Stallone takes on a superhero role

  If I ran a film festival, I'd assemble a tribute to Sylvester Stallone. And, no, I'm not kidding.

  I'd invite the star and include five of his movies in my festival schedule: The Lords of Flatbush (1974 ), Rocky (1976 ), First Blood (1982 ), Cop Land (1997), and Creed (2015). 

  I'd love to hear Stallone discuss a career that has spanned more than 50 years and has included wildly popular movies, as well as movies that most critics have disparaged, 1983's Cobra, for example. 

   All of which brings me to Samaritan, a movie that wouldn't come close to making my greatest-Stallone-hits list but one that allows the actor to flex some superhero muscle -- and pretty much get away with it.

   Happily, Samaritan does not spring from the pages of either Marvel or DC Comics. It originates from a series of graphic novels by Bragi F. Shut, who also wrote the movie's screenplay.

   In a way, it's a relief to see a comic-book movie that doesn't feel as if it's aspiring to be summer's biggest "event." Credit Samaritan with knowing its place in the cinematic universe.

    A low-rent helping of grunge and action, Samaritan unfolds on the mean streets of Granite City, the urban dystopia where teenage Sam (Javon Walton) is bent on finding Samaritan, a superhero who has been presumed dead for more than 20 years. 

   Sam believes that Samaritan is very much alive and living incognito as Joe Smith (Stallone) in the same low-income neighborhood where Sam and his single mom (Dascha Polanco) reside.

   A lively Walton proves convincing as a street kid who develops a relationship with the gruff but caring Joe. Joe's occupation: garbage man, work that allows him to find and repair discarded objects, say a radio that has seen better days.

   Pilou Asbaek portrays the villainous Cyrus, a criminal who wants to revive the spirit of Samaritan's dead twin brother, the evil Nemesis. Epic enemies, the brothers didn't get along.

   Oh hell, forget the details. The plot makes some sort of sense -- if that's not too strong a word -- when you're watching the movie.

   It takes a while for Stallone to curl his upper lip into a snarl but the actor fulfills the screenplay's demands with old-pro ease while allowing signs of age to add some creak to his step.

   Director Julius Avery keeps things moving toward a third-act surprise as Samaritan traverses its dreary cityscape, an over-worked cliche of urban decay.

    Enough. If you're amenable to stepping outside the normal boundaries of what you might consider a good or bad movie, Samaritan -- showing on Amazon Prime -- might keep you involved for much of its economical 99-minute running time. 

    And don't forget to attend my Stallone tribute, providing my imaginary film festival ever takes place.

    

She navigates a new life as a cyborg

Scarlett Johansson stars in Ghost in the Shell, a visually stunning but flawed version of a much-admired Japanese anime series.

The makers of Ghost in the Shell, a live-action version of a story that stems from a revered 1995 anime offering by Mamoru Oshii, have spared no expense trying to move the awe needle by creating a visual environment that befits an amazingly conceived future world.

Led by director Rupert Sanders, the Shell team places their movie somewhere between reality and imagination. Those who feared that this version would somehow diminish their feeling about the achievements of the original will have their own take on the movie. I'm not a purist, so this edition didn't bother me. Besides, there' nothing to stop anyone from watching the original, which derived from a manga comic.

Now for the controversy: Some commentators have been upset by the selection of Scarlett Johansson for the role of Major Motoko Kusanagi, a cyborg who strives to bring evildoers to justice. An American star playing a Japanese character? Surely, this role should have gone to an Asian actress, certainly a powerful argument.

The counter argument revolves partly around commercial considerations. A big-ticket production needs a big-ticket star. Perhaps to appease critics, the character Johansson plays is referred to only as "Major." I've also read that the filmmakers explain the ethnic shift by telling us that the character who died and whose brain was transplanted into a cyborg was Japanese. Johansson's cyborg ... well ... it's a synthetic creation that has been designed to look ethnically neutral and, yes fanboys, sexy in a flesh-colored, body-clinging suit that makes Johansson appear to be naked.

But its background as much as sensuality that qualifies Johansson for the role. She played an alien in 2013's Under the Skin. She's handled action in 2014's Lucy. And she's been an entirely artificial character, as the off-screen voice of a computer operating system in Her (2014).

I don't know if it constitutes high praise, but Johansson makes a pretty good cyborg, a character who's haunted by slivers of memory from her former human life.

To the extent that the movie has intellectual concerns, they revolve around questions of what exactly makes a person human. The idea is that advanced cyborgs are inhabited by what the movie refers to as "ghosts;" i.e., the souls of humans who have been developed into entirely new creatures -- in this case under the supervision of Dr. Ouelet (French actress Juliette Binoche speaking with an American accent).

There were times when I wished that Sanders (Snow White and the Huntsman) would wipe away a low-impact story and simply let us wander around the city he has created, an urbanscape where giant hologram advertisements are projected from buildings, where high-rise apartments reach for the sky and the streets feel alluring and alive.

Aside from Johansson, the rest of the cast is relegated to true supporting roles. Pilou Asbaek appears as Batou, Major's loyal and totally human partner. Takeshi Kitano plays Aramaki, a human who's not to be trifled with and who has an empathy for the cyborg plight. Michael Carmen Pitt portrays Kuze, a mysterious, hooded cyborg. Peter Ferdinando has been given stand-out moments as Cutter, a sinister character who runs a company that develops robots.

Some of the human characters have been "enhanced; i.e., they've chosen to develop certain parts of themselves with cybernetic infusions, something I thought about on the ride home from a preview screening as I debated about making yet another appointment with a chiropractor about recurrent back issues.

Fair to say, though, that Ghost's overwhelming visual achievements tend to dwarf any serious consideration of what it means to be human and an action-enhanced story tends to do what a surfeit of action sequences generally do -- numb our sensibilities, a liability that, for me, was abetted by Clint Mansell and Lorne Balfe's trance-inducing score.

So where do I come down on this mega-production that's probably going to cement Johansson into a long-running franchise? If you want to be overwhelmed by visuals, have at it. If you're looking for a high degree of involvement in a compelling story, be a little wary. And if you want to see a perfect fusion of story and visuals, you may want to be even warier.

The horrible choices of war

A War stands as a complex, sobering and challenging account of one warrior's choices.

At first, A War -- the Danish nominee for a best foreign-language film Oscar -- seems to be locked into a familiar template. Vivid combat sequences are juxtaposed with scenes from the homefront. Solid in their camaraderie, soldiers endure harrowing dangers of the battlefield; those at home struggle to keep families on an even keel.

Skillfully directed as these scenes are, it's difficult not to think we know precisely where the movie is headed.

But director Tobias Lindholm has something more complex and challenging in mind than many contemporary war movies have attempted. He wants to raise the moral stakes so that we're asked, perhaps even compelled, to evaluate what transpires in Afghanistan and later in Denmark.

Along the way, we realize that it's nearly impossible to reach an entirely acceptable conclusion about the events that we've been watching. Everything we've seen results from fighting a war filled with inherently ambiguous situations in which civilians and enemies aren't always easily differentiated.

Lindholm's story focuses on Claus Pederson (Pilou Asbaek), a leader who's trying to understand all aspects of the situation in which he and his men find themselves. It doesn't take long before the heat of battle puts the clearly decent Pederson in a compromising position. He makes a decision on the fly, and it backfires. Eleven Afghan civilians die as the result of an artillery strike Pederson orders so that he can save the life of one of his men.

To the movie's credit, Pederson is no war addicted officer, a la the character played by Jeremy Renner in The Hurt Locker. He's a stable, thoughtful military man who'd rather be home with his wife (Tuva Novotny) and children, but he's also devoted to his men. Asbaek's performance makes this conflict clear and intensifies it as the story progresses.

The movie eventually forces Pederson to make more difficult choices, ensuring that A War gets under the skin and stays there.

At times, it almost feels as if we're watching a documentary, which only serves to make the experience of A War more wrenchingly real, and, by the end, you may conclude that there's something deeply troubling about putting people into combat situations in which few good choices can be found.

Credit Lindholm with bravely refusing to let us off the hook; it's impossible to see this movie without examining not only the consciences of the characters, but our own. Deeply troubling and appropriately ambiguous A War is a fine and sobering movie.