STAR WARS: THE FORCE AWAKENS

Star Wars: The Force Awakens

Grade: A-

**Currently in Theaters**

Starring: John Boyega, Daisy Ridley, Adam Driver, Harrison Ford, Oscar Isaac, Domhnall Gleeson, and Carrie Fisher; with Peter Mayhew as Chewbacca, Anthony Daniels as C-3PO, and Andy Serkis as Supreme Leader Snoke

Premise: As the evil and destructive First Order seeks to rid the galaxy of all Jedi, members of the resistance band together to fight back.

Rated PG-13 for intense action violence and destruction, disturbing images, and some emotional content

If you’ve ever underestimated the power of The Force, I’m assuming the past three days have set you straight. Forget Harry Potter. Forget Middle Earth. Forget The Avengers. Forget even the prehistoric attractions of expensive dinosaur theme parks. With crowds massing for every showing at every theater, social media forums exploding, box-office records collapsing and “don’t you spoil it for me” threats being uttered everywhere from those who are climbing the walls in their anticipation to see it, it’s clear that the seventh Episode of the Star Wars saga, J.J. Abrams’ The Force Awakens, is the biggest movie of all time, if not yet in worldwide box office receipts then certainly in pop culture impact and “It-Film” status.

But how is it?

It took me a second viewing to figure that out. Nothing beats the marquee opening night showing with the huge crowds, the spontaneous mid-film ovations and the excitement of knowing you’re one of the first people to see a movie some have been waiting years to see. Thursday was a wonderful experience—waiting in line with a group of friends who were all excited for the movie and wearing franchise memorabilia, cheering and high-fiving complete strangers when the theater doors opened, miraculously sitting with my entire group together despite an obviously sold-out showing, the cheers for even the pre-film credits and the loud, lengthy ovation at the end. However, despite the Star Wars love-fest, I wasn’t entirely sold on the movie. I thought maybe the sheer anticipation and all the buzz kind of swallowed the film, not to mention I have a devil’s advocate Dark Side that can sometimes spring up when everyone I know unanimously loves or praises one particular thing. So I went to see it again. I had to buy my ticket in advance again, I had to wait in line again, I sat by one of my good friends again, and I clapped at the end again, but I came away with a significantly better overall impression. The Force Awakens is not a perfect movie nor would I call it the best movie I’ve ever seen, but, as far entertainment goes…I mean, come on, it’s freaking Star Wars.

(To give you an idea of what “freaking Star Wars” implies, I’ll have you know I’m sitting here writing this while wearing Star Wars themed pajama pants, drinking out of a Star Wars-themed glass, and kicking around a pair of Star Wars-themed slippers, and I’m not even the biggest or second-biggest Star Wars fan I know. It’s freaking Star Wars)

Plot

**I feel pretty ridiculous writing this, but if you somehow have little or no familiarity with the Star Wars universe—and I do mean universe—ask a friend. You need not have seen all six previous movies. Shoot, you really don’t have to have seen any of them—considering this movie, like all the others, is preceded by the caption a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, you can technically assume this is complete and utter made up stuff and you can therefore accept anything that comes onscreen. Then again, since this movie is loaded with characters who have previously appeared in movies at least three times, a complete novice may find themselves a little lost or disconnected.**

***On my honor, this is a very basic, spoiler-free synopsis. I’m actually quite proud of how it lays out the plot with minimal major details being revealed. Only minor spoilers ahead***

In the wake of the destruction of the Galactic Empire, a new dark-hearted, power-hungry legion, called The First Order, rose. Employing advanced, deadly weaponry, legions of highly-trained troopers and fronted by individuals with powers spawned by the all-encompassing Force, The First Order seeks to wipe out any trace of resistance in the galaxy. As the film opens, one of the First Order’s prime commanders, the dark-robed, lightsaber-wielding Kylo Ren (Adam Driver), leads an assault on a planet called Jakku in pursuit of one of the rising stars of the resistance, pilot Poe Dameron (Oscar Isaac). Poe is captured, but he leaves some key information inside his droid sidekick, a rolling little number called BB-8. Once captured, Poe is subjected to torture and constant questioning. Meanwhile, BB-8 is discovered by a young woman named Rey (Daisy Ridley), a lonely scrap scavenger and budding mechanic. Alerted that the little droid contains some important information, Rey is soon further caught up in the intergalactic drama when she encounters that most unlikely of things, a First Order deserter, Stormtrooper-gone-straight Finn (John Boyega). When First Order troops and aircraft descend on the settlement in which Rey lives and works, she, Finn, and BB-8 are forced to flee, commandeer an old spaceship, and escape Jakku. Once in space, they cross paths with the resistance, meet some near-mythic individuals who fought the Empire back in the day, and separately and together fight to find their courage and unleash their true inner strength.

What Works?

I had to see The Force Awakens a second time to convince myself it wasn’t merely a Star Wars Greatest Hits compilation—working off some of the most iconic characters, storylines, and fake technologies in movie history, writer/director J.J. Abrams and co-writers Michael Arndt and Lawrence Kasdan (who wrote 1980’s The Empire Strikes Back and 1983’s Return of the Jedi), obviously couldn’t start from complete scratch or ignore all the content of the previous six films. Some have already quibbled and called this movie basically a re-do of A New Hope (the added-later subtitle to George Lucas’ original 1977 Star Wars film). But after a second viewing, I do think The Force Awakens is less an homage to the old series than just another intergalactic adventure made very much in the vein of the movies that so many love. Part of my initial impression likely came from the opening night crowd’s reactions to every familiar item that appeared onscreen—it got to the point that even very minor characters (like the fish-faced Admiral Ackbar), and completely inanimate objects (like the Millennium Falcon starship) were greeted with ovations. But after a second viewing...I mean, of course they were going to bring back C-3PO and R2D2, and of course they found ways to welcome Han Solo and General Leia back into the fold, but it’s not a complete remake. I mean, Star Wars is such a popular brand (Freaking Star Wars!!) that it’s hard not to evoke something the huge fanbase loves. Why not avoid some backlash and give it to them? Ultimately, The Force Awakens has only slightly more completely-identical elements to the original film than Creed has to the original Rocky.

That being said, there is a lot packed into The Force Awakens. The breakneck pace can be disorienting early on, but the movie starts to even out, and though it does ultimately feel like two-and-a-quarter hours, I’m sure many would gladly watch the next installment immediately afterward. There are at least four new villains who could have recurring appearances in future films, at least three new good guys, too (four if you count the enjoyably-precocious BB-8). Oh, and there are major roles for close to half-a-dozen returning favorites. Entire new planets and solar systems are introduced. There are exciting chases, spectacular aerial space battles, amiable new character alliances, giant laser cannons, good guys flying a Tie Fighter, a guy stopping a laser blast in mid-air with the power of the Force, and topsy-turvy scenes that beg to be seen in 3-D. There was always going to be a little downtime involving indecisive characters and search-your-feelings Force-related mumbo-jumbo, but the last third of the movie is, for the most part, top-of-the-line Star Wars stuff. A character learning to use The Force from scratch the way Marvel superheroes discover their powers? That’s exciting! Classic banter between Han Solo and non-English-speaking sidekick Chewie? Terrific! The best-choreographed and most brilliantly-filmed lightsaber duel of the entire series? You bet. And a gimme nominee for the year’s single most gripping scene? Yep...I mean, if that scene doesn’t absolutely quell all the noise in any theater, nothing will.

The effects are great, of course, the signature score that plays at the beginning and end will have anyone worth knowing humming or pretend-conducting with their hands, and a cast that looked so promising in all the build-up to the movie’s releases delivers. Harrison Ford reminds you why he became such a big star for playing Han Solo. Carrie Fisher’s less active than before but no less likable a screen presence. The beloved non-human characters like C-3PO, R2D2, and Chewbacca—bolstered by new addition BB-8—are as welcome as any people. Oscar Isaac, who’s tended toward moodier fare thus far in this career, brings classic swashbuckling charm to Poe Dameron. On the other side of the good guy/bad guy spectrum, Domhnall Gleeson looks primed and ready to take the snarling, pale-faced, nefarious baddie crown many have worn before him. New leading lady Daisy Ridley excitingly explores new territory as a budding Force warrior—even Luke Skywalker’s introduction to The Force didn’t seem as exciting and flat-out cool as it does here. Best of all is Kylo Ren, effectively embodied by the baritone-voiced Adam Driver as a boiling cauldron of undeniable power, hot temper, and rumbling insecurity that ensure the character registers as more than just a cool new, robed, masked figure with a B-A cross-guard lightsaber. It’s Ren you’re most anxious to see and learn about in the future.

What Doesn’t Work?

Most of the concerns I have involve the screenplay, which not only fires through about thirty minutes of character introductions and stage-setting plot points at a dizzying rate, but doesn’t quite delve into character psyches when it needs to. No one’s going to Star Wars for character development alone, of course, but where the film soars with the layered depiction of Kylo Ren, it short-circuits with a less-than-convincing set-up for Finn, the former Stormtrooper. John Boyega proves an open, likable presence, but not only is his desertion from the Order rather rushed, but he seems way too much of a chatty, energetic spark-plug then one would expect from someone previously brainwashed and trained only for mindless destruction. Star Wars isn’t always super serious, but it’s supposed to be a space opera, not an action-comedy. Another character sadly shortcut who was prominently featured in the movie’s marketing material is Captain Phasma, the silver-uniformed stormtrooper voiced by an appropriately-malevolent Gwendoline Christie, who has a mere handful of lines. There’s also a case of “how did so-and-so escape from the exploding such-and-such in such a short amount of time” implausibility that could have audience members scratching their heads. And then, despite featuring an appropriately exciting plug for the sequel, Abrams lets the film veer into Peter Jackson Movie territory at the end with a series of wordless, teary-eyed close-ups that seem like they may never end.

Content

Hmmm. Put it this way: The Force Awakens is a little more cutthroat than the average superhero movie. There’s almost no blood despite all the laser blasting and lightsaber swinging, but The First Order proves early on that they’re not averse to the average village massacre or planetary genocide. Kylo Ren’s tendency to use The Force to manipulate people’s bodies and/or force secret information out of them has a torture-scene quality that could be unsettling for the kiddies. There’s no sex or nudity, and no swearing, but there’s enough pell-mell action and destruction to make this a solid PG-13.

Bottom Line

I called it already—the biggest film of all-time right here. And it ain’t half-bad. J.J. Abrams has done George Lucas and his iconic series proud with The Force Awakens, an often-dazzling mix of action and imagination. Led by some intriguing new characters and a villain with real depth, extended cameos for returning favorites, and an ending that leaves you wanting more, Episode VII proves it’s not just a rehash of earlier elements but a new, exciting adventure. It’s not perfect, but it’s a kind of high-level entertainment even most Marvel movies can’t provide.

Oh, did I mention this movie’s climactic lightsaber battle is the best one in the series so far? Yeah, so there’s THAT...

Star Wars: The Force Awakens (2015)

Directed by J.J. Abrams

Screenplay by Lawrence Kasdan, J.J. Abrams, and Michael Arndt

Based on Characters Created by George Lucas

Rated PG-13

Length: 135 minutes

ME AND EARL AND THE DYING GIRL

Me and Earl and the Dying Girl (2015)

Grade: B+

**Currently available at Redbox**

Starring: Thomas Mann, RJ Cyler, Olivia Cooke, Jon Bernthal, Nick Offerman, Molly Shannon, and Connie Britton; with Katherine Hughes as Madison

Premise: Self-deprecating slacker Greg finds his outlook on life altered when he befriends a classmate with cancer.

Rated PG-13 for language (including sexual references) and intense emotional content

Earlier this evening I read someone’s Twitter profile that featured an anonymous quote: it’s nice to be important, but it’s important to be nice.

That was the perfect sentiment to have in my head as I sat down to watch Me and Earl and the Dying Girl, a biting and sobering yet gentle movie about mortality, friendship, and what a person can mean to another person. One of this movie’s closing scenes features a character quietly looking over keepsakes of another character’s, some of which are related to him and some not, but almost all of which bring back memories, make him smile and tear up as he remembers the essence of that person. The relationship wasn’t always super lively, one of their last encounters was a blunt, ugly blow-up, and at their most recent encounter barely any words were spoken, but the scene reminds you of the truth of that quote: It’s nice to be important, but it’s important to be nice. After all, how do you want a person to think of you?

Adapted from a novel by Jesse Andrews by the author himself, Me and Earl and the Dying Girl just had too great a title for me to pass up. It’s a blunt and slightly morbid moniker, yet it’s undeniably-catchy. Turns out the film won the Audience Award and Grand Jury Prize for Drama at this year’s Sundance Film Festival, but it didn’t find much of an audience in theaters, failing to earn back its relatively small budget. It has sobering subject matter and, in the pattern of Jason Reitman’s Juno, so revels in its quirkiness that at times it threatens to overwhelm the movie, but it’s ultimately a touching story starring three young, relatively-unknown actors who all give great performances.

Plot

Gangly Greg Gaines (Thomas Mann), thinks himself mighty self-aware. Self-deprecating, aggressively-anti-social yet just social enough to not get on anyone’s bad side, and a lover of low-budget foreign films, Greg is just biding his time in life. His parents (Connie Britton and Nick Offerman) have begun to talk college, but he couldn't care less. All he really wants to do is keep making cheap parody movies with his friend Earl (RJ Cyler) and swap the occasional man story with his hip, macho history professor (Jon Bernthal).

Early in his senior year, Greg stumbles into the orbit of one of his high school classmates, soft-spoken, level-headed Rachel (Olivia Cooke). Rachel has recently been diagnosed with leukemia. It’s awkward and Greg’s awkward and he’d rather not, but he feels more than a hint of guilt—plus his mom is nagging him—so he keeps reaching out to Rachel and spending time with her. A lot of times he feels like he must be making a fool of himself, doing weird impressions and making goofy low-budget films and being awkward and sarcastic, but Rachel becomes a fixture in his life. There’s nothing romantic between them, but they keep spending time together—sometimes exclusively—even after Rachel begins treatment and her hair falls out, starts to grow back, and falls out again. Rumors about them abound, of course, and then one of Rachel’s friends, Madison (Katherine Hughes), asks Greg if he and Earl will make one of their little movies for Rachel. It will cheer her up, she thinks. It proves a long process, as Greg can’t decide what he wants to say to this person who he accidentally became close to, and whom he finds he doesn’t want to let go.

What Works?
Quirky indie comedies with particularly self-aware protagonists are nothing new, but Jesse Andrews’ script separates itself with some really clever touches. There’s a running gag about how, to supposedly “outcast” or “uncool” guys, hot girls approaching them is like a moose trampling on a chipmunk—the former is rocking the latter’s whole world and they don’t even know it—that becomes a meme-worthy little tradition of the movie’s, with brief stop-motion animated skits signaling when a certain character is about to appear. The titles of Greg and Earl’s parody movies--based off the classic movies that inspired them--are a hoot as well: ‘Anatomy of a Burger’ for Anatomy of a Murder, ‘The Complete Lack of Conversation’ for The Conversation, ‘Eyes Wide Butt’ for Eyes Wide Shut, ‘The 400 Bros’ for The 400 Blows, ‘The Rad Shoes’ for The Red Shoes, ‘Ate ½ (Of My Lunch)’ for 8 1/2, ‘Scabface’ for Scarface, ‘The Last Crustacean of Christ’ for The Last Temptation of Christ, etc… But the script isn’t all jokes and quips—Me and Earl largely steers clear of preaching, of the kind of forced romantic angles stories like this almost always have, and does its best in key moments to be simple and real rather than really, really witty.

Greg really is a wonderfully-written character, and it’d be tempting to call him “too weird” or “too awkward” if I didn’t know people who act like him (heck, with a little less inhibition in social situations, I could be Greg), and Thomas Mann plays him brilliantly. He’s funny and awkward and a little aloof, but when he begins to crack under the weight of this so-called “doomed friendship”, you really feel for him. You feel for Rachel, too, of course, played in a sincere yet unshowy performance by Olivia Cooke. Mann and Cooke are great together, often natural, sometimes awkward in a real, genuinely-awkward sort of way, but they also hit every high note in their characters' longest, most emotional argument, when they say all the meanest things they want to say to each other in light of her impending demise, a wrenching scene shot in one long take. RJ Cyler’s Earl isn’t fully explored, but Earl, even more than Greg, proves refreshingly frank and outspoken, saying the things everyone is thinking even if it’s not always the socially-acceptable thing to do.

Korean-born Cinematographer Chung-hoo Chung’s camera does some truly impressive work, livening up this mostly-level headed tale with the kind of aerial shots and wide-angle close-ups usually reserved for more prestige art films. Nico Muhly and Brian Eno’s score also does some wonderful things, especially when it takes over during the final three, mostly-wordless scenes. The score and the camerawork come together in a staggering climactic sequence you’ll be hard-pressed to forget.

What Doesn’t Work?

Like Juno and countless other snarky indies, Me and Earl wants to be really funny and really clever, and it shows. I suppose that’s the way to get noticed when you’re a tiny film struggling for recognition and production—to be something people haven’t seen before—but when an audience can tell you’re proud of yourself for being so quirky and different, it shows you're overdoing it. For instance, the movie’s slogan is “A Little Friendship Never Killed Anyone”—a clever pun, to be sure, but too much emphasis on the “killed” part becomes morbid and less likable. A late moment after the really cathartic finale in which Greg refers back to the fact that his friend Rachel died, Died, Died puts a damper on the thought-provoking, emotional closing, like he's joking about her death. Then there’s the character of Rachel’s mom, a boozy divorcee played fiercely by Molly Shannon, who has a ridiculously-uncomfortable character intro that belongs in a different film. And the film lingers a little long tying things up, exploring about five different scenes featuring little dialogue when the first few drove home their point.

I don’t wanna be too hard. Me and Earl could have been a tidier, neater, and deeper film, but it is very effective considering its proudly disaffected-protagonist, whose mindset dominates the proceedings early on. If you can’t tell from the whole It’s nice to be important, but it’s important to be nice tie-in, what will stick with you about this movie is not the negatives.

Content

Surprisingly-clean for an indie with teenage protagonists, Me and Earl doesn’t have any nudity or sexuality (though there are some spoken sexual references). There is a fair amount of swearing, including a big F-bomb, and our titular characters have a scene where they’re stoned, but, otherwise, this movie is minimally-offensive. Well…the movie does come with the “is it right for people suffering a terminal illness to thinking about giving up when people care about them” angle that could spark some conversation and debate. It's not an easy idea, as explored in the aforementioned lengthy argument between Rachel and Greg. The movie doesn't preach, but it will definitely get audience members thinking about their own opinions regarding "quality of life" and such.

Bottom Line

Like its slightly-morbid but undeniably-catchy title, Me and Earl and the Dying Girl is a quirky but undeniably-likable little movie. A winner of a couple big awards for Drama at this year’s Sundance Film Festival, this is a movie about a main character with cancer that is not a tearjerker teen romance but does remind you how you can affect someone’s life—even if you don’t feel like you matter that much—by being there when they need someone. Shoot, it reminds you how much you mean to someone even if they’re not sick, and the stakes aren’t that high, if you just give them your time and attention. Insightful, sometimes laugh-out-loud funny, and fronted by three great performances from little-known lead actors, this is a Little Engine That Could kind of movie that makes you want to be a better person.

Me and Earl and the Dying Girl (2015)

Directed by Alfonso Gomez-Rejon

Screenplay by Jesse Andrews; Based on his novel

Rated PG-13

Length: 105 minutes

EX MACHINA

Ex Machina (2015)

Grade: A

**Currently Available on Redbox**

Starring: Domhnall Gleeson, Oscar Isaac, Alicia Vikander and Sonoya Mizuno

Premise: A shy computer programmer is awarded the chance to oversee the development of a fascinating new artificial intelligence that’s incredibly lifelike.

Rated R for language, graphic nudity, blood and disturbing images, and some violent content

For about ten minutes after I finished watching Ex Machina in my living room, I couldn’t stop saying the word wow. An effective Creation/Science hybrid fable, Ex Machina is a spooky thriller that weaves a slow but undeniable spell until it explodes with a third act that plays like a series of heavy punches to the gut…punches that somehow, incredibly, feel great almost as soon as they’ve landed. Deriving its title from the common Latin phrase deus-ex-machina—which is loosely translated “god from a machine”—this sci-fi think-piece is a well-written, well-acted work that, when all is said and done, registers as borderline-spectacular.

Plot

Shy but smart computer programmer Caleb Smith (Domhnall Gleeson) knows he’s landed the opportunity of a lifetime—a week-long stay with the heralded, super-smart, super-rich CEO of Bluetooth, the huge Google-esque internet software company he works for. Nathan (Oscar Isaac) doesn’t disappoint, either, a brilliant mind living an airy yet secret headquarters in the middle of a huge swath of land he owns. Turns out he’s a little lacking in social graces—sharp, a big drinker, definitely a little arrogant—but he invites Caleb to visit a new frontier he’s been exploring: artificial intelligence. It’s not just robots or smart computers, but a human-styled computer with a great deal of knowledge and a swiftly-evolving personality. She even has a face (that of Swedish actress Alicia Vikander), and a name, Ava. After signing a nondisclosure agreement and agreeing to pry and see just how lifelike the A.I. is, Caleb is able to sit down each day and communicate with Ava, who’s bright and inquisitive but sweet and soft-spoken. Caleb’s week starts to drag a little, what with the cabin fever (an atmosphere enhanced by Nathan’s mute mail-order wife, Kyoko [Sonoya Mizuno]), Nathan’s demanding interviews and awkward drunken spells, and random power outages that leave Caleb trapped in his room. But the huge bright spot is unquestionably Ava, who takes to Caleb like a duck to water, even if they’re only talking from opposite sides of a sheet of glass. She learns quickly, she wants to hear about his family, she wants him to see her dress up, she wants him to plan a fantasy date for them. She even has an undeniably-curvy figure. Caleb tries to fight his natural urges and his growing “crush”, but as he grows to like Ava more, he begins to sadly think of her as a hostage, and to wonder if, out in the real world, by his side, she could function.

What Works?

British-born Adam Garland, who wrote one of the great suspense/horror movies of the last decade-and-a-half in 28 Days Later, wrote Ex Machina and shepherded it into existence as his directorial debut. It’s a superb one, and I wonder if he might manage a nomination in the Oscars’ Original Screenplay Category for his work here. After all, his movie cuts right to the chase, and he explores in both dialogue and mere suggestion ideas like man playing God, the nature of attraction, and what makes humans human. There are some talky sections to the film, but most of the conversation can’t help but spark one’s interest. In some ways, this movie is like a cousin to Spike Jonze’s Her—if that film was about whether a man could fall in love with the rich female personality of his computer, Ex Machina wonders: if that rich female personality had a body and face to go with it, and was completely convincing as a person except for the fact you knew it was a computer, could you really love and trust it like you would a real person? Of course, in a story that bears more than a passing resemblance to Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, Ex Machina also asks: Should you?

With these juicy main topics and a living, in-the-moment musical score that takes over at the end, Ex Machina sounds great, and it looks great as well. The visual effects that render Ava’s robotic extremities and core are superb, and Nathan’s large mansion/research lab is both effectively posh and rather stale and forbidding, neatly underlining the when is too much Too Much narrative.

The three main actors are absolutely terrific, embodying every subtle nuance of a constantly-thinking story. Domhnall Gleeson, the British actor who’s everywhere lately, has arguably the least-interesting role but, like Joaquin Phoenix in Her, it’s his job to be so very, unmistakably human at the center of the story, and to make us understand what he’s feeling, and he does. When Caleb feels revulsion at the idea that he’s falling for a robot and tries to fight it, and yet can’t help being delighted in Ava’s presence, his masterful series of almost-unconscious little tics and posture changes are hugely-effective. He’s matched—and often-overshadowed—by Oscar Isaac, whose rich, charismatic portrayal encompasses a lot. One minute, he’s a Victor Frankenstein-esque mad scientist. The next, he’s a snooty, unsociable Social Network-style prig inventor. The next, he’s just one of the boys, throwing back beers. The next, he’s a perfectionist who’s created an incredible technology but won’t think of unveiling it until it’s absolutely what he wants it to be. And there’s a little bit of that man-playing-God thrown in there, with Nathan blowing his own horn and daring Caleb to understand his vision, but the genius of Isaac’s performance is that, we find out late in the proceedings, it may or may not have all been an act meant to seduce Caleb into letting his guard down. Then there’s Vikander, who parlayed this role and a few other turns into a huge breakout year in 2015. She’s wonderfully-beguiling and easy to love with her big brown eyes, innocent personality and soft voice—and there’s a beautifully-rendered scene in which she dons regular clothes and a wig and shyly shows herself off that speaks all kinds of volumes—and yet that same face proves to be stone-cold and inscrutable when Ava shows some mettle.

What Doesn’t Work?

Ex Machina might have one or two too many scenes that are either talky or all silent visuals, but not many. As long as you’re invested and have paid attention, this puppy packs a wallop.

Content

Ex Machina earns its R rating with some four-letter words and sexual references, plus some darker moments. There’s also an extended sequence featuring full frontal female nudity when Caleb reviews some old lab tapes of Nathan trying to fashion the most realistic-looking female figure for his A.I. Nathan’s mute wife loses her clothes in one scene as well, and a few confrontational scenes also get a bit bloody. Definitely keep the kiddies away for this one.

Bottom Line

Ex Machina, the directorial debut of British screenwriter Alex Garland, is both thought-provoking and superbly-suspenseful, at this point one of the very best movies I’ve seen this year. "Should man play God if he has the power to" is the question, and Garland’s great writing, some stunning visuals, some even more stunning third-act twists, and great performances from Domhnall Gleeson, Oscar Isaac and Alicia Vikander (in a recently-Golden Globe-nominated performance) make this a tense, juicy study in humanity’s relationship with technology and all its faults.

Ex Machina (2015)

Written and Directed by Alex Garland

Rated R

Length: 108 minutes

SPOTLIGHT

Spotlight

Grade: A-

**Currently In Theatres**

Starring: Michael Keaton, Mark Ruffalo, Rachel McAdams, Brian D'Arcy James, Liev Schreiber, John Slattery, Stanley Tucci, Billy Cruddup, and Neil Huff

Premise: The Boston Globe's 'Spotlight' team uncovers a widespread scandal in which the Catholic Church deliberately covered up dozens of cases in which priests molested children.

Rated R for language and verbal depictions of child molestation

Some movies tell stories that need to be told. Spotlight is not one of those movies.

The central focus of Spotlight is a story—one that absolutely needed to be told—but the movie’s release comes some thirteen years after the story was published by a major newspaper and then widely distributed. On January 6, 2002, The Boston Globe published an article detailing a horrific scandal of child molestation within the local Catholic Church, one that had been swept under the rug by privileged members of the local Archdiocese. The name "Spotlight" comes from the four-person investigative team at The Globe that fronted the research and the writing of the story. The legacy comes from the 600+ additional stories that were published after the initial article was published and caught readers’ attention, and subsequently led many of them to share their own abuse stories. The Spotlight team's work was later awarded the Pulitzer Prize for investigative journalism. This movie is about them.

The process in which the four-person team conducted research, gathered facts, chased sources, and urged people to share their experiences is not always the stuff of a hugely-entertaining movie, but it has been rendered in an effective and memorable fashion by director Tom McCarthy, who also co-wrote the screenplay (with Josh Singer). In the tradition of the Academy Award-Winning All the President's Men—which depicted the unveiling of the Watergate scandal—this well-acted, well-paced, thought-provoking film is an engaging and non-exploitative flick about an earth-shaking journalistic revelation.

Plot

The staff of The Boston Globe is aware of new editor Marty Baron (Liev Shreiber) and his status as an outsider, someone not from Boston who's probably just taking over The Globe to cement his legacy. So it sets off a bit of eye-rolling and murmuring when one of the first things Marty does as editor is reassign the Spotlight team from a burgeoning Boston PD investigation to a barely-remembered story about a supposedly child-abusing priest who ducked the law years back. But the job's the job, so Spotlight—team leader Walter 'Robby' Robinson (Michael Keaton), ace reporter Mike Rezendes (Mark Ruffalo), no-nonsense Sacha Pfeiffer (Rachel McAdams) and family man Matt Carroll (Brian D'Arcy James)—begins digging into the archives for information. The investigation initially seems so stale and archaic that deputy editor Ben Bradlee Jr. (John Slattery) is about to request their reassignment, but then they come across a victim of childhood abuse, the twitchy, emotionally-scarred Phil Salviano (Neil Huff). Salviano turns out to have names of a few fellow victims, names of a few offending priests, and information on two local attorneys who've had their hands in these kinds of cases, hotshot DA Eric Macleish (Billy Cruddup), who "really can't talk about that stuff", and browbeaten prosecutor Mitchell Garabedian (Stanley Tucci), who has gotten very unpopular from trying to push these controversial cases. "The church is watching me," is a phrase Spotlight hears from both, meaning Macleish will do whatever it takes to get rid of the cases quickly while Garabedian can rarely get his clients anything because of the church’s influence in Irish-Catholic Boston. Spotlight also hits the jackpot with a connection of Salviano's, a psychotherapist and former priest who’s spent years researching abuse and gives them mountains of information and stunning statistics.

As the investigation deepens for Spotlight, so does the opposition, both from the church and its lawyers to some of their fellow Bostonians. "The church has done a lot of good in this city," some say, "you want to cause problems for the church just over a few bad apples?" "You want to sue the church?" Others demand angrily. Doors get slammed in their faces. Robby has a falling-out with a childhood friend and is brushed off by the staff of his old prep school. The number of guilty priests they find begins to pile up, as does the number of victims. And worst of all, lawyers and victims alike begin to accuse the staff of The Globe of negligence, with multiple sources saying they complained or forwarded information about the abuse to the paper years ago, only for the stories to receive minimal attention, or no ink at all.

What Works?

Spotlight should be lauded for its subtlety. Movies about fast-talking journalists conducting emotional interviews and chasing sources are not always subtle, but Singer and McCarthy’s screenplay is just about the facts, avoiding church-bashing political statements, making palpable the pain of abuse survivors without any flashback sequences, emotional hysterics, or forcibly graphic details, and only quietly conveying the sense of victory and closure at film’s end. There are no unnecessary high-suspense sequences, no romantic subplots or other unnecessary distractions; the movie leans on its harrowing subject matter and dramatic reveals to carry it, and it works. This is a talky film, but attentive viewers will be rewarded, as the names, places and even character-building hints dropped early on almost always come back to bolster the story’s revelations. To whit, an early meeting between new editor Baron and the ranking church Cardinal (Len Cariou) seems an amiable meeting in which the clergyman discusses how the Church and The Globe can work together, but his gentle presumptions of this partnership and his welcoming “gift” of a copy of the Catholic Church Catechism seem like a none-too-subtle power play, made all the more threatening given that the audience knows Baron A) is Jewish, and B) has already put his people on the church’s case.  Similarly, there are at least a half-dozen moments in which characters wordlessly react to being confronted with the honest truth of the scandal, whether as defensive lawyers/Bostonians or scarred former victims, and the pain, fear, amazement, anger or confusion—or some combination of these emotions—crawls slowly across their faces. Viewers will watch these moments with bated breath, as the screenplay has always built things up enough for the audience to eagerly-anticipate these crucial moments.

This is a procedural set mostly in the newsroom or on the fact-hunting trail, and even the main characters are given little or no back-story, but the large cast is rock-solid. Mark Ruffalo has the showiest role as the twitchy, assertive Rezendes, who lacks an abundance of social graces, but it was Rachel McAdams who, for me, hit the nail on the head the most often, her big eyes and expressive features perfectly conveying both the no-nonsense, professional reporter and the sympathetic and often-appalled human being as she learns the facts and hears the stories. The effortlessly-likable Keaton is a big asset, Mad Men’s Slattery brightens up a few scenes with his trademark bluster, and Schreiber’s low-key portrayal of the straight-arrow editor pays off when his quiet but sincere compliments to the Spotlight team near the end of their investigation proves one of the movie’s muted but undeniable emotional uplifts.

What Doesn’t Work?

Like numerous recent based-on-a-true-story films, Spotlight’s fact-based, this-is-how-it-happened approach does not lend itself easily to big emotional arcs or a particularly-entertaining theater-going experience. In fact, the one big, noisy confrontation feels like the one really “Hollywood” moment in the movie—gratifying, perhaps, for the audience that has stuck with this talky film, but a little unnecessary. For any real emotional pay-off, viewers must pay attention from the start. There are a lot of names mentioned, a lot of minor characters introduced, plenty of legal terms uttered and plenty of statistics presented, and yet, as stated previously, almost all of it will come back to mean something in the end. If you’ve paid attention and stuck with it, the closing scenes’ quiet, cathartic moments—and the informative and haunting end titles right before the credits—will pack a punch that allow you to leave the theatre on an engaged, mind-racing high.

Content

There’s no violence, no nudity, no blood and fairly-limited profanity, but Spotlight earns its R rating with a few four-letter words and the seriousness of its material. Some frank sexual terminology is used, though, of course, it’s always in the midst of relaying damaging abuse experiences and not used in a joking or would-be comedic manner. Some of the abuse victims cry when relaying their experiences to the Spotlight team, and others bear needle marks or clear physical, emotional and psychological scars. In addition, Catholics or other church-goers may feel uncomfortable pondering the true events described in the film.

In fact, in case there are any Catholics or other denominational Christians among my readers, I want to provide a word of clarity. I was raised Catholic and still regularly attend church (though for reasons of my own, I’ve become a Baptist since college—these reasons are entirely unrelated to abuse in the church, which I never encountered). Almost everyone in my immediate and extended family was baptized into the Catholic Church and regularly attended mass at some point in their lives. I hadn’t heard of The Boston Globe’s revelations until I began hearing about Spotlight, but, as an adult, I have been made aware of the sad real-life fact of abuse of boys (and girls) in the church by priests. In addition, I am usually quite able to separate movies and real life, even if the movies, like this one, are fact-based.

I say all this to let you know, whether you want to see this movie or not, I do not believe this movie was intended as a smear campaign against the Catholic Church, church in general, or any religion. It does not make any “labeling” statements about God or people who believe in God and make His work their life's work (God, in fact, is seldom mentioned). The Globe's pieces were simply pointing out condemnable acts committed by people in the institution of the church—acts non-religious people/non-church-affiliated people are surely every bit as likely to commit. If Spotlight’s story broke today, in 2015, it would probably be used as ammunition against the religious/Catholic/Christian community, and that community would probably react defensively. But this movie is merely re-enacting events—it is not making any kind of special statement except noting that, at the time, members of the Catholic Archdiosece were improperly using their power and positions of influence and covering up those who were caught misusing it. This movie doesn’t make me ashamed of my time in the Catholic Church nor does it make me look down on those who are still in it (of course, I absolutely look down on and do not tolerate anyone’s abuse of children, least of all people who are welcomed into people’s homes and families as role models and spiritual leaders). Like The Globe’s Pulitzer Prize-winning series of articles, I believe Spotlight was intended to open people’s eyes, and to make people aware of what sometimes does and should not happen in the church. It doesn’t soften the blow—the word “pedophile” is used more than once, sometimes as in “pedophile priests”—and there’s a montage set to a children’s choir singing a Christmas carol that generates a chill as you wonder if any of those children have been exposed to these kinds of acts. This is all a long way of saying Spotlight, like the real life investigation that inspired it, deals with some tough stuff, but if you’re interested in the movie and you’re a person of faith, you will be challenged by the stated harshness of acts committed by supposed people of faith, but you will not be insulted or demeaned or treated to a God-hating, religion-hating message.

Bottom Line

Chronicling a lengthy Boston Globe investigation that revealed a large-scale cover up of child abuse by priests in the Catholic Church—an investigation that won a Pulitzer Prize—Spotlight isn’t always an easy movie to watch, both because of some tough subject matter and a talky, information-heavy story. That said, it’s a smart, no-nonsense procedural boasting a strong cast (Michael Keaton, Mark Ruffalo, Rachel McAdams) and a great script that have generated Oscar talk. It’s also a non-exploitative film that, to my mind, is not an aggressively God-hating or church-hating feature. Diligent, focused viewers will be rewarded with an affecting and very well-made film.

Spotlight (2015)

Directed by Tom McCarthy

Screenplay by Tom McCarthy and Josh Singer

Rated R

Length: 128 minutes 

LITTLE BOY

Little Boy

Grade: B+

**Currently on Redbox**

Starring: Jakob Salvati, Emily Watson, David Henrie, Cary-Hiroyuki Tagawa, Michael Rapaport, Tom Wilkinson, Ted Levine, and Kevin James

Premise: An 8-year-old boy prays and hopes his faith alone can bring his beloved father back from World War II.

Rated PG-13 for a few scenes of war violence, language (including racial slurs), some intense moments, and emotional content

It’s kind of hard for me to know exactly what to make of Little Boy because I was half-asleep by the time it ended. Indeed, I spent most of the movie wishing it would end because I wanted to go to bed. That being said, I’ve nursed a grudging admiration for this little movie since I watched it, and it just won’t go away. Even though my eyes were itching from tiredness by the time the credits came up, I was invested enough that I actually wanted to see a little bit more.

Little Boy is a fictional story rooted in a simpler time, a classic era of American-ness (if you will), a time of righteous patriotism, newspaper-brandishing townsfolk on street corners, square little houses, and kids playing in the streets of one-stoplight towns. It revisits a time when going off to war was seen as an honor, and a duty, and when churches were packed on Sundays with everyone you knew. That church aspect figures prominently, as Mexican director Alejandro Monteverde’s film (he also co-wrote the screenplay with Pepe Portillo) is also a message movie, about believing in the face of incredible doubt and odds, and making repeated references to a Bible passage, Matthew 17:20, which reads: “Jesus replied, ‘Because you have so little faith. Truly I tell you, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, “Move from here to there,” and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.’” Appropriately for a movie that was written and marketed around the idea of that passage, Little Boy features a diminutive protagonist who’s looking to accomplish something huge—namely, willing his father home from the front lines of the Pacific War against the Japanese, and praying and working for God to pull off a miracle. Lovingly shot and performed with conviction, Little Boy is imperfect but it manages to not be silly.

It also manages to be memorable.

Plot

Called “little boy” by almost everyone for a reason, undersized 8-year-old Pepper Busbee (3-foot-9-inch actor Jakob Salvati) has relatively few troubles in life. He’s an imaginative little boy, reading about magic and making up adventures along with his childlike father (Michael Rapaport). He helps his dad and older brother, London (David Henrie), at the family car repair shop. He obeys and loves his stoic mom (Emily Watson). His only real trouble is that he’s picked on for his size, especially by nasty, towering bully Freddy Fox (Matthew Scott Miller). There's also a Japanese man in the town, Mr. Hashimoto (Cary-Hiroyuki Tagawa), one who’s become a pariah given that he looks like the enemy, the Japanese troops of the war’s Pacific Theatre. Pepper’s not a big fan of his, either.

But then his father has to go off to war. Pepper, who can’t imagine life without his father, intends to do whatever he can to get his dad home safely, whether that’s trying to use a comic book musician’s tricks to protect him from afar, trying to will his father back, or even praying really hard about it. The town priest (Tom Wilkinson) notes the latter and encourages Pepper in it, and, after Pepper and London get in a spot of trouble patronizing Mr. Hashimoto, the priest encourages Pepper to do a good thing and befriend the mysterious man. Pepper tries, but life is suddenly much more complicated. The townspeople look down on him for associating with Hashimoto, his brother is getting into trouble, a local wife-less doctor (Kevin James) is making eyes at Pepper’s mom, and news updates about the war across the sea are bad more often than not.

What Works?

Thinking back on the Little Boy, what stands out to me most is the clear, vivid imagery. The colors—of hair, of clothes, of the houses and buildings in town, of the sky and the nearby ocean, of the effectively lived-in characters—really pop, aiding the film in seeming more timeless. The screenplay is solid, too—while clearly a “message movie”, Little Boy doesn’t try to shove any one religion down your throat, but encourages the power of belief and kindness and love (overall, it reminded me more of small-town tales of boyhood in the mid-1900s--like My Dog Skip, Simon Birch and even A Christmas Story—than overtly-Christian movies like Fireproof and Facing the Giants). Also, for a film mostly about a child, both the screenplay and the direction aren’t afraid to venture into heavier territory. Excerpts of dad’s war-time experiences are relatively bloodless but gritty and terrifying in their depiction, and the nuisance of the prejudice against Mr. Hashimoto threatens, at times, to turn into real danger. This level-headed approach to drama lends realism to a movie with hopeful ending some might be tempted to criticize.

Like I said, Little Boy isn’t silly—a big accomplishment for a message movie about a child who tries a hand at both magic and prayer. The absolute conviction of all the actors is what makes the movie, starting with little Jakob Salvati. Sure, the performance relies a little on pure cuteness, but there’s also an astonishing scene, in which Pepper weeps uncontrollably over thoughts of his possibly-dead father, that cuts to the core—such real, uninhibited tears are rare, even in the world of dramatic movies. Similarly-strong performances are given by Emily Watson and David Henrie as the caring mom and conflicted brother, and Cary-Hiroyuki Tagawa makes a good impression in the obviously clichéd part of a wise old foreigner. A scene where Hashimoto sits quietly with Pepper to comfort him is one of the movie’s best moments. Then there’s the big “faith” scene with Tom Wilkinson’s priest, who, despite some slightly corny writing, makes an earnest, effective statement about faith that you’ll remember.

What Doesn’t Work?

It’s a little corny, to be sure—you have to embrace the sun-splashed naivete that allows townspeople to celebrate a little boy who’s allegedly won a distant war with just the effort of his will, or the idea that one moment of standing up to a much bigger, more popular bully in the schoolyard leads to no repercussions. Also Kevin James, the movie’s biggest name, is distractingly-cast and visibly struggles to play it straight. The movie ends abruptly as well, having created a vivid little world of characters and feeling and then ending immediately after the big climax—that was when I was ready to see a little more of how the characters related in light of their life-changing experiences. It’s one of a few places where the mostly-effective screenplay could use a little more detail.

Content

A movie called Little Boy? Content? Are you kidding me? There’s no hint of sex or nudity, but, as mentioned, a couple cuts to dad’s time at war in the Pacific are surprisingly-intense, as are some of the hostile townspeople’s run-ins with Mr. Hashimoto as he becomes Pepper’s friend. As stated, the emotional content hits hard when it comes, and there’s some profanity including multiple derogatory uses of “Jap” and “Nip”.

Bottom Line

Little Boy is a quaint little story with a big heart, effectively depicting experiences on the home front during a war through the eyes of a child. It’s a message movie, but not distractingly-so, reminding us all that we should value one another and stick up for one another. The cast—including the little boy of the title—is rock-solid in what is, at times, a pretty hard-hitting drama, and moments of adventure, humor, and genuine emotion make this a rewarding film.

Little Boy (2015)

Directed by Alejandro Monteverde

Screenplay by Alejandro Monteverde and Pepe Portillo

Rated PG-13

Length: 106 minutes