincent de Gramont (Bill Skarsgård) — a ruthless, egotistical yet insecure enforcer with a questionable French accent. He brings Caine (Donnie Yen), a blind assassin and former friend of John, reluctantly out of retirement to kill the titular ass-kicker once and for all, or else risk his daughter’s death. A haughty tracker named Mr. Nobody (Shamier Anderson), accompanied by a trusty German Shepherd, is also on the prowl, waiting until the bounty on John’s head is high enough, creating further wrinkles for John and the Marquis to iron out. Osaka Continental manager and master swordsman Shimazu Koji (Hiroyuki Sanada), his equally capable daughter Akira (Rina Sawayama), and the aptly named Killa (Scott Adkins), a darkly funny crime boss with golden front teeth, join the party in limited but memorable appearances — as does Lance Reddick as the concierge Charon, whose presence is felt deeply throughout. Reddick passed away earlier this month.

“Chapter 4” zeroes in on the fact that John leaves a path of destruction in his wake wherever he goes, as he begins to question whether the killing will ever cease, and if he’s doomed to forever exist in its shadow. His last-ditch push for liberation has progressed beyond mere revenge for a slain canine, becoming an all-out fight against his seemingly inescapable past — a battle that, in spite of his perseverance, stubborn unwillingness to give in, and sheer force of will, destroys more than it saves. 

Notwithstanding this decidedly darker tone than previous installments, however, it’s also just a hell of a lot of fun — nearly three hours of practically unbelievable stunt work, heavily stylized worldbuilding, and cinematic bliss. Some story quibbles aside, every element comes together to solidify “Chapter 4” as not only the best of the series, but one of the genre’s greatest in recent memory.

And oh, what marvelous carnage it is. Even more so than previous “Wick” films, Stahelski consistently ups the ante from sequence to sequence — expertly pacing the mayhem so as to not overwhelm viewers and presenting new variables for John to navigate. As John shoots, stabs, kicks, punches, slices, runs over, and nun-chucks his geared-up opponents, Dan Lausten’s smooth, energetic cinematography follows the performers with precision, unafraid to creatively shake things up to jaw-dropping effect. Traveling to such locales as Osaka, Berlin, and Paris (the setting for a three-act, against-the-clock extravaganza of top-shelf badassery and mythic symbolism), “Chapter 4” never overstays its welcome. 

John prepares to pummel a poor, unsuspecting goon. Courtesy of Lionsgate.

Scenes are bathed in vivid, neon hues: enhancing the lavish backdrops with evocative lighting that dances throughout each frame to complement combat so thrilling, and often laugh-out-loud funny (Caine has some hilarious tricks up his sleeve), that it’s an art form itself. Add to that a head-banging soundtrack from Tyler Bates and Joel J. Richard blending familiar themes with violently rhythmic bass, along with pitch-perfect needle drops, and “Chapter 4” is a stylistic treat.

Despite the extended runtime, “Chapter 4” gives viewers space to breathe, occasionally pumping the brakes to establish more pathos than other films in the series. The first hour or so, for example, largely turns the camera away from John himself — focusing on how the fallout from his vengeful actions have consequences for his friends and those unfortunate enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Caine, too, is facing a moral crossroads — brought back into the fold to protect the person he cares about most, mirroring the struggle John faced with his deceased wife, Helen, brought authentically to life by Yen’s multifaceted performance. All of this combines to make “Chapter 4” a much more melancholic watch than expected — packing all the cheer-worthy mayhem viewers want and expect, while giving everything more weight, and, crucially, tangible stakes. 

Reeves continues to dominate the role, though speaking less than in previous entries (which says a lot). It’s clear the acrobatics aren’t so easy for the aging actor to pull off anymore, but in a sense, this lends each punch thrown and received additional impact. Previous films have shown John getting beat up and persisting to come out on top, and “Chapter 4” is no exception — we see his increasing frustration and self-destructiveness as he determinedly demolishes his adversaries, perpetually gearing up for the next onslaught. There’s still plenty of cheesiness in his interactions, thankfully, which brings levity to even the plot’s grimmest stretches.

Alas, “Chapter 4” has some drawbacks. Shay Hatten and Michael Finch’s screenplay crackles with dark humor and is tastefully self-referential, not overloading on quips like a Marvel production. But a bit more subtlety could have benefited “Chapter 4,” particularly in how a certain big twist is telegraphed early on, and is repetitively force-fed to us until the end. An after-credits scene is similarly unnecessary, lessening the impact of narrative decisions made earlier.

This is still an incredible watch — essential for admirers of masterful filmmaking. Amid all the bone-crushing ultraviolence, “Chapter 4” has heart and soul, giving this iconic character another action spectacular for the ages.

Courtesy of Lionsgate.

John Wick: Chapter 4 is a 2023 action film directed by Chad Stahelski and starring Keanu Reeves, Donnie Yen, Bill Skarsgård, Laurence Fishburne, Ian McShane, Lance Reddick, Shamier Anderson, Hiroyuki Sanada, Rina Sawayama, and Scott Adkins. It is rated R for pervasive strong violence and some language. The runtime is 2 hours, 49 minutes. It opened in theaters March 24. Alex’s Grade: A-

‘Creed III’ Is Back for Another (Passable) Round

‘Creed III’ Is Back for Another (Passable) Round

By Alex McPherson

Ambitious but held back by genre conventions, Michael B. Jordan’s directorial debut “Creed III” features great performances and viscerally engaging boxing sequences, while sidelining its more thoughtful ideas to a fault.

Continuing the story of Adonis “Donnie” Creed (Jordan), the son of Rocky Balboa’s rival-turned-friend Apollo, “Creed III” sees our hero encountering ghosts from his past entering the literal and figurative arena. We begin with a flashback to 15-year-old Adonis (Thaddeus J. Mixson) sneaking out of his mother’s house to watch his best pal Damian Anderson (Spence Moore II) compete in a local Golden Gloves competition.

Damian, a boxing prodigy, dreams of one day becoming the world heavyweight champion. His hopes come to a screeching halt as Adonis starts an altercation with someone outside a liquor store. Damian is arrested in the ensuing scuffle, spending 20 grueling years behind bars, and Adonis gets away.

Seven years after the events of “Creed II,” Adonis announces his retirement from boxing to spend time with his wife, Bianca (Tessa Thompson), who’s now a music producer; his deaf daughter Amara (Mila Davis-Kent); and his adoptive mother, Mary-Anne (Phylicia Rashad).

A few years later, Adonis runs a boxing academy, training his new protégé, Felix Chavez (Jose Benavidez), for a title shot against Viktor Drago (Florian Munteanu), with the help of the gruff, wise Tony “Little Duke” Burton (Wood Harris). Sylvester Stallone’s Rocky, such a pivotal presence in the previous “Creed” films, is nowhere to be found.

Everything seems to be working out quite nicely for Adonis. He’s rich, with a happy family, and has secured his place among the boxing legends. What he isn’t ready for, regardless, is a reckoning with his past. Damian (a scene-stealing Jonathan Majors) shows up outside his gym unexpectedly, looking to make up for lost time. Adonis and Damian’s interactions are awkward, mixing flashes of their former camaraderie with creeping unease and resentment. Damian, as it turns out, isn’t so thrilled about Adonis’ success, and wants to finally realize his goals through whatever means necessary.

Adonis — bottling up feelings of guilt, trauma, and diminishing self-worth — must confront this symbol of his past and make peace with it for good. This involves an eventual heart-to-heart (or, rather, fist-to-face) in the place most conducive to resolving conflict: the boxing ring, in front of boatloads of rabid fans.

Indeed, for all of Jordan’s high-minded aspirations, “Creed III” ultimately plays it safe, pitting Adonis against a frustratingly limited antagonist reverting back to a predictable formula, and using its layered themes as window-dressing for seen-it-before spectacle. It’s still entertaining, though — delivering the bruising set-pieces, extravagant training montages, and reliably solid performances we expect, albeit not breaking free of tradition to deliver a KO.

As a directorial debut, “Creed III” is impressive, with Jordan competently helming the action and giving actors plenty of room to flex their chops. The boxing scenes themselves remain the highlight; cinematographer Kramer Morgenthau puts viewers right in the thick of it, giving each punch a tactile sting. Jordan also uses slow-motion to emphasize their raw impact and the considerations behind each jab, while being unafraid to take a more “artistic” approach in visualizing the boxers’ inner thoughts during climactic showdowns. The film gets quite brutal at times, leaving viewers with both feelings of cathartic excitement and, perhaps, a bit of exhaustion. 

Outside the ring, “Creed III” is far less stylish, with muted color grading and conventional framing of dialogue-heavy scenes, interspersing flashbacks to that fateful day in Adonis and Damian’s history. Joe Shirley’s score is chock-full of memorable tunes and recurring motifs, which help propel the proceedings along and lend even the less successful moments a distinct identity.

Jordan continues to shine as Adonis — depicting his range as a loving father, devoted husband, yet someone whose ego and sense of “masculinity” affects his willingness to be vulnerable. Despite his lavish home and outward appearance of strength and happiness, Adonis is battling self-doubt regarding his accomplishments, exacerbated by Damian’s re-emergence and subsequent manipulation.

Having already watched Adonis ascend through the boxing ranks and manage his father’s legacy (a central theme of the previous films), it’s interesting, in theory, to watch him grapple with his fame, and recognize just how easily it could have gone the other way — although this introspection leads (unsurprisingly) back to the blunt boxing ring, the ultimate mediator. Majors proves a worthy foil in Damian, bringing a jumpy, volatile energy ensuring him and Jordan are always engaging to watch interact onscreen, ignoring the script’s clunkiness.

Thompson gives characteristic gravitas to Bianca, who plays an ancillary role to Adonis’ arc but faces her own challenges; having progressive hearing loss, she’s had to stop her singing career. Davis-Kent (who’s deaf in real life) holds her own alongside Jordan, Thompson, and Majors — making the most out of a role that’s ultimately setting the stage for a “Creed” spinoff down the road.

The bulk of the film’s issues stem from the framing of Damian as an over-the-top adversary. Damian’s a damaged man, looking for retribution against his childhood friend: they grew up together, but he took a vastly different life path, largely due to chance. With this backstory, Damian should be easy to sympathize with, but “Creed III” too often sways to extremes — depicting Damian as a taunting and merciless individual who, at times, seems less like a flesh-and-blood human being than a “big bad” for our (flawed) lead to vanquish.

By the end, “Creed III” largely eschews the moral ambiguity that was initially so interesting to deliver the usual thrills and avoid deeper insight into both Damian and Adonis’ psyches; in the end, it lacks the emotion that might take it to another level. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but considering the talent involved and a premise begging for more depth, the cast deserves better — especially Majors, whose versatility as a performer isn’t fully capitalized on.

For most viewers, however, “Creed III” will suffice, if not exceed expectations. The fundamentals are all there, but this story could have used another bout of training.

“Creed III” is a 2023 sports action-drama directed by Michael B. Jordan and starring Jordan, Jonathan Majors, Tessa Thompson, Mila Kent-Davis and Wood Harris. It is Rated PG-13 for intense sports action, violence and some strong language and runtime 1 hour, 54 minutes. It opened in theaters March 3. Alex’s Grade: B-.


Michael B. Jordan as Adonis Creed

‘Cocaine Bear’ Messy and Thrilling As Chaotic B-Movie

‘Cocaine Bear’ Messy and Thrilling As Chaotic B-Movie

By Alex McPherson
A gnarly B-movie that’s both messy and thrilling, director Elizabeth Banks’ “Cocaine Bear” delivers on the chaotic fun promised by its title.

Set in 1985, the film — inspired from true, albeit far less “entertaining” events — begins with a crazed drug smuggler named Andrew C. Thornton II (Matthew Rhys) dumping a large shipment of blow over the Chattahoochee-Oconee National Forest to be retrieved later. The drugs are soon ingested by an American black bear, who, hyped up on the substance, embarks on a path of destruction, not letting anything get between her and the good-good.

When trying to parachute out of his plane, Andrew knocks himself unconscious on the doorframe and falls to his death in Knoxville, Tennessee. He’s then identified by a local policeman named Bob (Isaiah Whitlock Jr.), who links the drugs to a ruthless St. Louis kingpin named Syd White (Ray Liotta). Syd enlists his depressed son, Eddie (Alden Ehrenreich), who is mourning the loss of his wife, and his tough guy fixer, Daveed (O’Shea Jackson Jr.), to find the cocaine. They’re unaware that Bob’s on the trail, but, more importantly, unprepared for the cuddly carnivore that awaits them.

Meanwhile, the 12 year-old Dee Dee (Brooklyn Prince) and her best friend Henry (Christian Convery) skip school to paint a picture of a waterfall in the forest without telling her mother, Sari (Keri Russell). Before long, they find some bricks of cocaine, eat some of it (as one does), and wander into the vicinity of our titular bear. Sari, who happens to be a nurse, panics and goes out searching for them, accompanied by the raunchy, nonchalant Ranger Liz (Margo Martindale) and her tree-hugging crush, Peter (Jesse Tyler Ferguson), whose love of nature isn’t exactly reciprocated.

As these disparate groups converge, mama bear joins the party, not caring one iota about their petty human affairs — they are prime meat for the slaughter. Indeed, when the bear is unleashed to wreak gratuitously bloody havoc, Banks’ film shines: creature-feature-slasher as tar-black slapstick comedy. The human drama doesn’t hold up in comparison, but “Cocaine Bear” remains briskly paced and wholeheartedly committed to the bit during its 95-minute runtime, while maintaining an earnest streak through the bloodshed that, for all its awkwardness, fits the proceedings like a glove.

As expected, “Cocaine Bear” doesn’t aim for high-minded social commentary (no pun intended), and never takes itself too seriously. Numerous criticisms can be lobbed its way in terms of structure and consistency, but, perhaps, that’s part of the point — the bear triumphs over all. Nearly every other element, no matter how lackluster, sets up scenarios for her to engage in gory goodness. Even though the film can be a scattershot affair, the payoff is always worth it.

By not anthropomorphizing the bear itself, Banks respects it as an animal hooked on a mysterious substance, instantly addicted and empowered with newfound boldness — unpredictable and dangerous, merciless in its pursuits and not to be trifled with by anyone idiotic enough to believe they stand a chance against it. Performed with impressive motion capture by Allan Henry, the bear is a source of both terror and hilarity, with Banks delivering some genuinely suspenseful set-pieces of it creeping up on and misdirecting its prey; priming viewers for some wholly effective jump-scares and viscera-laden carnage amid rustling foliage and sunswept fields.

One scene involving an ambulance is a masterpiece of dark comedy — fear and tension turning into shocked laughter that’s best viewed with a large crowd of like-minded souls. These sequences, thanks to Banks’ unflinching direction, John Guleserian’s dynamic cinematography, and Mark Mothersbaugh’s synth-heavy score, are memorable, and worth the price of admission alone.

What about the humans, though? “Cocaine Bear” doesn’t prioritize “raw emotion” in their respective arcs, but the ensemble capably shoulders the absurdity. Whitlock Jr. brings his characteristic deadpan dignity to policeman Bob, remaining cool and collected through his exasperation and increasing peril. With a small dog waiting for him at home, we’re rooting for him to make it out alive. Martindale and Ferguson are exceptional — essentially cartoon characters who, for what they lack in groundedness, make up for in charm. Russell convincingly brings out her own “mama bear” side to rescue Dee Dee, while Prince and Convery are hilarious as two rebellious youngsters in way over their heads who aren’t quite as brain-dead as viewers might initially expect. Ehrenreich and Jackson Jr. do what they can, but aren’t nearly as successful with standard archetypes bonding through their trauma bond and finally learning some self-respect. Liotta amusingly hams it up  as the real villain of the piece, rather one-note but enjoyable to watch nevertheless.

Even though “Cocaine Bear” is, well, “Cocaine Bear,” there’s some environmentalist themes that rear their heads, principally the importance of respecting the natural world. Like the shipment of cocaine that’s carelessly dropped into the wilderness, this batch of characters with wildly different life experiences are gathered within a space they don’t belong— encountering a drug-fueled apex predator ready to punish them for their intrusion. Whether or not they deserve their fates, the bear (as it mauls, stalks, and does lines of cocaine off severed limbs) is an equalizing force that removes preconceptions and shifts the humans’ focus to pure survival and self-preservation, at least if they’re smart enough to recognize it. The animal also illuminates their true values. But none of this really matters — it’s just appealing to watch a coked-up bear causing complete and utter chaos. 

Admittedly, there is too much going on plot-wise for “Cocaine Bear” to be as focused and satisfying as it should be. The film’s editing is occasionally clunky, with intermittently awkward transitions that break immersion. Similarly, the film’s jokes are hit-or-miss, with the general vibe representative of “there’s a bear on cocaine, oh no!” and punchlines via over-the-top violence. Cheesiness abounds, which fits with the film’s goofy, 80s-throwback style, but lacks emotional heft. The script’s brand of broad, gross-out humor won’t work for those who don’t find the concept giggle-worthy, or who are easily perturbed by excess gut spillage. 

Fortunately, for this viewer, “Cocaine Bear” is properly filling, meeting expectations and having (slightly) more to unpack than being merely a slasher flick. This is Cocaine Bear’s domain, and we’re just existing in it.

“Cocaine Bear” is a 2023 comedy-thriller directed by Elizabeth Banks and starring Keri Russell, Matthew Rhys, O’Shea Jackson Jr., Alden Ehrenreich, Ray Liotta, Brooklynn Prince, Christian Convery, Isiah Whitlock Jr., Jesse Tyler Ferguson and Margo Martindale. It is Rated R for bloody violence and gore, drug content and language throughout and the run time is 1 hour, 35 minutes. I opened in theaters Feb. 24. Alex’s Grade: B

Emma Mackey Fuels ‘Emily,’ Thoughtful Portrait of Bronte As Storyteller

Emma Mackey Fuels ‘Emily,’ Thoughtful Portrait of Bronte As Storyteller

By Alex McPherson

With a wonderfully multifaceted performance from Emma Mackey, director Frances O’Connor’s “Emily” is a vibrant, poignant, heartbreaking, and somewhat reductive story loosely inspired by the life of Emily Brontë— full of contradictory elements that entangle in interesting ways, not unlike Emily herself.

Tracing the events leading up to Emily writing the seminal novel Wuthering Heights, “Emily” takes place during the mid-19th century among the blustery moors and pervasively overcast skies of Yorkshire, England, as our heroine experiences joy, sorrow, and self-actualization in an environment where she’s pressured to conform to restrictive ideals.

We first see Emily on her deathbed, as her sister Charlotte (Alexandra Dowling, bringing much more to the table than “mean sister” energy) scolds her for writing the book and demands she explain how she conceived it. The camera (helmed by cinematographer Nanu Segal, in one of the film’s prolonged close-ups), rotates from horizontal to vertical, as we face Emily head-on and dive into both her, and O’Connor’s, imagination to see how it came to be.

Flashback to some years earlier, and the Brontës are actively mourning the loss of their mother. The household consists of father, Patrick (Adrian Dunbar), a conservative priest unsure of how to deal with Emily’s idiosyncrasies, and sisters Anne (Amelia Gething, charming but underused) and the prim-and-proper Charlotte, who, studying to become a teacher, is envious of Emily’s talents and self-hating in her own alternate paths to achieve what’s expected of her.

There’s also the squirrely brother, Branwell (Fionn Whitehead, in a devastating turn conveying both playfulness and real hurt), an aspiring writer and painter who Emily feels intensely close to; their bond proves nervously liberating as Branwell indulges in vices and trouble-making.

Emily herself is reclusive, brash, creative, brave, and vulnerable all at once — described as “the Strange One” by locals — who finds solace among the natural world, crafting poems that illuminate her complex inner thoughts. While her siblings find success and failure in their pursuits, Emily remains at the family estate, sheltered and repressed from embracing her calling. The arrival of handsome curate William Weightman (Oliver Jackson-Cohen), who ends up giving Emily French lessons, sparks something fiery within her — launching a romance where both parties are pulled between their passion and practical reality — with fittingly melodramatic, and, as “Emily” posits, inspirational results.

Although “Emily” doesn’t fully embody the unconventionality of its brilliant subject, O’Connor’s film shines as a tribute to imagination itself, illuminating the ways in which it frees and isolates, wrapped up in a gothic drama alive with raw, sensual energy. What’s lost in the sometimes clunky screenplay is more than made up for by the ensemble’s power, especially Mackey, who brings a tangibly lived-in authenticity to her portrayal, resisting easy classification at every turn.

Mackey, recent winner of the Rising Star Award at this year’s BAFTAs, who starred in “Sex Education” on Netflix and Kenneth Branagh’s “Death of the Nile” last year, commands attention.

O’Connor (herself an actor in such films as “Mansfield Park” and “A.I. Artificial Intelligence”) often centers her in frame, letting us observe subtle, and not so subtle, shifts in mood. The film refuses to paint her in broad strokes and, as a result, packs a visceral wallop as we ride this roller coaster of feeling along with her. We see Emily physically shrink from social interactions and light up when immersed in her writing: moments of high-strung anxiety and euphoric release. 

She runs the emotional gauntlet over the course of the film — happiness, mischievousness, obsession, and crushing sadness — sometimes alternating between tones in the same scene, with Mackey helping ground even the most over-the-top developments. Her chemistry with Jackson-Cohen is sizzling, though their relationship is doomed from the start, and her sequences with Whitehead are similarly (uncomfortably) charged, creating a tragic love triangle that heads down a marginally predictable path for period dramas.

Accompanied by Segal’s lush, tactile cinematography, authentic costume design by Michael O’Connor, and an amazingly dynamic score by Abel Korzeniowski (mixing cacophonous strings with melancholy, sometimes removing and focusing sound entirely for dramatic effect), “Emily” is quite the sensory treat.

O’Connor incorporates magical realism throughout, bringing a near-supernatural tinge to Emily’s talent that deeply affects those around her. One pivotal scene, for example, involves a game where Emily, her siblings, and Weightman don a mask and pretend to be someone else. Emily pretends to be their late mother — disturbing everyone in the room to their core as the shutters blow open with a fierce wind, like a seance is taking place. It’s a frightening, though overcooked, instance of O’Connor’s stylistic bravado, illustrating storytelling as an immersive, unnerving force.

This memorable scene also ties into the competing forces that torment the characters, not just Emily, as they go about their lives. Emily refuses to conform to societal standards, while becoming isolated and othered as a result. She’s attracted to Weightman more as a vessel for her endeavors than traditional romance, but this dependence spells drastic consequences.

Weightman, himself a poet in his own way, albeit held back by religious expectations, is simultaneously drawn to Emily and petrified by guilt. Branwell battles addiction and self-doubt over his abilities as an artist, and Charlotte denies Emily’s worth, and her own interests, via deep-set insecurities. The film itself is torn between the more expected trappings of the genre and the fantastical, occasionally breaking free to present something surprising and irreverent. 

And the narrative, for all its success in humanizing characters, ultimately winds up undercutting Emily’s own creativity to declare that Wuthering Heights was written largely through lived experience. Who knows how much of “Emily” actually happened, but its final act — full of last-minute revelations, crying, and swooning music — feels rushed, giving tidy resolution and clear takeaways from such a layered character.

It’s unfortunate that “Emily” leaves this crucial element of her being, her creative process, so disappointingly half-baked and based primarily on her experiences with men. O’Connor had a vast canvas to work with thematically here, and in this sense, she doesn’t treat Emily’s legacy with the reverence she deserves.

Her film is still profoundly affecting, with Mackey giving what will undoubtedly be one of the year’s most captivating performances.

“Emily,” a 2022 biographical drama about writer Emily Bronte, her family and loves, is directed by Frances O’Connor and stars Emma Mackey, Alexandra Dowling, Fionn Whitehead, Adrian Dunbar, Oliver Jackson-Cohen, Amelia Gething and Gemma Jones. It is Rated Rated R for some sexuality/nudity and drug use, and is 2 hours, 10 minutes. It opens Feb. 24 in select local theaters. Alex’s Grade: B+.

Great Performances, Missed Potential in Shyamalan’s Latest Effort ‘Knock at the Cabin’

Great Performances, Missed Potential in Shyamalan’s Latest Effort ‘Knock at the Cabin’

By Alex McPherson

Partly saved by excellent performances and technical skill, M. Night Shyamalan’s “Knock at the Cabin” has the bones of a solid thriller but lacks the soul necessary to take it to another level.

Based on the 2018 novel “The Cabin at the End of the World,” by Paul G. Tremblay, “Knock at the Cabin” centers around a gay couple — the high-strung, defensive Andrew (Ben Aldrige) and the more contemplative, thoughtful Eric (Jonathan Groff) — and their young adopted daughter, Wen (Kristen Cui), who take a vacation at a secluded cabin in the woods. 

They’re having a grand ole time until a quartet of randos show up, led by the hulking Leonard (Dave Bautista), wielding makeshift medieval-esque weapons and insisting that they’re here to prevent the apocalypse. After a violent scuffle leaves Eric concussed, Eric and Andrew are tied to chairs and the intruders reveal their true directive. Andrew, Eric, or Wen must willingly give themselves up as a sacrifice, and the family has to kill one of their own, or else witness the death of humanity and be left to wander the scorched earth alone. 

Among the intruders are the aforementioned Leonard, a schoolteacher whose intimidating physique belies melancholy and earnestness; Redmond (Rupert Grint), a hard-edged ex-con; Adriane (Abby Quinn), a palpably nervous restaurant cook  and Sabrina (Nikki Amuka-Bird), a nurse. They’ve each completely devoted themselves to the cause, despite being fearful of carrying it out. Eric, and especially Andrew, are shocked, confused, and doubtful, but their captors aren’t playing around. 

As time passes without a result, the unwelcome guests sacrifice themselves one-by-one, each death prompting large-scale catastrophes to unfold, from extreme weather events to a pandemic (ahem), which they watch on newscasts. The family must decide whether or not to believe their captors and to weigh saving humanity at large against the safety of their hard-fought unit. 

Thanks to gripping performances from the entire ensemble and a pervasive sense of claustrophobic tension, “Knock at the Cabin” is highly enjoyable in the moment, yet falters upon further reflection. The film’s various puzzle pieces haphazardly fit together, leading to toothless reveals that undercut the premise and have little new to say about “the apocalypse as moral dilemma,” especially when viewed as an allegory for climate change.

Still, there’s no denying the strength of the cast assembled here. Bautista is the obvious standout — both frightening and sympathetic. We can see each of the intruders wrestle with their compulsion, but Bautista is by far the most nuanced, embodying an antagonist whose devotion we never doubt, though his “reality” might be skewed. Grint, far separated from his portrayal of Ron Weasley in the “Harry Potter” franchise, chews scenery to a pulp as Redmond, dangerous and vulnerable. Quinn and Amuka-Bird are similarly solid — deeply uncomfortable in their shoes, but unwavering from their mission, with children they want to return to and secure a safe future for.

Aldrige and Groff are believable and endearing as the central couple, although the screenplay (by Shyamalan, Steve Desmond, and Michael Sherman) doesn’t do them any favors, leaning into exaggeration and heavy-handed explanation that could have used a subtler touch. Andrew is, understandably, fuming with rage, accusing the group of being warped by conspiracy theories and targeting him and Eric because of their sexuality. A hate crime committed against him in the past has left him psychologically scarred and fiercely protective of Eric and Wen, unwilling to give them up under any circumstances and sometimes acting rashly as a result. While this character trait does lend itself to the film’s sense of anticipation and violent release, it’s off-putting how a fundamental aspect of Andrew’s identity is formed through an act of hate — a clunky, obvious plot thread to further the film’s pulpy pretenses. 

Eric, the more religious one, is apprehensive but thoughtful, unsure of what to think. Groff excels in these quieter moments, bringing pathos and emotional grounding to the increasingly ludicrous developments. Cui, as Wen, is wonderful, conveying youthful curiosity along with a wiseness beyond her years — a constant reminder for what’s (potentially) at stake if Eric and Andrew don’t acquiesce to the group’s demands.

It’s praiseworthy that a queer couple headlines a mainstream horror-thriller, and “Knock at the Cabin” certainly emphasizes the love they have for each other throughout. We get frequent flashbacks to pivotal moments in Eric and Andrew’s relationship — contending with homophobic parents, having to distort the truth to adopt Wen, and the attack — painting them not as having extraordinary or supernatural characteristics, but as regular people trying to exist together within a culture that questions their right to exist.

Stylistically, “Knock at the Cabin” is also strong. Cinematographer Jarin Blaschke keeps the camera almost excessively close to the actors, heightening dread alongside Herdís Stefánsdóttir’s fitting score, and deploys dynamic flourishes (like tracking an ax as it delivers a killing blow), which hold the viewer’s attention from beginning to end. The film is energetically framed even when the plot takes eye-rolling swerves.

Indeed, “Knock at the Cabin” has all the elements of something special, but its frustrating reveals fall flat — ultimately saying nothing new or noteworthy about relevant (some might say too relevant, particularly regarding the various disasters that are triggered) topics that plague society to this day. What we’re left with is a narrative that takes concepts deserving of a serious approach — radicalization, the allure of echo chambers, what we are willing to give up to ensure a safer future, trauma, environmental calamity, alienation of the Other, faith as a blessing and a curse — and clumsily jerry-rigging them together, abandoning ambiguity to fuel a story that has no idea what to do with itself. The premise is taken to such extreme, albeit simplistic lengths that it’s difficult to take seriously, and the film’s views on “sacrifice” are altogether repellant when brought back down to earth. We’re all headed toward an apocalypse of our own making, and “Knock at the Cabin” renders a real-life concern of climate crises into a morality tale that winds up with a mawkish, superficial aftertaste.

All that aside, Shyamalan’s film is still fun to watch and let wash over you. The performances, formal craft, and atmosphere are top notch, but true meaning is left locked outside.

Ben Aldridge, Kristen Cui, Jonathan Groff.

“Knock at the Cabin” is a 2023 horror, mystery thriller directed by M. Night Shyamalan and stars Dave Bautista, Jonathan Groff, Ben Aldridge and Kristen Cui. It is rated R for violence and language, and runs 1 hour, 40 minutes. It opened in theaters on Feb. 3. Alex’s Grade: B-.

‘MISSING’ is an Immersive Thriller That Misses The Mark

‘MISSING’ is an Immersive Thriller That Misses The Mark

By Alex McPherson

Inventively constructed yet saddled with an unwieldy plot, Nicholas D. Johnson and Will Merrick’s screenlife thriller “Missing” undercuts its strengths by appealing to brash, exaggerated storytelling.

A standalone sequel to 2018’s “Searching,” which uses a similar format of taking place entirely via screens, “Missing” follows the 18-year-old June (Storm Reid), a rebellious, always-online teenager living in Los Angeles with her mother, Grace (Nia Long).

June’s father, James (Tim Griffin), passed away over a decade prior, and June continues to grieve — often lashing out at Grace’s protectiveness and constant need to check in with her. Grace and her boyfriend, Kevin (Ken Leung), are about to leave for a week-long vacation in Colombia, giving June free time to party it up at their security-cam-riddled suburban home.

When June arrives at the airport to pick them up, though, they’re not there. After being unable to reach either Grace or Kevin on their phones, June grows increasingly worried that they’re in danger. She takes the investigation into her own hands when authorities don’t act promptly. Time is of the essence, and June — a tech-savvy teen proficient at digital sleuthing— is on the case. 

With the help of their lawyer neighbor, Heather (Amy Landecker), a freelance worker June hires named Javi (Joaquim de Almeida), and June’s pal Veena (Megan Suri), June embarks down a labyrinthine rabbit hole of password hacking and web surfing. She makes discoveries that turn her reality upside-down.

By restricting the action to screens — the majority of the film unfolds on June’s computer, where she’s often video-chatting with someone and navigating an insane number of tabs — “Missing” effectively taps into the enormous digital footprints we leave behind, along with the ways in which technology can conceal, and illuminate, different sides of us.

Unfortunately, Johnson and Merrick, who edited “Searching,” neither fully play by the genre’s rules nor craft a compelling yarn to support the gimmick. By layering so many twists upon each other, especially in the third act, “Missing” obscures its most sobering aspects — leaning into schlocky developments that annoy, rather than thrill.

That’s not to say the central concept isn’t engaging, however, even though films like “Searching” and the (far superior) “Profile” have done it before. The format lends an immediacy and tangibility that ramps up suspense, as we observe June using familiar tools to uncover secrets supposedly hidden from view.

Johnson and Merrick aren’t fully confident in the idea — flashbacks, added camerawork, and shifting perspectives attempt to add cinematic flair, ironically breaking immersion — but it’s always nice to watch filmmakers buck tradition.

“Missing” is most successful when it shows how much personal information is accessible if we have the know-how to access it — from one’s immediate location to their online dating messages. The devices that “connect” us are themselves connected, able to communicate with each other like an omnipresent observer.

Although June’s Gen-Z detective skills lead to several satisfying “aha” moments, there’s no shaking the fact that these gadgets and services are violating, and a vessel for manipulation. They’re both helpful for June’s purposes and an extreme invasion of privacy. 

Additionally, when the public latches onto the case, and it becomes a viral obsession, we see how truth can be warped beyond recognition, as people capitalize on scandal for their own gain. Johnson and Merrick are obviously critical of true-crime entertainment, too — turning the events of “Searching” into an over-the-top Netflix show — which further complements this idea of corrupted reality. 

Reid makes the most of the somewhat cookie-cutter June, who doesn’t have many compelling traits besides her technical smarts. Her strained relationship with Grace provides some emotional grounding, but the script’s melodramatic beats are far from subtle.

Even so, Reid conveys her growing anxiety, fear, epiphanies, and anger convincingly — it’s fun to watch the mystery unfold, for a while, and feel like we’re solving it with her.

Long makes the most of a half-baked role — believable as a mother who, above all, wants the best for her child.

Almeida is the standout as Javi. He provides the bulk of comedic relief, and the film could have used more of his eccentric presence — especially when the story jumps the shark in the final act.

Indeed, despite its limited presentation, “Missing” shows little restraint in its narrative. Red herrings abound, and the film is constantly trying to one-up itself with bonkers reveals that require an absurd suspension of disbelief.

The constant attempts at subverting expectations distract from the most meaningful takeaways involving tech’s hold on modern life. “Missing” sacrifices the “human” element of its story for shock factor — sliding into unintentional comedy with threads that feel ripped straight from a soap opera. By the last “surprise,” the film ends up resembling the scandalous content the filmmakers critique elsewhere.

It’s a shame that “Missing” fumbles so egregiously in the end, since there’s much to praise about this paranoid thriller. At the very least, if you’re not too irritated when it’s all over, you might set up two-factor authentication on all your accounts.

“Missing” is a 2023 mystery thriller co-written and co-directed by Nick D. Johnson and Will Merrick. It stars Nia Long, Storm Reid, Ken Leung, Megan Suri and Amy Landecker. It is rated PG-13 for some strong violence, language, teen drinking, and thematic material and run time is 1 hour, 51 minutes. It opened in theaters on Jan. 20. Alex’s Grade: C+.

‘M3GAN’ Is A Ridiculous Gem of Sci-Fi Horror

‘M3GAN’ Is A Ridiculous Gem of Sci-Fi Horror

By Alex McPherson

Silly, messy, yet filled with provocative ideas and starring an already classic antagonist, director Gerard Johnstone’s “M3GAN” is one of 2023’s first great films.

Set in near-future Seattle, “M3GAN” centers around Gemma (Allison Williams), a robotics engineer working for a toy company called Funki developing flatulent, Furby-esque “Perpetual Petz.” Gemma, a workaholic bordering on a mad scientist, has higher aspirations — creating a lifelike artificial intelligence that can serve as a child’s loyal companion, assisting with parental duties for guardians unwilling or unable to put the effort in themselves.

After a prototype demonstration goes haywire, her brash, overeager boss, David (Ronny Chieng), demands Gemma and her team construct a less complex version of Perpetual Petz to fight the competition. All hope for Gemma’s obviously flawed passion project goes out the window… until a fateful circumstance gives her the opportunity to pursue her dreams.

Her niece, Cady (Violet McGraw), is orphaned in a car accident involving a snow plow that kills both her parents. Gemma is called upon to assume guardianship of Cady, but she has absolutely no idea or willingness to interact with her on a meaningful level. Fortunately, or, rather, unfortunately, she finally has an excuse to build her Frankenstein once again — creating the titular M3GAN (Model 3 Generative Android), a wry and viciously programmed android with the body of young girl, a mean side-eye, off-kilter movements, and a propensity to sing pop songs — to provide for Cady and give Gemma the freedom to go about her own, separate life.

Cady’s attachment to M3GAN grows quite extreme, however, as does M3GAN’s directive to protect her at all costs, definitely not above killing anything that inconveniences her. The bodycount builds, Gemma faces increasing pressure from David to show M3GAN off to the world, and she must learn to take responsibility for her creation and, potentially, for her own life.

Despite relevant commentary on humankind’s dependence on technology, companies’ ruthless exploitation of our personal lives to sell goods, and how mistreatment of a near-sentient AI can heinously backfire, “M3GAN” is, at its core, a batshit insane slice of PG-13 horror that never takes itself too seriously. This is a satirical comedy above all else, eschewing nuance in favor of putting its Mean Girl to savage work.

M3GAN, voiced with cheerfully malevolent gusto by Jenna Davis and physically performed by Amie Donald, mixing stiltedness with bursts of animalistic energy, is quite the character. She’s both creepy and hilarious, eliciting nervous laughter with practically every one of her sardonic quips. Johnstone, screenwriter Akela Cooper (who also wrote 2021’s off-the-rails “Malignant”), and story co-creator James Wan aren’t here to necessarily humanize M3GAN, but they emphasize the poor ways she’s treated in this morally bankrupt world. M3GAN’s merely following her programming — serving Cady to the best of her reductive, frightening abilities — and gradually developing self-awareness of her own, fighting for her independence and a misguided desire to control, rather than be controlled. M3GAN is often discarded as an “other” to reside among other toys, or literally powered down whenever push comes to shove. 

M3GAN, the viral dancing sensation.

Peter McCaffrey’s cinematography mines this idea to darkly comedic effect; one memorable shot at a school field day features M3GAN seated in the middle of a pile of stuffed animals, glaring at the camera as if to say how could you treat me this way? When she’s unleashed to wreak her (largely bloodless) havoc, you might almost root for her as she disposes of those who disrespect and use her for their own selfish advancement.

The more (traditionally) human characters aren’t nearly as engaging, but Williams and McGraw lend pathos even in the most ludicrous stretches. Williams excels at delivering the film’s deadpan dialogue — Gemma’s awkwardness and impulsivity almost feel robotic at certain points, as she struggles to navigate her newfound maternal role and care for the grief-stricken Cady. Her arc later on in the film seems rushed (gotta get back to M3GAN dancing, after all), but Gemma’s learned empathy hits home with surprising, albeit not exactly poignant, force.

McGraw shines as Cady, conveying ample dramatic range as proceedings unfold. M3GAN seemingly fills the void left by the loss of her parents, and Cady refuses to be separated from her. She can have any question answered, a playmate always by her side, and someone to protect her from harm. Despite M3GAN’s increasingly violent actions, Cady remains strongly loyal, addicted to a “solution” that, despite how it’s promoted, is a dangerous rabbit hole.

Side characters — with the exception of David, who gives Chieng plenty of opportunities to ham it up as a shameless executive who wouldn’t feel out-of-place in a “Saturday Night Live” sketch — are mainly there as fodder for M3GAN, but that’s exactly what the film calls for. Although the PG-13 rating prevents Johnstone from fully cutting loose, there’s still a couple of wince-inducing moments (one involving not-quite-surgical ear removal) that won’t leave my mind anytime soon. Indeed, “M3GAN” pulls no punches when it counts.

The bombastic finale reverts to familiar tropes, and the combination of thoughtful commentary with goofiness doesn’t click together “smoothly,” but that adds to the charm. “M3GAN” remains an unabashedly fun watch, comfort food for those willing to update to its zany wavelength.

“M3GAN” is a 2023 science-fiction horror comedy directed by Gerard Johnstone and written by Akela Cooper. It stars Allison Williams, Violet McGraw, Ronny Chieng, Amie Donald, and Jenna Davis. It is rated PG-13 for violent content and terror, some strong language, and a suggestive reference, and the runtime is 1 hour, 42 minutes. It opened in theaters January 6. Alex’s Grade: B+