film reviews, interviews, features | BRWC

Author: Matt Conway

  • Renfield: The BRWC Review

    Renfield: The BRWC Review

    Renfield Synopsis: Renfield (Nicholas Hoult), the tortured aide to his narcissistic boss, Dracula (Nicolas Cage), is forced to procure his master’s prey and do his every bidding. However, after centuries of servitude, he’s ready to see if there’s a life outside the shadow of the Prince of Darkness.

    The dysfunctional bond between nefarious Dracula and his dutiful servant Renfield receives a modern redux in Renfield. 

    Flipping the perspective of a Dracula story is conceptually promising on paper. The iconic character is a menacing figure as old as time itself, featuring a vast library of films steeped in horror, romanticism, humor, and even blockbuster spectacle (2014’s underrated Dracula Untold). For the studios inevitably returning to Dracula’s mythology well, they best infuse some new ideas to stand out. 

    Renfield attempts to define its imprint on the iconic vampire with an intriguing mesh of horror-comedy sensibilities. I give the project points for effort, but Renfield ultimately succumbs to its lack of bite. 

    There are glimmers of promise worth celebrating here. Focusing on Renfield as a hapless victim of a toxic relationship is a solid starting point for Ryan Ridley’s screenplay. When the material connects, Ridley paints clever avenues for submerging Renfield and Dracula into the practices of our modern society (Renfield regularly attends help group meetings while Dracula becomes inspired to use his villainy as a mobster of sorts). I also appreciate the film’s attempts at walking a tricky tonal balancing act, indulging in goofy pratfalls one minute before a chaotic rain of blood-soaked sequences explodes onscreen the next. I’ve always enjoyed sardonic B-movies that discover a sense of levity within their onslaught of violence. 

    If only Renfield could follow through on its ambitions. Similar to another Universal-produced genre film from this year, the dreadful Cocaine Bear, Renfield feels more like it’s imitating a stylistic identity rather than fully executing it. The experience resonates as a studio-manufactured product – one that props up tired gimmicks and played-out tropes over trusting the appeals of its premise. 

    For every promising idea Ridley’s screenplay concocts, there are a series of threads that ignite little interest. Charismatic co-stars Awkafina and Ben Schwartz find themselves squandered in a busy crime subplot that reads like reheated leftovers from an entirely different movie. In turn, the actual narrative focus of Renfield overcoming Dracula’s toxic control receives little exploration. Ridley paints the dynamic with simplistic platitudes and ineffective jokes, wasting the talents of star Nicholas Hoult and a very committed Nicolas Cage as the villainous Dracula in the process. It’s a bummer that Renfield never builds upon the promise of its premise. 

    Chris McKay’s direction showcases similar unevenness. McKay’s usage of eye-popping practical effects that explode with gory glee is a nice touch, although his action beats here are mostly ineffective. An overuse of slick action movie gimmicks, like rampant quick edits and awkward slow motion, eventually becomes more of a hindrance than a benefit to the violent mayhem. The generic setpieces are made worse by McKay’s inability to establish a firm hold of his material. Renfield’s breathless 93-minute runtime endures frequent instability, often stumbling from explosive setpieces to goofy pratfalls without forming cohesion in its tonal identity (I would not be surprised if the studio heavily trimmed down the film in post-production). 

    Renfield works in spurts yet never finds its groove. The film’s intriguing vision eventually gets sidelined by studio-mandated inclusions and a general failure of nerve.

    Renfield is now playing in theaters. 

  • The Pope’s Exorcist: The BRWC Review

    The Pope’s Exorcist: The BRWC Review

    The Pope’s Exorcist Synopsis: Father Gabriele Amorth (Russell Crowe), Chief Exorcist of the Vatican, investigates a young boy’s terrifying possession and ends up uncovering a centuries-old conspiracy the Vatican has desperately tried to keep hidden.

    When a powerful demonic spirit imprisons a young boy, esteemed exorcist Father Gabriele Amorth must confront his most arduous case yet in The Pope’s Exorcist. 

    Exorcisms are a standard fixture of horror features, with a bevy of low-budget titles still trying to cultivate the enchanting allure of 1973’s The Exorcist. The subgenre’s sheer busyness breeds a wide variance of efforts. Some imprint a distinct perspective on supernatural hauntings (The Conjuring continues to build a cinematic universe out of the concept), but the majority symbolize an ominous morass of forgettable features. Recent titles, such as Prey for the Devil and Demonic, have already vanished from my memory bank, leaving little trace in their conjuring of tepid horror devices. 

    It can be easy to get cynical about the endless onslaught of exorcist features, which is part of what makes The Pope’s Exorcist such a delightful surprise. What it may lack in innovation, The Pope’s Exorcist readily compensates for in its spirited take on a tried and true concept. 

    The true ace up the film’s sleeve is Oscar-winner Russell Crowe as Father Gabriele Amorth. Crowe continues forging a fascinating second-act career path, utilizing his transfixing screen presence and unrelenting dedication to elevate several breezy genre vehicles (Unhinged and The Nice Guys come to mind). 

    In the role of Father Amorth, Crowe’s robust skill set personifies the character with remarkable ease. His commanding gravitas and cutting humor are tailor-made fits as a seasoned church veteran dedicated solely to his righteous values. The actor also showcases a deft balancing act in his characterization of Amorth, capturing the infectious magnetism of his charismatic personality while still vulnerably unburdening the insular terrors that linger from his past. Crowe’s immense abilities allow The Pope’s Exocist to maintain more weight than most streamlined horror productions.

    Additionally, the creative team behind the camera provides an A effort with their B-movie production. Overlord and Samaritan director Julius Avery has quickly emerged as one of the industry’s best genre filmmakers. He boasts a knack for creating frighting setpieces within the confines of minuscule budgets, steeping Pope’s Exorcist in a gamut of unnerving macabre flourishes. Menacing shadows, timely jump scares, and ingenious practical effects are all implemented by Avery with technical aplomb throughout the production. 

    Even the screenplay generates better results than many of the film’s exorcist contemporaries. Writing duo Michael Petroni and Evan Spiliotopoulos showcase a keen perspective in framing the narrative’s religious pastiche, juxtaposing Amorth’s steadfast faith against the lingering malpractice corrupting the church’s values. Sure, this is not a revelatory concept for horror films, yet the duo meditates effectively on their approach without burdening the material with didactic inclusions. 

    Don’t get me wrong – no one will mistake The Pope’s Exorcist as a horror masterwork. The film retreads ideas and iconography from many of its superior predecessors, while the supporting cast surrounding Amorth serves little purpose aside from moving the plot forward. 

    Still, The Pope’s Exorcist deserves praise for scaring up a good time at the multiplex. The film exudes confidence and craft in its enthralling take on a familiar horror staple. 

    The Pope’s Exorcist is now playing in theaters. 

  • Sweetwater: The BRWC Review

    Sweetwater: The BRWC Review

    Sweetwater Synopsis: Nathaniel “Sweetwater” Clifton (Everett Osborne), the star attraction of the Harlem Globetrotters, changes basketball when he becomes the first black player to sign a contract with the NBA in the fall of 1950.

    The lasting impact of Nathaniel “Sweetwater” Clifton receives the biopic treatment in Sweetwater.

    Few figures are more deserving of a feature film than Clifton. While we regularly recognize the importance of trailblazing athletes like Jackie Robinson and Ernie Davis, Sweetwater’s journey from the high-flying Globetrotters to becoming one of the NBA’s first black athletes is an overlooked yet essential chapter in the annals of American history. 

    It’s hard to fathom how such a monumental story could flatline onscreen, yet Sweetwater squanders its potential at every turn. This emotionally inert and technically inept feature follows a hackneyed sports movie playbook that feels just as dated as the 1950s backward politics. 

    Writer/director Martin Guigui has been fighting to get Sweetwater made for nearly two decades, and to his credit, his efforts are a noble pursuit. The story of Sweetwater remains deeply resonant in our challenging modern landscape, with the basketball star’s unbreakable resolve and tremendous courage serving as a towering symbol for social justice reform. Yet, his arduous journey is also a painful reminder of how far we still have to go. The callous commodification of black athletes remains everpresent, placing many in an uncompromising spotlight shrouded by jeering commentary and an overbearing lack of empathy.

    Unfortunately, Sweetwater bricks its numerous shots at meaningful reflections. Guigui’s screenplay occasionally touches on pertinent dynamics related to the basketball star, from the demonization of Clifton’s innovative play style to the financial exploitation encumbering his success at every step. These topics desperately call for nuanced insights, but Guigui panders to his audience by only providing shallow observations. 

    He misguidedly wraps his concepts in a neat package devoid of complexion, unintentionally creating an insincere depiction of the essential voices fighting against racial bigotry. Characters in Sweetwater are either constructed as affable sympathizers to Clifton or cartoonishly vile antagonists, lacking the moral ambiguity needed to delve into the thorny difficulties of this seismic societal transition. 

    The overwhelming simplicity is most evident with Clifton’s recruiters, Knicks coach Joe Lapchick and owner Ned Irish. Guigui paints both as virtuous voices of change, but this approach undermines the undeniable benefit both received in adding a player of Clifton’s talents to their roster. Was this a decision made to benefit them or black America as a whole? 

    Sweetwater ultimately proves to be too ill-equipped to ask tough questions about the central figures in its narrative. Additionally, it’s hard to fathom why these characters receive nearly equal screen time to the film’s titular subject. Star Everett Osborne’s poised performance as Clifton regrettably takes a backseat to the circus theatrics of Jeremey Piven and Cary Elwes – both of whom offer over-the-top turns to compensate for the material’s lack of textures. Despite Hollywood’s progress in expanding representation, audiences still have to sift through another story of black triumph forced through the lens of white spectators. 

    A myriad of tired sports movie contrivances further accents the falterings of Sweetwater. Guigi’s direction is absent of any creative vigor, recycling the same brown-tinted color grading, dated music inclusions, and uninspired framing choices featured in countless other biopics. Likewise, his presence behind the camera screeches ideas through tired devices. Whether it’s grand speeches or a heavy dose of saccharine sentimentality, Guigi struggles to unearth the rousing moments he desperately seeks. I do think Guigi comes from an earnest place with this project, but the wayward execution throughout does not make that present onscreen. 

    Good intentions never translate into a quality film with Sweetwater. I am sad to report that this sports biopic provides a bargain bin effort in its adaptation of a remarkable true story. 

    Sweetwater is now playing in theaters. 

  • Paint: The BRWC Review

    Paint: The BRWC Review

    Paint Synopsis: Carl Nargle (Owen Wilson), Vermont’s top-rated public access television painter, is convinced he has it all: a signature perm, custom van, and fans hanging on his every word. However, the arrival of young, creatively-inspired artist Ambrosia (Ciara Renée) begins to steal the pedigree Carl has established. 

    Self-obsessed painter Carl Nargle basks in the modest fame and fortune of his public-access TV legacy when the arrival of a new artist threatens his existence in the absurdist comedy Paint. 

    Some aspects of writer/director Brit McAdams’ narrative debut boast an innate appeal (McAdams is an established filmmaker in the comedy scene, directing Katt Williams comedy specials and episodes of Tosh. O). Paint centers itself in the quaint world of a folksy Vermont town filled with its fair share of offbeat characters. Within this obscure yet endearing world, McAdams elicits his best results when focusing on the material’s inherent zaniness. 

    Carl Nargle is a perfect embodiment of this. Molded from the zen-like aura of Bob Ross, the character is a fascinating buffoon to follow. He disguises his narcissism under peaceful mantras and a chill facade while fixating solely on creating unremarkable landscape portraits for his lackadaisical TV viewers. McAdams has a blast skewering his image in humorous ways, keeping a straight face as Carl’s eccentricities speak in their own amusingly quirky voice. 

    The bizarre caricature allows star Owen Wilson to offer one of his best comedic performances in years. Wilson is a master of commodifying cooler-than-cool energy, utilizing his distinct skill set to articulate the character’s humorous mannerisms and overwhelming aloofness. It is a joy not only seeing Wilson step back into his comedy wheelhouse, but also witnessing the actor getting the rare chance to play a despicable figure onscreen. Supporting work from comedy veterans, such as Michela Watkins, Stephen Root, Wendi McLendon-Covey and Ciara Renée as Carl’s new upstart rival, also color the screen with expressive performances. 

    Paint’s quirks are a joy when the film focuses on its farce of celebrity culture. McAdams accumulates comedic mileage by depicting how fandom’s disillusionment creates a cult of personality that never lives up to its actual namesake. The film’s first half is adept at portraying this concept, with McAdams dreaming up some ingenious skits that accentuate the filmmaker’s ambitions.  

    Somewhere along the way, though, Paint loses its edge. While there are some promising thematic ruminations at first glance, McAdams abandons these ideas in favor of clean and oppressively generic narrative devices. To see the film get oddly sentimental about Carl and his gradual descent into obscurity awkwardly clashes with what the first half achieved so well. The movie ultimately concludes with little to say about its premise and Carl himself, landing in a decidedly beige middle ground that does not formulate a thoughtful perspective. 

    Paint is humorous without ever being laugh-out-loud hysterical. After a strong start out the gate, McAdams’s screenplay runs out of steam, eventually driving in circles around its amusing yet tedious one-joke premise. For every joke that lands effectively, there is another that swings and misses badly from its overly offbeat sensibility. 

    Paint conjures a portrait of mixed-bag moments. Some areas of its canvas are brimming with promise, but the whole experience struggles to paint a satisfying and cohesive picture. 

    Paint opens in theaters on April 7. 

  • Dungeons And Dragons Honor Among Thieves: The BRWC Review

    Dungeons And Dragons Honor Among Thieves: The BRWC Review

    Dungeons and Dragons Honor Among Thieves Synopsis: A charming thief and a band of unlikely adventurers embark on an epic quest to retrieve a long-lost relic, but their charming adventure goes dangerously awry when they run afoul of the wrong people.

    A down-on-his-luck bard, a ferocious barbarian, a shape-shifting druid, and an insecure sorcerer form a makeshift team to save the world in Dungeons and Dragons: Honor Among Thieves. 

    Basing a movie on an iconic role-playing tabletop game boasts a certain allure. That said, adapting Dungeons and Dragons’ expansive lore into a succinct feature film has been easier said than done. The brand made its cinematic debut in 2000 with disaster results, showcasing cheesy effects and lifeless world-building in a misguided attempt to create the next blockbuster franchise. Soon after, two thankless, straight-to-DVD follow-ups received little fanfare as the brand eventually vanished from the Hollywood zeitgeist. 

    Thankfully for D&D fans, Honor Among Thieves ventures down a far more inspired path in its revival of the franchise. This spirited adventure casts a charming spell by cleverly elevating its familiar narrative framework. 

    The writer/director team of Jonathan Goldstein and John Francis Daley may seem like an untraditional choice to helm a blockbuster. The duo gradually rose the ranks in the industry through their sharp comedic voice, helping to shape crowd-pleasing efforts like Game Night and Horrible Bosses. Where many filmmakers struggle in their transition to big-budget endeavors, Goldstein and Francis Daley seamlessly fold their strengths into the proceedings. 

    Honor Among Thieves boasts a knack for rich character-building. Bard Edgar, barbarian Holga, sorcerer Simon and druid Doric feature standard-issue character traits at first glance, but the script always discovers vivid ways to personalize their roots. Goldstein and Francis Daley intelligently emphasize building the type of camaraderie one would experience while embarking on a Dungeons and Dragons quest. The offbeat central team gradually forms a tight-knit family that consistently captures interest. 

    It helps to have a dynamic cast enriching these roles. Movie star Chris Pine was born to play a charismatic bard, imbuing his signature spark and effortless gravity as the team’s makeshift leader riddled by his own complicated past. In addition, Michelle Rodriguez delivers her onscreen bravado as a grizzled warrior; Justice Smith and Sophia Lillis bring affable energy into their sorcerer and druid roles, and Regé-Jean Page is a delightful scene-stealer as an honorable paladin. Everyone involved seems to be having a blast, and their infectious enthusiasm becomes a contagious draw to the viewer. 

    Behind the director’s chair, Goldstein and Francis Daley prove to be capable dungeon masters (look it up non-Dungeons and Dragons players). They boast an assured command of tone and pace, swiftly guiding viewers across countless action setpieces, comedic pratfalls, and quiet moments of reflection. I also enjoyed the duo’s deft integration of CGI with practical special effects work – the make-up and tactile creature design here is a particular standout. Through their composed craft, Goldstein and Francis Daley impressively forgo the dysfunctional transition phase many suffer from when rising to the ranks of more expensive projects. 

    I don’t think their film suffers from any significant weaknesses, although I’d argue its charms are capped by reaching satisfactory marks rather than truly excelling in certain areas. The action setpieces are competently staged yet rarely invigorating. The central team dynamic is appealing, but it ultimately feels like a copycat rendition of other ensemble films, namely the Guardians of the Galaxy. Even the filmmakers’ trademark comedic touch endure inconsistencies as some gags try too hard to be clever. The movie’s limitations ultimately left me with an enjoyable yet weightless blockbuster experience. 

    My misgivings toward Dungeons and Dragons: Honor Among Thieves did not prevent me from having a satisfying odyssey at the cineplex. It’s an honorable reboot that understands the appeals of its brand and consistently presents them with charm and panache. 

    Dungeons and Dragons: Honor Among Thieves is now playing in theaters.