film reviews, interviews, features | BRWC

Author: Matt Conway

  • Escape Room: Tournament Of Champions: Review

    Escape Room: Tournament Of Champions: Review

    Escape Room: Tournament of Champions Synopsis: Six people unwittingly find themselves locked in another series of escape rooms, slowly uncovering what they have in common to survive — and discover they’ve all played the game before. For Zoey (Taylor Russell) and Ben (Logan Miller), this second time through is a chance to take down the evil organization Minos for good.

    In a world where Hollywood is constantly looking for their next franchise, 2019’s Escape Room served as a delightful surprise. Integrating the death-defying Saw formula with the modern zest of extreme escape room settings, writer/director Adam Robitel skillfully crafted a pulse-pounding, B-movie delight. The film cleaned up financially during the doldrums of January, morphing a meager production budget (9 million) into a 155 million worldwide hit.

    Money talks in Hollywood, which leads us to the gleefully titled sequel Escape Room: Tournament of Champions. Robitel doubles down on the original’s preposterous tendencies, and while there are still hiccups intact, Tournament of Champions elicits another shameless good time at the multiplex.

    Making this type of bombastic shlock is harder than it appears. The tone requires a straight-faced delivery within an inherently silly premise, while the daunting escape rooms must match the original’s inventive design work. Thankfully, Robitel doesn’t miss a beat. His direction brazenly stretches towards high-art camp, escalating his promising premise into a narrative high-wire act chock-full of shocking twists and turns.

    Robitel exhibits remarkable poise and creativity, with a series of swift camera movements intoxicating viewers into the sweaty-palm thrills of each revolving setting. From shocking electrical currents to the cutting bite of acid rain, there are a plethora of inventive situations conjured to make the daunting escape rooms come to life. The director maintains this frenetic energy throughout the swift 88-minute duration, displaying astute self-awareness without ever overplaying his hand.

    Similar to Saw, the Escape Room series has discovered its own playful charm even when the stunts aren’t onscreen. The quartet of screenwriters (Will Honley, Maria Melnik, Daniel Tuch, and Oren Uziel) embrace the revolving mystery of each dangerous room, turning our characters into Sherlock Holmes equivalents as they piece together a series of obscure clues. It’s all kind of madness, but it’s the type of imaginative, high-energy jargon that instantly draws loving cackles from audiences (the plotting only gets more endearing with each ridiculous clue). Taylor Russell and Logan Miller deserve significant praise for continuing to ground the shlocky proceedings. Along with a well-calibrated ensemble, the two returners infuse enough gravity and humanity into their underwritten roles.

    I had a blast throughout Tournament of Champions, yet the series continues to press forward with the same missteps. Robitel and company struggle to humanize these characters past generic character tropes. The breakneck pace and imprecise writing prevent any of the six from gravitating much interest, while attempts at deeper ruminations on our paranoid surveillance state go virtually nowhere. I also hope this series goes for the gusto more with any potential sequels. Robitel assuredly operates in the confines of PG-13 horror, but an R-rating could allow these setpieces to land with grizzlier impact.

    Escape Room: Tournament of Champions is the type of B-movie crowdpleaser I love to see. It’s an infectiously dopey and wildly entertaining franchise, one that I hope presses on with its own Saw-like run of sequels.

    Escape Room: Tournament of Champions is now playing in theaters.

  • Joe Bell: The BRWC Review

    Joe Bell: The BRWC Review

    Joe Bell Synopsis: The true story of a small town, a working-class father, Joe (Mark Wahlberg), who embarks on a solo walk across the U.S. to crusade against bullying after his son, Jadin (Reid Miller), is tormented in high school for being gay.

    Representation and inclusion continue to be challenging issues in the film industry. For every notable step forward (2021 films like In the Heights and Raya and the Last Dragon presented diversity with thought and authenticity), Hollywood still embraces a medley of poorly conceived decisions (Music and Hillbilly Elegy took dated stereotypes to regressive new lows). It’s clear the industry wants positive progress, but studio executives are still learning the difference between meaningful representation and blatant pandering.

    Landing in theaters after a tumultuous festival run, the LGBTQ drama Joe Bell falls under a similar trap. While bolstered with good intentions and proper sensitivity, Joe Bell’s inert and self-congratulatory execution adds little to an essential conversation.

    The issues are apparent from jump street. This is a potent story centered around the damaging effects of bigotry and intolerance, with Jadin’s all-too-familiar arc touching upon the brokenness left in the wake of hateful targeting. Instead of Jadin’s vital perspective, screenwriters Diana Ossana and Larry McMurty fixture their narrative around Joe’s walk for redemption after tragic circumstances. Like Joe himself, the film’s bizarre structuring leaves audiences at a constant distance from Jadin’s pressing struggles. We experience Jadin’s life solely from the viewpoint of after-school special flashbacks and Joe’s solemn reflections, reducing his meaningful story into an ineffective and oddly disconnected narrative.

    Without touching into spoilers, the two screenwriters also decide to reorganize the timeline of events. I can understand their intentions, but the questionable execution left me feeling queasy. With most of the Joe scenes traveling through a repetitive cycle without a sufficient arc (the character flip flops between embracing change and going back to his old ways), the change in timeline stands to create a more dramatized narrative, one that feels in poor taste to the film’s real-world origins. Not only does the narrative not work, but its haphazard delivery poorly represents the film’s themes of empathy and communication.

    Even with the film’s deficiencies, Joe Bell showcases a few bright spots. Director Reinaldo Marcus Green imbues enough tact and sensitivity to enhance the maudlin melodrama, stripping away overworked Hollywood artifice to create a more toned-down experience (the lack of searing score choices was refreshing). The subdued tones make a great canvas for the cast to shine. Reid Miller is a revelation as Jadin, unearthing nuanced emotions in a demanding performance that features only a handful of frames. Mark Wahlberg is typically imperfect (his attempts at an accent are inconsistent), but I’d rather see the star stretch his wings than settling with blah blockbusters. His performance elicits enough honest truths to represent Joe’s personal reckoning.

    Joe Bell is too earnest to condemn, although that doesn’t excuse the film’s lack of impact and understanding. It’s a dated and flatly-conceived attempt at jumpstarting a meaningful conversation.

    Joe Bell arrives in theaters nationwide on July 23rd.

  • Space Jam: A New Legacy: The BRWC Review

    Space Jam: A New Legacy: The BRWC Review

    Space Jam: A New Legacy Synopsis: Superstar LeBron James and his young son, Dom, get trapped in digital space by a rogue AI (Don Cheadle). To get home safely, LeBron teams up with Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck and the rest of the Looney Tunes gang for a high-stakes basketball game against the AI’s digitized champions of the court.

    Love it or hate it, Space Jam’s campy cartoon energy felt like a perfect encapsulation of the 90’s sensibility. The Michael Jordan-led Looney Toon’s crossover was rampant with slapstick silliness and garish style choices, but there was ultimately something endearing about it shamelessly earnest energy. The movie’s self-aware design accomplished its exact goals for energized younger viewers, with the film still holding a strong reverence with that nostalgic core audience today.

    Ironically enough, the long-awaited follow-up, Space Jam: A New Legacy, feels similarly defined by its current zeitgeist. Switching one Hall of Fame hooper for another, this busy sequel breathlessly combines the original film’s formula with a vast array of Warner Brothers IPs. It may not be the cynical abomination others are making it out to be, but Space Jam: A New Legacy never strives for more than studio-crafted mediocrity.

    To the film’s credit, certain elements do elevate the cartoonish mania. LeBron James boasts an easy-going charisma and playful comedic touch as a superstar protagonist facing life-defining challenges on and off the court. The writing restricts James to everyman pleasantness, but that doesn’t stop his affable presence from radiating across the screen. In a role most would mug through, Don Cheadle imbues vibrant energy into the villainous AI-G Rhythm. He presents con man swagger with exuberance and wit, giving audiences a foe that they truly love to hate.

    Space Jam: A New Legacy has drawn ire from online pundits, and I’m still not sure exactly why. The film admirably replicates the zany Looney Toons aesthetic of past generations, never taking itself too seriously aside from your typical schmaltzy family melodrama. Director Malcolm D. Lee endured a challenging production process (he was hired midway through the shoot), but his assured studio comedy touch plays most of the right notes. Even at a wholly unnecessary 2-hour runtime, Lee briskly races from visual gag to setpiece with enough earnest craftsmanship to prevent boredom.

    Saying I didn’t hate the movie isn’t exactly a ringing endorsement. Legacy is consistently diverting, yet its devoid of passion and a creative vision. Six writers collaborated on this aimless hodgepodge of family family mechanics, sprinkling the flat narrative contrivances with a hardy helping of recognized IPs. I don’t think incoporating established brands is without promise (Ready Player One showed the imaginative mania that could render from vast icons). It’s just never executed with much cohesion or brevity. The constant array of bad references (ranging from Citzen Kane to Austin Powers) makes the film feel like a cynical byproduct of executive meetings. Instead of self-refrential barbs, the screenwriters simply rely on pop culture references as a means of comedic gags. The results are a collection of chuckles, airball misses, and flat out bizarre gags that lack a cohesive voice (its geared towards kids, but a majority of the references are adult-oriented).

    I would be able to forgive some of Legacy’s misgivings if the film didn’t look so soulless. For a massive 160-million dollar production, Legacy presents no dynamism or verve in its AI-driven landscape. The drab colors and oppressively artificial effects work to create an empty void devoid of vivid tendencies. Considering the Looney Toons dependence on detailed animation design, a majority of their gags feel like lifeless imitations. Plenty of straightforward family films have coasted off strong aesthetic design (Spy Kids is a classic for its surreal landscape). Here, the lack of vibrancy sinks a pedestrian story from ever discovering its spark.

    Space Jam: A New Legacy lands as a competent and completely inoffensive kid-centric adventure. Younger viewers should be mildly amused, but the lack of ingenuity or charm prevents interest for older crowds. I will say, for a convenient HBO Max viewing, you could certainly do worse.

    Space Jam: A New Legacy is now playing in theaters and on HBO Max.

  • Gunpowder Milkshake: The BRWC Review

    Gunpowder Milkshake: The BRWC Review

    Gunpowder Milkshake Synopsis: In her turbulent life as a professional assassin, Scarlet (Lena Headey) was cruelly forced to abandon her daughter Sam (Karen Gillan) and go on the run. Years later, despite the estrangement, Sam has also grown up into a cold-blooded hitwoman. After a high-stake mission spins out of control, Sam has no choice but to team up with her estranged mother and her associates.

    While big streamers set their eyes on expensive acquisitions (Amazon Prime purchased several discarded Paramount properties), Netflix is wisely shifting towards their own in-house franchises. Promising debut chapters like Enola Holmes and The Old Guard displayed the streamer’s eye for creative switch-ups from blockbuster formula. It’s been a joy to see a studio take genuine risks with their money, even if all those chances haven’t exactly paid off (looking at you, Bright).

    Netflix’s latest throw at the dartboard, Gunpowder Milkshake, embraces a multi-generational tale following poised female assassins battling against an enigmatic agency. It’s a brilliant concept, one where writer/director Navot Papushado and co-writer Ehud Lavski can personify their own stamp amongst the crowded action subgenre. Instead of reinventing, Gunpowder Milkshake‘s overproduced emptiness sinks under the weight of its appealing aesthetics.

    Papushado’s film desperately wants to go for the gusto. He and his team spend ample energy on inventive world-building, establishing a striking pallet of sets and costumes that playfully dances away from the genre’s overly machismo tendencies. All the vibrant decor helps set the tone for a tongue-in-cheek deviation from the run-of-the-mill formula. I give Papushado and Lavski credit for creatively meshing the violent extremes of gnarly, R-rated actioners with an acute sense of self-awareness. Gunpowder Milkshake’s unique cocktail of traits could have created a sharp and semi-reflexive spin on the genre’s inequitable gender dynamics if executed properly.

    Gunpowder Milkshake sadly never discovers that intriguing wavelength. Papushado and Lavski find themselves settling for the bare minimum, coasting off inventive design work and hollow corporate pandering under the guise of a dynamic personality (the few feminist-driven scenes are hilariously underwritten). Buried beneath the perfunctory colors and noisy song choices, there’s virtually nothing to excite or engage even the most hardened of action fans.

    Papushado’s action reeks of flat busyness, with the director impassionately dancing between varied angles without developing a rhythmic momentum. There’s a handful of impactful stunts along the way (a goon gets beheaded by a falling tooth prop), but the distinct lack of energy behind the camera prohibits much of a punch. For a film vying for a hard-R rating, the action often feels weightless in its overly-coordinated design (many of the hand-to-hand scenes leave a staged aroma).

    Where the action struggles to ignite, the narrative feels equally thankless. The two scribes create a generic amalgamation of action movie cliches, as the film’s distant mother-daughter relationship and makeshift family dynamics lack the genuine emotionality to surpass their foreboding cliches. A great ensemble cast should plausibly boost investment, but none of the actors are given much material to work with. Karen Gillan’s vacant protagonist is stuck operating in the wooden action hero mold, while all-time greats like Lena Headey, Michelle Yeoh, and Angela Basset are woefully underutilized as thankless action figures. Seriously, it should be a crime to waste a cast with so many prominent talents.

    Gunpowder Milkshake wants to spearhead a new franchise (a flat ending tease certainly makes this apparent). However, Papushado and Lavski’s disengaged effort blunders from its calculated studio cynicism. For the planned sequel, including more women behind the camera should become a central priority.

    Gunpowder Milkshake is now available on Netflix.

  • Roadrunner: A Film About Anthony Bourdain: Review

    Roadrunner: A Film About Anthony Bourdain: Review

    Roadrunner Synopsis: A documentary about Anthony Bourdain and his career as a chef, writer and host, revered and renowned for his authentic approach to food, culture and travel.

    Amongst a busy ensemble of formal TV personas, Anthony Bourdain proudly stood above the crowd. His sharp, fun-loving perspective embraced a multitude of unique cultures with genuine affection. Few celebrities were able to exhibit such whimsy while maintaining a transparent edge, always balancing the joys of the world alongside its inner pit of despair. For Bourdain, it was never just about the food or the breathtaking vistas. The megastar understood the significance of sincerely reflecting a vast worldview, utilizing his program as a vibrant prism for a world that often exists outside our reach.

    It’s been three years since the star’s shocking death, but Bourdain’s bold legacy still carries on. In Oscar-winner Morgan Neville’s latest doc Roadrunner: A Film About Anthony Bourdain, the documentarian takes an intimate look at Bourdain’s unique zest for life and travel. Like the personality himself, Neville’s feature radiates with a flurry of potent emotions and thoughtful insights.

    Whether you’re a longtime fan or a novice to Bourdain’s acerbic charms, Roadrunner features the star’s infectious allure in full force. Much of the highlights here come from the late chef’s archived footage, which delicately captures his meteoric rise to fame from his humble cooking days. Bourdain’s unwavering passion and thoughtful intellect always make him a dynamic presence to follow, with his playfully incorporated narration guiding audiences along akin to how he would on his TV programs.

    Despite his passing, Neville ensures that Bourdain is the life force of the documentary. The director aptly reflects his star’s wandering persona, finding a loose yet cohesive form for his lively story to take place. Neville’s command of the film always feels remarkably assured. Unlike documentaries that flatly convey stories through expert interviews, Neville retains Bourdain’s free-spirited energy through his dynamic composition and clear thesis. Audiences will leave Roadrunner with a genuine sense of his dynamic persona. He was a man with overwhelming passion and love, so much so that the world’s inherent brokenness became overbearing to endure.

    Neville’s feature impresses where it matters most, but his film does lose some of its impact in the third act. Neville inserts his desires to make a feature that stands above the salacious headlines that often defined Bourdain’s passing. However, the third act gets a bit too caught up in the tabloid-fodder drama despite Neville’s attempts at diplomatic tactfulness. It only works to distract from the genuine tribute that the first two acts established, although the finale frames did win me back with their open-hearted sincerity.

    Every frame of Roadrunner is crafted with infectious adoration for its central subject. Neville’s assured direction allows audiences to experience Bourdain’s lovable eccentricities in an intimate and oftentimes moving light.

    Roadrunner is playing in select theaters starting on July 16th.