John Wick

I like Keanu Reeves.  He makes fun movies like 47 Ronin, he seems like a decent fellow, and he’s nice to Alex Winter. 

I think that Reeves’ greatest appeal as an older movie star (as opposed to his goofy early-20s persona) is his aura of detached, zen-like cool.  He seems like the embodiment of all those platitudes that show up on Facebook about being centered, and mindful, and in the moment.  Thus, it’s absolutely wonderful when, in the emotional climax of John Wick, he completely loses his cool and releases a howl of pain, rage, and vengefulness that shocks the complacent action-movie fan right out of his seat.

Here’s the setup: John Wick is the kind of unstoppable, nigh-invincible former hit man we’ve come to know and love as fans of the action genre.  Since all such characters must be either about to retire or actually in retirement, we meet him as he grieves for his recently-deceased wife and consoles himself by caring for an adorable puppy.  Then bad men come to steal his car and do mean things to his dog.  Vengeance must be had, so away we go for ninety or so minutes of fast cars, fisticuffs, and shooting people in the face.

There are lots of movies like this, but there are three things that make John Wick special.  First, there’s the aforementioned Mr. Reeves.  He’s perfect for this role, and his background in martial arts serves him well as he navigates the film’s hand-to-hand combat sequences.  Second, there’s the supporting cast, from primary antagonist Michael Nyqvist (of the original Girl with the Dragon Tattoo) to assorted members of John Wick’s stylized underworld including the nearly-always wonderful Willem Dafoe (whom I’m willing to forgive for The Grand Budapest Hotel), The Wire’s Lance Reddick, Deadwood’s Ian McShane, Games of Thrones’ Alfie Allen, and Chef’s John Leguizamo (and really, you must see Chef).  They prove, once again, that there are no small roles.  Each of them is note-perfect, and they add a sense of seriousness to what could be a very silly film.  

The hard work behind the camera really shows, as well.  Seasoned second-unit directors and stuntmen Chad Stahelski and David Leitch know how to set up and frame action so the viewer never loses track of who’s doing what to whom, where, and why.  As photographed by Jonathan Sela and edited by Elisabet Ronalds, John Wick does something almost unheard of: it eschews the jump-cut aesthetic of so much modern action filmmaking, and instead offers us longer takes that showcase the hard work of fight choreographer Jonathan Eusebio, the principle performers, and the stunt doubles who practice and practice and practice to make every fight look real, and visceral, and exciting.

As you can tell, I enjoyed the heck out of this movie.  John Wick is a great time at the movies and the start of what should be a lucrative franchise for Keanu Reeves.  Good for all involved, and good for him.  It couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.

Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure

Because I'm a good father, I sat my 14-year-old son down for Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure the other day.  Two observations: (1) Keanu Reeves and Alex Winter have excellent comic timing, and (2) this is the 'Doctor Who' adventure that never was.

Regarding the first observation: both my son and I laughed all through this wonderful movie.  This isn't one of those cynical pictures with two levels of humor (one for children and one for their parents).  Rather, it's a picture with simple humor done well.  Bill S. Preston, Esq. and Ted Theodore Logan are funny, sympathetic characters, and everything about their goofy attempts to talk themselves out of trouble (at the beginning) and save the day (at the end) is both winning and hilarious.  Their goofball schtick just never gets old.

Regarding the second: the entire premise is clearly a ripoff of then-defunct British television adventure series 'Doctor Who.'  Instead of the time-travelling Doctor’s iconic English police box, Bill & Ted's time-travelling mentor (George Carlin) uses an American telephone booth.  Instead of Gallifrey, Carlin comes from a future Earth that has found enlightenment through the teachings and music of the titular Bill and Ted.  This makes me happy.  In fact, until further notice, I choose to believe that George Carlin is the 15^th Doctor.

Y’know, I have fond memories of many films from my youth.  Very few hold up, but Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure does.  It’s funny, it’s charming, it’s optimistic, and it’s everything you could want in a time-travel team comedy.  

In short, on a scale of triumphantness, I give Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure the highest rating: most triumphant.

47 Ronin

There are two kinds of people in the world: those who can get behind a movie like 47 Ronin, and those who make me sad.

47 Ronin is set in a mythic, legendary Japan.  It tells the story of 47 samurai who, though outcasts following the dishonor of their master, hatch a plan to redeem his honor and set the world to right.  It’s steeped in a heightened, storybook version of Japanese bushido culture, and it’s wonderful entertainment.

Keanu Reeves plays the financing necessity – no, wait.  That’s unfair.  While Reeves was, most likely, the key to a financing and distribution deal, he’s perfectly fine here as the half-European, semi-mystical outcast and audience identification character.  Yes, he’s a bit wooden, but that plays well in a story set in a rigidly controlled, hierarchical society.  Beyond that, he’s game for whatever the movie throws at him, and he doesn’t embarrass himself or the production.

I could name check a couple of Japanese actors whose names would be familiar to movie buffs, but all you really need to know is that this is a beautiful production, professionally acted and directed.  Yes, much of the monster-related CGI is dodgy, but so what.  This is legend.  Roll with it.  More importantly, the story makes sense, the action sequences are a delight, and my 14 year old and I rocked along with smiles on our faces throughout its running time.

All this for a movie I saw reluctantly.  I’m currently polishing my annual Best/Worst post.  Though this film won’t make either list, it certainly counts as my biggest surprise of the year.  I’m delighted to report that 47 Ronin is a winner.

The Day The Earth Stood Still

Y’know, I like Keanu Reeves. The guy’s a terrible actor, but he chooses such fun, interesting projects that he generates enough goodwill to overcome his handicaps. THE DAY THE EARTH STOOD STILL, in which Reeves plays an alien inhabiting a manufactured human body, makes a virtue of its star’s woodenness while serving up a giant helping of marvelously stupid entertainment.

Here’s the setup: an alien (Reeves) and its giant robotic henchman have come to Earth to tell us that we have two options: stop destroying our environment or die at the hands of aliens who have never seen Star Trek and, thus, are unaware that the galaxy is choc a bloc with habitable planets. It’s aided in this by the formerly beautiful but now disturbingly anorexic Jennifer Connelly, an American scientist called in to consult the U.S. Government and provide some kind of outlandishly miscegenetic love interest.

The movie never overcomes the first question to occur to the viewer: why doesn’t the alien, who appears to be compassionate, offer to teach mankind how to, say, make a paint-on photovoltaic paste that’s as cheap to produce as paint, or show us other ways to stay an advanced civilization while cleaning up the environment? Why must the only two options be regression to a 17th-century energy paradigm or mass murder? For that matter, why do none of the humans think to say, “Show us how” instead of “Give us another chance to figure it out on our own.” I mean, c’mon, clearly the alien is the emissary of a postindustrial civilization: somewhere along the way, its people must have figured this stuff out. And those are just the questions raised by the premise. Wait until we get into the details. When the alien is asked what its real form is and it replies, “Telling you would only frighten you,” why does the film think that compelling its audience to imagine that Yog Soggoth works for Greenpeace does anything to generate any emotions other than fear, distrust, and revulsion? When, at the end, the alien does us a favor by not destroying the world but, instead, instantly shutting down every electrical and mechanical invention created after, say, 1870, do the moviemakers think this is a hopeful note? Have they not seen Mad Max? Can’t they imagine the horror produced by all those planes falling out of the sky, all those medical devices ceasing to function, all those pumps and valves and heating and cooling devices and various other things on which we rely to keep us alive just up and quitting? How are coal miners supposed to get out of their holes now that the elevators are down? How many submariners are going to die cold, dark, and alone? And good luck dealing with the mass starvation brought on the by the instantaneous destruction of the global food production and distribution system. You know what? On second thought, maybe the people in this movie were on to something when they chose not to ask the alien for advice. The answer, apparently, would have been, “Death. Death to all. Destroy all that you hold dear while madness fills your soul and you quake in fear before the Elder Gods.”

Thanks, but no thanks, Soggoth, you patchouli oil - smelling galacto-hippie. Go panhandle for the whales on some other planet.

A Scanner Darkly

I didn't read the book, and I'm not much of a Keanu fan, but I rented A SCANNER DARKLY because I respect Linklater and I wanted to see rotoscoping in action.

I now have no desire to read the book, I'm still still not much of a Keanu fan, and I think rotoscoping is pretty cool. So, there's that.

See, here's the problem: A SCANNER DARKLY tells the story of a bunch of people I don't care about, living in conditions I don't care to visit even in my imagination, behaving with varying degrees of despicability. The rotoscoping process makes the proceedings more interesting and gives Linklater the ability to create characters and make visuals pop in a way live action can't, but I couldn't get around the fact that I didn't want to be around these people.

I still do respect Linklater, however. He's doing difficult, innovative things with his medium. Clearly, these characters and situations spoke to him in some way. Had they done the same for me, I might have enjoyed the ride.

Constantine

CONSTANTINE is internally inconsistent, theologically unsound, and utterly ridiculous. Nevertheless, it's trying so hard to entertain you that you can't help but like it. Case in point: in every thriller, there comes a moment when the hero's had all he can stands, and he can't stands no more. This moment usually involves the hero's arming up, looking resolute, and saying something along the lines of, "Let's get 'em!" When Keanu Reeves's John Constantine has this moment, he whips out this weapon that's a cross between a shotgun, a revolver, and a giant crucifix, all done in solid gold. While I doubt that laughter was the intended effect, you can't deny the earnestness of a production that conceived, created, and shot a giant golden crucifix-shotgun-revolver.

Go in expecting a cheesy good time, and you won't be disappointed.