In a future where robots are disposable workhorses banned for public consumption, womanizer Charles and gold digger Elaine bends the law by having robot surrogates live out the daily grind. Their scheme suddenly falls apart when their robot versions fall in love and break away from servitude in the high-concept comedy Robots.
Modern comedies’ homogenization towards safe and conventional aesthetics makes a feature like Robots a fascinating proposal. Based on Robert Sheckley’s The Robot Who Loved Me, the film presents itself as a comedic rumination on our timeless over-reliance on technology. But, in execution, Robots short-circuits in an inert offering that consistently settles for mediocrity.
There is a husk of a fruitful feature here. The writer/director team of Anthony Hines, the co-writer of Borat, and Casper Christensen get off to a strong start. They cleverly lean into the absurdity of our modern zeitgeist, making humorous barbs at red-wave politics and humanity disintegrating around an environment of artificial technology. Even our protagonists, Charles and Elaine, are introduced as decidedly unlikable byproducts of the technology wave. Both come off as slothful figures who use their robot counterparts as a crux to cocoon themselves in luxuries and gratification instead of engaging with life’s complicated realities. The cynical opening frames were a refreshing delight, showcasing a sardonic perspective that opened the door for thoughtful opportunities.
Once the plot kicks into gear, though, Robots programming spirals into a decidedly different avenue, and it’s all the worse for it. Hines and Christensen embrace the commonplace romantic comedy template – a choice that coats once-observant material with a saccharine syrup devoid of perspective. Audiences can practically set their watch for when each plot contrivance and forced bonding moment will occur. It’s a shame because the actors suffer the most from this choice. Jack Whitehall revels in playing charismatically cocksure characters, and Shailene Woodley sharpens her typically bubbly persona in a charming, against-type performance. Unfortunately, once the film forces both on a crash course toward love, their once-bitting banter evolves into a dull and unconvincing romance.
The overwhelming lack of creativity is felt throughout Robots. Hines and Christensen ride off the fumes of a one-joke approach to the robot premise. Instead of capitalizing on their topical subject, the writers primarily settle for vulgar pratfalls, seemingly rummaging through a bin of played-out comedic setpieces that land meager laughs (half the jokes involve robots in sexual situations). The duo’s directorial effort is similarly voiceless. Every frame feels half-heartedly composed, showcasing the same lifeless lighting and thoughtless imagery without striving for any actual craft. To the duo’s credit, it’s hard to make a visually compelling feature where the budgetary restrictions are glaring in every scene.
Robots promising satire start derails into rom-com mushiness. There are sparks where the film shines bright, but the end product feels oddly detached from what it sets out to achieve.
Robots is now playing in theaters and on Video on Demand services.
Kandahar Synopsis: An undercover CIA operative gets stuck in hostile territory in Afghanistan after his mission is exposed. Accompanied by his translator, he must fight enemy combatants as he tries to reach an extraction point in Kandahar.
Amidst Hollywood’s devaluation of traditional actioners, Gerard Butler stands tall as a throwback to the genre’s heyday. Butler symbolizes the 80s/90s action movie formula to a tee, starring in high-concept, mid-budget fare that delivers a fun twist on the familiar.
He’s gone full Die Hard move to save the president (three times now with the Has Fallen series); he shepherded a deserted plane to safety against an island of bandits (the campy joys of Plane), and he even hunted down an ensemble of thrives in an ode to Michael Man’s Heat (his magnum opus in my opinion, Den of Thieves). While other action heroes continue to indulge in blockbuster projects, Butler’s embrace of this storied tradition cements him as a dynamic movie star.
Butler’s latest romp, Kandahar, finds the actor starring as an undercover CIA agent trying to extract himself and an Afghan translator from war-torn conditions. The affable magnetism of Butler remains everpresent, but Kandahar represents a so-so retread that will likely become a forgotten footnote in the actor’s resume.
Even a lesser Butler project still possesses some strengths. As workaholic Tom Harris, Butler commands the screen as an affable everyman. His undeniable gravity always aligns viewers into his affable orbit. Moreover, the actor conveys an emphatic dramatic intensity in his spewing of plot jargon lines and sappily sentimental speeches, with his sheer force of nature as a performer consistently transforming archetype roles into lived-in characters. Navid Negahban is equally compelling as a translator stuck in his undercover assignment, capturing the anguish and desperation of a man tied down to his service responsibilities. Both performers form a dynamic rapport onscreen as kindred spirits bonded together against insurmountable odds.
To Kandahar’s credit, the film also showcases sensitivity in approaching contemporary subject matter with the War in Afghanistan. Several action films from bygone eras utilized their timely pastiches to promote jingoistic propaganda and dated stereotypes. Here, director Ric Roman Waugh and screenwriter/former serviceman Mitchell LaFortune look past the politics in favor of a humanistic story – one that shows empathy to all parties suppressed by a senseless, bureaucracy-driven war. Waugh, the director behind workmanlike yet affectingly hard-nosed vehicles like Snitch and National Champions, is especially adept at discovering a keen voice within seemingly straightforward narratives. His perspective has often been a welcomed sight in genres that favors machismo simplicity.
It’s easy to see the potential if this concept was explored with nuance and authenticity. Unfortunately, Kandhar struggles mightly in articulating its vision. Ruminations on Afghanistan’s powder keg of clashing cultures and the human cost of war are noble yet never develop into significant insights onscreen. A big reason why is the creative team’s tactless delivery. Waugh’s over-reliance on a heavy-handed score and LaFortune’s implementation of clunky speeches sledgehammer points across without grasping their complexity. This misstep is especially glaring considering Kandahar’s ill-timed proximity to The Covenant, which shares a nearly identical premise but harbors the dimension that is sorely lacking here.
Just on an action film basis, Kandahar is competent at its best and tedious at its worst. Waugh’s steady camerawork is a sturdy-enough device for depicting waves of high-speed chases and intense gunplay, but the action scenes themselves feel oddly tired. There are a lot of been there done that numbers throughout, and the film desperately lacks the real-world grit to inject palpable tension into these frames.
I am sure Kandahar will be acceptable viewing to dads channel surfing for easily digestible content. For everyone else, the film will be considered an unremarkable excursion in generic action movie territory.
Master Gardener Synopsis: Narvel Roth (Joel Edgerton) is a meticulous horticulturist devoted to tending the grounds of Gracewood Gardens and pandering to his employer, the wealthy dowager Mrs. Haverhill (Sigourney Weaver). When she demands that he take on her wayward and troubled great-niece (Quintessa Swindell), it unlocks dark secrets from a buried violent past.
A reclusive gardener at a wealthy estate reckons with his white nationalist past when taking on a new apprentice in Paul Schrader’s latest, Master Gardener.
For Schrader, Master Gardener continues a second-act renaissance for the auteur. The Taxi Driver and American Gigolo screenwriter has re-established himself in the Hollywood zeitgeist as a writer/director with a compelling, character-driven perspective. Both First Reformed and The Card Counter left a lasting impression on me, piercing the core of fascinating subjects searching for solace amidst their dreary worldviews. Even 2013’s The Canyons, which became the subject of tabloid-fodder headlines for its provocative subject matter, remains a hidden gem bursting with worthwhile ruminations on millennial dreamers. All of these works boast a salient understanding of different figures undergoing psychological parables through the prism of modern quandaries.
Master Gardener concludes a pseudo-trilogy of sorts. Where First Reformed and The Card Counter captured existential dread by focusing respectively on religious code and post-Patriot Act trauma, Gardener finds Schrader delving into a man burdened by the toxicity of his racially-bigoted history. I’ve seen many sour on Schrader’s latest for its concept alone, decrying the existence of a feature that tries to discover a semblance of redemption for a seemingly unsalvageable character. Personally, I see merit in Schrader’s intentions, but Master Gardener loses itself in the weeds of its thorny subject matter.
The blueprint here will be familiar to Schrader fans. Protagonist Narvel Roth dedicates himself entirely to horticulture responsibilities at the prim and proper garden of his socialite boss. He spends his days pristinely tending to the needs of growing plants, connecting with each distinctive flower in a manner that resonates with his personal rebirth. While gardening symbolizes a fresh start for Narvel, it only takes a reflective glance in the mirror at his tattoo-ridden body to be reminded of his past life.
When focusing on Narvel’s day-to-day livelihood, Master Gardener operates comfortably within Schrader’s wheelhouse. He plants thoughtful narrative seeds that dig into the trenches of the character’s insulated existence; the constant journaling, the emotionally withdrawn narration, and Narvel’s habitual dedication to gardening all help portray a man imprisoned by what he used to represent. First Reformed and Card Counter utilized similar story foundations, but Schrader reflectively eschews this formula. Instead, he frames Master Gardener as a more tranquil story – one more focused on discovering the light at the end of the tunnel rather than gradually spiraling toward the darkness (there is optimism in First Reformed and Card Counter, but it’s a more arduous journey for viewers to get there).
This change of pace is felt most through his sensitive direction. Schrader basks in the serenity of his natural setting, implementing steady camera movements, enthralling long takes, and glacier pacing as he allows Gracewood Gardens to develop an impactful presence in the narrative. His tempered style fits the material like a glove, and even when he includes stylistic flourishes, they inject a refreshing sense of romanticism into the proceedings (a shared dream sequence depicting a flowery trail stands out). Star Joel Edgerton operates brilliantly in these confines. Edgerton continues to accumulate a fascinating resume of sturdy character actor performances. The role of Narvel offers Edgerton his most expressive canvas yet to get lost in, utilizing the actor’s soft-spoken gravitas and captivating presence to bring the character to full bloom.
For all its strengths, Master Gardener eventually falls apart as its second hour begins. The prominent relationship Narvel develops is with his boss’s grand-niece, Maya, a mixed-race young adult caught in the web of her consuming drug addiction. You can see how Maya is a kindred spirit for Narvel, both paralyzed by misgivings from their past, although there is a clear line in the sand dividing them. How can the duo form a meaningful bond when Narvel remains tethered to his history of racial prejudice and violence?
Schrader attempts at answering this question are woefully short-sighted. The concept of discovering peace despite a harsh racial divide is as relevant as ever in our societal landscape, and Schrader deserves credit for reckoning with challenging subject matter that few others would dare to touch. Still, his approach showcases a glaring lack of perspective. Schrader’s ability to develop Narvel and his complexities is noticeably absent when it comes to Maya. Actress Quintessa Swindell sincerely tries to illustrate the character, but the role is devoid of nuance onscreen. Maya comes off as a device who solely exists for Narvel’s growth; her thoughts and feelings are always an afterthought, which leaves their relationship taking on somewhat oft-putting connotations as it grows.
Schrader reduces the textured layers of his central cultural clash into a painfully rudimentary tale of “love conquers all.” To tell a tale of healing racial trauma and completely fumble half of the story’s perspective is a sizable failure by Schrader. As the second half plows forward simplistic sentiments and far too-clean conclusions, Master Gardener finds itself abandoning the promise of its premise in a substantial disservice to its real-world significance.
Master Gardener is a swing-and-a-miss for Schrader, although even his cinematic stumbles remain transfixing in their own way. I still look forward to seeing what the filmmaker conjures next.
April Films Bring May Reviews: New Release Breakdown
The cinematic calendar is always erratic, with some months featuring a meager slate of titles while others are jam-packed with noteworthy features. April 2023 fell in the latter category. The last weekend of the month alone saw the release of five nationwide titles – a reality that imbued me with excitement and exhaustion as a film critic.
I want to take you behind the curtain for a moment. Film criticism can often be a thankless endeavor. There is no viable monetary future for most; thousands of other fantastic writers are trying to gain similar recognition, and the always-moving industry leaves little break time for those trying to stay ahead. I’ve always been conscious of this reality, but my love for the craft continues to supersede any potential pessimism.
Still, I always stumble upon one point in the year where the Hollywood Locomotive catches up with me. Every thought I try to extract hits a harsh roadblock when translating it to the page, and the sheer mass of movies hitting the market leaves me overwhelmed by even the notion of typing a review. I am sure everyone reaches this point from time to time in their work life or with a hobby. My only advice – don’t beat yourself up about it. We are not AI-programmed metronomes of consistency; it is ok to cut yourself some slack and recharge your battery. I went roughly a week without writing, which feels like a lifetime for me. Now, I am refreshed and ready to get to work!
It bums me out this occurred during April, a month loaded with intriguing titles. I cannot fathom writing my usual 600/700 words per film, so I wanted to jot down some quick thoughts on what I’ve been checking out.
Sisu – Directed by Jalmari Helander (April)
Sisu Synopsis: During the last days of World War II, a solitary prospector crosses paths with Nazis on a scorched-Earth retreat in northern Finland. When the soldiers decide to steal his gold, they quickly discover they just tangled with no ordinary miner.
A muted prospector unleashes his fury upon a callous barrage of Nazi soldiers in Sisu. Riding a tidal wave of positive momentum following its film festival run, Sisu is the type of indie breakout I love to see connecting with the masses. As for if the film actually warrants its hype, that answer is a little more complicated.
Don’t get me wrong; Sisu is a sturdy retrograde action offering. Writer/Director Jalmari Helander, synonymous with his work on spirited B-movie romps like Big Game and Rare Exports, displays a poised command of the genre. There are seldom few words uttered and a lack of grander thematic pretenses, but Helander consistently compensates through his relentless onslaught of lively action setpieces. Countless hard-hitting brawls and bullet-ridden clashes paint the screen with blood as Helander pushes his limited budgetary resources to their absolute apex. The use of practical effects feels particularly inspiring. Chucks of flesh and tactile vehicles explode on screen with more impact than most of the film’s big-budget counterparts.
I appreciate the ingenuity the writer/director showcases throughout, always finding clever avenues for further dialing up the bombastic mayhem. His instincts behind the camera are also refreshing. There is a certain simplicity in the film’s straightforward storytelling approach that fits its insular protagonist like a glove. Star Jorma Tommila works well in these confines, allowing his swaggering presence to carry the material on his shoulder.
Other aspects of Sisu leave something to be desired. Helander’s approach toviolence in Sisu indulges too much in modern action movie tendencies. His shaky cam flourishes and frequent jump cuts only work to muddy up the inventive stunt work onscreen. Additionally, I can’t help feeling that the concept did not realize its full potential. The film’s embrace of barebone storytelling essentials works in telling an efficient action film, but it does little to acknowledge the intriguing subtext of its World War 2 setting.
I still found myself charmed by Sisu. It’s a no-nonsense bloodbath crafted with love and understanding of age-old action movie tenets.
Are You ThereGod? It’s Me, Margaret. (April)
Are You ThereGod? It’s Me, Margaret Synopsis: When her family moves from the city to the suburbs, 11-year-old Margaret navigates new friends, feelings, and the beginning of adolescence.
A precocious teenager finds herself amidst a spiritual and adolescent awakening when moving to a new town in Are You ThereGod? It’s Me, Margaret.
Adapted from an iconic Judy Blume work, Margaret finds writer/director Kelly Fremon Craig continuing her keen insights on women coming of age (Craig crafted 2016’s Edge of Seventeen with similarly warm and personable results). Craig remains an unheralded voice, but she hopefully won’t stay that way for long. She is an essential auteur who magnifies overlooked human dynamics, with her work here inside a literary classic only proving her adept skill and understanding behind the camera.
Are You ThereGod? It’s Me, Margaret is an utter delight. Craig captures her narrative as a yearbook of kaleidoscope memories, each effervescently shining as ordinary yet ultimately defining blips in young Margaret’s life. She faces the challenges of adjusting to a new chapter in life – making friends in her unfamiliar town, entering the unknown quandary of puberty, and coming face-to-face with her spiritual identity. This medley of personal plights could quickly become too busy in the wrong hands, but Craig weaves each chapter together seamlessly.
Her direction imbues sensitivity into these personable parables, while her sage and introspective screenplay always capture authentic truths from Margaret’s odyssey. The film’s focus on religion is particularly insightful. In a climate where most religious films prop up half-baked sentiments or cheerlead simplistic propaganda, It’s Me, Margaret features an intelligent examination of a character stuck at a crossroads between various ideologies and their faithful ideas. It’s impressive just how seamlessly these trio of arcs complement each other in creating a well-rounded portrait of Margaret and the essential influences shaping her life.
One of Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret’s remarkable qualities is its resonance at all periods of life. As Margaret undergoes her awkward adolescent trials, her spirited mother, Barbara, reckons with her new existence as a stay-at-home mom. There is also her loving grandmother Sylvia, who is now entering her senior years without the support of her once-nearby family. Despite Barbara and Sylvia being tertiary figures, Craig wonderfully ties them together by capturing the kinship bonding them together.
The three also come to life through remarkably lived-in performances. Rachel McAdams and Kathy Bates showcase their distinctive charisma and transfixing gravity onscreen as Barbara and Sylvia (few actors dawn such a bright glow on screen like McAdams). However, it’s young newcomer Abby Ryder Fortson who truly steals the show. The actress displays poise and complexion far beyond her years as she brilliantly conveys each high and low Margaret endures.
Reflective coming-of-age stories are a dime a dozen, yet that does not stop Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret from standing tall above the crowded field. Equally precise and affectionate, the film easily ranks as one of 2023’s first standout offerings to date.
Big George Foreman (April)
Big George ForemanSynopsis: Fueled by an impoverished childhood, George Foreman channels his anger into becoming an Olympic Gold medalist and World Heavyweight Champion. His experiences in the ring guide him toward a new pathway as a preacher before unretiring to become the oldest champion in history.
The biopic assembly line presses forward with Big George Foreman: The Miraculous Story of the Once and Future Heavyweight Champion of the World (yes, that is the actual subheading). On paper, I see the appeal of a George Foreman feature. He is a ubiquitous figure in athletics and popular culture, defying conventional wisdom at every turn by sticking to the beat of his own personable drum. I am sure you can imagine the vast potential that could result from diving inside the gloves of the magentic icon.
Like many wayward biopics before it, Big George Foreman stumbles into the ring as a vacant shadow of its subject. The film is just as clunky as its ungainly title would suggest, striking a generic one-two punch that will leave viewers knocked out from sheer boredom.
I struggle to understand why Hollywood never learns from the countless failures of the subgenre (the past few months alone produced Sweetwater and I Wanna Dance with Somebody). Instead of potentially subverting the tired trends, Big George Foreman embraces every cliche in the book. It’s almost like the team involved studied a formula on how to produce the most soulless and sanitized film imaginable.
The screenplay is easily the most glaring weakness. Foreman’s life features many monumental moments, from breaking out on the boxing scene as an unheralded youth to a mid-career religious epiphany, not to mention his various entrepreneurial endeavors. Yet, in a misguided creative decision, Big George Foreman attempts to reflect on all of these facets across a bloated 2-hour runtime. This decision creates a film that plays out like an awkward blending of half-written Wikipedia entries, regurgitating bullet-point facts but never capturing the humanity ingrained in these experiences.
Showcasing a historical figure’s timeline is not a biopics job; the genre’s duty is to try and develop an understanding of what the person may have been thinking or feeling during those seminal periods. Unfortunately, despite Foreman’s thought-provoking quandaries with spirituality and defining a legacy from humble beginnings, I never felt that Big George Foreman offered anything other than surface-level reflections. Instead, an onslaught of sanctimonious speeches and preachy instances of hero worship serve as cheap substitutes for any meaningful shading (any wrongdoing in Foreman’s life is given minimal attention).
The great shame with Big George Foreman is there are talented people involved. Director George Tillman Jr. infused a sensitive, character-driven focus in pertinent works like The Hate U Give and Soul Food. While his competent touch guides the combative boxing scenes along, Tillman Jr. rarely imprints his voice amidst the broken screenplay and a cacophony of over-eager score choices. The performances also showcase promise. Khris Davis nails Foreman’s distinct dialect and commanding gravitas as the film’s lead, and the presence of impactful character actors, like Forrest Whitaker and John Magaro, deliver much-needed weight into the proceedings. Everyone involved displays enough talent to leave viewers wishing they were featured in a film worthy of their time.
Big George Foreman is an empathic swing-and-a-miss in its attempts to define a herculean figure. I hope the inevitable next attempt to capture Foreman’s life onscreen does so with a more impactful creative punch.
Fool’s Paradise Synopsis: A down-on-his-luck publicist discovers a recently released mental health patient who looks just like a misbehaving movie star. The publicist subs him into a film, creating a new star. But fame and fortune are not all they are cracked up to be.
Plucked from the street and groomed for superstardom, voiceless nomad Latte Pronto becomes a cog in the pop culture machine in Fool’s Paradise.
Crafting a colorful comedy jam-packed with oddball characters is an ideal way for Charlie Day to make his writing/directorial debut. Day, a beloved character actor of Always Sunny in Philadelphia fame, remains one of the industry’s most beloved humorists. He possesses a knack for elevating material, deploying vibrant energy and unrelenting dedication with every role he touches. Just the past few years alone, Day radiated joy onscreen by delivering scene-stealing performances in The Super Mario Bros. Movieand The LEGO Movie.
Fool’s Paradise arrives as a fascinating blend of sensibilities, infusing the energy of old-school filmmaking influences, like Hal Ashby and Robert Altman, within Day’s distinctive brand of offbeat comedy. These elements form a harmonious marriage in a sharp-witted yet somewhat inconsistent Hollywood satire.
I give Day credit for taking an ambitious swing for his first feature-length effort behind the camera. He is certainly not the first to attempt a critical deconstruction of Hollywood culture, following in the footsteps of several acclaimed features that highlight the dysfunction fueling the media artifacts we know and love (Damian Chazelle’s Babylon is the most recent example). But, to Day’s credit, he skillfully crafts Fool’s Paradise by developing his own expressive niche.
Day consistently plays the material as a farce. Latte Pronto, a name given due to an executive calling for a “latte, pronto,” wanders onscreen as a mute cipher for the movie star experience. He receives instant adulation when making his big-screen debut, instantly showered by glowing praise from peers, audiences, and executives looking to profit from his success. Then, just as soon as he reaches the top of the mountain, a harsh backlash of tabloid-fodder headlines and bad-faith movie projects torpedo him toward rock bottom.
This phenomenon is certainly nothing new in the industry – a fact that Day seems well aware of. His screenplay centers itself on the inherent buffoonery of this age-old crucible, utilizing a bevy of dim-witted supporting characters and obtuse moments to relay the bad-faith influences that discard a talent just as soon as they are scavenged from the scrap heap.
I can see the material not connecting with everyone; it certainly endures a fair share of scattershot vignettes that don’t land their intended impact. Like Latte himself, the film stumbles at times from its aimlessness, never truly building its Hollywood thesis past a rudimentary point of understanding on the subject. Certain elements, such as reflections on media intersecting with politics, don’t receive enough thought to carve a meaningful purpose in the film.
However, Fool’s Paradise is a trademark example of appreciating how a story is told rather than fixating on what that arc is. Day’s playful mixture of observant gags and slapstick pratfalls land several uproarious laughs, often maximizing the creative potential of a film entrenched in garish and artificial Hollywood culture. For instance, the decision to convey Latte as a mute is a clever method for depicting how self-obsessed celebrities narcissistically view the people around them as mirrors for their personal projections. Day manifests this and his array of other gags with remarkable precision behind the camera, weaving together screwball and modern comedic inspirations with the poise of a stalwart veteran director.
Day is also wise to lean on the talents of his all-star cast. A who’s who of Hollywood talents lends a hand in creating an eccentric roster of industry caricatures. There are too many great talents to list everyone out, although Adrian Brody as a dim-witted actor, Common in the role of a once-famed figure, and Kate Beckinsale as a media-hungry mogul all leave a lasting comedic impression. Amidst the array of celebrity cameos, Day and Ken Jeong form the film’s ever-beating heart. Day’s Chapelin-esque performance commands the screen through his physical dynamism, while Jeong compels as a shrill publicist overcompensating for his waning career prospects. Together, the duo forms an earnest pair as industry outcasts banding together against an uproar of rejection.
Fool’s Paradise is a refreshing comedic oddity. Day earns laugh-out-loud results from treading an inspired creative wavelength within familiar territory.
