post

Sundance Review: REVERSAL

by Posted in Festival Reviews Tagged , , , , , ,

Reversal1.jpg
There’s a flicker of hope early on in Reversal. A scuzzy captive batters her captor, gaining the upper hand and chaining him in the very binds she was kept in for who knows how long. She scours the house for car keys, stumbling upon a folder filled with Polaroids of similarly imprisoned females. She rages downstairs, pistol cocked, face splattered with blood from their recent altercation. Tensions run high and the stage for a decent horror flick is set. And then she opens her mouth.

Reversal is a film that really isn’t horrible so long as no one’s talking. When they’re forced to peel through Rock Shaink Jr.‘s hacky script, it is. It really, really is. Cheap and stinking more of cheese than bleu basking in the sun, Shaink Jr.’s dialogue are first draft-worthy cliches shaped into an incoherent series of events likely to incur frustration (“Why doesn’t she just call the cops!”) and walk outs (nearly half my theater dumped out before the end).

José Manuel Cravioto‘s misplaced direction doesn’t help the matter. But it’s only fair to cut him a little bit of a break. English isn’t his first language and it shows. Thoroughly showcasing his foreign” director status, Cravioto tries on material he must not linguistically understand. How else can you account for the absolutely horrendous delivery of some of an already shoddy script?

A handful of his shots prove tempestuous, particularly when no one’s speaking. From blood-splattered slow-mo walks to explosive fits of violence, Cravioto has an eye for setting the scene but not the ear to discern performances.

It’s not that Tina Ivlev is terrible so much as her scenes seem rushed and “first take”. Richard Tyson gets out a hair better, but similarly fails to overcome the bargain bin script. Which is a true disappointment. Films of this nature – female-led revenge flicks – ought to empower. Rather, the whole thing feels discounted and inauthentic – the artifact of two men trying to capitalize on feminine rage.

post

Sundance Review: THE OVERNIGHT

by Posted in Festival Reviews Tagged , , , , , ,

the-overnight.jpg
Last year, Patrick Brice showed up to SXSW with Creep. Devilishly crafty and expertly focused, it fell in with the usual suspects of found footage horror, even though it was so much more than just another point and shoot, “gotcha!” scare effort. The natural tension that Brice was able to tease out of a scene – the inherent discomfort and overarching ambiguity of character relations – made for a plucky and generously bewitching offering of horror comedy.

Everything that Brice was able to achieve with Creep has been honed and amplified with The Overnight. Equally as reigned in character-wise – aside from a kiddy duo, there are only four principals – and pumped to the brim with laugh out loud comedy, it’s a singularly optimal amalgamation of talent in front of and behind the camera.

Adam Scott (Parks and Recreations) and Taylor Schilling (Orange is the New Black) are recent LA transplants, here from Seattle on untold business. Scott’s Alex is a stay-at-home-dad with a small penis (it’s literally the first thing brought up in the film and yes, we eventually behold his itty bitty guy in full prosthetic glory) while Schilling’s Emily is a working professional. In the midst of concern that they won’t be able to land new friends in the deep blue sea that is Los Angeles, Kurt (Jason Schwartzman) arrives on the scene barking about gummy worm health detriments and boasting of his child’s “all vegan” diet. He’s joking but Schwartzman’s native ability to be a stuck-up shmoozer loser could have sold this character the whole way through. In no time, he’s won over the rainy city couple, tempting them into meeting up later that night with promises of a pizza playdate for their boys that’ll doubles as their chance to make new friends.

In the garish fortress that is this mystery couple’s home, Alex and Emily find themselves cautiously seduced by Kurt and Charlotte’s (Judith Godrèche) breezy, Euro charm. The resulting tension courts thriller elements but never really pushes too close to the edge what with all its healthy dousing of eruptive comedy. Over the course of the evening, the players find themselves steadily breaking out of their comfort zones as the libations are poured, divulging deeper and darker secrets in conjunction with the increasing number of bong rips they slug. From Kurt and Charlotte going full frontal for a skinny dip to popping on an explicit (and niche) DVD, Brice flirts with the idea of crossing the line without ever drawing one definitively in the sand. With incriminating evidence piling up, the dial points to a strong likelihood of swinger-dom and Emily and Alex must decide how to proceed in this uncommonly racy situation.

22scott-oloizia-tmagArticle.jpg

Brice plays it cool though, creating a rich thematic dichotomy by implying something that might or might not be there. We find ourselves siding with the increasing suspicions of Emily though are equally willing to fall in line with Alex’s assumptions of this just being the “freewheelin’ California lifestyle”. Even more so than in Creep, we can never be certain of who exactly these people are and how roguish their intentions.

To chalk the whole film up to a feeling of uncertainly though misses the forest for the trees as this is through and through a brash, hysterical comedy. It just so happens that it’s that rare comedy with layers.

Each member of the cast fires their comedy shots with dynamic aptitude with Scott breaking new territory as a low-key but totally game fidgeter and Schilling playing incredulous like a weary jailbird. The undersung Godrèche is perfectly difficult to read as Schwartzman in the pole comedy position absolutely steals the show. From his equestrian-like male member (another prosthetic) to his general nonchalant demeanor, he chomps through his scenes like a horse to a bit.

The final result is both articulate and insightful, an uncommonly honest look at adult sexuality and the bargaining chips that married couples exchange. It’s also f*cking hilarious. Working from a much more finalized script (Creep was predominately ad-libbed), Brice proves his talent as a writer as well as a director and if he continues to pound out such accomplished work, he’ll be amongst the foremost directors worth of our anticipation.

A-

Follow Silver Screen Riot on Facebook
Follow Silver Screen Riot on Twitter

post

Sundance Review: Z FOR ZACHARIAH

by Posted in Festival Reviews Tagged , , , , , , , ,

There are so many pivot points in Z for Zachariah that it becomes hard to nail down exactly what director Craig Zobel intended for it. At one point, it seems decidedly about gender politics, at another about race relations, and eventually it boiled down to themes of suspicion, greed and jealousy. Spliced with a domineering amount of ambiguity. All this from a cast of three. To call it thematically rich may be overly generous – maybe thematically crowded would hit the nail on the head more – but nonetheless, it strives for something thoughtful and great, even when it comes up just short. Read More

post

Sundance Review: THE WITCH

by Posted in Festival Reviews Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , 4 Comments

What do 1630, a silver cup, Christian fervor and a goat named Black Phillip have in common? The Witch. Unholy goodness through and through, Robert Egger‘s feature film debut is a horror masquerading as a costume drama that’s as beady, black and misshapen as the center of a goat’s eye. Beneath the dirt-stained, leather-bound waistcoats, the perfumed, toity language of the New World, the white bonnets and constrictive girdles, The Witch has a vicious, illict and suspicious center and though admittedly scaled back on “scares” is deeply atmospheric, deeply disturbing and deeply great. Read More

post

Sundance Review: THE END OF THE TOUR

by Posted in Festival Reviews Tagged , , , , ,

still-of-jesse-eisenberg-and-jason-segel-in-the-end-of-the-tour-2015-large-picture.jpg

To put a pin in the beauty of The End of the Tour is a philosophical venture potentially as challenging as James Ponsoldt‘s latest accomplishment. Detailing a three-day exchange between Rolling Stones journalist David Lipsky and rock star author David Foster Wallace, Ponsoldt’s film is talky and emotionally whirling, thick with dry-mouthed moments and cemented with a kind of human earnestness that cannot be bought or bartered for. Read More

post

Sundance Review: A WALK IN THE WOODS

by Posted in Festival Reviews Tagged , , , , ,

walk-in-the-woods.jpg
Robert Redford‘s adaptation of Bill Bryson‘s popular 1998 memoir A Walk In the Woods is an unremarkable journey with a short sprinkling of low-key chuckles and a heaving dose of schmaltzy sentiment. As Redford’s travel companion, co-star Nick Nolte manages to give this low-percolating buddy comedy/road-movie-on-foot at least some minor footing, but its not enough to balance the overwrought equilibrium. Mining the material for all its geriatric sitcom worth, director Ken Kwapis‘ internal clock ticks with the fervor of a retiree, as he fails to charge the material with any sense of driving momentum. As much as Nolte’s character drags his feet, it’s Kwapis who lags most. For a film all about the journey forward, that presents a major problem.

There curtain opens on Bill Bryson (Redford) plopped in an interview chair and grilled by a Boston newscaster. Between high-browed snaps at travel journalism, this liberal-shmearing mockery of a media man criticizes Bryson for writing solely about experiences abroad. He questions, “Why have you never written about America?” Something twinkles in Bryson as a hit from this overcharged snark battleship appears to sink something within him. Seeing Redford seemed only half-full to begin with, his deflation fails to strike a nerve.

We’re lead to believe that that exchange – in addition to the death of a distant friend – inspires Bryson to reach outside the box and spring for that one final adventure. Now well over the hill, his spirit journey down the Appalachian is not one his wife (Emma Thompson) is willing to broad. Not unless Bill has a buddy in tow.

After a series of cold-called rejections, Bryson finds himself on the phone with a washed-up alcoholic friend of yore, Stephen Katz (Nolte), who he’d not seen since a calamitous Euro-trip some 40 years back. Desperate for company, he succumbs to this only option and sets out to take on the 2,179 mile trek with this “friend” of unenviable gait. Their journey brings them to head with annoying companions, bears and vengeful boyfriends but never fails to feel like more than a montage of mildly assuming moments.

Nolte’s gruff grumbles provide a sense of abject naturalism – an old half-bitter man quietly raging, forsaking himself of bad life choices – that is oddly lacking in this flick that’s surrounded by nature. He’s the only one on the border of bearing his soul as Redford seems to more or less ice-skate his way through his depiction of an aging, intellectual playboy. An uncomfortable amount of blame ought be laid at screenwriter Michael Arndt‘s (Toy Story 3, Little Miss Sunshine) feet as the script is flatter than the Georgia section of the trail. It doesn’t help when Kwapis can’t discern when to start and stop the camera. Or where to point it.

There’s a nice moment in A Walk in the Woods where a star-gazing Katz waxes on existence, speculating about just how many millions of stars they can see out here in the great nothing. Bryson matter-of-factly corrects him: only five thousand are visible to the naked eye. Katz shakes it off, “I’m a big picture kind of guy.” If only Kwapis could have learned this same lesson.

Unabashedly sentimental and overtly geared towards the elderly folks in the audience, the overly tender Kwapis filters his comic sensibility through an aggressively broad strainer. The outcome is the equivalent of cinematic baby food: mushy, flavorless and far too safe.

C-

Follow Silver Screen Riot on Facebook
Follow Silver Screen Riot on Twitter

post

Out in Theaters: THE BOY NEXT DOOR

by Posted in Out in Theaters Tagged , , , , , , ,

The-Boy-Next-Door-011.jpg
Ugly, rapey stalker thriller The Boy Next Door doesn’t get the first thing right about stalking, nor does it care to. Starring the curve of J Lo‘s booty and an Oedipal whelp of man meat, Rob Cohen‘s delightfully crummy feature probes madcap, self-deprecating territory but squarely settles for a damning self-serious tone. Had Cohen (he of Fast and Furious, XXX, The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor and Alex Cross acclaim) just gone for intentionally laughable bombast, we could have been howling with him, not at him.

Wasting no time revealing how laughably bad it is, The Boy Next Door opens with exposition as information dump. J Lo’s husband cheated on her, divorce papers appeared but were never signed, forgiveness is on the horizon. All of this narrative hooey is communicated in a 30 second flashback/montage clip, making for one of the worst openings this side of Blackhat‘s “inside the computer” start. The only foil to J Lo’s marital reconciliation is the fact that hubby (John Corbett) is scheduled for a trip to San Francisco, hometown to his partner in infidelity.

Enter Noah Sandborn (Ryan Guzman), your garage-fixing, alternator-switching boy of the next door persuasion. The guy’s got an enviable six pack – which inexplicably occupies more camera minutes than J Lo’s most prized ASSets – and J Lo’s Claire Peterson isn’t afraid to peep at them from across the way. Spinning from dating woes and palpably seduced by Noah’s youthful magnetism, Claire winds up bedded by her high school neighbor in a scene that alternates between being sketchy, funny and sexy and is downright useless to the film. (Also: it shows zero boobs.)

The-Boy-Next-Door-004.jpg

In amazingly little time, Noah begins an unhealthy obsession with his hot pepperoncini of a neighbor, even after she tries to put the kibosh to things. Bing, bang, boom, Noah starts showing his bad side as his whole rape fanta…I mean stalking escalate at neck-break speeds.

Pointing out all the little narrative infidelities of The Boy Next Door is like trying to pin down exactly how many men a porn star has slept with. It’s a film that features a race against the clock to discard ribbons on ribbons of smutty photocopies; that features a bully-target of a son with an allergy to…being nervous?; a film where you know the breaks are cut minutes before the car starts swerving. Apparently, it exists in a vacuum of cell communication as well, because aside from one or two instances, we never see our characters disclose critical details to one another. You have to count the instances in which near death experiences occur and then are never spoke of again.

Step Up‘s Guzman is awful in the leading man’s shoes, all kinds of ham and cheese in a role that might have even thrived in the hands of a Dan Stevens type. The parallels to Adam Winguard’s infinitely superior The Guest are so many and so obvious that a fellow film critic turned to me at the end, postulating that it might end in the exact same fashion. For what it’s worth, Jennifer Lopez is the best part of the film – managing to skimp her way through Barbara Curry‘s hackneyed script mostly unscathed – but she’s also the only one trying. Kristen Chenoweth playing a low-rent Cameron Diaz offers up miffed comedic relief while relative newcomer Ian Nelson is more breakfast cereal goody-two-shoes than Walt Jr.
 
The effort just isn’t there and the product shows it. There’s a late scene sequence – all engulfed in flames and shot to shit – in which Cohen seems to fully abandon the serious tone and go for broke, making for some absurdist, genuinely funny material. It’s not entirely clear if this is his throwing in the cards moment or a side-glancing wink at the audience but it’s exactly the kind of bonkers “what the hell is this crap?” moment that the movie needed much, much more of. Or could have done without entirely.

D-

Follow Silver Screen Riot on Facebook
Follow Silver Screen Riot on Twitter

post

Weekly Review 69: TURNER, MAZE, INHERENT, UNBROKEN, SELMA, CAKE, EYES, CITIZENFOUR

by Posted in Weekly Review Tagged , , , , , , , ,

Weekly Review

This week has been absolutely insane what with playing catch-up to all the big awards films I missed on my holiday, cracking out a Top Ten of 2014 List, a 50 Most Anticipated Films of 2015 list, Oscar Nominations Predictions, Oscar Nominations Reactions, Seattle Critics Film Awards and drafting reviews of Michael Mann‘s horrible Blackhat, the cute and quaint Paddington and the actually funny Kevin Hart brom-com The Wedding Ringer. Somehow, I managed to sneak in seven screeners at home and one at a second-run theater to pad out the list of 2014 films I’ve consumed in preparation for the 100 Best Movies of 2014 – to be release later today.Not to forecast too strongly but it’s unlikely that more than two of the below will make the cut… This week on Weekly Review.

MR. TURNER (2014)

89U8050Simon-Mein_Thin-Man-Films.jpg
Timothy Spall puts in a mighty performance as secretly emotional romanticist painter J.M.W. Turner. He grunts, mumbles and grumbles like an out-of-shape lumberjack hacking through a ball of phlegm. The movie itself, unlike Spall’s crusty and terse Turner, is long-winded, meandering and sometimes out of shape. Fatally British director Mike Leigh‘s shots are gorgeously composed like classical paintings, with DP Dick Pope (that’s Dick Poop to the Academy) casting light upon them to resemble the very romanticism period his subject matter paints his brush strokes in. The picture is affable -at least more so than its gruffalo subject – if not with too many flourishes of boring. Much like an entire exhibit of Romantic-era paintings. (C+)

UNBROKEN (2014)

unbroken-jack-oconnell2.jpg
Angelina Jolie fails to settle into the moment in her clunky Louis Zamperini biopic. The first scene – a critical dogfight – should be ungodly tense, instead the stakes are bled dry by a prevailing sense of inconsequential schmaltz. “Don’t forget, it’s just a movie!” By refusing to tell the story chronologically, Jolie has snuffed the natural tension of events and quelled our investment in the characters before they arrive at pivotal, empathy-rich moments. With a notably better movie just simple steps away – one with better editing (anything other than that dreadful flash-back/flash-forward), a lack of inexplicably useless alterations to Zamp’s true tale and some actual storytelling prowess – Unbroken is an undeniable failure, most of all for its wasted potential. If you want the story of Zamperini, do yourself a favor and read the book as Jolie skimps mightily on the goods – often skipping entirely over critical scenes – and can only proffer this truly inspiring saga glazed over with a cloying religious-tinged icing and sans a lick of nuance or tension. Chariots of Fire this most certainly is not. (D)

CAKE (2014)

1416939023_jennifer-aniston-cake-zoom.jpg
Majorly better than the petri dish of Hallmark moments I went in expecting, Cake is a victory not only for Jennifer Aniston‘s majorly biting performance but for its subtle examination of a life lived in angry anguish. Leaving tooth-marks in everything she touches, Aniston’s Claire lives in chronic pain, lashing out at the word around her and pushing those closest to her away. Daniel Barnz seeps into and out of the story like a fly on the wall, allowing us to take in his subject with all her scuzziness intact, not trying to paint a pretty picture so much as replicate the after effects of a fatal accident. The product may not be remarkably new but its certainly potent and a big stepping stone for Aniston’s dramatic future. (C+)

THE MAZE RUNNER (2014)

tumblr_static_byevz2qgf4occssgkcso004go.jpg
Far more fun than it has any right to be, The Maze Runner is a jambalaya of The Hungers Games, Labyrinth, The Goonies and “Lord of the Flies” with mecha-spiders and a prevailing sense of mystery to make the whole thing exciting. The film, based on the first in the popular YA series from James Dashner, sets up a series how a series is supposed to be set up: slowly and with a careful amount of reveals. Kitchen sinking this is not. Rather than yet another retread origin story to preface the event we’re all waiting for anyways, The Maze Runner launches right into the action, rarely stopping to explain itself along the way. For a product that could have been a total mess, The Maze Runner manages to stay fresh and intriguing even in a sub-genre critically overloaded with bunk. (B-)

INHERENT VICE (2014)

o-INHERENT-VICE-facebook.jpg
Paul Thomas Anderson‘s latest may prove a touch of disdain for his audience as he makes no effort to surface the runways of Inherent Vice with any narrative tarmac. He’s happy letting us bump along a long and rocky road to get to his warm, gooey center. Though full of genuinely inspired moments of shot-framing perfection, Inherent Vice fails to grasp a through line and with a running time that’s just shy of two-and-a-half hours, he lets down those looking for any clarity through all the pot smoke. Joaquin Phoenix is strong in the role though I can’t help but wonder if original cast member Robert Downey Jr. could have been able to elevate the stoned PI character to higher heights. All in all, another case of PTA not being able to deliver the full, meaty package worthy of his talent. (C+)

SELMA (2014)

selma-group.jpg
A rousing historical tour de force, Selma is an accomplishment of art and nonfiction coming to head; the product of historical accuracy colliding with a massively stirring lead performance from David Oyelowo and confident, assured direction from Ava DuVernay. Selma documents the events leading up to the Selma to Birmingham march in hopes of true voter equality, starting with Martin Luther King’s receiving of the Nobel Peace Prize. Though DuVernay’s picture isn’t always as taut as it should be – and there are some serious second act lulls – Selma thrives on the soaring energy of Oyelowo, who captures the powerful energy of the good Reverend MLK with earth-shaking force. Of biopics this year, DuVernay’s is a massive step above the humdrum The Imitiaton Game, and Oyelowo is a good step above Benedict Cumberbatch on almost all levels. It’s a damn shame that history once again couldn’t reflect the change that Selma and Selma sought. (B+)

BIG EYES (2014)

Big-Eyes-1.jpg
Tim Burton‘s talents depend entirely upon his current quirk level setting. Aside from the crisp, all-ducks-in-a-row 1950s/60s setting and an abstract grocery store scene, Big Eyes harkens back to a very different Burton – one without a drapery of strange and a Johnny Depp mascot prancing around. A Burton that attempted to engage emotionally with his audience. And although Big Eyes seems (finally) to come from the right place, its subject – Margaret Keane (Amy Adams) – is an infinitely frustrating lead character that all but unravels our interest in her story. Christoph Waltz imbues his devilish character with just the right amount of paranoid charm but it’s hard to get wrapped up in the narrative when you’re always yelling at the screen for your “hero” to actually act. (C)

CITIZENFOUR (2014)

Edward-Snowden-is-the-subject-of-Citizenfour.jpg
Laura Poitras‘ portrait of Edward Snowden and his NSA whistle blowing is earth-quaking stuff. The clear front runner for Best Documentary at the 2015 Academy Awards, Citizenfour is a triumph because of its varied ability to get inside the story. Documentarian Laura Poitras not only offers a complete overview of all the facts but gets under the skin of the issue by closely tracking the emotional transformation of the controversial figure at the center of her film. A must-see for any and all American citizens, Citizenfour is an intellectually-driven descent into the madness of post 9/11 politics and the hazy hero-status of a new breed of revolutionary. (B)

Follow Silver Screen Riot on Facebook
Follow Silver Screen Riot on Twitter

post

Out in Theaters: THE WEDDING RINGER

by Posted in Out in Theaters Tagged , , , , ,

The-Wedding-Ringer-3-1.jpg
The five second pitch to The Wedding Ringer is eerily like another black-guy-teaches-fat-white-guy-to-be-cool. I’m talking of course of Tracy Morgan’s Totally Awesome. And yes, fine, the wide released, box office champion Hitch as well. The final products couldn’t look any different though. The mandatory bromance angle may be as far fetched as Kevin James and Will Smith BFFing, or James and Sandler shackin’ up for that matter – and there are two too many wincingly cheesy portions that highlight said narrative cheapness –  but on the whole, Jeremy Garelick‘s film is all about the laughs, and features a good many of them. At times, a surprising amount.

In The Wedding Ringer, Kevin Hart owns and operates an underground Best Man Rental agency. Just as one might rent a tux or a town car, Hart’s Jimmy Callahan rents out his easy charm and A+ best man speeches to guys with an unfortunate amount of friends (read none). With his wedding just ten days away, young money-bagger Doug Harris (Josh Gadd) seeks out the help of seasoned pro Jimmy to pull of the illusive “Golden Tux”, in which he must employ and train a slew of groomsmen as well as attend various family events, all while trying to fit into his terribly off-colored assigned role of “military priest.”

The Wedding Ringer may not find its groove early – and its first scene is absolutely horrendous – but when it does, there are a string of embarrassingly rich potty-level-laughs. Kevin Hart moves a mile a minute, spinning his face into a number of comical screw-ups – adapting 1990s Jim Carrey’s rubber-faced, visage contortionism – and spouting off glib one-liners as quickly as he can think of them. While the script from Garelick, Will Packer and Jay Lavender revisits old territory, the film shines when Hart ad-libs his way to preposterous comic heights.

for-the-right-price-kevin-hart-is-your-best-man-in-the-wedding-ringer.jpg

The raunch can be found ratcheted up to tasteless levels and those with a distaste for the underbelly of humor will certainly find themselves fully disgusted. With scenes that involve dogs biting peanut butter-smothered nether regions, displays of oddly number testicles, a mulleted adult berating a child before throwing a beer can at him and other nut shots of a similar breed, The Wedding Ringer is no display of fine-tuned highbrow comedy. But for how low some of the blows can stoop, the train of beefy laughs still steams forth.

Striking at the potent middle ground where sentiment and humor meet, The Wedding Ringer caps off with an emotionally-rending third act that, although predictable, features some of Hart’s most genuine moments on screen to date. And though Josh Gad has trouble keeping up with the Tasmanian whirlwind that is Hart, he gets him moments in, infrequent as they are. The product is a dumb, paint-by-numbers comedy that’ll surprise you with its amount of laughs. And though it’s a hard one to recommend without a big asterisk, I found myself occasionally rapt with its overtly immature humor. Oh and to whomever decided to end the entire film on an out-of-nowhere Lost joke, I applaud you.

C

Follow Silver Screen Riot on Facebook
Follow Silver Screen Riot on Twitter

post

Out in Theaters: PADDINGTON

by Posted in Out in Theaters Tagged , , , , , , , , , 1 Comment

Paddington.jpg
Paul King tells the story of the Peruvian hat-wearing bear Paddington with painless charm and a cool wit, crafting a family-friendly outing that’ll leave baby, momma and poppa bear equally satisfied. Though never quite reaching the heights promised in its subversively droll opening sequence (travel piano FTW), Paddington plays its “home is where the heart is” message safe but effectively, wearing its heart on its sleeve in a decidedly not saccharine manner. Skirting the fine line of overt mushing, King has his cake and eats it too, serving up a delightfully cheery rendition of everyone’s favorite anthropomorphic duffle-coated bear with just a spoon full of sugar to help it all go down smoothly.

So named for a London train station, Paddington (voiced by Ben Whishaw) is an unassuming, though habitually catastrophic, little bundle of CGI fur prone to incidents of the wrong-place-wrong-time variety. Ejected from his homelands of Darkest Peru after an earthquake levels his Ewokian tree fort abode and his uncle Pastuzo (Michael Gambon), Paddington heads to London armed only with a suitcase full of marmalade and a baggage claim necktie that reads “Please look after this bear. Thank you.” Confident that he can seek out the explorer who discovered his super-intelligent species so many years back (and was thoughtful enough not to “bag a specimen”), Paddington soon realizes that London isn’t the chipper, uber-polite metropolis he had envisioned.

Stranded in a subway station, the Brown family happens upon the dejected bipedal bear, now plum out of marmalade. Hugh Boneville‘s Mr. Brown shrugs him off as a pesky louse while Sally Hawkins‘ Mrs. Brown discovers a quick soft spot in her heart for the definitely not-stuffed little caniform, convincing her portly hubby and incalculably-not-escatic children to house him. At least until they can find wee Paddington a proper guardian. Bathtub shenanigans follow.

paddington-stills.jpg

More hijinks ensue when Nicole Kidman‘s villainous Millicent enters the picture with nefarious plans to capture and perform a case of emergency taxidermy on the fuzzy critter from Darkest Peru. For the dollar dollar bills y’all. Performing midair acrobatics (and unmistakably riffing on Tom Cruise’s Mission Impossible wire work) Kidman throws himself completely into the campy role, providing a Looney Toon of a villain as a necessary pivot point to get the emotional ball rolling for the ever-stubborn Mr. Brown.

Though the third act fails to get off the ground – literally and figuratively – in much of the same ways that the first two do, the accordant motif of high heights remains – Mr. Brown on a balcony risking life and limb being the linchpin finale we all knew was in store. It all adds up to emotionally rich though highly retread territory; its promises of originality reduced to the likes of a safari in our own humble backyard. But that innit all bad, issit? Though not necessarily high-minded, Paddington is a compilation of pleasantries set out to win the hearts of its observers, if not necessarily their minds.

B-

Follow Silver Screen Riot on Facebook
Follow Silver Screen Riot on Twitter