6 Underground

The Partially Educated Review

Netflix have recently been proving that magic money trees really do exist by giving some fairly big names the money to make a film that other studios wouldn't bankroll. But they’re not exactly appearing bothered about quality. For one funding of Scorsese, there’s been about five for Adam Sandler. And when they give J.C. Chandor money, they make sure to give more to Michael Bay.

6 Underground is the film that Bay has been threatening to make for the last 25 years. Within 20 minutes of it starting, there’s enough whooshing noises to make a Transformer jealous, the most nonsensical explosions since the green ones in Van Damme’s Knock Off, a nun flipping someone off and jokes about the dick size of Michelangelo’s David (for reference, that joke turned 500 years old last decade). And through all of the carnage, if you listen really carefully, you can actually hear Bay masturbating behind the camera.

In fact, the only way Bay restrains himself here is by waiting 45 minutes before he unleashes an upskirt shot on a faceless actress. I’d say its progress that he waited so long, but turns out his knee must have been twitching because he then gives us two more in the next five minutes.

The titular six are all people who have been recruited by Ryan Reynolds' billionaire magnet genius (yep) to fake their deaths and renounce all identity, living only by a number. They then set about bringing justice to the world in manners that endanger the lives of many, many, MANY pedestrians. He may leave that last bit out of the pitch though.

The number thing is a weird conundrum. On the one hand, it’s an acknowledgement that the film’s characters are so lazily written that you wouldn’t refer to them by anything other than the actor’s names anyway. But it also means a line as innocuous as “2, watch your back” sends your brain into a boundless land of confusion centred around the basic question “Which one’s 2 again?”

Their mission is to overthrow the dictator of Turgistan. It’s yet another fictional country that’s dangerousness is bolstered by this belief that putting ‘…stan’ on the end of the name makes it sound all that more sinister. See London Has Fallen’s ‘F**kheadistan’ for the ultimate example. From there, Bay takes the thinnest plot he has ever been dealt (and let’s not forget he’s directed five Transformers films) and unleashes Bayhem on a level so unrelentingly nightmarish, you’ll need a good night’s sleep just to be capable of basic human thought again.

This is a Ryan Reynolds film though. Surely there will be humour to get us through? That all depends on your definition. If attempting to be humorous counts, then yes. It’s like a speakeasy replaced all the booze with loud, obnoxious frat-boy humour. There's a strange regularity in which genuinely talented screenwriters find themselves writing for Bay and actively lower their game presumably knowing that all hope is lost. Rhett Reese and Paul Wernick are the latest victims of this and whilst lowbrow is their thing and they’re pretty good at it (Zombieland and Deadpool are their most notable outputs), this is Clearance Sale at the Brain Rot Department levels of witlessness. Buried just became Reynolds’ second least funny film.

You may have noticed that I’ve not really mentioned the other five team members a whole lot. That’s because the film can't be arsed to develop properly, so why should I care? I’m almost impressed that they got credited with their real names instead of just ‘Not Ryan Reynolds’. Manuel Garcia-Rulfo gets the most material to work with and then proceeds to be the worst thing about it. Elsewhere, Mélanie Laurent, Corey Hawkins, Adria Arjona and Ian Beale’s son are left to pick up the scraps they’re afforded with Hawkins getting the one dash of humanity that’s on offer.

Maybe there is some solace in 6 Underground to be taken in this being peak-Bay. Maybe he's going to walk out at the next Cannes film festival and acknowledge that there’s no way he can surpass the stereotype he has made himself into, so his next project will be an adaptation of The Bridges Of Madison County. Wait. No. Robopocalypse is listed as one of his upcoming projects.

TWO out of 10

Joker

The Partially Educated Review

I’ve never been all that fond of explaining the Joker’s origin. I’ll acknowledge that The Killing Joke is a fantastically written comic book, but I just feel like interpretations of the character are better served with as little knowledge of his motivations as possible; hence why Ledger will always trump Nicholson. With Joker though, this is a film so downright grim in tone that it could make Batman V Superman seem tonally akin to Howard The Duck. The reassuring thing about that is there’s no way the studios are letting this version of the Clown Prince anywhere near their Batman films; allowing it to exist on an alternate plane. Somehow that makes it OK to me.

As I’m sure you know, Joaquin Phoenix is in the title role, playing wannabe stand-up comedian Arthur Fleck. That is all I’m willing to say about the plot. You’ll learn where he’s at mentally pretty fast and you obviously know where he’s headed. It’s the route there that holds the spoilers. Now, before I go any further, let's get the controversy out of the way.

The idea that this could influence people to commit similar acts is obviously out there and if you’re thinking that, then I'd say you're contributing to the problems that the film is attempting to draw attention to. This film’s view is one of a society that is crippled by injustice and that can’t help but be emblazoned by the people proclaiming the film itself to be immoral. There was not a single point where I felt like this film was presenting me with justification for Fleck’s actions nor did I ever see him as an aspirational figure. Any of my resentment was aimed squarely at the society that gives us the troubling plausibility of what unfolds.

Phoenix is fantastic. I recently saw this used as a way of describing his performance…

…and I couldn’t agree less. An early characteristic we’re given is that his uncontrollable laughing is the result of a condition that causes him to do it at inappropriate moments, even if he finds no humour in the situation. The anguish he shows in these moments is palpably chilling with a genuine fear setting in on me over the next time these moments may break out. Elsewhere, the gradual cracking of his placid nature comes along through a natural evolution, rather than the stuttered steps that often make performances of this type feel like a series of small explosions. It’s his film through and through and while there are no bad performances elsewhere, they all fall under his shadow. Even De Niro.

Director Todd Phillips is not someone who’s known for his delicate touch. But for two thirds of Joker, he does hold back somewhat. Flashy set-pieces are nowhere to be seen and despite the change in genre from his past work (Old School, The Hangover), you never get the impression that he’s feeling as if he has to prove himself. Unfortunately, the final third does stumble a little, not because of any out and out missteps, but because of predictability. The beginning of the climax teases a particularly grim occurrence that bodes for things going even darker than you would have expected and though there’s a complete absence of light to the finale, there’s also a dearth of surprises. That’s not to say that poor quality sets in though as it absolutely does not. It certainly doesn’t do anything to betray the excellent start and Phoenix remains magnetically chilling from start to finish.

Phillips recently made some fairly moronic comments about woke society destroying comedy. I checked though and woke is defined as “Alert to injustice in society”. Guess what, Todd. You just made one of the most woke films of the year.

EIGHT out of 10

The Unsungs #3: Scott Pilgrim VS The World

In life there are injustices. Such as the fact that I’ve already run out of jokes that compare box office failure to something that would embarrass my sister and so can’t keep doing the same introduction to these things that I planned to make a running joke.

The Unsungs #3

It’s not that hard to see why Scott Pilgrim VS The World flopped and flopped hard. It’s a film that was destined to become a cult hit with a certain area of the demographic, but how many cult hits are there that managed to recoup a near 100-million dollar budget. Even with Edgar Wright behind the camera, you have to assume an accountant’s computer somewhere set itself to dickhead-mode when it approved that one.

SPVTW (as it will now be known because I’m far too lazy to keep typing it all out) is the sort of film that isn’t hard to guess other people’s reactions to. For example, if I was to sit down with my family to watch it, I’m confident enough to say that my Mum would call it weird, my Dad would call it silly and my sister would probably (I do have slight doubts on this one) call it shit. I bloody love it though.

Describing the plot is a tricky one, not because of any real complications but because it’s hard to do without making it seem either incredibly bland or the stupidest thing ever. Pilgrim (Michael Cera) is dating Knives Chau (Ellen Wong), but also finds himself smitten with the new girl in town, Ramona Flowers (Mary Elizabeth Winstead). As things get more serious between him and Flowers, Pilgrim must deal with the general disapproval of those around him as well as (this is the bit I don’t like explaining) the fact that in order to stay with Ramona he must defeat all of her seven evil exes whilst also dealing with some other startling realities in life.

If you haven’t seen this, then I’m going to assume that you may have seen Baby Driver and you will have almost definitely seen Hot Fuzz. If you haven’t seen either of those, piss off, you are no longer welcome here.

Both of those films work with a similar strategy to this; serving as a tribute to its influences whilst also throwing director Edgar Wright’s own creative spin on it. Here, Wright is paying homage to nerd culture (I’m sorry, I despise that term, but I couldn’t think of a better one). Video game and comic book references are abundant here in a kinetic rush of style over substance. You can try to catch your breath, or you can drown in a sea of flashy effects and...

Perhaps the financial failures are the best thing that could have happened to SPVTW in the end. It’s also prevented it from becoming so far ingrained into popular culture that you become sick of the mere mention of it by virtue of incessant quoting. Example:

So, by virtue of the fact that I can still enjoy this film, I’m happy for it to remain a cult classic. On the other hand, the number one film on the weekend this tanked was The Expendables.

NINE out of 10

BlacKkKlansman

It’s like Spike Lee got sick of hearing how funny Tarantino’s KKK scene was in Django Unchained and decided to stick two fingers up at him. Again.

The Partially Educated Review

When it comes to reliability, Spike Lee is something of a loose cannon. For every great film like Clockers, you get something like the Oldboy remake; ranking somewhere along the lines of rectal implantation on the scales of desirability. So when he’s handed a concept as dynamite as that of BlacKkKlansman, it’s not hard to get nervous over the very real possibility that he could have messed it up. He absolutely didn't though.

Based on the true story of Ron Stallworth (John David Washington), a black Colorado Springs detective who manages to receive an invite to join the Ku Klux Klan (“you probably shouldn’t go to that meeting” is the pretty damned sage advice he receives). Teaming up with white Jewish cop Flip Zimmerman (Adam Driver), the two set about infiltrating the Klan (or “Organisation” as they prefer to be referred to); Stallworth by phone and Zimmerman in person.

Washington is currently at the stage of his career where every mention of his performances contains the term “son of Denzel” at least 276 times. It’s an unavoidable pain in the arse, though let’s not pretend like it won’t have helped him in more than a few ways. Fortunately though, it should only take a few more performances like this before he can be billed in his own right. Except maybe in voice, this Washington is a whole different performer from his heritage. There is little to no point discussing who’s better as the younger will need to build up his portfolio before that can be done. What he does have is a certain understated everyman quality to him that his father perhaps doesn’t, instead consuming the life of every living organism around him by sheer force of unbridled magnetism.

Driver also does well in his role, benefitted by some smart writing when concerning the subject of his Jewish heritage. There’s some solid supporting performances also from the various Klan members (Ryan Eggold and Topher Grace in particular) and Laura Harrier does well with a slightly under-written role, verging dangerously close to “the love interest” at times but at least bringing some character motivation outside of just “ooh, isn’t he nice?”

It is perhaps the concept alone that has helped to fire up Spike Lee, bringing some gusto that has been absent from many of his recent efforts (I should probably note that I haven’t seen Chi-Raq though). Lee’s stylistic touches can sometimes be a little too blatant, but they are more than compensated for when he unloads his razor-sharp wit. It’s dripping in snark at times (particularly when white characters are discussing the manner in which black people speak) and barbed jabs at certain modern day political figures are hidden about as well as a cow going undercover in a cattery. Though I’m pretty sure that’s the intention, lest it go over the curiously coiffured heads of those certain figures.

All you need to do is look at interviews with Lee around the time of the film’s release to see just how fired up he was over this one. You can rarely accuse him of lacking dare when it comes to the films he makes, but with a number of black directors really starting to make their names as of late (still not enough exposure for them, but at least it’s steps in the right direction) it’s as though Lee knew that he had to come out swinging here to show them he isn’t backing off any time soon. The key now is keeping it up.

NINE out of 10

The Front Runner

"He's quite scared to be seen

He makes a few apologies

This is Gary"

(Oh f**k off, it sort of rhymes)

The Partially Educated Review

You could have handed me a piece of paper and asked me to write down everything I know about Gary Hart and it would have looked a little something like this.

So it's annoying that my biggest problem with The Front Runner is that I don't really feel like I know a whole lot more about him after watching it. Hugh Jackman is the man himself, as we follow him over a 3 week period in 1987 that begins him with being the front runner (DING!) for the Democratic presidential nominee. The week then continues with a scandal...

…and then ends at a point that would technically be a spoiler if I put it here, though I imagine most of you will know whether or not there has been an American president called Gary Hart.

Jason Reitman (he who be making the new Ghostbusters film) is behind the camera for this. He's one of the many directors who has not managed to keep up the momentum that he built with his first few films, having gone from the likes of Juno to bona fide flops like Labo(u)r Day (apparently last year's Tully is very good though. I'm yet to see it). If we're going to place The Front Runner amongst Reitman's other films (qualitatively speaking) then we're somewhere in the middle.

The good pretty much lies in the performances. Support comes from the likes of Vera Farmiga, J.K. Simmons and Alfred Molina. While most of them would have felt the benefit of a little more to do, these are the sort of actors who could make Hodor seem like Hamlet. Jackman is also a naturally decent actor, but there's something different about this role; it's decidedly understated. Even in his more natural roles, Jackman has a habit of going hell for leather but, to his credit, usually charms us with the joy of song or punches something until we're too scared to argue with him. Neither would have worked here. With the necessity for Hart to contain his anger at some of the unfolding situations, Jackman is forced to avoid any great explosions of personality. For the most part, he pulls it off with only a couple of occasions where you see him having to restrain himself.

Sadly though, that also brings about the film's biggest problem. It simply failed to show me what it was that made Hart into a very real prospect for President. Perhaps it's me getting a little too accustomed to the horrific realities of larger than life personalities dominating the political spectrum, but I'd rather sit through 24 hours of BBC Parliament than spend an hour with this guy. That isn't down to Jackman though; it's down to how the story is presented. There's a lot of people talking about how great he is, but only fleeting glimpses of him showing it before he buggers off for a spot of (alleged) philandering.

The Front Runner should be commended for its refusal to sensationalise (though that's probably why Vice is getting the awards attention rather than this). If anything though, it needed something to liven up the proceedings. Being unflashy can be great, but while the film is diverting enough there are just those momentary forays into the dull that stop it short of memorable.

SIX out of 10

Aaaand, just because he's called Gary, I'll take any excuse I can to include this.

The Meg

I've seen bigger.

The Partially Educated Review

Whilst I don't have children of my own...

…I do have a nephew. And with that comes an at least partially developed (or even... educated, heh heh) awareness of the realities of being around a child. More viewings of The Boss Baby than any one person should ever be expected to handle within the grasp of sanity. The word “No”. And a constant stream of the latest smash-hit song that has been adapted into a Hollywood blockbuster.

(Though admittedly this shark could not be referred to as a baby)

The Meg sandwiches itself somewhere between Jaws and Sharknado. You're not going to see a shark eat an aeroplane, but you're also not to going to see anything that will make you properly fear going into the sea. Mostly because the shark is preposterously big and also because all are safe when Statham's on the case.

The Stath plays Jonas Taylor, a former rescue diver dubbed mad by all after his claims that a giant sea monster thwarted a past mission. Wouldn't you know it? He wasn't mad. After a group of scientists accidentally free a 70-something foot prehistoric shark (the circumstances are superfluous), Stath is the man for the mission. If you expected more plot than that...

Now I'm going to reveal a little secret. I quite like Jason Statham.

Yes, the man could appear wooden in the forest of Fanghorn, but I've always thought he comes across as a nice guy and (more importantly) when the films don't take him too seriously, he can make me laugh. By rights, The Meg should be one of those films that's played for laughs and the sight of Jason punching things. He's good at that.

That's where the weird problem arises (not the punching, that happens). While situations are very rarely shown to us with any sort of sincerity, there are huge swathes where all we're given is horribly stunted dialogue and it sort of feels like they think that's where the joke lies. Worse, the actual jokes they give us are all recycled with the notable exception of the film's very last and pretty damned funny one. There is a serious lack of worthy humour here, as if they think that stealing the script from Sharktopus is fine as long as they throw more money at the effects.

In fairness though, that higher budget does have one advantage. Director Jon Turteltaub (the National Treasure films) is no stranger to putting together a set piece and these are probably the strongest ones he's done. They're fun and there is some imagination on show at times. Whilst perhaps not quite good enough to make sitting through all the exposition feel entirely worth it, they at least leave you feeling as though you haven't completely wasted your time.

Let's be honest though. You already know your opinion of The Meg whether you've seen it or not. You either see Statham as this generation's Schwarzenegger or you think that The Expendables films work only because if they're all making the same film, they can't make as many. That is the factor that will determine your enjoyment of The Meg. That, or your enjoyment of big f**king sharks!

FIVE out of 10

Skyscraper

The following is a review of Skyscraper. I'd come up with a more imaginative introduction than that, but the film couldn't be bothered, so why should I?

The Partially Educated Review

Turns out it is possible for a film to be generic in an aggressive kind of way; as if to leave you affronted by it's very averageness. I left a recent of Skyscraper feeling as though I'd been beaten about the head with a baseball bat made entirely of mediocrity. Honestly, I may have spent the rest of the day in complete despondency had it not been for the excitement of the Chinese that followed it.

Skyscraper is never a bad film. It's just one that's quite clearly designed to pull punters in for yet more of Dwayne Johnson's action frolics. That in itself would be fine if it weren't for the fact that we're dealing with serious Dwayne; the one that bored us through the likes of Faster and Snitch. Johnson isn't meant to be serious and films always die when he's in that mode. At least with the aforementioned two, the subject matter dictated it. Here though, there really isn't any excuse for the barren wasteland of humour we're presented with when the concept would call for one-liners galore.

The plot is rudimentary. Johnson plays Will Sawyer; a security advisor on the largest skyscraper in existence. When terrorists take over it and set fire to the bajillionth floor, not only is he framed for this, but must also find a way to save his family in the penthouse suite.

Within the first 5 minutes, Johnson survives an explosion of such close proximity that it should by rights have made the walls into a Jackson Pollock made entirely of his innards, but instead he just loses a leg. Honestly, they could have called the character Manfred Manimal McMannfromuncle and they'd have still been underplaying the manliness.

Perhaps that would have yielded some interest to the film; an obvious vulnerability would be something that I can't recall Johnson playing before. Instead, it becomes a source for set-pieces or one of the film's annoyingly few jokes. Outside of that, he's still just The Rock.

Surely it's not just Dwayne though. There must be other things to discuss, but there really isn't. The villains are all generic terrorist types of varying European descent. The cops on the outside all display the sort of investigative intuition that you'd expect from a hedgehog taking an up close peek at a nearby motorway. His family are presented as a nice family that you definitely want to see survive and boast our only other recognisable presence in Neve Campbell (though some would potentially recognise Noah Taylor as well if it weren't for the fact that he doesn't stop gurning).

It's not that Skyscraper is an entirely negative film. Some well-shot sequences may genuinely put the shivers into vertigo sufferers. While I'm not one of those, I do have a slightly weird affliction where I get pins and needles in my left foot when I see someone come perilously close to dropping from a great height. It's safe to say that same foot hurt a little after this film. You don't create that without some competence, but director Rawson Marshall Thurber demonstrates little ability for creating any sort of action surprises. I'd say he should stick to comedy, but honestly, the guy's been coasting off the fact he made Dodgeball for far too long now. Still though, worth a reminder...

In the end, Skyscraper feels like the sort of film that would be created for the textbook How To Write An Action Film. If they came up with something great, they wouldn't use it for the textbook. So why did they commit the entirely ordinary idea to film?

FOUR out of 10