“The Conjuring”
Directed by James Wan
Starring Vera Farmiga, Patrick Wilson, Lili Taylor, Ron Livingstone, Shanley Caswell, Jayley McFarland, Joey King, Mackenzie Foy
Horror, Thriller
112 Mins
R

The Conjuring represents that rare breed of horror that’ll actually have you wary of bumps in the night for days to come. Rather than a repetitive one-and-done game of “where’s the [insert evil entity here] going to appear next?” James Wan has crafted something rich in atmosphere, thriving not on jump-scares but within the DNA of its underlying psychological horror. Like the great genre flicks of the past, The Conjuring is able to present a demonic presence as a likely possibility. In this case, possession and exorcism are presented as undeniable realities. The upper-tiered acting, eerie vibes, and genuine scares add up to a tenacious nail-biter more content to tingle your spine than work your funny bone.

The “based on a true story” gimmick has always inspired doubt, especially within the confines of the horror genre. Audiences are natural skeptics concerning the cold hard truth of the “true events” taking place and for good reason. In most scenarios, we expect the setup to be somewhat congruent with the facts but the stilted Hollywood payoffs in the third act often leave us with cocked eyebrows and scrunched faces of incredulity. While much of the same can be said of The Conjuring, there is a degree of credibility to its dubious framework in large part due to the blessing of the two true-life characters on which the experience is based.

Selling this as nonfiction, Wan succeeds more than most. Using pull quotes from the actual demonologists (literally experts on demons) on which the film is based, we’re left swallowing our dubiety even when outside the confines of the film. Taking the true-story stance, Wan forces us to take this hair-raising experience home to our bedrooms, our hallways, our homes, challenging us to doubt the veracity of this haunted yarn.

Vera Farmiga and Patrick Wilson play the Warrens, a pair of god-sent ghost hunters and self-proclaimed demonologists noted for their staunch belief in the beyond. Farmiga plays Lorraine, a saint-like partner and loving soul with a particularly disturbed clairvoyance. Her abilities allow her to tap into feelings buried in objects or places, lets her communicate with passed spirits, and sometimes, even allows her to see dead people a la The Sixth Sense. Wilson’s Ed isn’t quite the spiritual philanthropist that his wife is but his lordly talents gives him a penchant for amateur exorcisms. Their “gifts” give them a pious knack for helping others. Instead of camping it up, Wilson and Farmiga take their roles seriously and for good reason; the Warrens are real people.

Although the real-life Ed is now deceased, Lorraine was somewhat involved with the making of the film, working as a liaison on the production. Even though we can assume that she is ok with the truth being bent – or possibly broken – every once in a while, it’s troubling to hear her speak about these events with unwavering belief. Farmiga harnesses Lorraine’s devoted credo and exhumes legitimate fear from the onscreen haunting.

Outside of this film, the true-life Warrens are no strangers to Hollywood adaptations. Their life work – experiences with the paranormal – have also served as the basis for the Amityville Horror films. While those films resulted in controversy and lawsuits disputing their integrity, this one is similarly shifty in how much of it is truly based on real events. In the end though, the situations are terrifying and unearthly. The mere idea that people could believe to have experienced these events becomes unsettling in itself. 

While Wan’s film leans on familiar tropes of the horror genre – the dog that abruptly dies, threat-posing, self-animating objects, and whispers in the nighttime hallways – the real horror lies somewhere darker, deeper, and more secret. In this pursuit of scrappiness, Wan sweeps campiness under the rug and proffers a no-nonsense enterprise in its place. Here, the mandatory genre stereotypes come to die as Wan proves that they can be icing on the cake rather than the whole kit and caboodle.

While skirting around these more familiar elements of the genre, the area that Wan has proved to understand and excel at most is pacing. With Saw, he built the jig up piece-by-piece so that when he finally revealed his cards, the audience felt the payoff was earned. Here, Wan doesn’t thrust us right in the midst of the story. Instead, he begins humbly and uses the first two acts to build up a wobbling house of cards that he subsequently knocks down.

While it takes a good portion of the first act to really crank the brooding aura up to ten, the foggy tone is foreboding in the most palpable of ways. In these first thirty or forty minutes (when the nature of the film is revealing itself), the air is thick with bad omens but nothing stands out as forcefully ghastly. But everything changes pace in a bedroom scene involving a mere shadow behind the door.

In that scene, patient pacing and deep, humming bass turns flesh into a goosebump disco. And while many films undercut themselves by revealing their monsters-in-the-mist too soon, this is a problem that The Conjuring doesn’t face. Even after we see evil personified, we don’t retreat into a feeling that the buildup was greater than the payoff. Instead, it actually manages to result in something substantial. Replacing his original build-up scalpel with a third act sledgehammer, when Wan lets himself go, the surgical horror turns bonkers.

Much of this has to do with the fact that very little of Wan’s film uses CGI as a stand-in for villainy. As a more and more frequent substitute for practical effects, CGI continues to be a jolting experience that takes us out of the situation and plops us right back into the theaters seats. It’s like being at a play and someone’s beard falls off their face. You remember that this isn’t reality and forget the false-reality being built up around you. For detouring around CGI, and largely avoiding gore in general, Wan proves that moving forward in the genre most likely means looking to the past.

The ground upon this all stands is the unfortunate family in great need of a full-blown exorcism. As a world-building architect, Wan employs the emotional complexity of the family as paramount to the whole picture. Thankfully, it’s executed by seasoned performers with dedicated bravado. Lili Taylor and Ron Livingston color the backbone of their characters with a feverish anti-caricature bringing this poor family and their poor five daughters to life. We’re along for their ride and, fortunately, we feel for them.

Behind the curtains, the production design really gives all these characters a space to occupy that feels intimate yet chilling, homey but alien. The sound team, lead by Joseph Bishara‘s hairy score, gives the film a lingering sense of frightful wonder. Sonorous bass and crackling strings loom and cut, loom and cut, splicing the sonicscape while hyping our building sense of apprehension. With all these well-executed production elements in play, the crème of the crop comes from the script. The Conjuring breathes terror with screenwriting team Chad and Carey Hayesknowing exactly where to mine for scares. They do so often and are frighteningly effective at that task.

All in all, The Conjuring is just an incredibly effective creeper that is much more likely to linger with its patrons than much of the horror fare of the recent past. As such, it’s a flag-bearer of horror as homage and fear as a genuine experience. While the early claims of this being one of the scariest movies of all time may be a little forced, it does sit high up on the shelf. Following suit, horror movies following in The Conjuring‘s footsteps will have to withstand a new harsh standard that’ll demand them stand on its own two-feet without handicapping themselves with CGI or excessive gore. Going forth, prepare for a regular knocking when using simple jump-scare tactics as a solitary and weak-legged crutch.

B+

“Pacific Rim”
Directed by Guillermo del Toro
Starring Charlie Hunnan, Idris Elba, Charlie Day, Rinko Kikuchi, Diego Klattenhoff, Burn Gorman, Ron Perlman
Action, Adventure, Fantasty
131 Minutes
PG-13

Going in to this Guillermo del Toro-stampedcreature feature, there are clearly two routes we could be embarking down. Accepting the staunch inevitability that this sky-scraping blockbuster will most likely be dumb is key but, at the same time, we can’t help but hope that it will be more than a mere spectacle-driven showdown between robots and monsters. It is with a heavy head that I tell you, Pacific Rim is not very good. Read More

“Despicable Me 2”
Directed by Pierre Coffin, Chris Renaud
Starring Steve Carrell, Kristen Wiig, Benjamin Bratt, Russell Brand, Miranda Cosgrove, Moises Arias, Elsie Kate Fisher, Ken Jeong, Steve Coogan
Animation, Comedy, Crime
98 Mins
PG

It’s hard to muster any more than a “meh” for Dreamwork’s latest animated pic as Despicable Me 2 has accomplished very little. Capitalizing on ripe affection for the first entry, this follow-up falls deep into the sophomore slump…even though it’s destined to earn one metric boatload of money. But rather than earning the sequel through must-be-told storytelling, this is a requisite afterthought – a blueprinted follow-through. Any semblance of inspired innovation is lacking and sidelined is the one element that gave the franchise launcher such unexpected heart – Gru’s relationship with the girls. Shifting to a romantic plot and a moral re-alignment for Gru leaves this animated flick bland and over-reliant on color-by-numbers plot points punctuated with mindless slapstick gags.

Now that Gru (Steve Carell) has officially adopted Margo, Agnes and Edith, he’s a man who plays by the rules. Instead of attempting to steal the moon and engaging in a spy vs. spy game with fellow super villains, Gru has set his sights on canning sub-par jellies…and jams. Sounds boring? Well it is. Gone are the nefarious world domination schemes. Gone are the kooky gadgetry. Gone are the moral quandaries. Most importantly, gone is the driving force of Gru’s unlikely father-figure role. In their place is a very safe, very average detective story and a very bland emerging romance.

When an unknown villain up and steals a research facility responsible for producing a serum capable of turning mild mannered organisms into jitter-bugging eating machines, the AVL (Anti-Villain-League) recruits Gru for his once villainous mind. Teamed up with AVL newcomer Lucy (Kristen Wiig), Gru inherits a cupcake shop in order to infiltrate the mall where the serum is suspected of being held. As Gru and Lucy work together to stop this evil plot, they become friends…and maybe more.

While the first film found heart in Gru’s improbable relationship with the three young girls, installation numero dos digs around in Gru’s heart trying to find a different kind of love. With a nose like a hook, legs like pins and a body like a barrel, Gru knows he isn’t a lady killer and has, for the most part, given up any sort of quest for romantic love.

Lucy though seems dazzled by Gru’s spotted past, offering blushing compliments on Gru’s greatest feats of villainy. To her, Gru’s attempt to steal the moon is as debonair as it is evil-genius. This back-and-forth yearning becomes the main foil, which is underscored by the unearthing of the villain, but both have been done so many times before, and in better ways, that neither plot bearing resonate nearly as well as they should.

With the major focal point focused on this budding relationship, Gru and his charming rapport with the girls gets little attention, adding up to a major detraction. There are minor moments when Gru plays the role of the watchful father but most of these are centered on Margo (Miranda Cosgrove) and her developing interest in Antonio (Moises Arias). Again, love takes the stage and usurps the simply adorable nature of Gru’s interaction with youngest girl, Agnes (Elsie Kate Fisher).

Even the irksome minions get more attention than the girls here. They seem to have become a much more significant part of the film this time around and their prepubescent act may be scene-stealing for the younger audience but it doesn’t work if you’re not a fan of humor aimed solely at children. All the fart jokes, butt jokes, and pratfall comedy just serve to indulge the kiddies and condescend the adults wanting their humor earned. There are little moments where their breed of comedy works for the 10-and-up crowd (particularly a very random but fairly amusing musical rendition of a Boys To Men song) but, most often, it is loud and obnoxious.

When all is said and done, I asked, “Is that it? Is that really all that they had up their sleeves?” The end result just feels like amateur hour. However well animated it is and however extensive the celebrity voice cast, this is a sequel story that just doesn’t feel like it needed to be told. It’s lazy screenwriting at its most unnecessary and while it’s not the worst example of animated movies aimed towards the youngest common denominator at the chagrin of the parents, it is an example of totally disposable cinema – another spiky spur of sequelitis.

C-

“Before Midnight”
Directed by Richard Linklater
Starring Ethan Hawke, Julie Delpy, Seamus Davey-Fitzpatrick
Drama
109 Mins
R

The defining feature of Richard Linklater‘s truly unique warbling on 21st century romance continues to be strength of voice and hyper-focused characterization in his newest film, Before Midnight. Each scene is as texturally vibrant as it is well acted and our nine-year awaited return to Jesse and Celine feels as poignant and timely as ever.

Following up on a one-of-a-kind franchise that is based solely on walking-and-talking through foreign landscapes and our established interest in a relationship between two star-crossed lovers, this third installment takes us to Greece to catch up with Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy‘s intricately crafted characters. Tapping into our collective fears of rejection, of aging and of love as an ever-fleeting feeling, Before Midnight shows a maturity devilishly rare among modern day cinema.

The film opens in the sprawl of a Greek International Airport where Jesse is sending his son, Hank (Seamus Davey-Fitzpatrick), back home to his mother in Chicago. After the closing moments of the last film, Before Sunset, we are pretty much left to assume that Jesse and his now ex-wife are probably not on the best of terms but that strained relationship is really fleshed out in this opening sequence. It’s clear that Jesse’s infidelity did not go down smoothly and his relationship with his son has become collateral damage as a result of of that decision made nine years ago.

Jesse and Hank share some quiet moments where Jesse tries to reach out for his son and seems to keep coming up empty-handed but in the last moments before Hank returns back home, he admits that this has been the best summer of his life. This sparks an internal narrative in Jesse that will flow throughout the film and will later cause waves within Jesse and Celine’s relationship.

Outside the airport gates, Celine waits for Jesse with their two curly-haired little girls and they begin a lengthy car ride back to their summer home, chatting about this and that in a naturalistic manner. Together, they decide to bypass the ancient runes that their sleeping daughter so badly wanted to see. Honest interactions like these are not a critique of them as parents but a genuine interplay of the circumstances at work and a peek into the decision-making process they, together, engage in as parents.

As Jesse eats the remnants of his slumbering child’s apple, he admits to feeling cheated out of Hank’s life as Celine muses about her wavering decision to abandon non-profit work and ally with the government. There’s nothing tremendously important said or done in these scenes outside of the context of their personal lives but it’s the conventionality of these affairs that make it, and the franchise, so engrossing. We don’t feel like we’re witnessing a romanticized love story – some silly and meaningless fairy tale – we feel like we’re checking in with a pair of people. Their lives aren’t tremendously exciting, nor are they particularly boring, but their little issues, insecurities, second-guessings and chats are all they have. In these opening moments, the scene is set for another deeply personal and empathetic film.

Cruising through the Greek countryside, Linklater takes us to the villa where Jesse, Celine, Hank and their two daughters have spent the summer. It’s a beautiful piece of land, marked by budding fruits, ocean-view verandas, and countless rows of scrawling trees. Jesse and his family are here by invitation of a fellow writer for Jesse to use as a muse of sorts for his next book. As always, the absorbing feeling of location simply boils from the screen but, unlike the other films in the series, we don’t feel like tourists hitting the highlights so much as locals going about their day-to-day. 

At dinner, a philosophical debate breaks out between Jesse, Celine and four Greeks on the benefits and drawbacks of marital interdependence – the benefits and drawbacks of living one collective life or two highly distinguishable lives. These discussions offer an interesting counter point to (also Greek) Plato’s Symposium, in which Aristophanes puts forth the notion that love comes from a primal searching for a part of ourselves. All humans are created and then split in two. Our entire lives are devoted to the idea that we can recover what is missing from ourselves and, from that, achieve happiness and fulfillment. While Linklater doesn’t really come down on one side or the other in terms of this popular philosophical tenant, he lets his characters do the talking. 

Like in all circumstances, Jesse is the hopeless romantic, Celine – the unwavering realist. For Jesse, love is eternal. It is giving and without bound but like most philosophers, it’s something to be talked about rather than engaged in on and day-to-day basis. For Celine, love is in the details. It’s not some grand theory, it’s the ins-and-outs of everyday living. It’s doing the laundry and matching socks. It’s being there and being present. Their contesting ideas on love as a foundation stretches from this conversation into the bulk of the film and sets out an uncertain path for this couple who, up to this point, we’ve only seen in the stages of courtship. The question arises: is love eternal?  

Although their gender roles seem to hem closely to a conventional sense of familial structure, there is an obvious push from Celine to break free. She sees this traditional setup as a barrier to her career goals and faults Jesse for always putting himself and his work first. Jesse, wavering on understanding but fundamentally traditional in his outlook, sees her dissatisfaction with her own standing as a self-created whirlwind set in motion by her back-burnering her own true desires. In other words, it’s not him standing in the way of her dream, it’s her. Their relational positioning is age-old and yet as timely as ever in the face of new-wave feminism.

Linklater’s films function in a reality where clear horizons are more a puff of smoke than an actuality. Clashing is a natural occurrence. Fights arise from needing to blow off steam and conflicting wants and needs lead to relationship issues. Tapping into our collective fears of not being understood or appreciated, we witness the cathartic ups-and-downs of a real love relationship in Jesse and Celine and understand them both equally.

There’s therapeutic nihilism in Celine’s rough-hewn outlook on love and the world and Delpy embraces this character with a blanket of understanding. Even when Celine is being admittedly crazy, she sticks to her guns like a nagging coon, unable to help herself. Blanketed behind five-o-clock shadowed grit, Jesse is equally at fault for their relationship woes as his cock-eyed grin and boyish reflections don’t fill his quota for being a daddy. As a pair, Delpy and Hawke are solid gold.

Throughout it’s 109 minutes, there is not an ounce of narrative fat asking to be skimmed off nor is there any pandering to a broad and blasé audience. The tender handling of insecurities is all that can be asked for as Linklater again acquaints us with an unusually contemplative couple who have earned our love and attention. As a continuing character study, it’s nuanced and brilliantly acted. As a philosophical pondering, it’s meaningful and important. As a film, it’s damn near perfect. Serving as the apex of the trilogy, Before Midnight asks both: what is love and where do we go from here?

A+

“Man of Steel”
Directed by Zack Snyder
Starring Henry Cavill, Amy Adams, Russell Crowe, Kevin Costner, Michael Shannon, Diane Lane, Antje Traue, Richard Schiff, Christopher Meloni and Laurence Fishburne
Action, Adventure, Fantasy
143 Mins
PG-13 
With a first half that focuses on exposition and a second that’s all about the explosions, Zach Snyder and Christopher Nolan have done it… Superman is finally cool. With the whizkid pyrotechnics born of Synder’s directorial hand and the tenderly crafted narrative laid out by Nolan and David S. Goyer (the team who wrote Batman Begins) this modern revamping gives the Man of Steel a much needed update into the post 9/11 era with intelligent panache.

What Nolan and Goyer have added to the franchise is a sense of stakes that have never existed before within the context of Superman, particularly on film. Supes has always been too immaculate, too shimmery, and too invincible but with Man of Steel, we meet a very flawed and isolated individual putting on a brave face. Rather than downplay that reclusive nature, it’s the forefront of the piece.

Kal-El (or per his Earth name, Clark Kent) is a character with tremendous duality. Not only does he have a bi-planetary passport but the ideals passed on to him from his two fathers are at odds with each other. Having sent him from the dying planet of Krypton, Jor-El (Russell Crowe) is Clark’s biological father while goodhearted Midwestern, Jonathan Kent (Kevin Costner) takes up the mantle of being Clark’s adoptive father when Clark crash lands on Earth.

While restraint in the presence of menace is of paramount importance to Jonathan Kent as he’s raising young Clark, strength in the face of fear is the message preached by his real father Jor-El. While Jonathan urges Clark to keep his super gifts secret, Jor-El encourages him to be proud of being different, but let’s skirt around any underlying political subtext here and leave that debate for later.

Crowe and Costner are both Uncle Ben-esque in their obligatory moral guardianship but the act of passing wisdom on, that has become a staple of the contemporary superhero film, subverts the standard with their two polarized stances. Both genuinely care for Clark and want nothing but the best for him. The differences arise with regards to whether or not they think the people of Earth are ready to accept change or not. Would humans accept an “alien” as their own or would they reject him? It’s no surprise that the Midwestern one shouts “Nay” while the ultra-tech savvy, cape-wearing, intergalactic man of science leans another way. This underlying battle of progressive versus conservative stirs Clark – ultimately pulling him in opposite directions, between secrecy and disclosure. It’s this metaphorical dichotomy that makes Clark the compelling character that we haven’t seen before in a Superman film.

Nolan and Goyer have written in an admirable foe for Superman in their character, Zod. Zipping around and smashing into each other, Zod and Supes have been matched equally – breaking the film free of that dulling sense where we find ourselves thinking, “Well of course Superman is going to win. He’s Superman.”

As Superman, Henry Cavill  may be British but he fits the bill for the iconic American well. Instead of the impervious beacon of light, this is an immigrant struggling with his identity and battling his own wicked urges. As commendable as the Christopher Reeve iteration of the character is, Cavill does more heavy lifting than the fluffy, Americano poster-child that Supes has been known to be. Albeit a quiet force, he is brimming with broody angst. But instead of letting his kettle boil, this hero is afraid of becoming angry, as his limitless power is sure to make any fight a lesson in masochism. Instead he learns to temper that rage and channel it for the greater good. He’s a fledgling of an icon, the first block in a pantheon, but getting to see the rivets along the walls before they are all smoothed out makes the process of construction more interesting than the final product. Luckily, we’re there to witness the transformation. 


The always lovable Amy Adams  plays Lois Lane, a character who’s always been more of a damsel in distress than a heroine of any kind, but this is a Lane that even the feminists can stand behind. Rather than a reactionary woman in need of saving, she’s a caution-be-damned, no frills kind of girl, willing to stand up for a cause and Adams is the perfect fit for the role. Her infatuation with Superman is not a schoolgirl crush, as she actually deserves the attention she gets from him rather than their romance being based on coincidental happy accident.

Although Clark’s home planet of Krypton is destroyed, there is something left standing from his previous life: an outcast military leader from his home planet by the name of General Zod (Michael Shannon).. With Superman, Zod, and crew – the last remaining vestiges of their now extinguished planet – Zod comes to Earth seeking Supes’ assistance in rebuilding their fallen brethren. Upon hearing Zod’s ideas for how to save their lost race, Superman faces his greatest challenge in Zod and, thankfully, it’s Kryptonite-free. The whole Kryptonine conceit is something of a MacGuffin that is most likely impossible to play to great effect and I’m glad to have seen it ditched here.

As a fan of Shannon’s work, Zod is an apt villain but he doesn’t have a ton to work with outside of shouting his lines and being generally angry. At times, I wished Shannon would play with volume a little more and not crank everything up to 11 but it’s hardly as over-the-top as many of his comic book compatriots and we are talking about an Academy Award nominee here.

Zipping around and smashing into each other, Zod and Superman are on the same page in the power book which breaks the film free of that dulling sense of, “Well of course Superman is going to win. He’s Superman” because it’s really Superman versus about six people with the equivalent of Superman’s powers.

From a technical aspect, the film is brilliant. The truly epic set pieces are indulgent but inventive and go to show that Synder is willing to reel in his heavy-handed flair for slo-mo theatrics to let the story shine when it matters most. Synder’s special effects team flawlessly incorporate the actors in the massive set pieces by juxtaposing intimate shots with massively panned-out shots that create a crisp and vibrant sense of realism.

As the final hour is one mounting action sequence, the smashing and zooming somehow manage to remain fresh, thanks in large part to Hans Zimmer and his string section’s thumping score that confidently guides the film. Like Snyder, Zimmer shows that he too can tune down the dramatics, as his work is able to lay low for the quiet bits of the film and crescendo to epic heights for the compulsory action sequences.



Contrasting Man of Steel to Bryan Singer‘s Superman Returns, it is head and shoulders superior. DC Comics continues along the path set out for them by Nolan where a sense of reality is more important than easy comedy. I’m willing to say that I am now very much invested in the franchise and the plight of the iconic hero at its forefront. In this world, there is no assumed familiarity with the franchise but neither is the mythos spoon-fed. It’s a bird. It’s a plane. No, it’s a good Superman movie.

B+

“This is the End”
Directed by Evan Goldberg and Seth Rogen
Starring Seth Rogen, Jay Baruchel, Jonah Hill, James Franco, Craig Robinson, Danny McBride, Emma Watson, Michael Cera
Comedy, Action
107 Mins
R

Funnymen Evan Goldberg and Seth Rogen – the writing team behind Superbad – have teamed up again to make their directorial debut and the funniest movie in the last ten years. With the who’s-who of comedic actors playing amped up versions of “themselves,” this ensemble bounce off each other with the snappy veracity of high speed bumper cars and manage to bottle lightning. Like sitting in on a smoke session with this pack of real-life buddies, the experience will either make you euphoric, inducing helpless giggles and maybe even tears of joy, or make you uncomfortable, leave you with dry mouth and make you want to go home. Thankfully, if your funny bone still works, you’ll probably be in the former camp.

Satisfying our munchies for laughs, Rogen and Goldberg have expanded upon their 2007 short film Jay and Seth vs. The Apocalypse and crafted a full length comedic masterpiece full of sardonic wit and brohemian madness. Chronicling a fictional reunion between long-time friends Seth Rogen and Jay Baruchel, the inside-the-not-so-glorious-life-of-a-celebrity aspect demarcates the film from the pack of big budget summer comedies we’ve become acclimatized to. Rogen and Baruchel, playing Rogen and Baruchel, munch Carl’s Jr. burgers and smoke a metric ton of pot (a J made of jays for Jay, to be precise) before heading over to a party at James Franco‘s new pad where the apocalyptic chaos ensues.

Feeling alienated by Rogen’s newfound bromance with Franco, Jonah Hill, and Craig Robinson, Baruchel sulks around the party. Franco’s guests are not just throwaway extras but exactly who you would expect to be living it up at a James Franco party: a slew of young famous people who’ve worked with the crew before on previous projects.

With the cameo really surfacing as a must-have in modern day comedies, they have become, for the most part, ineffective and boring. Shoehorning in celebs feels like a plea bargain and a desperate pull for a gag but the cameos here haven’t felt this fresh since Bill Murray‘s game-changing appearance in Zombieland.

Aziz Ansari, Rihanna, Kevin Hart, Mindy Kaling, Paul Rudd, Jason Segel, Christopher Mintz-Plasse and Emma Watson all find a line or two as they saunter around the party, pre-sinkhole of death, but it’s Michael Cera and his penchant for cocaine that steals the show and wrestles us into stitches. Cera has crafted this innocent and harmless persona from his debut in Arrested Development to his more recent roles such as Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World and totally turns that expectation on its head. This is a manic Cera; a booty-slapping, drug-addled Cera. Note to the Cera man: you have found a new calling. The bad boy is out, now let him roam.

When the apocalypse begins and people start dying off left and right, Rogen, Baruchel, Hill, Franco and Robinson hole up and prepare for the worst. Divvying up their resources, they realize that they are tragically short on useful provisions (and one much-desired Milky Way) but are stocked up with enough beer, pot, ecstasy pills, and mushrooms for them to party themselves into their graves.

When early-to-bed Danny McBride emerges from a drug-induced hibernation, he quickly becomes the vocally domineering antagonist. As a solo act, McBride’s particular brand of humor works well but it can become overbearing at times in union with the ensemble nature of the piece, with his dead-eyed machismo sarcasm tap-dancing all over everyone else’s toes. Similarly, Franco can’t score the same slam dunk riffs that Robinson, Baruchel, Hill and Rogen are dribbling and passing off between them but, at the end of the day, the imperfections of the movie give it character rather than rob it of its hard-earned steady stream of laughs. Not everyone’s part may play perfectly but, as arts-man Franco would say, it’s all art man.

As a daring new form of comedy, This is the End is art…and it is brilliant. It works as a memorable addition and a milestone for the genre for many of the same reasons that Superbad continues to be a staple for any comedy diet. Behind the blood, penis jokes and billows of weed smoke, these are really genuine friendships that, despite how raunchous and tongue-in-cheek they are, have won us over.

Rather than feeling like an artificially scripted motion of plot points, these comics are left to do what they do best: be comical. With Rogen involved in all steps of the project, a tip of the hat goes out to him as he understands how to best use the talent of the crew around him – something that has somehow become a rare thing in the industry.

When the crew finally do emerge from the confines of Franco mansion, the world is in ruins and the special effects take the stage. Surprisingly enough, they’re pretty damn good! I mean like a long-winded Craig Robinson “dayummmn” good. For a film made on a reported 25 million dollar budget, this looks like a million bucks (which ironically enough costs around 100 million in the studio system.) Hollywood take note – this is how you spend money. Retire your outdated model of smoke and mirrors because Rogen and Goldberg just schooled you at your own game.

Rejoice, comedy is funny once more thanks to This is the End. Like a moustachioed Chutulu rising from the depths, it’s not only a resoundingly successful comedy but also a surprisingly effective apocalypse flick. Aggressively funny from start to finish, this new stripped down take on what the genre can do is somehow self-deprecating and self-aggrandizing at the same time. Still, I dare you not to laugh. This one’s for the screwball, the punsters and the satiricalists and adds up to one of the best times in theaters in years.

A

“Star Trek into Darkness”
Directed by J.J. Abrams
Starring Chris Pine, Zachary Quinto, Benedict Cumberbatch, Karl Urban, Zoe Saldana, Simon Pegg, John Cho, Anton Yelchin, Bruce Greenwood and Alice Eve
Sci-Fi, Action, Adventure
132 Mins
PG-13

I’d be lying if I said that J.J. Abram‘s Star Trek into Darkness isn’t a bit of a misfire. Beleaguered with sky-high expectations, anything short of true greatness was destined to drag this sequel down and, sadly enough, Abram let this film flutter into darkness. Between the numerous character reveals, the big action set pieces, and the bounty of threats to the USS Enterprise, there’s just too much going on. So much, in fact, that Abrams never lets it settle into one thread for long enough to really generate our interest and our sympathy. Instead, it charges ahead at light speed, from plot point to plot point, forgetting to make the pit stops along the way that we would remember for years to come. 

Following the events of the first film, Star Trek into Darkness opens on a mission that is an obvious tip of the hat to Raiders of the Lost Ark. Kirk (Chris Pine) and Bones (Karl Urban) are fleeing a white-plastered, spear-chucking horde of aborigines after stealing an artifact the aborigines were in the midst of worshiping. It quickly becomes clear that Kirk and Co.’s intent is to get these aborigines out of harms way as Spock (Zachary Quinto) is pulling some dangerous maneuvers of his own trying to disarm a nearby massive volcano on the brink of eruption.

After the cable securing Spock snaps and he plummets towards certain doom (only to land on a convenient patch of non-lava), Spock insists that the crew leave without him, effectively sacrificing himself for the sake of their mission. Ignoring Spock’s request, Kirk risks the success of the assignment (in which they were explicitly told not to make their presence known) in order to save Spock’s life.

In the aftermath, Spock is not only ungrateful but goes on to report the incident and lose Kirk his captain’s seat. This ongoing thread of logic pitted against emotion, that was already thoroughly explored in its predecessor, goes on to become a main foil for the film ignoring the fact that this was satisfyingly resolved in the first installment.

This copycatting of dramaturgical issues are early evidence that Abram has less in the gas tank than he did the first time around and has resorted to retreading relationship beats already proven to be juicy and effective. Yes, Kirk and Spock’s relationship is the centerpiece of the series but it feels like a step backwards to deprive them of their hard-earned respect and understanding of one another established in the first film. Backpedaling like this strikes easy dings into the veracity and authenticity of the storytelling at play here.

In the midst of the tepid (and quickly dismissed) political maneuvering that follow Kirk’s insolence and stripping of rank, a new villain emerges in the form of John Harrison (Benedict Cumberbatch). As a fan of Cumberbatch’s work on BBC‘s Sherlock, the bar was already set high for John Harrison. Unfortunately, his character is a bit of a mess and Cumberbatch comes across as a rather stilted and wooden character rather than one to be respected, feared or even liked.

From our very first glimpse of Harrison standing across the street in a black trench coat and frowny-faced glare, he seems like kind of a joke. His whole getup screams fashionista rather than terrorista. While I don’t have a problem with cheeky or even campy villains, it’s hard to bat off the disappointment of a character who’s built up to be taken seriously but who you can’t help but chuckle at. Even as this antagonist progresses, his strength is all in what he does, often achieved through competent wirework, and not in who he is or the complexity of his character. In order to talk more at length about my disappointment with his character, I’m going to switch on a rare…

SPOILER ALERT

So Harrison turns out to be the iconic Star Trek villain Kahn. Yeah, you know, Khan. He’s super bad and super mean…. right? Ok, so I didn’t know him either except that he was the villain of what is often called the greatest film in the Star Trek canon, The Wrath of Kahn. My problem here is that this reveal is supposed to be some massive, jaw-dropping revelation whereas in reality, it actually played out as more of a “So what?”

I have no inherent investment in the Star Trek series and was only won over by Abram’s revisionary 2009 reboot. Without a standing history with the franchise, the resurrection of familiar characters has no weight. We weren’t dying to see Khan. With Abram’s gambling so much on the “John Harrison is actually Kahn?! Oh may gawd!!” revelation, the payoff is soured by it not really mattering. Calling him Kahn from the get-go would have changed nothing and relieved us of the ridiculous and embarrassing announcement from Cumberbatch: “My name is Kahn.”

SPOILERS END.

Gutting of the film aside, it is a visually spectacular work with a more realized sense of the world at large than before. Lens flares are at an all time low (although not entirely in absentia) and the FX work is piping hot. And while most of the action sequences are only minorly upgrade on been-there-done-that wire-work, it’s got steady-handed flair from Abrams, who is proving more and more to be an accomplished action director. A mid-space ship transfer in the third act is particularly cool and original but uniqueness is a rarity here rather than the standard. The race from set piece to set piece will give comfort to the casual movie-goer but will no doubt let down those with higher expectations.

Also onboard the USS Enterprise is a whole slew of others. The original supporting crew is back but are pigeonholed into doing things just for the sake of their being there and getting in their requisite screen time. Whereas its predecessor gave each of these people a reason to exist, here they stagnate. Except for Simon Pegg – he can make all the throwaway jokes he wants and I’ll still be smiling. These pieces were more interesting as the board was being set up and the game that followed just wasn’t all that compelling.

As a film that tries to climax too many times, the ultimate payoff ends up leaving us flat and asking, “That’s it?” Sidestepping the issue of blaring plot-holes staring the audience in the face is fine so long as it leads to something good. But to overlook these holes for no elevation of story is both lazy and stupid. The “epic” showdown is a prime example of an unforgivable plot-hole totally unexplained and conveniently truncated for no reason whatsoever. Instead, we’re left with a wholly unsatisfying cursory summation of what went down.

I wanted to like it. I wanted to love it. But I didn’t love it and I only kind of liked it. It didn’t boldly go anywhere, it just…went. On the heels of a massively successful franchise relaunch, Star Trek into Darkness lets itself down with too much of a familiar thing.

C

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