film reviews, interviews, features | BRWC

Author: Matt Conway

  • The Binge: Review

    The Binge: Review

    Vulgar coming of age comedies are a prominent staple in film, almost acting as a right of passage for their target generation (Superbad, Kick-Ass, and 21 Jump Street were some of my personal favorites growing up). Hulu’s latest foray in original movies The Binge attempts a similar feat with an intriguing Purge-light flavor, yet this promising venture never engages with its premise in innovative or humorous ways.

    Set in a near-future where drug and alcohol use is legal for a single day, The Binge follows Griffin (Skyler Gisondo) and Hags (Dexter Darden), two dorky high schoolers looking to make the most of their last days before college. Once re-teamed with their old acquaintance Andrew (Eduardo Franco), the trio set out to make the most of their first binge while Griffin tries to ask his crush Lena (Grace Van Dien) to prom.

    The Binge isn’t without some uproarious pleasures. The trio of young leads sturdily carry the material on their shoulders, sharing an easy-going onscreen rapport that imbues a semblance of reality to their debaucherous actions. The scene-stealer though is Vince Vaughn, who continues to take compelling risks in the second act of his career (Brawl on Cell Block 99 and Arkansas are severely overlooked). Tapping into the unfiltered comedic energy of his former heyday, Vaughn has a blast playing Lena’s father, the school principal whose paternal persona masks his partygoing past. Under different circumstances, this cast could pilot an agreeable moviegoing experience, as they often mine the most out of the wonky script.

    Screenwriter Jordan VanDina deserves credit for his conceptual ingenuity, though it’s that exact promise that makes The Binge a frustrating watch. Instead of utilizing its premise to convey an empathetic examination of adolescents’ experimentation with drugs and alcohol, VanDina’s effort basks in the glow of superficially obscene moments. It leaves audiences with a film devoid of substantive merits, as it often feels disconnected from any sense of reality (characters do mountains of coke and other substances without an ounce of irony).

    VanDina’s formulaic storytelling and paper-thin character work can’t ground the silliness, simply going through the motions while desperately lacking emotional authenticity (if you’re going to make another “last days of high school” movie, you have to bring some humanity and originality to spice up the formula). These problems would be more forgivable if The Binge could elicit some hardy laughs, but there’s not much fun to be had here. Jokes range from dated skits to downright mean-spirited barbs, leaving us with a dated relic to the early 2010s/post-Hangover comedies that tried (and failed) to push the envelope with raunchy gags.

    Burying a promising set-up under mounds of familiar ingredients, The Binge does little to leave a notable impression.

  • Class Action Park: Review

    Class Action Park: Review

    Theme parks are beloved staples of entertainment culture, packing droves of families and adolescents to encounter a plethora of high-flying thrills. While most parks present themselves with a pristine family image, the wild-child death trap known as Action Park refused to fall in line. In the new HBO Max documentary Class Action Park, this relic of reckless 80’s culture is amusingly deconstructed through a nostalgic gaze. 

    Class Action Park follows the short-lived history of Action Park, a New Jersey theme park founded by disgraced Wall Street executive Eugene Mulvihill. His creation, a theme park bristling with death-defying stunt work, would become a controversial fixture in its local area. Directors Seth Porges and Chris Charles Scott III delve into the park’s complex history, observing its equally alluring and dangerous elements. 

    Much of the film’s pleasures come from the bewilderment of its so-crazy-its-true deep dive into the park’s history. Meshing a plethora of anecdotes from former workers, executives, and patrons, the wide-ranging subjects aptly convey the utter insanity of what Mulvihill haphazardly created (comedian Chris Gethard generates some laugh-out-loud moments from his recollections).

    Whether they’re discussing a rickety loop slide that defies the laws of physics or the sophomoric ways rides were tested (Mulvihill would stand at the end of attractions with $100 bills for daredevil employees), Porges and Charles Scott III direction display their keen awareness for what made the park a folklore-legend, reveling in the makeshift improbability of its unsafe and wholly unique design. They also imbue a nostalgic glow that emanates throughout the production, observing the reckless abandon of the patrons’ 1980’s livelihood with a bittersweet flavor (Gethard shares how his former thrills have now morphed into fear with age).

    Class Action Park is often amusing, yet the documentary’s scope far exceeds its reach. There’s a clear effort to capture the more sinister’s conditions of the park’s business, with their thinly-developed practices taking lives and undercutting the plight of those impacted. Structurally, the film doesn’t balance its different perspectives, relegating the dour details into a truncated third act. These moments don’t mesh with the humorous elements nor add enough substantive observations about the park’s lingering impact. It feels like there’s still a great movie to be made about Action Park (Johnny Knoxville also tried), with this effort only basking in the superficial thrills of the park’s history.

    That being said, Class Action Park still works as a brisk and alluring time capsule to a bizarre footnote in 80’s culture.

  • Peninsula: The BRWC Review

    Peninsula: The BRWC Review

    Our culture’s infatuation with zombies has spread across media, with a recent glut making these horror protagonists feel just as tired as their undead state would indicate. This malaise towards the subgenre is part of what made 2016’s Train to Busan such an invigorating breath of fresh air, with director Sang-ho Yeon infusing the genre’s framework with relentless thrills and a surprisingly pertinent thematic backbone (ruminations on people’s apathetic and self-serving attitudes during times of need have been exceedingly relevant with our ongoing pandemic). The director’s long-awaited follow-up Peninsula ups the ante from a scale perspective, generating an enthralling popcorn film that doesn’t quite replicate Busan’s magical formula.

    Set four years after the events of Busan, Peninsula follows Jung-seok (Dong-Won Gang), a former soldier living on the outskirts of society after escaping zombie-infested Korea. Tortured by the death of his sister and nephew, Jung-seok embarks on an improbable mission back to Korea trying to recover a substantial cash amount. This mission morphs into a chance for redemption when he comes across Min Jung (Jung-hyun Lee) and her small-knit family, as Jung-seok tries to overcome past failings by guiding the family to safety.

    Reactions to Peninsula have been relatively muted compared to its cult-classic predecessor, which feels to me more like a reflection of Busan’s greatness rather than Peninsula’s failings. This frenetic sequel thankfully doesn’t rest on the laurels of its contemporary, with Sang-ho Yeon dreaming up a new narrative direction to further exhibit his genre filmmaking prowess. Mixing a makeshift heist film with the colorfully twisted essence of a Mad Max dystopia, Yeon has a blast expanding his scope while integrating a tongue-in-cheek sense of humor throughout. It would have been easy for the writer/director to play to audiences’ comfort zone, but I give him credit for reinventing Busan’s framework while keeping its unique pleasures intact.

    If you thought Dong-seok Ma punching out zombies was great, you are sure to enjoy the high-octane setpieces Yeon has in store. Whether its a car chase akin to the breathless thrills of the Fast and Furious or zany incidents of zombie bloodshed (the gladiator sequences are equally thrilling and deranged), Yeon’s smooth camerawork imbues a kinetic pulse that sings with each setpiece. It’s a blast to see Yeon stretch his budgetary restrictions to their limit, crafting big-budget thrills despite some questionable special effects work. Peninsula is endearingly campier than its predecessor, yet the central cast deserves credit for grounding the material in a sense of weight (Dong-Won Gang’s quiet confliction elevates the character’s archetype design).

    Similar to other sequels, Peninsula trades in some of the original’s nuances for its newfound grandiosity. Busan is not only tightly-constructed, but it’s also a film made with purpose and humanity. Its characters, while not groundbreaking from a depth perspective, were infused with enough compassion and care for audiences to invest in their fight for survival. Peninsula’s increased scope ends up focusing more on narrative mechanics than impactful character beats, with none of the central figures here being memorable enough to register an impression. It’s also desperately missing the original’s thematic ruminations, potentially leaving some diehard fans disappointed with the sequel’s undercooked script.

    Peninsula shows that bigger is not always better for sequels, but this taunt genre thrill ride still comfortably scratches that popcorn movie itch.

  • The 24th: Review

    The 24th: Review

    Writer/director Kevin Willmott has aptly analyzed unjust racial conditions through his deft viewpoint. Working as a co-writer to the great Spike Lee, efforts like Da 5 Bloods and BlacKKKlansman have extracted a searing portrait that highlights vital elements of black livelihood while portraying complex character dynamics. Willmot’s latest project The 24th, which he directed and co-wrote with star Trai Byers, struggles to unearth a substantive experience from its relevant slice of history.

    Set amidst the Houston riot of 1917, The 24th follows Boston (Byers), a promising army recruit who ignores his pathway to command in favor of making a daily impact on his peers. While training in Texas during WWI, the black army regiment deals with the cruel conditions of the Jim Crow south, displaying the gradual build towards the units’ cathartic revolt.

    Willmott’s exploration of the Houston Riot’s ooze with pertinent observations on systematic racism. Along with unearthing a seldomly told chapter of American history, Willmott and Byers’ script confronts the conditions of the regiment’s demonstrative actions, empathetically portraying how years of prejudicial behaviors led to an emotional breaking point. It also helps that Byers’ onscreen portrayal of Boston injects the character with gravitas and confliction, soundly exploring the character’s complex sentiments towards patriotism and the gapping racial divide. Mykelti Williamson, Bashir Salahuddin, and Aja Naomi King round out a strong supporting cast, with King displaying a natural onscreen charisma as Boston’s love interest.

    The 24th is clearly crafted with noble intentions, yet its simplistic design severely undercuts the bounty of timeless ruminations. The script aims to tell its story through Boston’s idealistic mindset, showing the character’s uphill battle as he tries to evolve the black image in a prejudicial environment (his regiment is forced to show pristine kindness to their superiors despite the circumstances). The flawed perceptions and the imbalanced rules are exceedingly relevant to our world today, a connection that the script befuddlingly doesn’t take advantage of. Wilmott and Byers’ straddle their characters with thinly-conceived archetypes, with clumsily drawn dialogue over-explaining every conflict with a severe lack of grace. I appreciate the vital platform the duo gives to these soldiers’ trials and tribulations, but it’s that boundless potential that makes the rigid delivery so frustrating.

    Unlike Spike Lee, his verbose writing partner who enhances every project with a lively stylistic identity, Willmott struggles to infuse much urgency into his direction. The 24th has a stale, made-for-TV visual style that it can never quite shake, rarely creating a lived-in world for audiences to be entrenched into. It all feels relatively flat, resting on the laurels of biopic conventions rather than conveying the urgency of its weighty material.

    The 24th’s relevant slice of history deserves better than the film’s stale History Channel treatment. 

  • Robin’s Wish: Review

    Robin’s Wish: Review

    Few comedic actors have endured the test of time like Oscar-winner Robin Williams, leaving behind a lasting legacy of laughs after his shocking death in 2014. The latest documentary Robin’s Wish takes an intimate look at his storied career, offering a warmly-drawn tribute that packs a gentle emotional punch.

    Robin’s Wish takes a detailed look at Robin Williams’ final years of life. Told from the viewpoint of friends, family, and medical experts, the film analyzes how his undiagnosed Lewy Body Dementia altered the actor’s lifestyle, while also reflecting on his sizable impact.

    Drawing from the wide-eyed affability of its titular subject, Robin’s Wish revels in the actor’s distinct ability to brighten the world around him. Director Tylor Norwood adoring viewpoint feels justified in its eschewing of the tabloid-fodder headlines that dictated the star’s image, taking a detailed look at his taxing battle with a misunderstood disease. It’s an emotional journey through the star’s immense struggles, one the imbues a greater appreciation for the effervescent actor’s ability to glow even under dire circumstances.

    The melody of interviewed subjects aptly work to connect the puzzle pieces of his life, sharing emotionally-charged memoirs that depict an endlessly kind spirit who always put everyone before himself (stories of his experiences with military veterans were especially touching). Some may criticize the documentary for an overly-tender approach, yet the sentimentality is conveyed with enough sincerity and nuance to leave a positive impact.

    Robin’s Wish will certainly move most, but its craftsmanship leaves something to be desired. Norwood’s structure lacks grace, with his film often dancing between time periods without a cohesive fact-based narrative. I think the film also missed a huge opportunity to examine the conditions of celebrity culture, where fictionalized narratives about a figure’s life often dominate headlines over truthful reveals (a doc like Amy more pertinently examined the judgemental sentiments of media outlets).

    Robin’s Wish leans upon its subject’s beloved image to construct a heartfelt tribute to Robin Williams.