film reviews, interviews, features | BRWC

Author: Matt Conway

  • Cinderella (2021): The BRWC Review

    Cinderella (2021): The BRWC Review

    Cinderella (2021) Synopsis: A modern musical take on the classic fairy tale. Our ambitious heroine Ella (Camila Cabello) has big dreams to start her own business, and with the help of her fab Godmother (Billy Porter), she perseveres to make them come true.

    Pitch Perfect writer and Blockers director Kay Cannon reimagines an age-old fairy tale with her poppy take on Cinderella. Cannon attempts to deliver her brand of catchy musical remixes and upbeat feminist ideals to Ella’s journey of self-discovery. However, this colorfully vapid production fails to infuse much life into the familiar fairy tale. 

    In an effort to connect with the modern zeitgeist, Cannon’s film reeks of overproduced tendencies. Similar to Pitch Perfect, Cannon runs through the gamut of once-famed pop culture tracks. Her team of songwriters tries to imbue some playful modern twists, but the songs feel too generically clean for their own good. The heavy reliance on auto-tune and uninspired genre switch-ups creates a tracklist of songs that feel almost factory-made in their cynical nature. Even the few original tracks are too thankless to register an impression, preaching the same “believe in your dream” message that other films have peddled with far more sincerity. 

    The film’s modern infusions also falter on a narrative front. I applaud Cannon’s script for its efforts to confront the fairy tale’s dated norms, shifting Ella’s dreams of being a princess to a desire to run her own business. However, her pursuits lack meaningful follow-through. The clumsy messaging possesses an overt cheeriness to mask the lack of substance, never engaging with its inspiration ideas with much thought past rah-rah sentiments. Viewing Ella’s journey through a modern lens isn’t without promise, but the lack of humanity under the surface leaves little to engross audiences. 

    Where the material struggles, the talented ensemble can’t do enough to pick up the pieces. Stars Camila Cabello and Nicholas Galitzine showcase their vocal talents, yet neither actor possesses the charisma to animate their lifeless roles. The noticeable lack of chemistry derails the duo from selling audiences on their happily ever after romance. A star-studded ensemble, including Billy Porter, Idina Menzel, and Pierce Brosnan, is also severely underutilized in their thanklessly brief appearances. 

    Cinderella has become a punching bag on the internet, and while I am no fan of the film, it’s strange to see why (I can understand hating on the James Corden factor at least). The film is the kind of perfunctory romp that won’t interest audiences who have sifted through superior iterations of Cinderella. That said, I could see the film’s brisk energy and boisterous tracks exciting younger viewers. Cannon also deserves props for trying to imbue vitality into an age-old story, with her distinct sensibility still presenting promise despite the film’s failure. 

    Outside of the film’s core demographic, Cinderella’s misguided execution does little to liven its familiar proceedings. 

    Cinderella is now available on Amazon Prime.

  • Shang-Chi And The Legend Of The Ten Rings: The BRWC Review

    Shang-Chi And The Legend Of The Ten Rings: The BRWC Review

    Shang-Chi Synopsis: Martial-arts master Shang-Chi (Simu Liu) confronts the past he thought he left behind when he’s drawn into the web of the mysterious Ten Rings organization. Alongside his best friend Katy (Awkwafina), Shang-Chi goes on a mission to learn his true purpose while squaring off against his controlling father Xu Wenwu (Tony Leung).

    Marvel has amassed unprecedented success over their epic 20+ film run, transforming niche comic books into a signature pop-culture staple along the way. After highlighting familiar titans like Iron Man, Thor, and Black Widow, Disney is wisely turning their attention toward Marvel characters underrepresented in the mainstream consciousness. 

    Short Term 12 director Destin Daniel Cretton jumpstarts this prosperous new phase with Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings, the first present-day chapter of Phase 4. Marvel’s latest presents exciting storytelling opportunities, yet the oppressive MCU formula creates an inconsistent representation of the studio’s best and worst qualities. 

    When given a chance to define its own lane, Shang-Chi integrates some much-needed vitality to the familiar proceedings. Cretton, Cinematographer Bill Pope, and their team of skilled fight coordinators (Brian and Andy Lee, D.Y. Sao, Joseph Le, Vi-Dan Tran, and the late Brad Allen) dream up some of the franchise’s most assured action setpieces to date. The camera swerves with each dynamic punch, showcasing a dance of well-choreographed movements without falling into the busy trappings of modern actioners. For the most part, these sequences steer away from the CGI overkill that defines modern-day blockbusters, often embracing a personable approach as a means to highlight the character’s emotional grace (the opening setpiece has a serenity that most blockbusters are sorely missing). 

    At the core of Shang-Chi, the narrative presents a poignant change-of-pace from the typical world-ending steaks. Shang-Chi instead finds himself toe-to-toe with his callous father Xu -a hardened warrior who has spent a millennium dominating all that stood in his path. The film’s best frames touch at the heart of their disconnected father-son relationship, incorporating effective ruminations on the rigid Chinese family structure and the culture’s collectivist mindset. 

    Xu’s domineering presence comes to life in the hand of Eastern icon Tony Leung. The actor’s Western debut creates one of the MCU’s strongest villains to date, with Leung injecting a cold gravitas in the character’s singular pursuit for control. Like any great villain, Xu isn’t without empathy. Leung intelligently delves under the character’s cruel facade to tap into the lingering grief that defines him. Star Simu Liu also makes for a sturdy leading man as Shang-Chi, infusing the character’s everyman journey with movie star charisma. The additions of Awkwafina, Michelle Yeoh, and newcomer Meng’er Zhang also help to personify the poised supporting characters. 

    Shang-Chi introduces singular strengths to the MCU – yet the awkward integration of the MCU formula prevents these additions from fully taking flight. The intriguing family elements take a back seat to played-out shenanigans, whether it’s overly quippy jokes or forced tie-ins with other MCU staples (a long-forgotten character returns only to serve as an annoying distraction). Due to this, Cretton and Dave Callaham’s screenplay struggles to find its flow at times as it wrestles between perspectives. The imbalance is particularly damaging to the film’s bloated third act, which clashes the film’s emotional climax with an overabundance of dimly-lit CGI effects. 

    It’s frustrating to see material brimming with promise yet constantly compromising to be a part of the Marvel shared universe. Producer Kevin Feige’s unrelenting stranglehold over the franchise prevents titles like this and Black Widow from developing their own succinct identity onscreen despite their inclusion of thoughtful new wrinkles. I am thrilled that Marvel continues to find enormous success with audiences as they expand their roster. However, as they grow with their roster, I hope they loosen up the reigns and allow their films to find their voice similar to what DC has accomplished in recent years. 

    Issues aside, I am still giving Shang-Chi a lukewarm recommendation for its balance of blockbuster thrills and just enough thoughtful character moments. Don’t fret MCU fans, as I am sure this film will be right up your alley despite my personal grievances.

    Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings is now playing in theaters nationwide.

  • Candyman: The BRWC Review

    Candyman: The BRWC Review

    Candyman Synopsis: Anthony (Yahya Abdul-Mateen II) and his partner Brianna (Teyonah Parris) move into a loft in the now gentrified Cabrini. A chance encounter with an old-timer (Colman Domingo) exposes Anthony to the true story behind Candyman. Anxious to use these macabre details in his studio as fresh grist for paintings, he unknowingly opens the door to a complex past that unravels his sanity and unleashes a terrifying wave of violence.

    Unnerving audiences through its blend of grisly horrors and challenging themes, 1992’s Candyman generated a distinct place in horror. While the genre has always had its fair share of menacing mascots, few foes are as symbolic of real-world dilemmas as Candyman’s one-clawed entity. Several sequels (Farewell to the Flesh and Day of the Dead) attempted to further cement Candyman’s status, yet their lack of meaningful insights left audiences with nothing more than barebones imitations. 

    Nearly two decades later, Little Woods director Nia DaCosta has reimagined Candyman for our ever-changing modern times. Her loose sequel maintains a similar thematic edge to the 1992 original. It may not be as cohesive or singular as its predecessor, but DaCosta’s visceral and timely horrors still dig under the audience’s skin. 

    DaCosta implements a foreboding dreariness from the opening frame onward. She and Cinematographer John Guleserian imbue steely precision with every frame, implementing a cold veneer to encapsulate the demise of the now-Gentrified communities. From the ominous view of towering Chicago skyscrapers to the overly-pristine emptiness of each gentrified setting, the film mines pointed techniques to reinforce its thematic conceits.  

    As a horror vehicle, Candyman elicits a sturdy balance between visceral violence and the fear of the unknown. DaCosta presents the patient touch of an astute horror craftsman, choreographing each setpiece with enough subversion from the studio horror movie mold. Each kill – whether it’s on or off-screen – stabs at the heart of viewers, while Robert Aiki Aubrey Lowe’s searing score notes further escalates each conflict. Perhaps a few more on-screen kills would have been preferred, but DaCosta is one of the rare directors to make her off-screen moments just as potent as the on-screen bloodshed. 

    The talented ensemble also manifests the material’s unnerving undertones. As Anthony, an artist seemingly possessed by the Candyman legend, Yahya Abdul-Mateen II’s erratic energy encapsulates the personal horrors derived from the slow slippage away from reality. His dedicated presence embodies the character’s downward spiral, incorporating enough humanity to render tragedy from the unavoidable. Teyonah Parris elevates her thinly-conceived role as Brianna, while Colman Domingo’s grizzled presence and smooth narration make him a perfect fit as Anthony’s mysterious acquaintance.  

    Candyman feels assured in nearly every aspect – except for the screenplay. Collaborated on by DaCosta, Win Rosenfeld, and producer Jordan Peele, the script presents interesting new wrinkles to contextualize this sequel for the modern age. White culture’s appropriation of black art, police abuse, and the commodification of black trauma are pointed conceits, yet the breathless 91-minute runtime rarely gets the time to explore them. The ideas reduce into simplified and overwritten nonsequiturs that rarely bear the weight of their potent concepts. 

    The screenplay’s lack of balance also derails the narrative. For such a tight movie, Candyman presents far too many intriguing subplots that ultimately go nowhere. There’s far too much telling and not enough showing, with brief asides rarely capturing the emotional trauma behind the character’s pains (Teyonah Parris’ character is hurt the most by this). It all culminates in a third act that’s equally predictable and underdeveloped – ending amidst a crescendo that leaves elements far too many undefined elements in its path. 

    Candyman’s craft far exceeds its narrative follow-through – an issue that will likely divide most viewers on DaCosta’s well-intended effort. For me, DaCosta’s poise and remarkable skill unearth enough horrors to whisk audiences along the uneven journey. 

  • Reminiscence: The BRWC Review

    Reminiscence: The BRWC Review

    Reminiscence Synopsis: Nicolas Bannister (Hugh Jackman), a rugged and solitary veteran living in a near-future Miami flooded by rising seas, is an expert in a dangerous occupation: he and his partner Emily (Thandiwe Newton) offers clients the chance to relive any memory they desire. After meeting the mysterious Mae (Rebecca Ferguson), he becomes transfixed as a short love affair leads to their disappearance. His life is forever changed as he uncovers a violent conspiracy while trying to solve the mystery behind a missing client.

    It’s been a tough time for science fiction diehards like myself. With mainstream interests continuing to delineate toward fantastical blockbusters and wholesome family offerings, the ambitious and timely ideals of hard-wired sci-fi continue to take a back seat. What constitutes sci-fi these days holds more in common with the brisk charms of Star Wars rather than the challenging idealism behind great works like 2001: A Space Odyssey and Children of Men (I wouldn’t call airless junk like The Tomorrow War sci-fi). 

    Westworld creator Lisa Joy attempts to revive the genre’s roots with her ambitious big-screen writing/directorial debut Reminiscence. In an attempt to blend the atmospheric noir of Blade Runner with a vast dystopian world connected to our current zeitgeist, Joy’s feature has scored tepid responses with critics and audiences alike. While I understand the complaints about Joy’s overambitious debut, Reminiscence’s dreamy creativity and dramatic gravitas drew me into its unique landscape. 

    Similar to her work on the small-screen, Joy exhibits an assured hand as a world-builder. Reminiscence’s flooded Miami landscape drips with atmosphere and texture, with Joy and her production team incorporating a myriad of run-down buildings and background crimes to indoctrinate viewers into the chaotic dystopia. Joy’s film is fittingly grand and precise in its visual style. 

    She and Cinematographer Paul Cameron convey their luxurious landscapes and seedy underbellies with similar levels of mystery and unease, skillfully evoking the noir pastiche without being too overt. The duo wisely shoots the blurred reality of the Reminiscent memories with an equal measure of fogginess and glow, showcasing the varied ways we reflect on our ever-fading memories. Her patient touch behind the camera is also a refreshing change of pace, as Joy’s languid pace never conforms to the showier tendencies of modern blockbusters. 

    Joy’s screenplay is easily the film’s most divisive element. Her wide-eyed aspirations congeal an unwinding detective yarn with timely ruminations on climate change, the growing class disparity, and government corruption. I can understand critiques of the film’s thematic ideas, as most of them serve as empty window dressing to Joy’s bustling dystopian setting. Her script spins far too many plates – both in terms of narrative subplots and theme – giving the material little room to develop a succinct thesis. 

    Still, there are thematic elements that land with genuine impact. Joy’s script is at its most successful when delving into the relationship between a disenfranchised populous and addiction. Reminiscence creates a world of broken characters who cope with their hopeless worldview through varying stimulating means. Joy tackles this conceit with emotional intimacy and genuine truths, allowing her characters to reflect the lingering pains felt by many in society. I’ll always appreciate movies that bite off more than they can chew rather than features that do little to engage on a meaningful level. The overambitious approach limits the characters and themes to straightforward levels, but Joy exhibits enough thoughtfulness to mask the inconsistencies. 

    Reminiscence’s skilled cast also helps carry the load. Hugh Jackman’s exuberant presence makes him a compelling lead as Nick Bannister, imbuing the straight-man protagonist role with sincere longing and regret. Jackman skillfully plays against his typical leading man charms while uncorking Nick’s simmering emotions to an eventual full boil. Westworld’s Thandiwe Newton is a compelling scene-stealer as Nick’s longtime friend and assistant, Watts. Newton carries the raw bravado of a hardened war hero, effectively using her rigid presence as a wall to mask her lingering discontentment. Rebecca Ferguson’s illuminating glow makes her an apt fit for the enigmatic Mae, infusing enough humanity to make the character work in her limited screentime. 

    I can’t say Reminiscence will be for everyone. The film’s thematic and narrative inconsistencies prevent the inventive concept from realizing its true potential. That said, Joy and company still create a mesmerizing blend of ambition and craft – reflecting the kind of innovative work that rarely gets made for mainstream audiences today.

    Reminiscence is now playing in theaters and HBO Max.  

  • Sweet Girl: The BRWC Review

    Sweet Girl: The BRWC Review

    Sweet Girl Synopsis: A devastated husband (Jason Momoa) vows to bring justice to the people responsible for his wife’s death while protecting the only family he has left, his daughter (Isabela Merced).

    With his flowing locks and burly physique, Jason Momoa boasts the picturesque image of a modern-day action star. Unfortunately, aside from the blockbuster success of Aquaman, most of the star’s actioner vehicles have underserved him at every turn (his big-screen debut to most was the dreadful Conan the Barbarian reboot). 

    The same is true about his latest actioner, the Netflix-produced Sweet Girl. The film follows Moma as a grieving husband battling against corporate medical agency’s malpractice, but the narrative is frankly irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. Sweet Girl is yet another half-baked and abysmally-assembled romp through tired action movie formula. 

    To his credit, Moma does his best to hold the material together. His blend of personable charisma and sufficient dramatic capabilities keeps the thankless narrative somewhat afloat as the film races from setpiece to setpiece. Similar to his last streaming actioner Braven, the favoring of intimate hand-to-hand fights also fits his stature well, with Moma dispatching numerous goons with presence and machismo panache (both this and Braven utilize axes and handmade traps with clever results). I appreciate Moma’s work – he’s a relic from a bygone era where sturdy stars carried middling actioners through their sheer force of nature.

    That said, Sweet Girl can’t execute the genre’s formula at even an adequate level. Gregg Hurwitz and Philip Eisner’s screenplay is as studio manufactured as it gets, frontloading audiences with a heaping of melodramatic exposition without developing a genuine reason to invest (the “dying parent” trope only serves as an emotionally manipulative gimmick). I’d be remissed to call the film’s attempts at inditing the inequitable healthcare industry subtext, as the seldom frames that attempt it blatantly spells the messaging out. The script is lacking across the board in terms of thought and care. It’s as boilerplate and studio-issued as it gets for action movies. 

    Where the script falters, the direction is equally underdelivered. Braven producer Brian Andrew Mendoza seems like an apt fit to take the director mantle, but the film’s visceral execution does little to elevate the proceedings. The action scenes frame everything through nauseating shaky-cam, restricting the brutal choreography from ever grabbing the audience’s attention. Each boilerplate sequences will only please the type of dad audience that digests these run-of-the-mill efforts on a weekly basis. 

    Sweet Girl barely exists. It’s a semi-competent yet painfully derivative fugitive actioner that will get lost amongst the ones and zeroes of Netflix’s algorithm. 

    Sweet Girl is now playing on Netflix.