film reviews, interviews, features | BRWC

Author: Matt Conway

  • Greenland: The BRWC Review

    Greenland: The BRWC Review

    Whether he’s saving the president (again and again in the Has Fallen series) or leading a shirtless Spartan army, Gerald Butler has established himself as a premier action star. He may not be a critical darling, but Butler’s sturdy gravitas deserves praise for carrying even the most middling of screenplays. His latest B-movie vehicle Greenland attempts to relish in the destruction of our planet, a set-up that could be oddly distasteful given the current times. Taking away the lousy timing, this middling disaster film rarely embraces the strengths of its dopey subgenre.

    Greenland follows John Garrity (Butler), a family man who embarks on a perilous journey to find sanctuary when a planet-killing comet hurtles toward Earth. As the countdown to the global apocalypse approaches zero, the Garrity’s incredible trek culminates in a desperate and last-minute flight to a possible safe haven.

    No one plays a gruff, straight-laced everyman like Butler, but his compelling presence can only take this emotionally vacant thrill ride so far. Oddly enough, Greenland attempts to establish its own voice among its bombastic peers. Director Ric Roman Waugh opts away from grandiose setpieces to convey a murky realism, a sensibility that has served him well with prison dramas like Snitch and Felon. Waugh’s shake-ridden framing lacks the creative edge to compensate for the cheap visual veneer, while his hyper-realistic presentation makes a clunky accomplice for the genre sensibility. I’ve enjoyed Waugh’s previous work, but disaster movies’ inherent cheesiness don’t mesh with his filmmaking identity.

    Chris Sparling’s sparse screenplay double downs on the edgy identity. Vignettes of semi-realistic world-ending scenarios attempt to place audiences in the boots of our everyman protagonists. In a cerebral apocalyptic offering like Contagion, frames like these can serve as a stark reflection of our fragile humanity, ruminating on how people are pushed in times of fear and vulnerability. Here, Sparling’s greeting card-level of depth only speaks contrived motifs about our desire to put ourselves over others in times of need.

    Greenland tosses out the kitchen sink of B-movie trappings to form a shallow connection with audiences. The opening frames establish a soap-opera level of melodrama that permeates throughout every clunky interaction, with the Garrity’s cliche-ridden origins being unengaging to invest in (this movie rips the maudlin divorce subplot right from Roland Emmerich’s 2012). Butler and Morena Baccarin hold their own with the material, but the vanilla family figures never evolve past vapid cardboard cutouts. Once the characters get on the road, they run past a myriad of desolate survivalist-types to reach their salvation. Whether they are kind-hearted or cruel, they all just become road bumps for John’s macho-man mission to save his family.

    By meshing the borrowed tropes of disaster movies with an inauthentic grit, Greenland doesn’t satisfy any of its audience’s desires. Even bloated misfires like 2012 and Geostorm found ways to embrace the innate appeal of their sandbox destruction. Everything in Greenland is presented with a dour self-seriousness that becomes tiresome to endure, as it’s not like the material has anything of substance to say. Once the action finally starts to fly in the third act (Butler outdrives a wave of falling asteroids), I had lost interest as I awaited the inevitably saccharine conclusion.

    While admittedly competent, Greenland never achieves much of note with its well-trudged premise. As a fan of Butler and Waugh’s track record, I hope the duo return to their well-established action roots.

  • Sound Of Metal: The BRWC Review

    Sound Of Metal: The BRWC Review

    Ever since breaking out in 2014’s moody thriller Nightcrawler (his mumbling charm is one of the film’s unheralded strengths), Riz Ahmed’s profile continues to be on the rise. Along with being a sturdy supporting player, Ahmed flexed his versatile talents in HBO’s The Night Of, generating massive award buzz for his vulnerable take as an incoming prisoner. Ahmed’s latest starring vehicle Sound of Metal boasts his best performance to date, as his talents carry an emotionally raw character study bristling with authentic truths.

    Sound of Metal follows Ruben (Riz Ahmed), a heavy-metal drummer whose life is thrown into freefall when he begins to lose his hearing. Alongside his girlfriend/bandmate Lou (Olivia Cooke) and his new mentor Joe (Paul Raci), Ruben attempts to adjust to his drastic lifestyle change through therapeutic means.

    Writer/director Darius Marder (who collaborated on the screenplay with Place Beyond the Pines director Derek Cianfrance) wisely morphs this story of loss into a tale of meaningful rehabilitation. His filmmaking verve is established from jump street, opening with an electrifying showcase of Ruben’s passionate musical drive (I’m not a metal fan, but the sequence’s explosive intensity exemplifies undeniable artistic merits). The early emphasis on sound morphs into a nightmarish reality when Ruben’s hearing becomes dulled and distorted. Marder’s scaling audio mixture places audiences right in our protagonist’s frenzied shoes, utilizing thoughtfully-constructed techniques without over-straining their impact (this is a movie made to win sound awards, with the delicate audio profile holding significant narrative weight).

    Even with Ruben’s life-changing discovery, Marder’s film never wallows in a pit of despair. Along with conveying the internal pains of addicts (Marder cleverly evolves Ruben’s past drug addictions into a craving for sound, with the character’s personal journey becoming one of self-acceptance), Sound of Metal articulates a spirited voice for its marginalized community. The screenplay empathetically conveys the sentiments of the deaf community, a group that doesn’t view their hearing loss as an impediment. The well-textured authenticity enhances Marder’s dramatic narrative at every turn, surrounding Ruben with compassionate and lived-in figures to aid him in his transition.

    Sound of Metal’s ultimate showstopper comes in the form of performance work. Riz Ahmed reaches impressive new heights as the chaotically unwieldy Ruben, a man whose volatile passion often overwhelms his search for inner peace. Ahmed’s performance dials the character’s juxtaposing states with understated emotionality, never striking a false chord as he drives the narrative forward. Olivia Cooke is great as Ruben’s supportive partner, while unheardled character actor Paul Raci steals the show as the film’s soulful center.

    While the film doesn’t quite hit every note (the 2-hour runtime is admittedly shaggy, with the third act straining before reaching its heartfelt conclusion), Sound of Metal operates as a compassionate character piece enhanced through its brazen artistic drive.

  • Godmothered: The BRWC Review

    Godmothered: The BRWC Review

    While the service boasts a treasure trove of beloved classics, Disney+ still searches for their original content identity. The platform’s debut year showcased a few highlights (Black is King and The LEGO Star Wars Holiday Special), though those sparks were matched by a few unceremonious duds (Artemis Fowl and Mulan). Their latest endeavor Godmothered operates in the vein of their charmed live-action work, registering an earnest impression through the film’s inspired twist on familiar fairy tale trappings.

    Godmothered follows an eager fairy godmother Eleanor (Jillian Bell) who ventures out on her own to prove her worth. She tracks down a previously ignored request from Mackenzie (Isla Fisher), a widowed woman stuck in a career rut. The unlikely pair form a genuine bond as they begin to re-discover their happily ever after.

    Reading like the distant cousin of 2007’s alluring princess remix Enchanted, Godmothered defines its own voice among its fairy-tale elk. Screenwriters Melissa Stack and Kari Granlund set the narrative’s foundation around our preconceived notions of magical godmothers, who often serve as sage helping hands for princesses seeking their one true love. The clever writers then spend the remaining screentime drifting away from those long-standing contrivances. For Eleanor and Mackenzie, their affable connection becomes a tale of mutual self-discovery amidst insular self-doubts. Even with a few emotionally-doughy frames (the central conceits are blatantly spelled out), there’s a genuine sisterhood that resonates with a cozy warmth onscreen.

    Much of the credit belongs to the film’s central stars. It’s been a joy to see Jillian Bell define her own presence of late, with the comedic stalwart steadily moving away from the one-note caricatures that Hollywood offered her way (last year’s Brittany Runs a Marathon was a dramatic change-of-pace). As the relentlessly spirited Eleanor, Bell’s infectious presence promotes the pratfall gags while establishing a well-textured character onscreen. Isla Fisher’s radiant charms elevate the straight man role of Mackenzie, while character actors June Squibb, Mary Elizabeth Ellis, and Stephnie Weir elicit laughs from their supporting roles.

    Godmothered is admittedly pleasant, though this streaming effort undersells some of its unique strengths. Director Sharon Maguire’s competent effort rarely basks in the glow of its magic-based premise. The Disney-Channel level flourishes limit this material compared to other big-screen offerings. Audiences will also have to contend with a familiar heaping of Disneyfied plot beats, which do distract from the film’s thoughtfully-conceived nucleus (the Disney’s dead dad streaks continues here).

    It may not reinvent the wheel, but Godmothered displays the open-hearted sincerity of Disney’s best live-action work. With the release of Soul fast approaching, this could be a marquee month for the growing streaming service.

  • Fatman: Another Review

    Fatman: Another Review

    Christmas’ jovial cheer is welcomed by most, but some seek a bit more ingenuity from their holiday offerings. Whether it’s the foul-mouthed tirades of Bad Santa or the macabre ruminations of Batman Returns, certain films aptly utilize the holiday season to trailblaze their own territory amongst the crowded subgenre. In the latest Yuletide detour Fatman, Eshon and Ian Nelms construct a spirited genre picture from the season’s familiar themes.

    Fatman follows a rowdy, unorthodox Santa Claus (Mel Gibson), who is fighting to save his declining business. Meanwhile, Billy, a neglected and precocious 12-year-old, hires a hitman (Walton Goggins) to kill Santa after receiving a lump of coal in his stocking.

    I was a supporter of Eshon and Ian’s last feature Small Town Crimes, an overlooked neo-noir defined through the brothers’ quirky voice. Fatman‘s strongest allures are a byproduct of that sensibility. The duo take our preconceived notions towards Santa Clause’s jolly image and flips them on their head. Their screenplay slyly comments on the holiday’s superficial elements by cutting away the sentimental veneer, with Santa and his merry band of elves mainly working under the pretenses of making a living. It’s a refreshing change of pace, a direction that the Nelms further bolster through clever world-building devices (Santa being contracted by the US military due to his tireless workforce is quite amusing).

    At all junctures, the Nelms craft a film that relishes in its naughty nature. Nothing represents this better than Mel Gibson’s against-type casting as Saint Nick himself. Portraying a jaded Santa after years of dealing with ungrateful children, Gibson’s gruff image is a picture-esque fit for the role. He commands the screen with gravitas while slowly peeling layers of warmth from the character’s rigid exterior. Walton Goggins also has a blast as a hitman with his own eccentric verve, while Marianne Jean-Baptiste emanates a positive glow onscreen as Mrs. Clause.

    The dynamic performances perform the heavy-lifting for the character’s skeletal nature, carrying the narrative load before the climactic, western-style standoff takes place. Opinions may vary, but I appreciate the Nelms’ intimate handling of the old school showdown. The duo exhibits a steady hand while allowing the slow-burn tension to reach a satisfying boiling point.

    The base of Fatman boasts a plethora of positive traits, though I wish the Nelms built further upon their sturdy foundation. The script’s deconstruction of the holiday commercial nature could benefit from a sharper satirical bend. Dialogue-driven frames can spell out the thematic conceits with a clumsy obviousness, while numerous attempts at humor land with hit-or-miss results (Billy mostly acts as an uninteresting cliche). With another pass, the underbaked elements could have elevated the intriguing ideas into a more astute thesis.

    Flaws and all, Fatman‘s distinct voice imbues a fresh edge to its straight-forward genre formula. With a few hits on their hands, I will be first in line to support whatever the Nelms do next with their promising career.

  • Uncle Frank: The BRWC Review

    Uncle Frank: The BRWC Review

    While their big-screen outings have stalled financially (the solid Late Night and Brittany Runs a Marathon couldn’t connect with audiences after sizable Sundance acquisitions), Amazon has established itself as a premier voice in auteur-driven cinema. Their willingness to support a diverse cornucopia of filmmakers allows these commercially-unfriendly offerings to thrive outside of traditional means. The streaming juggernaut is now showcasing Oscar-winning screenwriter Alan Ball’s latest Uncle Frank, a character-driven tale that lands with emotional authenticity.

    Set in 1973, Uncle Frank follows Beth (Sophia Lillis), a college student living in New York alongside her marginalized Uncle Frank (Paul Bettany). When the family’s patriarch (Stephen Root) passes away, the two road trip to their hometown, with Frank bringing alongside his previously-undisclosed boyfriend Wally (Peter Macdissi).

    Uncle Frank rests its laurels on the assured cast. After years stuck inside the Vision prosthetics, it’s a pleasure to see Paul Bettany tap into a grounded role onscreen. As the intellectually-driven Frank, Bettany tackles the character’s lingering demons with emotional weight, utilizing a cutting wit to mask his deeply-seated trauma. When the film asks Bettany to expose his subdued emotions, the actor displays a well-dialed cadence that never feels artificial. Sophia Lillis continues to shine as a promising up-and-comer, while Peter Macdissi forms a lived-in pairing with Bettany onscreen. Ball’s film operates at its peak when the actors are at their most intimate, expressing the fear and repression behind the character’s LGBTQ identity.

    While sleight in its narrative construction, Uncle Frank’s emotional resonance speaks to a generational struggle for acceptance. The oppressive historical context further extenuates the film’s vital conceits, with Ball and company crafting this exceedingly relevant struggle with the utmost sincerity. As a writer/director, Ball’s deft hand allows the tender emotional beats to register without ever drifting towards mawkishly insincere territory. I am glad the material conveys real-world steaks without being overly-glum. Under all the dramatic tension, Ball’s warmly-drawn core emits a genuine impact.

    Uncle Frank‘s pleasant appeals are ultimately limited by its mannered delivery. Ball’s second film comfortably rests upon familiar filmmaking devices, relying upon an over-earnest score and a relatively flat shot selection. It all feels oddly staged at times. I wish Ball broke down the traditional devices to create his own visceral voice onscreen.

    While limited in its impact, Uncle Frank is a well-tempered detour through familial drama. It likely won’t stand the test of time like Ball’s previous efforts, but it will make for an agreeable drama for streaming audiences.