Another creepy helping of horror

   The ever-expanding catalog of horror movies sometimes makes me wonder what the hell’s wrong with us —- or more precisely why we desire to be grossed out, fearful, and knocked about by jump scares. If nothing else, horror movies present us with dangers from which we happily walk away. After all, it’s not our entrails that are spilling onto the bathroom tiles.

   Bring Her Back, a dose of horror from the Australian twins, Danny and Michael Philippou, asks us to set aside any reservations we might have about putting children in danger of losing their lives at the hands of a crazed adult.

   Sally Hawkins plays a retired social worker who takes foster care children into her secluded Australian home.

Aided by Cornel Wilczek's throbbing score, the directors treat early scenes as manifestos of intent. We know horrible things will happen when two recently orphaned children (Billy Barrett and Sora Wong) are placed with Hawkins’s Laura.

  No one will be fooled into thinking that Laura’s welcoming facade doesn’t conceal rich veins of depravity. 

Barrett’s Andy, who will soon turn 18, plans to petition for guardianship of his sister ASP. 

  He believes that he and his sister have arrived at a way station en route to a better future. Younger of the two, Wong’s Piper falls under Laura' s sway. Why not? She’s too young to think she can survive with adult help.

   Grief permeates the proceedings. An inconsolable Laura lost her blind daughter when the child drowned in the now-empty swimming pool behind Laura’s home. That’s where we meet Oliver (Jonah Wren Phillips), a gaunt-looking boy who doesn’t speak and whose creepy presence suggests demonic possession. 

  Oliver, who functions as a kind of unnerving special effect,  serves to push the movie over the top when, at a three-quarter mark, he bites his way through various objects that shouldn't be chewed on (a kitchen counter, for example) or chomps on a knife that he’s put in his mouth. Bloody.

   Video segments of a weird ritual add an arty touch and build toward a reveal that attempts to explain their jarring presence.

   Attempts at providing psychological depth involve  tensions between Andy and his late father and a mother's twisted denial of mortality. Laura is driven by a crazy idea about how she can bring her late daughter back to life.

   For its skillful atmospherics and amped up weirdness, Bring her Back seems to unfold without generating either fear or intense emotional involvement. Despite an all-in performance from Hawkins, Bring Her Back struck me as a moody muddle.

A light and sketchy 'Karate Kid'

  Notes about Karate Kid: Legends, a movie that's much like a book you skim rather than read.

 -- Jackie Chan, who appeared in 2010's The Karate Kid, has been cast as a kung-fu master who travels from Beijing to New York City (no tariffs involved) to bolster the spirits of one of his former students. At 70, a graying Chan shows his age but still holds the screen.

-- The filmmakers found an engaging young man -- Ben Wang -- to play the lead role of Li Fong, a kid who moves to New York City because his physician mom (Ming-Na Wing) has landed a job at a New York hospital. Li is free to roam the city with one caveat: Still shaken from an earlier family loss, Mom insists that Li not fight. Not fight? Yeah, right.

-- The movie quickly provides Li with a nemesis. Enter Connor (Aramis Knight), a tough kid and winner of The Five Boroughs Karate Contest. Connor seems to possess no redeeming qualities that might blur the sharp conflict on which the movie depends.

-- Director Jonathan Entwistle provides Li Fong with a guide who's meant to introduce him to New York City. Sadie Stanley plays Mia, the daughter of the owner (Joshua Jackson) of the neighborhood pizza shop Li frequents. Teen love blooms.

-- Chan's character passes along occasional wisdom, mostly at fortune cookie levels: "Chinese say, 'Friend's problem is my problem.'"

-- Eventually, 63-year-old Ralph Machio appears. The original Karate Kid is almost eligible for Social Security, but his character, Daniel LaRusso, still has moves.

-- A subplot in which Li trains the pizza shop owner to return to the boxing ring turns the tables on the formula:  The kid becomes the mentor.

    To summarize: The filmmakers try to freshen the formula with new faces and references to previous movies, including an early shot that includes the late Pat Morita, who played Mr. Miyagi in the 1984 original and in subsequence sequels.

     I don't know whether marital arts enthusiasts will take the movie seriously. The screenplay is based on Li's need to blend his already substantial kung-fu knowledge with the rigors of karate in what's referred to as the "two branches, one tree" school.

     Speaking of schools, Li is enrolled in a New York City school which the movie mostly ignores, aside from giving him a nerdy calculus tutor (Wyatt Oleff) who provides good-natured comic relief.

     The only thought I had about any of this is that the movie seems to make thought irrelevant as it builds toward a climactic final fight on a Manhattan rooftop.

      At 94 minutes, Legends doesn't overstay its welcome, but a weak script puts too much pressure on Wang's engaging performance. As it unfolds, the movie becomes increasingly reliant on whatever affection the Karate Kid formula still generates.

     

     

An orphanage hosts a mysterious boy

 

  

 The New Boy tells the story of an Aboriginal boy who’s sent to a Catholic orphanage to master the civilizing rigors of religion and society. This brief description might lead. you to expect a message movie about the abuses Australian culture has inflicted on indigenous people.

  Set during the 1940s, The New Boy meets some of our expectations but winds up taking a more ambitious look at the innate spirituality of a boy (Aswan Reid) who upsets life at an isolated Christian school run by Sister Eileen (Cate Blanchett).

 Writer/director Warwick Thornton mixes straightforward drama (the new boy adjusting to life in an orphanage) with mysterious events that dip into the  supernatural. The unnamed boy heals wounds. He also summons light by rubbing his fingers together.

  The unnamed boy also develops a strange fascination with Jesus. At one point, a wooden carving of Jesus on the cross  winks at him from the altar of the orphanage's modest church. To further underscore the suggestion that the boy and Jesus may be kindred spirits, the boy also develops stigmata. 

  Blanchett, working again in her native Australia,  effectively makes it clear that Sister Eileen doesn't know what to make of any of this. Neither, for the most part, do we — or perhaps I should refer only to myself. 

   Thornton mixes Christian imagery with a primal poetry that makes it seem as if a film full of period detail might be taking place in an indeterminate and timeless zone. Thornton may be trying to tap into the wellsprings of spiritual experience, which -- in western societies - can be lost and which the boy seems to possess naturally.

    It's an interesting enough idea but American viewers may feel culturally distanced from an odd and sometimes mysterious film that can leave us puzzling over what it's trying to say.

Under the influence of Jane Austen

     

   The famed Shakespeare and Company bookstore sits on the banks of the Seine. Featuring English-language fiction and non-fiction, the store has attracted famous writers, especially during the 1950s. Henry Miller and James Baldwin were among those who helped enhance the store’s reputation. Even now, Shakespeare and Company remains a mandatory stop for English-speaking tourists in Paris, a visit made easy by the store's proximity to Notre-Dame de Paris.

     Agathe Robinson (Camille Rutherford), the main character in director Laura Piani's debut feature, Jane Austen Wrecked My Life, works at Shakespeare and Company while avoiding writing a novel that's been bubbling inside her head for years. She stopped after a couple of chapters.

     A workplace pal named Felix (Pablo Pauly) serves as Agathe’s possible romantic interest and confidant. Sensing Agathe's need for a creative boost, he submits the opening chapters of her novel to a writers’ residency at an English estate that once served as Austen's home. The residence accepts Agathe, who didn't know her colleague had submitted her work.

     After a bit of waffling, Agathe heads for the estate. Once in England, she's greeted by Oliver (Charlie Anson) whose unreliable car adds to the awkwardness of an already strained situation.

    As it happens, Oliver is a distant grandnephew of the famous author. Agathe and Oliver don't click, a sure sign that he'll be her Darcy, the heartthrob star of Pride and Prejudice who has made his way through numerous big-screen Austen adaptations.

     Despite its English-lit pedigree, Piani, who also wrote the screenplay, presents most of the dialogue in French, always a good way to add weight to a movie whose moves seem tailored to fit a familiar romcom structure.

      Aside from Oliver's doddering father (Alain Fairbairn), the assemblage of writers offers little by way of additional color. Fairbairn's character likes to stroll around the estate sans trousers, not much of a joke that the movie repeats.

     The budding romance between Agathe and Oliver is disrupted when Felix pays a surprise visit to the residency, hoping to consummate what heretofore has been a platonic relationship.

     The movie hinges on Rutherford’s ability to captivate, which is limited by unconvincing strokes.  Before visiting the estate, she’s inspired by the image of a naked man she sees at the bottom of a sake cup. In a broadly played scene, a naked Agathe mistakenly opens the door to an adjoining room at the residency. It happens to be Oliver's. 

     Perhaps Piani, who uses a last-minute appearance by documentary filmmaker Frederick Wiseman to good effect, hoped to show how literary obsessions can be  crippling -- both in writing and romance. Eventually, Agathe must claim her turf and, of course, finish her book.

   Absent a major helping of Austen-level wit, Jane Austen Wrecked My Life seldom sparkles. Given the choice, I'd rather have spent a couple of hours browsing in Shakespeare and Company than sitting through a movie that left me unconvinced and, worse, unmoved.

A showcase for Tim Robinson's humor

 

  SNL vet Tim Robinson stars in a hit Netflix show called I Think You Should Leave With Tim Robinson, a collection of sketches built around the distinctive blend of innocence and rage that makes Robinson a "cringe comedy" standout.

  Director Andrew DeYoung brings Robinson to the big screen in Friendship, a movie that relies on Robinson to lead an audience through a series of episodes in the life of Craig Waterman, a beleaguered suburbanite whose wife (Kate Mara) and teenage son (Jack Dylan Grazer) mostly ignore him.

  That may sound like a typical premise, but you're not likely to find Robinson -- a comic with an off-kilter bent --- in a routine comedy about one more schlub in need of a battery charge.

   The plot kicks in when a package mistakenly delivered to Craig’s home brings him into contact with Austin (Paul Rudd), a “cool” new neighbor who works as a weatherman at a local TV station. 

   Austin offers friendship and invites Craig to join his circle of pals, thus raising the possibility that Craig will find something he's never had: buddies -- "bros" in the   vernacular.  

   DeYoung, who wrote the screenplay, puts Craig into a series of oddball situations: He hunts mushrooms with Austin, and the two explore the town's dank aqueduct, Austin's idea of an adventure. 

   Ecstatic about his new friendship, Craig -- oblivious to the kind of impression he makes on others -- soon alienates Austin, who calls a halt to the friendship. Craig's days of beer-drinking bonhomie come to an end.

   Once rejected, Craig seeks substitutes for the pals he's lost while continuing as a master of inappropriate speech and behavior. 

   DeYoung, Robinson, and Rudd, who makes the most of his screen time and also served as one of the film's producers, have hold of something -- although it's not always easy to tell what that might be. 

   Maybe Friendship is best seen as a look at a guy for whom acceptance remains a distant and unreachable shore. We don't feel for Craig as much as we brace ourselves for his next outburst. 

     Robinson's brand of comedy isn't for everyone, and Friendship doesn't do much to broaden or sentimentalize his character's appeal. DeYoung hasn't made what you'd call a "friendly" comedy, but he has given Robinson an opportunity to play with a variety of comic ideas, often taking them in surprisingly weird directions. 

    Some pay off; some don't, and even fans may have to concede that Friendship doesn't always feel fully developed.

    If you're unfamiliar with Robinson, you may want to watch an episode of his show on Netflix or sample some of what's available for free on YouTube. That should help you decide whether a taste for Robinson's comedy is something you want to acquire. I'm open to trying more.

   

David Mamet takes drama to prison

 

 David Mamet's Henry Johnson -- his first film in 18 years -- revolves around men who might be classified as either predators or prey. 

  First presented as a play in 2023, Henry Johnson relies on Mamet's ability to turn the tables on us and his characters, providing plot-twisting reveals that steadily raise the dramatic stakes. True to form, the movie delivers its bitter pill of a conclusion straight and without soothing chaser. 

    Four major scenes are given continuity by the work of Evan Jonigkeit, who portrays the title character. 

   In the early going, Henry asks his boss (Chris Bauer) to hire a newly released convict with whom Henry became acquainted during his college days. Our sympathies go to Henry, who seems intent on doing the right thing by someone who has, in his words, "paid his debt to society." 

  The unseen criminal, we learn, served time for manslaughter, having induced a miscarriage against the will of a woman he had gotten pregnant. Boss and employ bat around questions about guilt and punishment.

  If you know Mamet, you know that our initial impressions probably will be undermined. No need to say more except to note that Henry himself has laid the ground work that will turn him into a prisoner. On day one, he encounters Gene (Shia LaBeouf), a convict who spins shrewdly compelling monologues about matters of immediate and philosophical consequence. 

  LaBeouf deftly masters the flow of Mamet's dialogue, flourishing in the director's world. Jonigkeit ably creates questions about Henry's ability to survive in prison, but he's playing the movie's least interesting character, a bit of pawn in other men's power games.

   The drama concludes in the prison library, where Gene has helped Henry land a job. At this point, Gene tries to school Henry about what he sees as the manipulative intentions of the female prison psychologist. He challenge Henry to take action.

   Here, the story stretches plausibility, contriving to arm Henry and bring him into another conversation, this one with Jerry (Dominic Hoffman), a prison guard he holds captive. Near the end of his tenure, Jerry has seen everything the job has to offer. Hoffman's performance matches the others in its excellence.

   Every Mamet enthusiast knows that the once-heralded playwright, director, and screenwriter has shifted political gears. Once reliably liberal, Mamet now adamantly advances his brand of conservatism. I, too, have had difficult coming to terms with the "new" Mamet, but I still found myself caught in Henry Johnson's grip.

   My favorite Mamet movie remains Glengarry Glen Ross. Perhaps because its focus is narrower, Henry Johnson lacks Glengarry’s pathos, humor, and satirical sting. But Mamet's mastery over structure  can't be denied, and he knows how to push us to places we may not want to go.

    Maybe that's the point -- to rub our noses in the harshness the movie reveals. Whether this predatory world corresponds with the reality the rest of us perceive is open to question, but damn if Mamet doesn't compel us to at least consider the possibility.

The action in this 'Mission' delivers

 

  I enjoyed Mission: Impossible -- Dead Reckoning (2023) but grumbled about the movie's two-hour and 41-minute length. And that was only Part I. 

 The second chapter, Mission: Impossible -- The Final Reckoning, takes two hours and 51 minutes to conclude an epic battle between the IM force and The Entity, a hunk of super-AI intelligence that lingers from Part I and threatens to wipe out all of humanity. 

   Length and story aside, it’s unlikely that the audiences that flock to Final Reckoning will be discussing the dangers artificial intelligence poses to human life as they leave the theater.

   What will they be talking about? If you said “stunts,” you’re right on target.

    More on that in a moment.

   Tom Cruise and director Christopher McQuarrie begin Final Reckoning in a wobbly fashion, using flashbacks from previous movies as refreshers but also generating a bit of confusion.

   Once the movie settles in, the story becomes a springboard for a couple of major set pieces — one involving a sunken Russian submarine, the other centering on an airborne battle between Cruise’s Ethan Hunt and Gabriel (Esai Morales), the movie’s primary villain. 

   Gabriel wants to rule humanity by controlling The Entity; Hunt wants to save humanity by destroying The Entity. The aerial action takes off with each character flying a biplane in a fight that's augmented by an antagonistic history between Gabriel and Hunt to which the screenplay alludes.

   Both nerve-wracking sequences are executed with  exceptional skill and without benefit of CGI. As Hunt plies the freezing depths of the Bering Sea to find a device needed to fulfill his mission, the sub threatens to roll off a steep ocean precipice into even deeper waters. Unmoored torpedos slam against the sub’s interior and threaten to clobber Hunt as he conducts his search.

   The aerial antics find Hunt hanging from the struts of his plane and executing high-flying moves that make you wonder how they were done.

    Forget dialogue, Dead Reckoning is at its best when it allows action to speak louder than words. And keep this in mind: Each of these set pieces functions as a mini-movie: goals are set, obstacles arise, and a resolutions are reached.

    Much of the IM cast returns with notable contributions from Simon Pegg as Benji Dunn, technician supreme. Hayley Atwell portrays Grace, a thief who has become part of Ethan’s crew and who flirts with the role of love interest. Ving Rhames returns as Luther Stickell, a character who serves as the voice of the franchise, offering an ode to Hunt and those heroes who, as he puts it, “live in the shadows.”

   Angela Bassett adds gravitas to the far-fetched plot machinations. As the president of the US, she must decide whether to trust the roguish Hunt or listen to the generals who want her to unleash nuclear Armageddon, part of the screenplay's growing accretion of risk. 

     The movie’s mildly ambiguous ending could signal the conclusion of a series that’s in its 30th year. Or it could suggest that there’s more to come — with or without Cruise in the lead. Cruise’s once boyish face shows the beginnings of jowls. At age 62, he may have had enough. 

    Whatever decision Cruise makes, it’s a good bet that audiences will follow. Sure, much of Final Reckoning proves uneven, but with this level of excitement, complaints seem beside the point.

A fun look at Cheech & Chong

   Movies rarely score a double triumph, connecting with their audience and with the national mood at the precise moment of their release. 

  That's my recollection of Up in Smoke (1978), the landmark Cheech & Chong comedy that focused on two pot-smoking guys who were too stoned to care about much of anything. They were also funny enough to create a near celebratory feeling among their fans, many of whom were as stoned as the protagonists of Up in Smoke, a road movie that became a kind of countercultural highlight reel.

  Up in Smoke was followed by eight other Cheech & Chong movies, the last an animated feature released in 2013. Although the Cheech & Chong filmography is decidedly mixed, the duo remained synonymous with pot-driven mirth.

   Now comes Cheech & Chong's Last Movie, a look at the individual and dual careers of Richard "Cheech" Marin and Tommy Chong. Marin, now 78, has appeared in other movies; Chong, 86, has done solo work. He also became a cannabis activist, and, in 2003, served nine months in a federal prison for selling drug paraphernalia over the internet.

   Billed as a documentary, Last Movie revolves around a car trip through the desert taken by Marin and Chong, who recall their lives and comedy exploits. Some of the scenes feel staged or, at least, prearranged, but the two still have chemistry, and the movie -- rich with clips and period footage -- serves up a tasty hunk of nostalgia.

   Marin and Chong were an odd couple. Marin, a Mexican-American, grew up in South Central LA. He wanted to be a potter. Half-Chinese and raised in Canada, Chong enjoyed early success as a musician.

   Before the movies, Cheech & Chong made a hit comedy album under the tutelage of music producer Lou Adler, who produced and received a co-directing credit for Up in Smoke. The movie grossed $104 million worldwide, but Cheech or Chong had signed a famously bad deal that favored Adler and others.

    Adler, by the way, appears in the film, and Cheech & Chong acknowledge the important role he played in helping them transition from improvisational club appearances to a national phenomenon.

    Eventually, Cheech & Chong lost some of that loving feeling for each other, arguing about who would direct their movies and who was responsible for writing them. They never officially broke up, but they had issues.

    Whether director Dave Bushell has made a "pure" documentary or not, Last Movie proves entertaining and informative. It also reveals the evolving personalities of comics who made the kind of pop cultural splash few have been able to match. 

'Clown in a Cornfield' plays with cliches

  Fear the clown. If you're familiar with horror movies, you know clowns are often associated with terror. (See movies such as It.)  In Clown in a Cornfield, director Eli Craig (Tucker and Dale vs Evil) follows suit, slamming teenagers in a small Missouri town with an ample dose of mayhem.  

  The town's tie to a clown -- named Frendo -- began with the now defunct Baypen Corn Syrup Company. A small Baypen promotional jack-in-the-box featured a clown. When the clown pops up, death usually follows.

   Clown in a Cornfield is one of those movies in which we wait to see what means will be employed to slash away at the town's youth as Craig plays with cliches: A celebratory parade where blood will flow, for example.

    Throughout, genre cliches are preposterously magnified, like jokes with a hundred punchlines. The movie makes abundant use of chainsaws as weapons, and we know the local sheriff (Will Sasso) can't be trusted because sheriffs in these kinds of movies usually reveal their dark sides.

   Did I mention that the town's fortunes have been declining since the local plant ceased operations? 

   The story focuses on Quinn (Katie Douglas),  the daughter of a widowed doctor (Aaron Abrams) who has fled Brooklyn, NY, for a more rural environment.

   Douglas does well as a newbie kid who fits right in with town's outcasts, and Kevin Durand proves amusingly creepy as one of the parents. 

  At times Craig's approach seems nervy. At other times, it feels self-conscious. But he keeps the film moving and gives it intermittent kick.

  Like many current horror films, this one presumes the audience will take pleasure in being in on the joke, happy to smile knowingly at the graphic invention with which successive murders unfold.

  Craig goofs on genre cliches to be sure, but -- for me-- cleverness can't entirely conceal the familiarity of the drill. Blood is shed, kids are slaughtered, and, by the way, pass the popcorn.