The Circle
Thematically, James Ponsoldt's The Circle (based on the novel by Dave Eggers) takes its cues from George Orwell's 1984 and Aldous Huxley's Brave New World. Grand aspirations, to be sure, and ones that are never truly met. From its beginning, the movie has difficulty wedding its collage of ideas with a compelling narrative. The end result is a meandering story featuring shallow, unconvincing characters attempting to illustrate the evils of technology in its undermining of individual liberties. The Circle offers a lot of good bullet arguments but this is a movie not a Powerpoint presentation.

Many of the movie's ruminations focus on the yin and yang of technology to "improve" the everyday experience of living. What some view as beneficial, however, others see as intrusive. The Circle attempts to present both sides but the dice are loaded. Frustratingly, the movie never delves beneath surface arguments so there's little here we haven't heard or seen before. Yes, omnipresent cameras can aid law enforcement officers. Yes, constant surveillance can make us "safer" from crime. Yes, detailed medical information might make treatment more effective. But there's a price for all this. When Big Brother is watching, what happens to privacy? Can a person stay sane if his/her every movement is scrutinized? Unfortunately, although The Circle touches on these issues, it never scratches any itch long enough to satisfy. Instead, it moves on, making a compelling argument that this would have been better as a long-form limited TV series than a less-than-two hour motion picture.

In the late 1990s, two movies explored the growing fascination people at the time had with a new wave of online voyeurism - watching exhibitionists display chunks of their lives to a worldwide audience. Since then, the practice has grown more prevalent and what we considered extreme has become commonplace. Nevertheless, The Circle owes a debt to both Peter Weir's The Truman Show and Ron Howard's EDTv in the way it offers up the possibility of watching the life of a subject 24/7. Ponsoldt's depiction of this is more in keeping with how things are in 2017, folding in a strong social media aspect, but the issues remain the same: Can a person thrive under a microscope when privacy is limited to bathroom breaks and the lines between reality and performance have become blurred. Once again, however, The Circle is content to present the points without digging deeper.

The movie gets its title from the name of the mega tech corporation where most of the action takes place. The Circle has been modeled after Google with a little Apple thrown in for dessert. Working at The Circle is a dream job for Mae (Emma Watson) so when her friend Annie (Karen Gillan) promises to get her an interview, she's thrilled. Soon, she's learning the ropes in Customer Experience, where a 100% result on satisfaction surveys is all that matters. Mae loves the whole Circle experience - the living arrangements, the open-floor work space, the health benefits, and the atmosphere of positive reinforcement. Presiding over it all is CEO Eamon Bailey (Tom Hanks), a Steve Jobs clone who gathers his troops weekly to give them combination pep talks/product updates.

The Circle's latest brainchild is SeeChange - inexpensive, portable cameras about the size of a quarter that can provide sophisticated streaming video with minimal effort. Bailey envisions them being everywhere, increasing "transparency" and enhancing safety. Privacy issues are a secondary concern and those drawbacks are almost never mentioned at The Circle. If Mae is uncomfortable about this aspect of her workplace, she doesn't show it and her enthusiasm for the project makes her the perfect spokesperson. She agrees to allow herself to be on camera 24/7 and becomes an immediate social media sensation. But fame of this sort has its price, as she soon learns.

Narratively, the film is uneven, often rushed. Several "big" scenes (like the one in which Mae's ex-boyfriend makes a run for it while being pursued by camera-toting people and drones) feel forced and artificial. The best moments in The Circle are the cerebral ones: Bailey's pep talks and the inner circle's brainstorming sessions. Mae's on-line odyssey - from obscurity to fame to desirous of a moment's solitude - might have been more interesting if it had been given time to develop.

The character of Mae is the movie's most glaring flaw. She's reactive, inconsistent, and not interesting. Part of the problem may be Emma Watson's one-note performance but she's not given smart dialogue or a credible story arc. She's simply there - someone who provides a convenient portal into The Circle. The screenplay radically alters the book's ending, rendering moot some of the points it tries to make in its quest for an audience-pleasing denouement. Never has producer interference been more evident. But it's hard to absolve Eggers of blame for the wholesale mangling of his novel since his name is on the screenplay.

Tom Hanks brings some laid-back energy to his role and makes us wish the movie had been about Bailey rather than Mae. This is, however, a supporting role for the veteran actor and, although one would technically categorize his character as a "villain", Hanks succeeds in making Bailey likeable. He's the kind of boss we'd all like to have. Sadly wasted are the talents of John Boyega (playing a semi-retired genius who no longer trusts The Circle) and Bill Paxton in his final performance (as Mae's CP-stricken father).

The reworking of the original storyline gives The Circle a schizophrenic feel. In the end, it's difficult to decode what the precise message is beyond the rather boring refrain of "loss of freedom is the price we pay for greater connectivity." Is the movie pro-tech or anti-tech or tech neutral? Damned if I know. I suspect the filmmakers aren't sure, either. The cop-out ending is awkward but that comment can be made about far too much of a film that could have and should have been more thought-provoking and less obvious in its observations.

© 2017 James Berardinelli

Free Fire
From time-to-time, it can be refreshing to sit back and watch a tautly-made thriller where the characters (and their actions) are constrained by the laws of physics and tension is allowed to ebb and flow as circumstances warrant. If Quentin Tarantino re-invented this sort of production 25 years ago with Reservoir Dogs, other directors have since copied and refined it. Free Fire isn't a "Reservoir Dogs for the 2010s" but there are enough similarities in approach, tone, and style to warrant a comparison. The violence, the cavalcade or profanity, the testosterone & adrenaline - they're all present and accounted for.

Throw this into a bucket with the early movies of Guy Ritchie, Tarantino's limited budget efforts, and the more recent The Raid: Redemption. All of these offer visceral experiences without insulting the intellect. The screenplay, credited to director Ben Wheatley and his wife/writing partner Amy Jump, is all about being in the moment. (Their previous collaborations include Kill List and High Rise). Setup is minimal and backstories are perfunctory. Three-quarters of Free Fire is about what happens after the first shot is fired.

The movie transpires in Boston during the 1970s, although the time period is useful primarily in removing modern technology like cell phones from the equation. Vehicle makes, costumes, and a few dialogue snippets offer clues about the setting. The narrative brings together two mutually suspicious groups for an arms' deal in a cavernous warehouse. The buyers are IRA members Chris (Cillian Murphy) and Frank (Michael Smiley), along with their flunkies Stevo (Sam Riley) and Bernie (Enzo Cilenti). The sellers are the erratic, short-tempered Vernon (Sharlto Copley) and his accomplices, Harry (Jack Raynor), Gordon (Noah Taylor), and Martin (Babou Ceesay). Also present are middlemen Ord (Armie Hammer) and Justine (Brie Larson). The deal doesn't go smoothly and, when personal insults are traded, a gun comes out. Soon Bernie is dead and everyone else is hiding behind crates, shooting at each other. What starts out as a fight between the buyers and the sellers (with Ord and Justine loosely aligned with the latter group) turns into a free-for-all where more than one wound is dealt by "friendly" fire. No one escapes the initial fusillade unscathed - it's just a matter of who's dead, who's critically injured, and who's still mobile enough to keep on plugging.

The gunfight lasts for more than an hour. The screenplay finds ways to keep things varied and moving when it seems the story is destined to stagnate. The offbeat dialogue (occasionally too-clever-for-its-own-good) enlivens the proceedings as members of the two sides fire insults and quips at each other more frequently than bullets. A couple of mavericks enter the picture mid-way through and at least one character changes sides (while another goes ballistic and doesn't care about who gets shot).

The cast is surprisingly high-profile for a low-budget indie. Most of the performers are character actors; exceptions include Armie Hammer, whose cynical turn as Ord represents Free Fire's highlight; Sharlto Copley, who delivers a psycho turn a notch below Elysium; and Cillian Murphy. The filmmakers were fortunate to nab Brie Larson before she added "Oscar winner" to her resume (she was actually a replacement for Olivia Wilde).

Saying more than I already have about the story would risk giving away plot details better discovered by watching, although Free Fire is less about narrative twists than delivering 90 minutes of high-energy entertainment. The production is tense but the quirky tone and gallows humor keep it from becoming uncomfortably intense. The pacing provides an example of cinematic economy. For those who don't mind a little blood & gore and a lot of profanity, Free Fire is a superior alternative to the big-name, bloated action films hogging the largest screens in most multiplexes. Small was better when Reservoir Dogs was released and, a quarter century later, that's one thing that hasn't changed.

© 2017 James Berardinelli

The Promise
What begins as seemingly an old-fashioned war film set during the waning years of the Ottoman Empire quickly turns into a dark exploration of the Armenian genocide. This litany of atrocities, unknown to many today and denied by the Turkish government, was in many ways a precursor to Hitler's "Final Solution". (In a 1939 speech, he is on record as saying: "Who, after all, speaks today of the annihilation of the Armenians?") However, despite as many as 1.5 million deaths, it remains an historical footnote to many living today with no personal connection to the events. The Promise is the first major motion picture (with a respected director and "name" stars) to attack this issue head-on, unapologetically and without equivocation. Although at times overwrought and overtly manipulative, the film as a whole is like a kick to the gut. Its depictions of brutality, unusually strong for a PG-13 production, are sufficiently graphic to bring home the tragedy of the situation on a visceral level (in a way, for example, that The Zookeeper's Wife was unable to do with the Holocaust).

For director Terry George, venturing into thematically poignant and controversial territory is in keeping with his history. In the 1990s, he collaborated with Jim Sheridan on three powerful films about Ireland's The Troubles: In the Name of the Father, Some Mother's Son, and The Boxer. In 2004, he wrote and directed Hotel Rwanda. George understands how to convey the pain and anguish of mass tragedies and, although The Promise isn't as tightly written and incisive as his previous work, its strengths outweigh its weaknesses.

Recognizing that historical films, especially those involving the horrors of mass exterminations, work best when presented through the eyes of a small group of intrinsically noble characters, The Promise focuses on a love triangle. Would-be doctor Mikael Boghosian (Oscar Isaac) leaves his small village to become a medical student in Constantinople. He is there when the Ottoman Empire enters World War I and the reprisals against the Armenian population of Turkey intensify. While in Constantinople, he meets and falls in love with Ana (Charlotte Le Bon), a French-educated Armenian woman romantically linked with famed American journalist Chris Myers (Christian Bale), who is investigating dark rumors about death marches. Mikael and Ana's love affair is pushed into the background when he is arrested and sent to a labor camp and she and Chris seek to provide succor for the victims. The couple's reunion occurs in dire circumstances on the eve of a black day.

When it comes to war love stories, The Promise isn't going to challenge Casablanca. The movie is stronger when presenting the political situation than the romantic one. The chemistry between Oscar Isaac and Charlotte Le Bon is fitful and there's even less of a spark between Le Bon and Christian Bale. For his part, Bale appears to be in the production more to lend his name to the proceedings than because the role is a good fit. Although Bale is the biggest star in the film, there are a number of notable cameos, including James Cromwell (as U.S. Ambassador Henry Morgenthau), Jean Reno, Tom Hollander, and Rade Serbedzija.

The chronicle of events as presented in The Promise has been deemed accurate by a number of international historians. George and his credited co-writer, Robin Swicord, based elements of the story on Franz Werfel's 1933 novel, The Forty Days of Musa Dagh. Various segments related to the rounding up of Armenians in Constantinople, the labor camps, the death marches and mass killings, and the battle on Musa Dagh, are representative of the historical record even though the characters and their story is fictional. George successfully crafts an authentic background for the love triangle. When The Promise stumbles, it's because the romantic elements don't gel.

The Promise boasts impeccable production values. Location shooting enhances the film's look. Gabriel Yared's orchestral score channels John Barry especially during the early scenes. Like any movie about genocides and mass exterminations, this is a grim and sometimes difficult story to absorb. If the villains and heroes are too broadly drawn, the point is conveyed about the barbarism and inhumanity of the acts. Sadly, The Promise represents not only a recreation of something that happened a century ago but a cautionary tale for today. As George Santayana wrote in 1905, "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it," and we as a race recurrently prove the truth of those words.

© 2017 James Berardinelli

The Fate of the Furious
What has been true for the past few Fast and Furious outings is even more true for this one: the films have devolved from street racing-centered action/crime thrillers into live action cartoons. Plot and character development are irrelevant. Acting isn't a requirement (in fact, it could be considered a detriment). The Fate of the Furious has a less credible story than the average Scooby Doo episode, as much sentiment as one might find in a Road Runner short, and intelligent dialogue to match the animated Pink Panther. "Dumbing down" was coined for productions like this: big, splashy, testosterone-fueled monstrosities whose sole purpose is to give a studio box office bragging rights for a few weeks.

Understanding what the movie intends leads to appropriate expectations and there's no questioning that The Fate of the Furious meets those. You know what you're getting before you go, and you get it. As much as the first installment of the franchise may have had quasi-serious underpinnings, those have long since been jettisoned. It's pointless complaining about what the movie doesn't do because, for the most part, it doesn't care about those things and the people sitting in the audience don't either. This is a "turn the brain off" experience, intended only to offer copious amounts of repetitive action (much of it involving vehicles) while an amped-up soundtrack assaults the ears. Director F. Gary Gray should direct a video game (if he hasn't already) - The Fate of the Furious unfolds like one.

Those who see this movie shouldn't be overly concerned with the story, which brings back a dead character with a minimal, incoherent explanation; kills off at least one recurring, supporting figure; invites another past bad guy to join the team; and gives Helen Mirren her stated desire to appear in one of these films. Little of what happens in The Fate of the Furious makes sense but that's not the point. The point is finding a way to get us to the scene where a group of tricked out cars, a monstrous snow plow, and a tank are being chased across a frozen section of the artic by a submarine under the control of a "ghost plane." No, I didn't make that up. It's even in the trailers.

The action begins on a more sedate note with Dom (Vin Diesel) and Letty (Michelle Rodriguez) in Cuba following their wedding. After winning a street race, Dom is "recruited" by the mysterious Cipher (Charlize Theron) to work for her - and she has an offer he can't refuse. Soon after, while on a mission with Hobbs (Dwayne Johnson) and the rest of the team, Dom appears to go rogue. His betrayal stings everyone and lands Hobbs in prison, where he is reunited with old enemy Deckard (Jason Statham). Eventually, the two sides sort themselves out, with Cipher and Dom going up against everyone else, and we learn what Cipher's trump card is - the one thing that gets Dom to betray his friends and colleagues and put the safety of the world at risk.

The vibe is a little like that of the Roger Moore Bonds - so utterly ridiculous that you either go with the flow or don't bother going at all. The movie is self-aware and never tries to play it straight - whether it's in the quasi-comedic banter among some of the characters or the cheekily choreographed shootout in which Statham juggles a baby bassinet and his guns. Also like the '70s and '80s 007 adventures, the running time is too long. The Fate of the Furious wears out its welcome at least a half hour before the end credits arrive. (PSA: there are no post-credits scenes and therefore no need to sit through the 2,000 names that take about seven minutes to scroll by.) One unfortunate byproduct of tension-free action is that it gets old quickly.

Although the stars of the movie are the special effects (a combination of practical and CGI) and the pyrotechnics, there are a host of human beings running around to remind us that this is supposed to be a movie not a show reel. Vin Diesel returns for his sixth Fast and Furious outing (seventh if you count his cameo in installment #3) but he appears out-of-sorts. Maybe it's Paul Walker's absence but his performance is zombie-like and he navigates the film almost as if he has a hangover. Second billing goes to The Rock, whose banter with Jason Statham is one of The Fate of the Furious' high points. As this episode's villain, Charlize Theron does a solid job channeling Alan Rickman's "I have a devilishly clever plan" Die Hard persona.

Even though two more Fast and Furious movies have already been ordered, this one doesn't end with a cliffhanger (although there are a few loose ends that need tying up). So if the entire movie-going public suffers a sudden attack of good taste, there's no reason to go back to Fast 9 to learn how things turn out. Like fast food, The Fate of the Furious offers ingredients that have an addictive taste during the consumption but have the potential to lead to post-screening indigestion and a sure-to-broken promise of "never again."

© 2017 James Berardinelli

Going in Style
Just call it Grumpy Old Crooks. This quasi-remake of a 1979 caper film (which starred George Burns, Art Carney, and Lee Strasberg) makes wholesale changes to the structure of its forebear - unfortunately few of them are for the better. An inconsequential but engaging piece of fluff has been turned into a misfire that somehow manages to misuse the talents of its three Oscar winning stars, Michael Caine, Morgan Freeman, and Alan Arkin. Although Going in Style's heist represents a high point and gets props for being suitably clever, it's swamped by bad melodrama and lame comedy.

The filmmakers aren't really selling this movie for its story, however - they're banking on the reputations and charisma of the three stars to pull in audiences that don't often venture out to multiplexes. As such, Going in Style may likely be a bigger draw on home video. The decision to cast an 83-year old (Caine), an 82-year old (Arkin), and a 79-year old (Freeman) is not playing to the typical theater-going demographic. Throw in Christopher Lloyd (age 78) and Ann-Margret (age 76) and it's clear director Zach Braff isn't going for the teenage crowd despite the soft PG-13 rating (the content is borderline PG).

One of the problems with Going in Style is that it takes forever to get going, and when it does, there's not much style in evidence. The setup is interminable. Half the movie is devoted to introducing the characters, establishing their relationships, and making sure the audience is aware that these are good guys not criminals. They have been screwed over by the system, robbed of their pensions by greedy banks and corrupt corporations, and forgotten by a system that's supposed to protect them. In the original Going in Style, the main characters were a bunch of aging retirees who just decided to pull a caper. Here, with the weight of so much social wrongdoing and desperation weighing things down, it's not nearly as much fun. And God forbid the characters (or the script) have even the slightest edge. Theodore Melfi's screenplay works overtime to make sure that no one could view the three criminals as anything other than burnished heroes.

Another big change from the 1979 film is that certain bittersweet elements have been elided, ensuring that the narrative is as bland and vanilla as imaginable. Director Zach Braff believes that the audience doesn't want anything even a little challenging. So he makes sure the comedy is tasteful and restrained, the drama is tasteful and restrained, and the characters are tasteful and restrained. It would be a stretch (although not much of one) to call Going in Style "wholesome" but it's dull and badly in need of an injection of energy.

Joe (Caine), Willie (Freeman), and Albert (Arkin) are three former co-workers and friends. Now retired, they live off modest pensions and spend their free time hanging out. Joe lives with his daughter and granddaughter and Willie and Albert share a house across the street. Things start going bad when Joe learns that the adjustable rate on his mortgage has adjusted and he can no longer pay the monthly bills. The bank is unsympathetic. Then the three men's previous employer is bought and their pensions are eliminated. Faced with mounting bills and no way to pay them, they decide on an unconventional solution: rob a bank.

Once the crime arrives (nearly an hour into the 96-minute running length), things perk up. The segment in which Joe, Willie, and Albert construct their alibis represents a small bit of cleverness in an otherwise unremarkable wasteland. The intricate choreography of their day, which doesn't become apparent until after the fact, is the kind of thing that viewers of caper films appreciate and, at least in this aspect, Going in Style doesn't disappoint. In trying to connect this movie with Ocean's 11 (the original not the remake), Braff and company stack the deck. During the robbery, the trio wears Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, and Sammy Davis Jr. masks.

It's a cliché to say that Caine, Freeman, and Arkin are on hand to pick up paychecks but it's true. These roles could have been filled by no-name mediocre actors except then it wouldn't have gotten financing or distribution. It's a boondoggle for the actors - a chance to hang out and do something that requires little exertion. Learn the lines, have fun with each other, and go home at the end of the shoot with a nice little bump to the bank account.

Going in Style is just as much a demographic-oriented product as any superhero or robot sci-fi movie. It's all about marketing with little concern for whether the core film is any good. This is at best made-for-TV quality with stars too big to allow it to go directly where it belongs.

© 2017 James Berardinelli

Ghost in the Shell
As a noisy, CGI-saturated spectacle, there's no arguing that Ghost in the Shell gets the job done. Every cent spent on the movie appears to have made it into the final cut - an indication that the actors probably did most of their work in front of a green screen. There's probably not a scene in the entire production that didn't require some sort of computer manipulation. However, outside of providing about 105 minutes of eye candy, this sound and fury doesn't signify a lot. Combined with some other commercially-based decisions, it serves to mute the story's emotional and cerebral aspects and will leave some viewers (especially those familiar with the source material) unsatisfied. Ghost in the Shell is visually compelling but tone deaf.

Genre fans will know immediately that this new iteration is based on the classic manga and its 1995 anime counterpart. A non-animated adaptation has been talked about since the late 1990s but it took 20 years to get it from pre-development to post-production. There's always an expectation that, when a project gestates for so long, the result will be amazing. Ghost in the Shell falls considerably short of those lofty aspirations and my sense is that the long-standing fans will be the most put-off by the new version. Like Beauty and the Beast, this live action reworking of a beloved animated title is more of a curiosity than a necessity and offers little beyond an inferior rehash of something that didn't need to be revisited.

Decisions made to transform Ghost in the Shell into a palatable entree for a mass-market global consumption prove to be its undoing. Although it's possible to include high-octane action scenes in a movie with a high IQ (Logan being a prime recent example of doing this right), director Rupert Sanders (Snow White and the Huntsman) falls into the trap of making the fights and chases the focal point of the production; the rich and complex narrative becomes a clothesline upon which the action can be hung. The visual razzle-dazzle also detracts from the thematic and emotional depth. As a result, Ghost in the Shell sacrifices its ability to touch the heart and tantalize the intellect in favor of provoking a largely visceral response.

In a brief prologue, we are provided with a skeletal explanation of how Major (Scarlett Johansson) is about to become the first in a new breed of technological creations - a human brain implanted into an advanced robot body. Her doctor-creator, Dr. Ouelet (Juliette Binoche), sees her as a "miracle." Cutter (Peter Ferdinando), the businessman who provided the financing, calls her a weapon. One year later, Major has stabilized (although her pre-transplant memories are evasive) and is working on a government anti-terrorist squad led by the inscrutable Amaraki ("Beat" Takeshi Kitano), a Japanese "M". Major and her partner, Batou (Pilou Asbaek), are called to take action when sensitive information is compromised and, while following they cyber trail back to its originator, an entity named Hideo Kuze (Michael Carmen Pitt), Major learns disturbing things about her past and the plans of her handlers for her future.

Watching Ghost in the Shell, I couldn't help contrast the differences in tone and intent with Ex Machina, which also dealt with cybernetic science fiction concepts. Ex Machina wasn't afraid to challenge the viewer by putting issues involving advanced tech ethics front-and-center. In Ghost in the Shell, these are shunted to the side, largely out of fear that mass audiences would be (a) confused, (b) bored, or (c) both. In another box office-driven concession, Ghost in the Shell has been saddled with a PG-13 rating. If ever a film deserved an R, this is it. This should be an adult movie with an adult aesthetic to go along with its adult themes. Instead, it has been morphed into a teen-friendly action-first form of big budget escapism.

The film's lead actress, Scarlett Johansson, is miscast. This has nothing to do with her ethnicity; she simply fails to provide a convincing portrayal. Perhaps it's not her fault; it's possible that all the green screen work and CGI would defeat any actress. She doesn't have any problem with the physicality of the role (as would be expected from the woman who plays Black Widow), but she has trouble with the quieter, more emotionally charged moments. Strangely, she almost seems to be channeling her performance from Under the Skin. Her co-stars include Dane Pilou Asbaek (who has appeared in Game of Thrones and previously joined Johansson in Luc Besson's Lucy) and celebrated Japanese actor/director Takeshi Kitano. Michael Pitt and Peter Ferdinando play a pair of uninspired villains and the best thing that can be said about Juliette Binoche's part is that she stays around longer than she did in Godzilla.

To be fair to the movie, it does what it sets out to do and it is never dull or sleep-inducing. The pace is as frenetic as the action sequences and there are enough snippets of the moral/ethical quagmire at the heart of the dilemma that the essence of Ghost in the Shell isn't completely lost (merely partially obfuscated). It's easier to recommend this to someone unfamiliar with the source material because, if you don't know what's missing, it will be easier to go for the ride without an awareness that there's more potential to the story that what's being brought out.

© 2017 James Berardinelli

Ghost in the Shell 3D
As a noisy, CGI-saturated spectacle, there's no arguing that Ghost in the Shell gets the job done. Every cent spent on the movie appears to have made it into the final cut - an indication that the actors probably did most of their work in front of a green screen. There's probably not a scene in the entire production that didn't require some sort of computer manipulation. However, outside of providing about 105 minutes of eye candy, this sound and fury doesn't signify a lot. Combined with some other commercially-based decisions, it serves to mute the story's emotional and cerebral aspects and will leave some viewers (especially those familiar with the source material) unsatisfied. Ghost in the Shell is visually compelling but tone deaf.

Genre fans will know immediately that this new iteration is based on the classic manga and its 1995 anime counterpart. A non-animated adaptation has been talked about since the late 1990s but it took 20 years to get it from pre-development to post-production. There's always an expectation that, when a project gestates for so long, the result will be amazing. Ghost in the Shell falls considerably short of those lofty aspirations and my sense is that the long-standing fans will be the most put-off by the new version. Like Beauty and the Beast, this live action reworking of a beloved animated title is more of a curiosity than a necessity and offers little beyond an inferior rehash of something that didn't need to be revisited.

Decisions made to transform Ghost in the Shell into a palatable entree for a mass-market global consumption prove to be its undoing. Although it's possible to include high-octane action scenes in a movie with a high IQ (Logan being a prime recent example of doing this right), director Rupert Sanders (Snow White and the Huntsman) falls into the trap of making the fights and chases the focal point of the production; the rich and complex narrative becomes a clothesline upon which the action can be hung. The visual razzle-dazzle also detracts from the thematic and emotional depth. As a result, Ghost in the Shell sacrifices its ability to touch the heart and tantalize the intellect in favor of provoking a largely visceral response.

In a brief prologue, we are provided with a skeletal explanation of how Major (Scarlett Johansson) is about to become the first in a new breed of technological creations - a human brain implanted into an advanced robot body. Her doctor-creator, Dr. Ouelet (Juliette Binoche), sees her as a "miracle." Cutter (Peter Ferdinando), the businessman who provided the financing, calls her a weapon. One year later, Major has stabilized (although her pre-transplant memories are evasive) and is working on a government anti-terrorist squad led by the inscrutable Amaraki ("Beat" Takeshi Kitano), a Japanese "M". Major and her partner, Batou (Pilou Asbaek), are called to take action when sensitive information is compromised and, while following they cyber trail back to its originator, an entity named Hideo Kuze (Michael Carmen Pitt), Major learns disturbing things about her past and the plans of her handlers for her future.

Watching Ghost in the Shell, I couldn't help contrast the differences in tone and intent with Ex Machina, which also dealt with cybernetic science fiction concepts. Ex Machina wasn't afraid to challenge the viewer by putting issues involving advanced tech ethics front-and-center. In Ghost in the Shell, these are shunted to the side, largely out of fear that mass audiences would be (a) confused, (b) bored, or (c) both. In another box office-driven concession, Ghost in the Shell has been saddled with a PG-13 rating. If ever a film deserved an R, this is it. This should be an adult movie with an adult aesthetic to go along with its adult themes. Instead, it has been morphed into a teen-friendly action-first form of big budget escapism.

The film's lead actress, Scarlett Johansson, is miscast. This has nothing to do with her ethnicity; she simply fails to provide a convincing portrayal. Perhaps it's not her fault; it's possible that all the green screen work and CGI would defeat any actress. She doesn't have any problem with the physicality of the role (as would be expected from the woman who plays Black Widow), but she has trouble with the quieter, more emotionally charged moments. Strangely, she almost seems to be channeling her performance from Under the Skin. Her co-stars include Dane Pilou Asbaek (who has appeared in Game of Thrones and previously joined Johansson in Luc Besson's Lucy) and celebrated Japanese actor/director Takeshi Kitano. Michael Pitt and Peter Ferdinando play a pair of uninspired villains and the best thing that can be said about Juliette Binoche's part is that she stays around longer than she did in Godzilla.

To be fair to the movie, it does what it sets out to do and it is never dull or sleep-inducing. The pace is as frenetic as the action sequences and there are enough snippets of the moral/ethical quagmire at the heart of the dilemma that the essence of Ghost in the Shell isn't completely lost (merely partially obfuscated). It's easier to recommend this to someone unfamiliar with the source material because, if you don't know what's missing, it will be easier to go for the ride without an awareness that there's more potential to the story that what's being brought out.

© 2017 James Berardinelli

The Zookeeper's Wife
Not every movie about the Holocaust is expected to be on the same high level as Sophie's Choice or Schindler's List, but (especially when the source material is factual) more is expected than the familiar melodrama and faux tension delivered by Niki Caro's The Zookeeper's Wife. A partially fictionalized account of the experiences of Antonina and Jan Zabinski (Jessica Chastain and Johan Heldenberg), the husband-and-wife couple who ran the Warsaw Zoo during World War 2, the film tries to tug at the heart strings and uplift, but rarely succeeds at either. The problem isn't the non-fiction book by Diane Ackerman around which the narrative has been constructed, but a series of "added" scenes and subplots that seem lifted from a bad B movie and have the unintended consequence of devaluing the story as a whole.

The Zabinskis' story is worthy of a motion picture - just not this motion picture. The script falls prey to a laundry list of pitfalls. In trying to cram seven years' worth of events (1939-1946) into two hours, the movie is never given an opportunity to pause to take its breath or properly develop the characters. Occasional lurches forward in time damage continuity (in one scene, Antonina is suddenly about to give birth while in the previous scene she wasn't even pregnant) and some of the characters' actions (such as Antonina's bizarre visit to a Nazi official's office) don't make any sense. The need to have a strong villain results in one being created, Lutz Heck (Daniel Bruhl), who comes directly from Nazi central casting. And there are all sorts of clichés about what happens when Jewish refugees are being hidden in cellars and attics.

I can understand why American actress Jessica Chastain was chosen to play the title character, who was a Pole. There are times when the need to obtain financing requires that a "name" be attached to a project, even when the casting is dubious. For the most part, Chastain's performance is strong, but her accent, whether accurate or not, makes half her dialogue indecipherable. Belgian actor Johan Heldenberg is excellent in the low-key role of Jan, although his screen time is sadly limited and his character remains half-developed. Daniel Bruhl gets to leer evilly and twirl his mustache as the over-the-top scenery-chewing Nasty Nazi Zoologist. (Heck was a real person but many of his actions and some of his characteristics were invented to serve the movie's "dramatic purposes.")

The movie opens prior to Hitler's invasion of Poland, providing introductory scenes at the Warsaw Zoo to establish the characters and their relationships to each other and the animals. Then comes the Nazi offensive and occupation. These are the film's strongest scenes as, in depicting the often-brutal fates of the animals, The Zookeeper's Wife shows us things we haven't seen before. Once the grounds have been secured, Heck comes into the picture. A scientist devoted to breeding pure lines, he decides to use the zoo as a laboratory to revive the extinct aurochs. Spending much time there allows him to cultivate a "friendship" with Antonina, for whom he has developed a sexual attraction. She plays along with him because, unbeknownst to the Nazis, she and Jan are sheltering a number of Jewish families in the zoo's basement, providing an escape route for some of the captives of the Warsaw ghetto before they are shipped off to Auschwitz.

Although there are reasons why a movie like this solicits a PG-13 rating, the decision to water down the horrors of the Holocaust is misguided. Muting the mistreatment of the Jews in Nazi-occupied Poland may allow the possibility for younger viewers to see the film but it creates an impression that things may not have been as bad as they were. None of the great Holocaust movies shrink from depicting harrowing and disturbing things but the most arresting image in The Zookeeper's Wife is that of a wealthy woman posing for a picture outside the gate to the Ghetto.

Undoubtedly, The Zookeeper's Wife was made with the best intentions and the acclaimed director, Niki Caro, is known for choosing socially conscious projects (Whale Rider, North Country). The injection of too many fictional elements into an inherently compelling story lies at the heart of this film's problems, but they are compounded by a too-broad timeline and the neutering of elements deemed too disturbing for a portion of the intended audience. The Zookeeper's Wife will not go down in the annals of history as one of the great Holocaust films. If it's remembered at all, it will be seen as a missed opportunity to tell a powerful story.

© 2017 James Berardinelli

Life
Oblique spoilers follow. Nothing specific, but there are some hints about things perhaps better left unrevealed.

Yes, for a majority of its running length, Life is an Alien clone. The similarities are so strong that they're impossible to ignore. However, while Ridley Scott's 1979 classic has provided a template for countless films over the nearly 40 years since its unveiling, few have been as effective as Daniel Espinosa's version. The director does nothing to hide his movie's inspiration (several scenes include obvious references) but, armed with a script credited to Rhett Reese and Paul Wernick, he uncovers a way for Life to divest itself from its cinematic heritage. Those who have seen Alien will have a pretty good idea what's coming, at least to a point. Once things reach that point, however, all bets are off. Just don't expect this to be a light, escapist excursion into outer space. Even by sci-fi/horror standards, this is dark, gruesome, intense stuff. Not for the faint of heart or those who crave happy endings.

Perhaps the best thing about Life is that, when it's being a science fiction film, it's a good science fiction film and, when it's being a horror film, it's a good horror film. The wedding of the two is uneven. Fans of more cerebral movies might be put off by the degree to which Espinosa celebrates the Grand Guignol. And lovers of gore and viscera might find some of the scientific and existential minutia to be tiresome. In general, however, Espinosa manages the seemingly impossible feat of at times echoing Stanley Kubrick and Ridley Scott.

To be clear, those echoes of Scott are faint. Life, although capable of causing heart palpitations, is nowhere near as intense as Alien. The atmosphere isn't as strong and the suffocating growth of tension isn't as overpowering. And the Kubickian moments are fleeting - CGI-created shots of Earth below and the stars above. There's majesty in some of these moments but Life is much more about what transpires within the cramped confines of the International Space Station than it is about what's going on outside.

The film follows the tribulations of the crew of six manning the station with the sole purpose of investigating Martian soil samples provided by a capsule that has returned from the Red Planet. Reflecting the "International" nature of the station, the mission specialists hail from four countries: the U.S. (Rory Adams, played by Ryan Reynolds, and Doctor David Jordan, played by Jake Gyllenhaal), the U.K. (Quarantine Expert Miranda North, played by Rebecca Ferguson, and biologist Hugh Derry, played by Ariyon Bakare), Russia (Commander Katerina Golovkin, played by Olga Dihovichnaya), and Japan (Sho Kendo, played by Hiroyuki Sanda). When they discover signs of life in the dirt, they nurse it out of suspended animation and give it a name ("Calvin"). Their delight at seeing "Calvin" grow and develop turns to alarm when it shows violent tendencies and displays surprising strength and intelligence. When procedures to keep it contained prove inadequate, the mission turns into a fight for life: six humans against one extraterrestrial, with the understanding that, to keep the creature from reaching Earth, all lives are expendable.

Although the beats of the movie are predictable, the specific notes aren't. We've seen this kind of cat-and-mouse game before but Life's characters are sufficiently developed that this doesn't seem like the usual horror routine of "guess who dies next." The filmmakers mine suspense from the situation while not being afraid to makes some daring choices. Espinosa establishes a serious tone (at times reminiscent of Solaris) - this doesn't feel like a campy retread and the caliber of the actors is at a sufficiently high level that we can accept it. Jake Gyllenhaal is his usual, reliable self and, although this isn't a tour de force for him, he provides a character we can relate to. Ryan Reynolds puts aside his jokey Deadpool personality to play it straight. The other four, although not as well-known, are equally solid.

Special effects and set design are top-notch. The outside sequences are limited but realistic and the inside scenes are suitably claustrophobic. Creature design varies significantly from the Alien prototype we normally encounter, although its ready-for-dinner mouth may cause a moment or two of déjà vu. Jon Ekstrand's discordant score adds to the darkness without becoming overbearing.

By its nature, it's hard to see Life being a big box office player. Audiences tend to avoid films that offer intensity over triumph and take chances that viewers might dislike. Horror fans in general are more accepting of this sort of thing so Life should do fine with that audience. The movie certainly doesn't skimp on blood and gore - the dissolution of a white lab rat may be the most disturbingly graphic scene of the year. Despite its heavy linkage to Alien, this movie feels strangely fresh, perhaps because it refuses to play things safe in order to placate audiences who don't like to be upset or challenged. Anyone who's up for something ominous and unsettling could do worse than to choose Life.

© 2017 James Berardinelli

Beauty and the Beast
Peter Allen and Carole Bayer Sager wrote "No need to remember when, 'Cause everything old is new again." Lately, that has become the Disney way: take a classic animated film and remake it into something that, although shiny and eye-popping in its live-action clarity, offers a strong dollop of nostalgia. As creatively dubious as the practice may be, it has offered the studio yet another reliable revenue stream. And, while Kenneth Branagh's reinterpretation of Cinderella offered a glimpse at what these movies can be, most fall short of their hand-drawn inspirations. Such is the case with Bill Condon's Beauty and the Beast, a lively, workmanlike musical that only occasionally rises to the heights of its 1991 predecessor and frequently coasts on a lower plane.

Anyone who goes into the 2017 Beauty and the Beast with no knowledge of the earlier film will come away thinking it's top-notch entertainment. To be sure, this is a good movie - there's no denying that - but it suffers by comparison. Part of the magic of the 1991 production comes through the inventive animation. As good as the new iteration's production design is (the only potential impediment to an Oscar nomination is the early-year release date), the intangible quality evident in Trousdale & Wise's version is missing from Condon's. There are times when Beauty and the Beast rises to the level of its predecessor but most of the time it feels like an inferior copy.

Beauty and the Beast 2017 is a direct remake of the 1991 interpretation, which was notable for a number of reasons: it was the first animated film to be nominated for a Best Picture Oscar, it was the last full collaboration between lyricist Howard Ashman and composer Alan Menken, and it accelerated the renaissance of Disney animation begun in 1989 with The Little Mermaid. When a live-action remake was initially proposed, there was consideration of making it an adaptation of the Broadway musical but, by the time Condon was recruited, that idea had been scrapped. As a result, this Beauty and the Beast uses only the half-dozen songs from its predecessor. Three new compositions have been added (co-written by Menken and Tim Rice) but none of the material developed for the stage musical has been incorporated.

For the most part, Condon has hewed close to the earlier version, at times seeming to use the animation as a template. Certain shots mimic those from the 1991 movie with exacting precision. (The most noticeable is probably Belle's Sound of Music moment at the end of the reprise of "Belle", but there are many others.) Some plot points have been changed in an attempt to provide additional background for Belle and the Beast. Most of these feel extraneous and do little more than compromise the economy of the original story. Neither the extended prologue with the enchantress nor the Paris-based scene add anything of substance. At 84 minutes, the first Beauty and the Beast was perfectly paced. The 45 minutes added to the 2017 production make it seem overlong and there are times when its energy flags.

The new versions of the classic songs are presented with variable results. The best by far is "Be Our Guest", which takes its cue from the original and engages in a deliciously over-the-top display of singing and dancing that offers an unparalleled visual spectacle as Ewan McGregor and Emma Thompson belt out the lyrics. "Belle" is beautifully choreographed and, although Emma Watson's voice isn't as pure as Paige O'Hara's, she looks the part. "Gaston", on the other hand, is something of a letdown. The number doesn't seem as cheeky and mocking, and the additional lyrics (penned by Ashman but cut from the original) don't add much. (The reprise is also missing.) "Beauty and the Beast" is also a disappointment in part because Emma Thompson's voice doesn't match Angela Lansbury's and in part because the live action treatment of the film's signature moment falls considerably short of the animated one. "Human Again," which was added to Beauty and the Beast for the 2002 re-release, is not included. None of the new three tunes is likely to stick in the memory although "Evermore" (Menken/Rice) gives the Beast a spotlight song. It's solid, although perhaps not as good as "If I Can't Love Her" (also Menken/Rice) from the stage musical.

Mimicking the 1991 movie, the narrative begins by showing how a vain, self-absorbed prince (Dan Stevens) is transformed into a hideous beast. The setting the jumps ahead to introduce us to Belle (Emma Watson), the most beautiful girl in a provincial town in France. Unfortunately for the preening, narcissistic Gaston (Luke Evans), who is obsessed with marrying Belle, she's also one of the village's oddest denizens. She keeps to herself, dotes on her father, Maurice (Kevin Kline), and devours books.

Then, one fateful day, her father disappears in the forest while on the way to the market. Belle sets off in search of him and stumbles on a dark and scary castle. Venturing inside, she discovers a gallery of magical beings - regular household objects that speak and move. These include Lumiere (Ewan McGregor), a candlestick with impeccable manners and a voice that recalls Maurice Chevalier; Cogsworth (Ian McKellan), a mantle clock with a high impression of himself and his role in the castle; Mrs. Potts (Emma Thompson), a grandmotherly tea pot; and many others. Presiding over the crumbling manse is the Beast, who holds Maurice captive. Belle's arrival fills him with equal parts hope and dread - hope that she might be "the one" to break the spell (allowing everyone in the castle to become human again) and dread that she might be repulsed by his ugliness. He agrees to release Maurice if Belle accedes to being his permanent "guest" - a bargain she accepts. Over time, Belle discovers that life in the castle is not as dreadful as it initially seems.

There's not a weak choice in the cast and all of the actors are at least adequate singers. Even the two Emmas (Watson and Thompson), although vocally limited, are good enough not to be distracting. Ewan McGregor, who previously sang in Moulin Rouge, has a little trouble with his French accent but is otherwise fine. The best voice belongs to Dan Stevens, whose deep, resonating baritone makes one wish that the Beast had more opportunities to use it (although the inclusion of "Evermore" helps here).

Despite being described as "live-action", this Beauty and the Beast features a great deal of animation. Although McKellan, McGregor, and Thompson (among others) did some motion capture work, they don't appear physically until the final sequence. For most of the movie, they're essentially doing voice work - not that different from what David Ogden Stiers, Jerry Orbach, and Angela Lansbury contributed in 1991. A tremendous amount of time and effort went into reproducing the look of the animated film to give the town a quaint, fairy tale appearance and the ca