My Cultural Diet

For many people, Bi Gan’s Resurrection would be the very definition of an “arthouse” film, albeit in a more pejorative sense of the term. That is to say, visually beautiful but completely inscrutable and nonsensical. And they’re not really wrong. To be clear, Resurrection is an absolutely gorgeous film, right up to its very last frame. Gan employs multiple filmmaking styles (e.g., silent film, German expressionism, film noir, ambitious long takes) and clever visual effects throughout the film’s 159 minutes, while cinematographer Dong Jingsong fills the screen with rich and vibrant colors no matter the setting. And of course, Shu Qi is as luminous as ever. But the vaguely sci-fi story about a distant future where humanity has achieved immortality by giving up the ability to dream, and the deformed monster who hides away in films in order to keep dreaming is just that: vague. It’s tempting to say that the film’s various segments, which chronicle the monster’s final moments and memories using different film styles, simply unfold according to an unconventional dream-like logic as befitting the visuals. But honestly, that feels less like an explanation and more like a copout. As true as that might be, it doesn’t necessarily make for the most interesting or satisfying narrative, even if you can’t tear your eyes away from Gan’s bravura filmmaking.

With Avengers: Doomsday coming out later this year, now felt like a good time to see what Victor von Doom’s been up to in Marvel’s pages. After taking the mantle of Earth’s Sorcerer Supreme from Doctor Strange, Doom sets out to take over the entire world — and succeeds. Delivering on such lofty promises as world peace and universal healthcare, it seems like Doom really is the world’s best bet. The Fantastic Four, the Avengers, and their superhero allies are skeptical, though, even as Doom continually stays one step ahead of their efforts to discover the truth behind his reign. Meanwhile, Doom’s ascension exposes Earth to otherworldly threats that may be beyond even his ability to handle. One World Under Doom isn’t quite as ambitious as 2015’s Secret Wars crossover, which also revolved around Doom’s megalomaniacal tendencies, but it’s still a pretty fun read. Interestingly, Doom’s ultimate weakness this time isn’t his hubris and arrogance, but rather something far more relatable and, dare I say, human. On a sidenote, it was difficult to read One World Under Doom and not think of a certain president who possesses a similar level of arrogance, though nowhere near as much class or competence.

Even though it doesn’t feature a single mystically powered ninja, 1993’s Undefeatable is officially now one of my favorite Godfrey Ho movies. Cynthia Rothrock (Yes, Madam!) stars as a waitress who participates in underground fight clubs to pay her sister’s college tuition. But when her sister becomes the latest victim of a deranged serial killer, she’s forced to team up with a homicide detective to bring the killer to justice. Undefeatable is proof that Ho really could make a coherent film without resorting to spliced together footage from two totally unrelated films. Of course, “coherent” is a very relative term here. Apparently, Ho couldn’t decide if he was making a martial arts film, a slasher flick, or a buddy cop film, and so he just decided to make all three, and the resulting film sticks a three-point landing squarely in the “so bad it’s awesome” category. Be it the corny one-liners, the ill-timed humor, the ridiculously over-the-top acting — Don Niam really does give it his eye-popping all as the serial killer with a puffy mullet and serious mommy issues — or, of course, the iconic final duel between two shirtless and extremely well-oiled combatants, Undefeatable delivers some of the best martial arts cheese this side of Miami Connection or Samurai Cop.

American actor Phillip Vanderploeg has been living in Tokyo for a long time, but to date, his only major role has been a silly-yet-beloved toothpaste commercial that he starred in years ago. Desperate for work, he signs on with Rental Family, an agency that provides actors who serve as stand-in friends and family for strangers. One of his first gigs as the agency’s “token white guy” is to “star” as the long-lost father of a young girl whose mother believe that having a complete family will improve the girl’s chances of getting into a prestigious school. Later, he’s hired to “star” as a film writer in order to encourage an aging actor long past his prime. Initially reluctant, Phillip soon finds himself drawn into these people’s lives even as he struggles with the dishonesty of it all. Rental Family’s first half is pleasant enough, though a bit cloying at times, and I was worried that’s where the film was going to stay. Thankfully, its second half takes a slightly darker turn as the emptiness of hiring stand-in actors is explored. (One of Phillip’s fellow actors, a woman named Aiko, is often hired by cheating husbands to appear as their mistress, exposing her to insult and abuse.) That was when the film really started to affect me. Overall, Rental Family is a charming dramedy with some truly sweet moments. And not surprisingly, it made me and my wife desperate to visit Japan again.

Imagine Zootopia if its lead was a jaded, world-weary detective suffering from postwar PTSD, and the bustling metropolis was simmering with corruption, sin, and vice. That would describe Juan Díaz Canales and Juanjo Guarnido’s Blacksad in a nutshell, but it would also sell short the pleasure of reading these post-WW2-set noir tales featured anthropomorphized animals. Even if it seems like a losing battle, the titular Blacksad seems intent on using all of his nine lives to take on the corrupt and the powerful, including wealthy tycoons, white supremacists, and Red Hysteria scaremongers — and sometimes, it seems like all he has to rely on are his quick fists, quick wits, and deep-seated sense of justice. I’ll admit, I went into Blacksad with some skepticism; the anthropomorphism seemed like it might be a bit too on the nose. But Canales and Guarnido have taken what seems like a simple premise and spun it into a thoroughly realized world that’s brought to life by Canales’s grounded storytelling and historical references and Guarnido’s richly detailed artwork.

The patrons at Norms diner are just looking to enjoy a quiet evening when they’re interrupted by a strangely dressed and deranged-looking man who claims to be from the future. Oh, and he also has a bomb. After assembling a ragtag group of hostages and volunteers, the man sets off on a journey through Los Angeles to find a nine-year-old boy and stop him from creating the AI that will destroy humanity. It’s a wild premise that’s certainly rooted in modern concerns over the emergence of AI, concerns that I’ve written about here on Opus. And to his credit, Gore Verbinski did manage to convict me about my own smartphone usage. As a film, though, Good Luck, Have Fun, Don’t Die is a bit of a mess that requires far too much suspension of disbelief, even for a film that features AI-generated cat centaurs spraying glitter from their genitals. Verbinski clearly wanted to create a darkly surreal satire à la Terry Gilliam’s Brazil, right down to the final, heart-breaking twist. There are parts of the satire that do work. The film depicts an America where school shootings are so common that, rather than try and fix the problem, the government simply subsidizes the cloning and re-cloning of dead kids, and I found the plight of the woman who’s allergic to Wifi (shades of Todd Haynes’ Safe) quite affecting. But the comedy is too broad (sadly, Sam Rockwell is wasted here) and I spent too much of the film rolling my eyes at how didactic and heavy-handed it felt.

When a man stumbles into a remote Nevada diner claiming to be the sole survivor of a nuclear bomb test gone wrong, he’s immediately treated with suspicion by the patrons. Until, that is, they’re attacked by grotesquely mutated creatures intent on spreading a deadly plague. Thus begins News From the Fallout, a sci-fi/horror graphic novel set smack dab in the middle of the Cold War. As far as its story goes, News From the Fallout is engaging enough with its tale of atomic monsters, alien plagues, demented generals, and desert ghost towns. What sets it apart, though, is Jeffrey Alan Love’s stark and distressed black-and-white artwork, which really helps to sell the nuclear nightmare.

Between this and Reacher, Amazon really have cornered the market on middle-aged dad programming. Aldis Hodge — who I still remember as the geeky hacker on Leverage — reprises his role as detective Alex Cross, who uses psychology to get into the minds of the worst of the worst. And it doesn’t get much worse than the billionaire with a messiah complex whom Cross and his team are tasked with protecting after the former is targeted by a serial killer with a quasi-religious vendetta. As expected, the season is filled with various storylines that you know will inevitably converge, with twists and turns aplenty. It’s certainly entertaining, though not exactly gripping, and the labyrinthian storytelling eventually requires an info dump in the season finale to try and wrap everything up. It also ends with the biggest fantasy of all: a United States senator actually standing up to wealthy CEOs and holding them accountable, which feels just a tad bit ironic given that this is an Amazon series we’re talking about. This season got bonus points from me for starring Wes Chatham (aka, The Expanse’s Amos Burton) as one of the bad guys and though Hodge gets top billing, he’s ably matched by his co-stars, especially Isaiah Mustafa — who you probably recognize from the Old Spice commercials — as his best friend and partner, John “Two John” Sampson.

The latest from Bart Layton (American Animals, The Imposter) certainly has atmosphere to spare, thanks to its beautifully lensed aerial shots of Highway 101 snaking its way through Los Angeles (kudos to cinematographer Erik Wilson) and Blanck Mass’s moody electronic score. Unfortunately, its story about a meticulous jewel thief planning one last job (Chris Hemsworth), the unorthodox detective on his trail (Mark Ruffalo), and the disillusioned insurance broker who gets pulled into his plans (Halle Berry), never amounts to more than a sum of its parts. Which is a shame, because the individual characters, who are all struggling against the systems in which they find themselves, are intriguing. It doesn’t help that the film unfolds at a molasses-like pace that, rather than ratcheting up the tension, just renders everything kind of boring, car chases included. With its brooding visuals and pacing, Layton clearly wanted to make a Michael Mann-type thriller, but Crime 101 just makes me want to rewatch Thief and Heat.

Three years before Jackie Chan ventured into the Old West with 2000’s Shanghai Noon, Jet Li — returning after a two-film absence — ventured there in this, the sixth and final Once Upon a Time in China film. Wong Fei-hung and his friends, including fiancé 13th Aunt (Rosamund Kwan), have traveled to America to visit a former student who’s opened a clinic in the burgeoning town of San Francisco. They’re attacked along the way by Native Americans, though, and in the ensuing chaos, Wong loses his memory and becomes adopted by another tribe. Meanwhile, the rest of his entourage arrive in San Francisco, where they find the local Chinese population oppressed by corrupt, racist officials. In its best moments, Once Upon a Time in China and America explores the various forms of prejudice facing the Chinese, including the prejudice that Wong experiences from Native Americans (who call him “Yellow”). At the same time, cultural sensitivity is not exactly the film’s strong suit, as evidenced by the decidedly non-Native actors and stuntmen dressed up in buckskin and war paint. I was looking forward to seeing what Sammo Hung might bring to the franchise as both director and action choreographer, but the film’s action sequences felt surprisingly stilted and disjointed. And of course, it wouldn’t be a Once Upon a Time in China film without a romantic triangle, this time between Wong, 13th Aunt, and a young Native woman who takes a shine to the amnesiac Wong. In the end, Once Upon a Time in China and America is an interesting mess, but a mess nevertheless.

Tsui Hark returned to the director’s chair for this entry in the Once Upon a Time in China series, with the previous film’s director — Bun Yuen — serving as its action choreographer. However, Hark’s return doesn’t do much good. Wong Fei-hung (Vincent Zhao) and his acolytes are on their way to Hong Kong, but unfortunately, the port town they’re staying in has become overrun by vicious pirates and greedy merchants. Meanwhile, a romantic triangle forms between Wong, “13th Aunt” Yee Siu-kwan (Rosamund Kwan, reprising her role from the earlier films), and “14th Aunt” May (Iron Monkey’s Jean Wang) that’s furthered by silly misunderstandings and sight gags. It all amounts to a trivial mess. None of the storylines are interesting, the slapstick humor courtesy of Wong’s students is never not annoying, and the action choreography is silly and incoherent. What’s more, the film can’t make up its mind if it’s a kung fu flick or a John Woo-style heroic bloodshed movie, and it just feels wrong to see Wong dispatch bad guys with a six-shooter rather than his legendary “Shadowless” kick.

At first, Biomega feels like a bit of a retread of Nihei’s magnum opus, Blame!. Both series feature a taciturn protagonist who travels through an increasingly bizarre post-apocalyptic landscape while battling transhuman horrors with the help of a tiny but super-powerful gun, all in the hopes of discovering the cure to a plague that’s devastating humanity. In the end, Blame! remains the superior work — Biomega’s story really goes off the rails in its final volumes, with an ending that feels rushed and incoherent — but it’s to Nihei’s credit as an artist that Biomega still carves out its own unique identity. Nihei’s architectural background serves him well in Biomega’s early volumes, allowing him to fill his pages with intricate, stunningly envisioned dystopian cities and gothic environments. His crafting of thrilling action sequences with just a bare minimum of panels is also second-to-none, as he draws his series’ taciturn protagonist — a super-powered synthetic human named Zoichi Kanoe who just so happens to have a bad-ass motorcycle — driving up the side of skyscrapers, into the air against fighter jets, and even into outer space.

After this particular viewing of Tarsem Singh’s The Fall, I went back and re-read my original review, which I wrote at the 2006 Toronto International Film Festival, and in hindsight, I think I was a bit too hard on the film. My criticisms — that The Fall can often feel excessive and heavy-handed — remain, but I didn’t hold them quite so vehemently or feel them quite so strongly this time around. Or maybe I’ve just come to appreciate obvious ambition when I see it, because The Fall is nothing if not ambitious. Another thing that hasn’t changed is my appreciation for the film’s visuals; The Fall is easily one of the most visually arresting films I’ve ever seen, and it looked even more striking thanks to a recent 4K restoration. Singh’s background lies in advertising and music videos — his works include the award-winning video for R.E.M.‘s “Losing My Religion” — and he uses that to great effect, crafting lush, highly stylized scenes set in locations around the globe. (The Fall was shot in 28 countries over the course of four years, and Singh claims that no sets or stages were built for the film.) As for its story-within-a-story, as a disabled Hollywood stuntman weaves an exotic tale for a young migrant worker, there are moments that almost feel Princess Bride-ish, though Singh — who co-wrote the film with Andor’s Dan Gilroy, based on the 1981 Bulgarian film Yo ho ho — injects a bit more pathos into his fantastical tale.

In honor of Chuck Norris’s recent death, I decided to watch this, one of his most popular films, and his first collaboration with both director Joseph Zito and Cannon Films. Along with other ’80s films like Rambo: First Blood Part II and P.O.W. The Escape, Missing in Action drew inspiration from the idea of American prisoners of war still being held in Vietnam. Norris plays Colonel James Braddock, a former POW who returns to Vietnam as part of a U.S. delegation, though he has a far more violent agenda in mind. Missing in Action is unrepentantly patriotic, avoiding any semblance of moral ambiguity. Early in the film, for example, a Vietnamese general (James Hong, whose talents are wasted here) accuses Braddock of war crimes. While that might’ve made for a more interesting film, it would obviously undermine the righteousness of Braddock’s crusade. Notably, there are no similar reservations concerning Braddock’s willingness to sexually assault a woman in order to give himself an alibi. (Ah, the ’80s, when you could rip off a woman’s clothes and she’d still kiss you goodbye the next morning when you leave on your secret — and very illegal — mission.) A better, smarter film might interrogate its hero’s willingness to commingle revenge and desperation with a desire to save fellow soldiers. But its borderline jingoism, combined with Zito’s unimaginative direction and Norris’s perpetually grim visage, makes Missing in Action less gripping than it could’ve been. If I had to pick a Zito/Norris collaboration, my choice would be 1985’s Invasion U.S.A., a similarly uber-patriotic flick that more fully embraces its absurdity and goes bigger in the action sequences… and has better one-liners.

I’ve described Andy Weir’s Project Hail Mary as the sort of sci-fi novel that “makes you feel smarter while you read it” and noted — somewhat blithely, perhaps — that a movie adaptation was all but inevitable, thanks to the success of 2015’s The Martian (another Weir adaptation). I prefer Sir Ridley Scott’s film to this one, if only because Matt Damon works a bit better for me as an isolated astronaut who uses jokes as much as science to survive. That said, Project Hail Mary is still plenty fun in its own right, and quite refreshing. Like The Martian, it’s a prime example of “competence porn” — don’t worry, that link’s “safe for work” — in which smart, resourceful, and dedicated individuals work together to solve insurmountable problems sans any angst or melodrama. Ryan Gosling stars as an astronaut who finds himself adrift in space without any memories, only to slowly realize that it’s up to him to save the sun, and by extension, all of humanity. Fortunately, he’s not alone in this endeavor, not when he encounters an alien who resembles a rock spider, and who’s on a similarly desperate mission. If this odd pair wants to save their respective worlds, then they’ll need to figure out how to communicate and overcome their differences. That they do is never in doubt, but it’s the journey — and their burgeoning friendship — that really matters. Certain parts of Project Hail Mary don’t hold up under close scrutiny, like some of the hand-waving concerning the various logistical challenges facing our two very different heroes. (I recall Weir’s novel being more thoughtful in that regard.) But the film’s so gosh-darn charming and optimistic — not to mention visually stunning — that you just want to hold on and go along for the ride.

Joe Keery tries to bring some of the same “guy who’s in way over his head” charm that made Steve Harrington so beloved in Stranger Things to this horror comedy, with little success. Which is not Keery’s fault, but rather, the fault of a movie that plateaus within its first ten minutes and does next-to-nothing with its premise. Keery stars as a slacker working at a former military storage facility whose graveyard shift is interrupted by the outbreak of a mutated fungus that the military somehow forgot about. Y’know, the kind of mutated fungus that takes over people’s brains and makes their bodies explode. That alone should make for some fun late night popcorn viewing, but Cold Storage’s aimless plot contains nary a laugh or chuckle. (Liam Neeson also stars in what’s basically a glorified cameo as a government agent called in to deal with the mess, and Vanessa Redgrave shows up randomly as a suicidal widow that the movie largely forgets about.) As for the gore, a good splatter comedy (e.g., Evil Dead 2) knows how to use the ickiness for twisted slapstick and campy laughs, but Cold Storage doesn’t even deliver there. Sure, it’s filled with exploding bodies (both human and animal) galore, but the obviously CGI vomit, entrails, and ichor lack both visual and visceral impact.

My wife loves stories about lady pirates as well as stories about people who’ve gone legit only to be forced into pulling off one last job. Thus, a movie about a former lady pirate who must call upon her piracy skills when her former captain comes a-calling seemed like an absolute no-brainer for a Friday night. And for what it’s worth, Priyanka Chopra Jonas certainly gives it her all as Ercell, the aforementioned lady pirate. And Karl Urban is appropriately slimy as the aforementioned former captain. But for all of their efforts, The Bluff is never more than the sum of its parts, not even when Ercell is slicing, dicing, slashing, and filling her former comrades full of lead. Unfortunately, much of that action takes place at night or inside darkened caves. Which, when combined with the sort of overly kinetic editing that’s unfortunately become the standard for today’s action movies, means that The Bluff is mostly forgettable.

Taika Waititi had been steadily building a name for himself thanks to films like Eagle vs. Shark and What We Do in the Shadows, but 2016’s Hunt for the Wilderpeople was arguably his breakthrough. Ten years on, it remains the highest grossing New Zealand film of all time, and now that I’ve finally seen it, I’m not surprised one bit. When young Ricky arrives at Bella and Hector’s remote farm, it’s his last chance in the foster system before he’s sent to juvenile detention. But when Bella suddenly dies, Ricky fakes his death and heads off into the New Zealand bush with Hector in pursuit, only for the pair to become the target of a nationwide manhunt when authorities suspect that Hector has kidnapped Ricky. When ensues is a charming, Wes Anderson-esque comedy of errors filled with dry humor and affecting performances. Which would be good enough on their own, but Hunt for the Wilderpeople is further elevated by Waititi’s inventive direction and especially the lush New Zealand countryside.

There’s something perverse about watching a movie that celebrates the training and tactics of America’s soldiers even as said training and tactics are being used to wage an immoral (and likely illegal) war at the whim of the most vile, corrupt, and ignorant president in recent history. Of course, that’s not the fault of Patrick Hughes, Alan Ritchson, or anyone else involved in War Machine’s production. How were they supposed to know that Trump would start bombing Iran just weeks after their film began streaming on Netflix? Current geopolitical nightmares aside, War Machine is essentially a retelling of Predator, with a group of Army Ranger candidates encountering the titular alien monstrosity during a training mission. What ensues is a decidedly by-the-numbers survival film that makes for some decent late night popcorn viewing, thanks in large part to some impressive and gnarly stunt work. Ritchson, best known for his lead performance in Amazon’s Reacher series, doesn’t have much to do other than look grim and stoic, which he does pretty well. I just wish the film had given him a better one-liner than “Thermodynamics, motherfucker.” The film’s ending definitely leaves the door open for a sequel, which — let’s be honest, here — I’ll probably watch.

Much like the first Samurai Wolf movie, Hell Cut delivers a deeply cynical take on the samurai genre as the titular rōnin finds himself caught between a dojo that wants his head, a fellow rōnin out for revenge, and a violent gang illegally mining gold from under the Shogun’s nose. One thing I found interesting about Hell Cut is how it subtly deconstructs its hero. Kiba is initially presented as a deadly swordsman of some renown, but when he’s faced with true violence and vendetta, his composure seems to crack and his boasting suddenly feels like all talk. Unfortunately, the movie’s multiple storylines eventually trip over themselves, and Hell Cut starts to feel like two or three movies compressed into one — something its 70-minute runtime just can’t quite accommodate. That subsequently robs the film’s final shot, in which a despairing Kiba is confronted with the disastrous consequences of the rōnin lifestyle, of some of its cynical and tragic power.