Despite my devotion to his work, with “31” Zombie had me worried he’d stalled out. Thankfully, “3 from Hell” is less another blatant “Rejects” retread and more a welcome return to the formula Zombie introduced to his catalogue in that 2005 departure. While I had readied to embrace something even weirder (Dr. Satan?), this ultimately minor episode succeeds in remixing the Firefly Family ingredients while keeping them winningly familiar. Even the figurehead of “31” Richard Brake is a seamless addition to the chemistry. If evaluating Zombie’s films by which feel most like one of the man’s songs come to life, “3 from Hell” is easily in the top conversation, perhaps second only to, well, naturally, “House of 1,000 Corpses”. Letterboxd.
The 15:17 to Paris (Clint Eastwood, 2018)
Timeline discernible from the “Letters from Iwo Jima” poster on the kid’s wall. Proud of Clint for including the phrase “Instagram-worthy.” Letterboxd.
Ad Astra (James Gray)
Shake it. Quake it. Space baboon. Letterboxd.
Alita: Battle Angel (Robert Rodriguez)
If "RoboCop" took place in the "Titanic" movie universe under the narrative guidance of whoever was responsible for "Street Sharks". If you can jive with contrivances in the school of a Saturday morning cartoon, there is enough in "Alita" to leave you interested in the clear direction for a follow-up without all the origin story-itis. The best part is that one Toto song finally makes sense. Also 100% thought that was James Cameron before he took the goggles off. Letterboxd.
The Art of Self-Defense (Riley Stearns)
84% for this weakly derivative pile of first draft pith is one of the clearest arguments against the Tomatometer to date. Letterboxd.
Bad Times at the El Royale (Drew Goddard)
As if a ‘90s Tarantino wannabe with a dash of surreality was originally intended for the stage and somehow actually turned out okay, “Bad Times” dwells on its concepts with assurance and (mostly) elevates its own material scene after scene. Also Jon Hamm sounds exactly like John Cena and it freaked me out. Letterboxd.
Blindspotting (Carlos López Estrada)
There’s enough to admire, particularly in Daveed Diggs, that I’ll likely recall it somewhat fondly even though it tries to tank itself with nearly every other scene. Almost as tense as David Ayer on a good day and as unsubtle as Oliver Stone on a bad one. Letterboxd.
Close (Vicky Jewson)
Tomb Raider by way of Tom Clancy. Though rarely rising above direct-to-whatever sensibility, there is plenty to mine from this extremely expedient Noomi paycheck. And there is little more agreeable in cinema today than Noomi getting a paycheck. Letterboxd.
Dogman (Matteo Garrone)
"Dogman" hardly masks its ordinary anti-fascist parable beneath the veil of a dog groomer learning to manipulate people in the same way he does his business subjects, though it thrives on an incredible charm achieved in tandem through Garrone's sympathetic camera and Marcello Fonte's instantly winning performance.
Dolemite Is My Name (Craig Brewer)
“Baadasssss!” is to “Sweet Sweetback’s Baadasssss Song” as “Dolemite Is My Name” is to “Dolemite”, and you can take that as you will. Straight-forward even for post-“Black Snake Moan” Brewer, this telling of Moore’s cultural significance is reverent enough that it’s easy to look past its ever-present biopic autopilot gloss. As with Mario Van Peebles’ film about his father Melvin’s struggle to break through, your own reverence for Moore’s path on the opposite end of the soul cinema phenomenon will likely gauge your mileage with this similar yet appropriately more punchline-heavy piece. Letterboxd.
Dumbo (Tim Burton)
As with "Maleficent", "Dumbo" proves some merit to Dreamla-- I mean Disney's widely uninspired money-grab of a live action adaptation phase. Burton puts veteran care and winning irreverence into his compositions, while building effectively archetypal human stories around the nostalgia in what could otherwise have felt like a slight attempt at new millennium redemption of how the original film teaches captive circus animals the merits of getting plastered on clown champagne thanks to racist side characters. Most importantly, Farrell devotees will not be disappointed. Letterboxd.
Frozen II (Chris Buck, Jennifer Lee)
Even with realistically tempered expectations, a direct-to-VHS-worthy story that undermines the achievements of FROZEN II’s predecessor - most egregious of all that original’s coming out allegory - fails even its better moments by making them feel unearned. That said, is Night Ranger available to cover the “Lost in the Woods” power ballad? Letterboxd.
Godzilla: King of the Monsters (Michael Dougherty)
In vintage creature feature fashion the folly of man incurs the barrage of tracing paper-thin characters confined to barfing expository dialogue on cheap sets, fleeing for the safety of their green screens when incompatible special effects sequences begin. As “Uprising” was a colossal letdown on the heels of del Toro’s incredible “Pacific Rim”, this Sally Hawkins affair is an even bigger step down from del Toro’s “The Shape of Water”. Okay, that hilarious joke out of the way, there wasn’t too far lower to go from Gareth Edwards’ 2014 follow-up to his much more promising “Monsters” so in knowing its role “King of the Monsters” at least rewards with several of the monster movie moments we tolerate monster movies’ remainders to see even if the admittedly cool monsters pale against even this franchise’s dumbed down version of Kong. Plus it’s at least clever enough to set its climax at Fenway Park. You know, the home of the Green Monster. Letterboxd.
Joker (Todd Phillips)
Aggressively terrible, but we’ve long known that Joaquin and talk shows don’t mix, so. Letterboxd.
The Land of Steady Habits (Nicole Holofcener)
If I remember it as anything other than “that one Ben Mendelsohn movie,” it will be as a film more concerned with the yuppie suburbia it may or may not be trying to chastise than with its awfully distracting continuity errors. It is inoffensively brisk, though. An acceptable $7.99 red blend from CVS even though Total Wine was right there. Letterboxd.
The Man Who Killed Don Quixote (Terry Gilliam)
Feeling nigh every bit the '90s transplant it is - for which mileage may vary - Gilliam's longstanding bugaboo gets off to a fine start, aided by the fortune of an Adam Driver upgrade, yet wears itself out with each subsequent blurring of lines that mutates its trajectory beyond recognition by the end. Letterboxd.
The Other Side of the Wind (Orson Welles)
Unlike “On the Silver Globe” proving unfinished films can be monumental, there is sadly so little to “The Other Side of the Wind” that it leaves me wondering only these two things: why anyone even tried, and whether latter years Welles was more bitter or more horny. Letterboxd.
Shaft (Tim Story)
A “Shaft” film with an image of Isaac Hayes' Chef from “South Park” and a song that samples James Brown’s “Black Caesar” soundtrack? We truly have seen it all. Tim Story’s characteristically lighter and perilously scripted revival of this notorious name begins with the promise of keeping in the spirit if not the tone of its origins, but quickly wears out its welcome through the overblown and oversimplified caricature of the soul cinema hero type transplanted in a world of Uber drivers, smartphones, and women who get turned on when shot at. Richard Roundtree’s brief presence legitimizes the affair but the true John Shaft is left with hardly anything to say or do, which may be for the best as otherwise it could have been him ending up with lines where he worries if his dick pics are still saved to the cloud. Letterboxd.
Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker (J.J. Abrams)
Act 1, Scene 1: “Palpy, why ya back?” “Because the last movie sucked; no more questions please.” Pacing? What's that? Abrams is so consumed with playing damage control for "The Last Jedi" that he's produced something even worse - a sloppy emblem of the creative failure this soft reboot trilogy has been, and one that wastes the potential of even the revival's passable aspects. Happy that Lando and Leia were obviously getting busy, though. Letterboxd.
Togo (Ericson Core)
Content for the sake of content, and a prime example of “one for you, one for them.” What’s worse, the ever-present Instagram filter, or that do-nothing dick Balto? Letterboxd.
Toy Story 4 (Josh Cooley)
As could only be anticipated, Toy Story: Fury Road is yet further evidence the major ideas for its franchise were exhausted with the first installment. Minor components are creatively realized with success exceeding that of the prior sequels making for an enjoyable if, well, minor experience. Go figure, Cliff Claven has the best line. Letterboxd.
Tully (Jason Reitman)
"Tully" rests well shy of the prior collaboration between Reitman, Diablo Cody, and Charlize Theron, but uses an idea that likely sounded rote on paper to speak agreeable truth to how our lives tend to be compromised against expectation as our youth escapes before we realize it was even on the run.
Velvet Buzzsaw (Dan Gilroy)
Glimpses of an interesting film biting at the business of modern art that suffocate when stitched to an embarrassingly pedestrian, go-nowhere “A Nightmare on Elm Street” wannabe. One would be forgiven for watching due to the Jake Gyllenhaal factor, and rewarded only by another look at Daveed Diggs. Letterboxd.
White Boy Rick (Yann Demange)
As much vintage soul cinema spirit as can be reasonably wished for in a 2018 film starring white people. A seedy enough image of Detroit I almost expected RoboCop to save the day. In one scene a character is nicknamed “Scarface” then walks inside and “Serpico” is on TV. Liked it. Letterboxd.
