Saturday Night Live is as ubiquitous to American television culture as sports channels like ESPN and syndicated network dramas like CSI or Grey’s Anatomy. In fact, so widely known is the variety sketch comedy series that the acronym “SNL” doesn’t really need explaining at all; most people just know what it is. So many of today’s great comic talents – from Tina Fey, Amy Poehler, and Maya Rudolph to Adam Sandler, Will Ferrell, and even Bill Murray – either got their start on or had their careers boosted by appearing on the show, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Almost anyone who’s previously appeared as an SNL cast member has gone on to have an illustrious career in either film or television (sometimes both), and eventually become known as “one of the greats.” From Andy Samberg to Kristen Wiig to Eddie Murphy to Julia Louis-Dreyfus to Joan Cusack to Chris Farley to Jimmy Fallon to Billy Crystal and even Robert Downey Jr., the sheer number of awards and accolades for which NBC’s late-night hit could take credit if it so chose is staggering. But it wasn’t always that way. For one thing, the show didn’t add “Live” to its title until the season 3 premiere – hosted by Steve Martin – due to ABC’s rival comedy show at the time being called “Saturday Night Live with Howard Cosell.” More importantly, however, the SNL we know and love today, the one responsible for so much of entertainment culture’s brightest and funniest minds, almost never happened.
 
Saturday Night, directed by Jason Reitman from a script by Reitman and co-writer Gil Kenan, chronicles the chaotic frenzy of the ninety minutes immediately before Saturday Night Live’s debut and follows producer Lorne Michaels (Gabriel LaBelle) as he strives at all costs to get the show on the air. Along the way, he has to drum up a live audience to attend the show, wrangle a litany of stars from Chevy Chase (Cory Michael Smith) to Dan Aykroyd (Dylan O’Brien) to Gilda Radner (Ella Hunt) to Andy Kaufman and Jim Henson (both played by Nicholas Braun) to name just a few, finalize the production credit of his partner Rosie Shuster (Rachel Sennott), quell the anxieties of producing partner Dick Ebersol (Cooper Hoffman), figure out how to lock a finished script for air time and finish the set build, and most challengingly, get a less-than-enthused John Belushi (Matt Wood) to sign his contract. And all of this has to be done before 11:30 p.m.; if not, the network pulls the plug. The film also stars Emily Fairn as Laraine Newman, Lamorne Morris as Garrett Morris, Jane Curtin as Kim Matula, Andrew Barth Feldman as Neil Levy, Jon Batiste as Billy Preston, Kaia Gerber as Jacqueline Carlin, and Finn Wolfhard.
 
Even for those more familiar with the deeper history of SNL, Saturday Night is a wild ride. The inherent chaos of live television production in any context would be enough to fill ninety minutes of screen time with a whole host of interesting set pieces, but for a variety sketch comedy series so singularly unique that for years it was the only one in its Emmys category, that chaos is compounded tenfold. Lights break, sound systems go down, cast members are nowhere to be found, props are introduced and then abandoned, sketch orders are swapped and then scrapped and then re-implemented, with some bits getting removed entirely. And yet in journeying with us through all of this, Reitman never wears out the audience or so convolutes his script that the plot is lost entirely. As director of photography Eric Steelberg’s fluid camera follows Lorne through all manner of backstage hallways, green rooms, dressing rooms, elevators, and sound booths, we never lose sight of what his ultimate goal is or what we are here to witness. For all the quick movement and constant shifting from location to location, the staging and immaculate choreography of it all keeps us centered so that we always know where we are and what we’re doing. And that controlled chaos is what gives the film its quick pacing as it tells its story more or less in real time. That and the reliably great performances of its stacked ensemble of young stars (the real new Hollywood A-list, if you will), all of whom turn in work which is lacking in impressionism but full of pathos and a clear understanding of who they’re playing.
 
Still, as fun as the film is to watch, there are moments where one does wish it reached for something deeper than what it’s offering. At one point in the film, Lorne posits that one of the main appeals of “Saturday Night” is that it’s the first live television show made by a generation of people who grew up watching television. But this is the closest the movie gets to developing and putting forward a thesis about its own existence, or indeed the existence of the show it’s valorizing. There’s a clear reverence throughout the movie for what SNL is, and a recognition of just how revolutionary it was to the television landscape, but there’s not much in the way of exploring what all of this actually means, or why this particular show was so important at the time of its inception. As Lorne struggles against the network executives and fights for the show to go ahead, we’re rooting for him to succeed, but there’s not really a clear purpose as to why this matters. Why does it matter that it’s SNL, and not another sketch comedy show years down the road? Is it just that it’s the first of its kind, or is there some deeper reason for Lorne Michaels – and by extension us, the film’s audience – to need this success? Saturday Night unfortunately doesn’t seem to know the answer.
 
Even if all Saturday Night is is a narrative examination of just how insane it can be to produce live television or get a new show off the ground, that alone would be enough to whet the appetites of just about anyone – including myself – with a modicum of interest in how the entertainment business works. To the film’s and Jason Reitman’s credit, it largely succeeds in that pursuit. It’s entertaining as hell, driven by great performances and fast-paced dialogue, and is chock full of terrific hair and makeup work. No, there’s not really anything deeper to glean from its myriad of chaotic sequences or its deceptively simple plot, but even at its weakest, a theatrical experience like it is worth the time.
 
I’m giving “Saturday Night” a 7.8/10
 
- The Friendly Film Fan

It may seem at first glance, given all the odds stacked against it, that the very existence of a film like Deadpool & Wolverine should be regarded as an out-and-out triumph, and in some manners of speaking, it could be considered one. The opening weekend box office was practically guaranteed to be overwhelmingly large (to the degree that any film’s box office in the year of our lord 2024 can be a guarantee), the CinemaScore for the film is an A, the Rotten Tomatoes numbers look solid even on the critics’ side, and the myriad of production roadblocks the film had to overcome just to get made – from Disney’s acquisition of Fox to an entire worldwide pandemic between films to SAG-AFTRA and WGA strikes taking place during filming – could make even the most anti-superhero critic offer up some sympathy votes toward the idea of the film actually coming to pass. But ideas are not final products, and in a cinematic manner of speaking, Deadpool & Wolverine’s final form is as shallow and unremarkable as any of its lesser MCU contemporaries are typically regarded – in truth, it’s far from a triumph at all.
 
This isn’t to say that the film doesn’t have anything in it to recommend; the fan service itself is rather inspired in a vacuum, and a couple of key performances – chiefly Hugh Jackman’s return as Wolverine and Emma Corrin’s introduction as Cassandra Nova – actually shine in a few spots despite the script giving them very little to work with. Jackman in particular brings real pathos and weight to a performance that could easily have just been a cruise control job. Plus, despite my issues with the music supervision on the film as a whole, the introductory titles sequence’s use of *NSYNC’s “Bye Bye Bye” remains a great deal of fun. Past that sequence, however, the “fun” of Deadpool & Wolverine becomes less about rewarding audiences for investing in the story or characters, and more about distracting the viewer from the fact that the movie has nothing of real weight to offer. In fact, there really isn’t much of a story at all. There’s a plot (or at least the outline of a plot), locations, characters, action beats, etc, but none of it ever congeals into something meaningful or cohesive. Rather than use its fan service as an additive or enhancement to the storytelling, D&W instead elects to use fan service as storytelling, bouncing from cameo to cameo without much rhyme or reason and squeezing every last drop out of any recognizable, newly-Disney-owned IP it can get its hands on. (There’s also a particularly egregious Furiosa joke that makes less and less sense the more one thinks on it.) This is made especially apparent by how the film chooses to deploy its soundtrack, which is chock full of recognizable songs, most of which come careening through the speakers at seemingly random moments with little – if any – connection to what’s on screen, and a not insignificant portion of which are played for a less than a second during a scene where Deadpool is smashing Wolverine’s head against a radio. Even most of the characters we’ve come to know and love from the other Deadpool films, like Vanessa, Negasonic Teenage Warhead, Dopinder, Colossus, etc – characters we’ve grown attached to – are shoved to the side in favor of getting Deadpool to the “Void” so we can get to all those fan service cameos quicker, a big one of which turns out to be fairly disappointing given the actor’s single-note performance in the film.
 
But perhaps D&W’s greatest sin, even more than the hollow fan service or the less-than-half joke hit rate, or even the fact that it’s also quite an ugly-looking movie (does Disney just not do location shoots anymore?), the cardinal nail in the coffin for both the film itself and its vision of the MCU going forward, is its treatment of the chief piece of X-Men film history that’s renowned for its artistic vision and genuine emotional depth: Logan. Without question the best X-Men film to date, Deadpool & Wolverine takes the legacy of closure and catharsis that both audiences and Logan’s titular character finally experienced after 17 years of Hugh Jackman’s stewardship, and turns it into a punchline before outright robbing it of any sense of finality. Whatever your patience for Ryan Reynolds’ shtick as Deadpool (and being a fan of the first two films, I know I have enough patience to still enjoy the bits where he’s just playing the character), the very idea of a studio such as Marvel refusing to let a genuine artistic endeavor that was meant to act as finale be a finale – just because they own the rights to it now and have the option to undo its finality – is probably the biggest indicator as to why their multiverse plans have gone so awry. Stories need endings, but if there’s one thing Disney doesn’t seem to believe in, according to D&W, it’s that.
 
As unfortunate as it is, all I got out of this movie is that the MCU is far more desperate to be liked again than I initially thought, to the point that they’ll throw any amount of money at fan service just to buy back audiences’ good will, regardless of how little sense most of it makes both in the larger context of both the MCU and in this film proper. There are bound to be a lot of people who will have tons of fun watching this movie for that very fan service, and that’s great, but for me, it’s the cinematic equivalent of dangling a mobile in front of a baby in order to distract them from the fact that the dangler has nothing of actual substance to offer. And if this, plus Disney shelling out over $80 million just to get RDJ back into the MCU and bringing back the Russo Brothers to direct more Avengers movies is a sign of just how desperate things have actually become, I’m afraid whatever good will I’ve had towards the post-Endgame phase of this undertaking is likely to be quickly squandered into relative detachment, or worse, active disinterest.
 
I’m giving “Deadpool & Wolverine” a 4.6/10
 
- The Friendly Film Fan

I’m not doing the “it’s a hit…man” joke.

There’s a certain kind of soul death in cinephiles that occurs when Netflix acquires a major summer movie from a beloved auteur filmmaker and seems all but set on burying it instead of giving it a proper theatrical release; in the now seemingly eternal release war between streaming and theatrical movie exhibition (and don’t get me started on the “windowing” problem), the worst thing a service can do is not allow a film deserving of buzz to generate that word-of-mouth by playing on a bunch of silver screens nationwide, especially after the service itself failed to properly market that film to a wider audience, leaving it to the filmmakers, stars, and critics who saw the movie to generate interest seemingly on their own. After all, wouldn’t it be better for a film that was greenlit to get eyes on a service to debut theatrically – the way it was meant to be seen – and then for the service to later offer people a chance to watch that film again, exclusively on their platform? Sure, this wouldn’t need to be the case for all streaming projects, but it should have been for Richard Linklater’s new movie, Hit Man, which stars Glen Powell and Adria Arjona (among others), and is based on the true crime Texas Monthly Article of the same name by Skip Hollandsworth. (It is at this point I must tell you that, deservedly, the film seems to be a hit for Netflix, but I still contend it was not Netflix that made it so.)
 
The plot herein focuses on Gary (Powell), a college English professor whose unique skill set in all things electronic ultimately leads to him working undercover with the New Orleans Police Department, who just had their number one undercover operative in stings suspended for overuse of force. Given his interest in human behavior, they ask Gary to take the lead on one sting operation involving solicitation for murder; after discovering he has a natural talent for these encounters, he becomes the department’s go-to guy, a fake hit man who tailors his personas to the specific individuals he meets, and always gets the confession. But things change when he meets Madison (Arjona) on the job, and she threatens to alter not only his perception of objective reality, but of himself. To say too much else would be venturing into spoiler territory, but the kind of fun this movie has isn’t what I’d call spoil-able.
 
Richard Linklater operates in a few different modes: there are the contemplative, existential time-piece modes of the Before Trilogy and Boyhood, there are the “hangout” modes of films like Dazed and Confused and Everybody Wants Some, and there are the more commercially-oriented modes, most famously the 2003 film School of Rock. I’m not entirely sure where Hit Man falls amongst these modes, but I do know that it feels every bit like the Linklater mode of those latter three, a breezy time with snappy dialogue and characters we want to keep hanging out with because they’re just so much fun to be around. Sure, it moves more, it has more of a plot and story than those others, but it still feels very much like a quasi-“hangout” film; it’s just that instead of hanging out with a bunch of different people, or a specific group, we’re chilling with a specific individual – Glen Powell – and he’s a lot of fun to be around. A lot of that feeling is aided by the film’s zippy editing, which is paired with a very fun, dialogue-heavy script by Powell and Linklater, in a perfect matrimony of pacing and character that allows the viewer to jump right in at any point and exit at any time they have to; crucially, however, you never want to. And that is not simply because of a few fantastic set-pieces (a notes app scene comes to mind) or some genuinely tension-filled moments, but in all truth, because of one entirely too charismatic performer.
 
Yes, the key sell of Hit Man is not the snappy Linklater-Powell dialogue, the direction, or even the characters themselves, but the spectacle of watching Glen Powell simply be a true blue movie star for two hours, which is not an easy thing to do. Powell has always been a great actor, but after taking the Tom Cruise crash course in how to be a movie star, his version of that is out in full force; you can see it in Top Gun: Maverick, for all the film’s issues you could still see it in Anyone But You, and you can definitely see it here. This kind of part is perfect for an actor like him; he gets to show off a little range with every persona he adopts, culminating in Ron, the coolest guy on Earth. This is also in perfect lock-step with Adria Arjona’s Madison, the only one who can match Ron’s freak, who starts off a little shy but soon transforms into the hottest woman on Earth for the same two hours. All of this may seem like an oversimplification of what the movie has to offer its audience, but in all truth, the movie really is that simple. There’s nothing exceptionally deep or complex about it in the way that something like Before Sunset or Boyhood offer; it’s really just about Glen Powell and Adria Arjona being movie stars, Powell in particular. His sheer charisma carries the film on its back all the way to the finish line. My only complaint in this regard is that because the film moves so fast, we don’t really get to spend enough time with his initial persona of Gary, which to my mind, is when Powell gets to be funniest (apart from a great montage in the first half hour).
 
If the film has flaws, the side characters do leave a bit to be desired. Powell and Arjona are great, ditto to the singular excellent supporting character played by Austin Amelio, but the others don’t so much feel like characters in and of themselves as they do like set-up fodder for our main stars to do their thing. The performances are good, but the performers themselves don’t have much of an opportunity to embody something more fully realized. To be fair, one doesn’t need every side character in a movie like this to be a memorable piece of a pretty light puzzle, but it doesn’t hurt either.
 
In the end, there’s not a lot to say about Hit Man beyond that it’s just a damn good time and a lot of fun to watch. The script is clever, the dialogue and editing are pretty close to perfect, and most importantly, it gives Glen Powell the movie star part he deserves and Adria Arjona a massive career boost. This one really should be seen in a theater with an audience, but since Netflix is just gonna keep dropping the ball on that, at least checking it out would be worth your time.
 
I’m giving “Hit Man” an 8.6/10
 
- The Friendly Film Fan

​The Friendly Film Fan Breaks Down the Latest from director David Leitch.

Stunt work is – without question – some of the most underrated work in the movie business. Stunt performers are the true lynchpin of just about every action movie people have ever watched, and more often than not, a lot of non-action fare as well. They take hits, they fall down, they get back up to give a hit back, and they give their job everything they’ve got so the movie they’re in can work as well as it’s intended to. That’s the ultimate mission of The Fall Guy, a new action comedy starring (among others) Ryan Gosling and Emily Blunt: to celebrate stunt workers as the unsung heroes of moviemaking, the ones who make it possible to actually make something larger than life. It’s a noble effort for what, in the end, is a fun, slightly zany comedy about the guys whom the industry would die without but who have not yet gotten their dues. There’s enough going for it that I would consider this a good movie; it’s just a shame it’s not a better one.
 
The story concerns our main character, Colt Severs (Ryan Gosling), who’s gone off the grid for quite some time after an apparent accident with a stunt rig which resulted in a back-breaking injury. Having heard that former flame Jodi (Emily Blunt) needs a new stuntman to head up the team on her directorial debut – and that the lead movie star on the project has gone missing – he suits up once again to discover if he may be able to save the production from imminent disaster, and hopefully, be able to rekindle what was once thought lost. The film also stars Hannah Waddingham, Winston Duke, Aaron Taylor-Johnson, Teresa Palmer, and Stephanie Hsu.
 
The issues The Fall Guy experiences can essentially be attributed to this: David Leitch is just not a good enough director on his own. Sure, a lot of the scripts he works with have the right among of wit, action, and engagement to keep audience entertained, but rarely have I come out of a David Leitch film – pretty much all of which I’ve enjoyed – and made note of how good the direction of the movie was. (I even like Bullet Train.) Unfortunately, the same is true of this film. Essentially coasting off the strength of its two key elements, those being the stunts and performances, the direction of the film feels very flat, as if it doesn’t quite know what it’s meant to be doing with itself. As a result it feels as if the film is simply waiting for someone with a clear vision to steer it along, and no one ever really takes the wheel. This could be attributed to a few script issues as well; between the stuntman love story and the missing movie star story, the film never really establishes which is its A-plot and which is its B-plot, so the two are sort of fighting over screen space for longer than the climax of the film takes to finally wrap up. It’s a very wonky mashup of genres which features some great editing choices and other not-as-great ones, forcing the structure of the film to compromise both genres rather than elevating one or the other.
 
All that said, The Fall Guy does offer enough entertainment for summer audiences to sit back and relax to as an opening summer tentpole. The stunt work is genuinely great, and it’s nice to see a film with a mainstream reach and mass-audience appeal highlight stunts in such a major way. From car rolls to being set on fire to large falls to jumping boats, every action sequence is well-choreographed and exciting to watch, thanks in no small part to the talented stunt team this movie has. I’ve got little hope that the Academy will now do the right thing and add some form of a Stunts category to the Oscars before the next decade has wrapped up, but that’s better than no hope at all, and frankly, the possibility of that happening is closer than it’s ever been.
 
The performances also really sell a lot of what the script has to offer in the positive sense, particularly for Ryan Gosling and Emily Blunt, whose on-screen chemistry sizzles when they get to share scenes, as unfortunate as it is that they don’t get to share quite enough scenes together to make the romance work in this story. (The romance itself always seems on the edge of the frame, like a tantalizing bit we can’t commit to because the movie has to follow this other missing persons plot.) Gosling and Blunt have been on the road promoting the movie since the Oscars when they each showed up for their “rival” Best Picture contenders, and it’s clear that the film takes full advantage of each of their strengths – Gosling’s comic timing, Blunt’s action abilities and line-reading skills – in order to elevate what’s on the page. But I’d also like to give a shoutout to my man Winston Duke, whose work in the film nearly rivals that of its two main stars, especially in the one action sequence he gets to share with Gosling. He gets a lot more screen time than one might expect, and he makes the most of every moment.
 
As summer movie season openers go, we’ve certainly had better than The Fall Guy, but we’ve also had worse, and this film feels appropriately positioned as a movie star-driven action comedy with enough mainstream appeal that it’ll attract a decent-sized audience back to theaters. As unfortunate as it is that it needs to coast on the stunts and performances in order to keep its sub-par direction and scattered storytelling from overwhelming the two hours it has to get everything done, those performances and stunts are well worth the big-screen treatment, and in the end, it’s a fun enough movie that I would say without question it is worth seeing. At the very least, we could all do our part in supporting a pure celebration of the stunt community to get the Academy’s attention on their importance.
 
I’m giving “The Fall Guy” a 7.3/10
 
- The Friendly Film Fan

​The Friendly Film Fan Discusses A24’s Feature Adaptation of the Early 2010s YouTube Shorts.

Late in the year 2010 – October 16, to be exact – one video creator named Dean Fleischer-Camp uploaded to YouTube (and Vimeo) a short mockumentary-style film about a little mollusk shell named Marcel, who wore Tennis Shoes and was voiced by comic and future genre star Jenny Slate. Marcel used toenails as skis, wore lentils as hats, and drug around a piece of lint on string to have as a pet, with future openness towards having a dog join the family. The short, running 3 minutes and 22 seconds in total, quickly became a viral hit, and now sits at 32 million views. In fact, it was such a success that a second 4-minute short featuring the character was made and released one year later, with a third to follow three years after that. The two sequels didn’t quite garner as much attention as the original, however, dropping from 32 million to a rough final estimate of 11 million views for the immediate sequel, with the trilogy closer bowing out at a mere 4.6 million. Since October of 2014, Marcel the Shell has not appeared on any screens or in any other works apart from those shorts, until director Dean Fleischer-Camp dropped a feature-length adaptation/sequel to the shorts at the Telluride Film Festival in September of 2021. Its script was written by Fleischer-Camp, Jenny Slate, and Nick Paley, who all worked on the story with Elisabeth Holm. And perhaps most importantly, it was a hit. The feature was then quickly snatched up by indie powerhouse studio A24 and given a summer 2022 release, limited starting June 24, and gradually expanding in more markets until its nationwide release, which is due on July 15 of this year. Whether or not the box office will reflect people’s general nostalgia or interest in the property is anybody’s guess, but for movie fans, and especially for families, Marcel the Shell with Shoes On is likely to be one of their favorite summer experiences.
 
While there’s not much in the filmmaking itself to surprise, subvert, or challenge audiences in terms of sheer creativity, this new feature-length adaptation of Marcel the Shell with Shoes On is every bit as fun and funny as the shorts on which it is based. Jenny Slate once again excels as the titular character, her voice absolutely perfect for the sort of high-tone childlike comedy aspect of the film, but more than capable of selling its lower moments as well. And, of course, the mockumentary-style format is perfect for telling this sort of story in just this sort of way. As Marcel moves around the home, one can feel the ingenuity that went into crafting not just the character’s personality, but the ways in which his actions reflect that. (He’s also just as adorable as ever, so there’s that.) These are all things that worked before, and they work just as well – if not better – here.
 
What’s different this time around, what with the longer runtime and more room to breathe, is that the film is also full of aching, tugging, occasionally wrenching heart. The emotional undercurrent of Marcel’s journey to find his long-lost family after two years of separation sings with heft and gravity. There’s a pathos here about shell communities and how they came to be, and within that pathos lies an intimate story not only about Marcel seeking his literal family, but about filmmaker Dean Fleischer-Camp coming to grips with what’s become of his own. A24 has always been pretty good about using creative and outlandish stories to tell personal tales of grief, love, loss, pain, and all sorts of other things, but in Marcel, those personal tales are the driving force of the entire film. Marcel the Shell with Shoes On isn’t so much about the adventure aspect as it is about the reflection upon it – how long it can take, how impatient one can become, how frustrating it can be to feel so far from the goal line. Too few adventure films explore just how tiresome for their protagonists the adventure can really be, the toll it can take on whatever hope one began with, eventually leaving one resigned and burnt out. But that’s the thing about indie adventure stories, isn’t it? Whatever resignation the character feels, there is always hope that remains, and Marcel understands this without calling overt attention to it.
 
The one thing that can be said about Marcel in terms of having any flaws at all is that its technical presentation doesn’t do a lot to stand out from the shorts on which it’s based. In fact, the entire movie can sometimes feel as if it was constructed specifically for an online space, unlike another YouTube/comic sensation – Bo Burnham – whose movie Eighth Grade (also an A24 film) tackles the culture of the internet without ever feeling as if it may have been constructed via the internet. To that end, the filmmaking itself could have used a little more heft in terms of the ways in which some scenes are shot, but in keeping with the style of its source material, it does ground the viewer in a familiar setting, so it’s a drawback easily forgiven, and unlikely to bother anyone not actively attentive to those kinds of things.
 
In the end, there’s not a whole lot to say about Marcel’s latest adventure that hasn’t already been said and no corner of his world left unexplored by interested parties. Marcel the Shell with Shoes On may not be as poetic as Moonlight or as creative as Everything Everywhere All at Once, but it is every bit as worthy and reverent of the A24 logo in its opening credits as those are. (And truthfully, what movie can say the same thing about either of those other two?) This summer is chock full of huge releases from a lot of major players in the studio system, but it may be A24 who walks away the victor of the indie scene in 2022, what with that second mentioned film and this. Whatever the case, viewers would remiss to miss this one in the wake of the other three major releases this weekend. Sure, Marcel likely won’t blow your mind, but it’s more than worth whatever time you have to give it. What a lovely, heartwarming experience.
 
I’m giving “Marcel the Shell with Shoes On” an 8.2/10
 
- The Friendly Film Fan

After Marvel Studios rolled out Thor: Ragnarok in November of 2017, courtesy of director Taika Waititi (Hunt for the Wilderpeople, What We Do in the Shadows), the entire landscape surrounding the character changed, seemingly overnight. Gone was the self-serious, dour god with his grandiose Shakespearean aura and booming voice, and gone was the dramatic emphasis on world-ending stakes (at least in Thor’s own movies). Also gone was Jane Foster, Thor’s love interest in the first two of his solo films, and the driving force behind the plot of the second. With a striking tonal shift and Natalie Portman refusing to come back for the third film due to its fallout with original Dark World helmer Patty Jenkins, Ragnarok felt like a reset, a fresh-faced new start for both the character of Thor and for the way in which the MCU would handle most solo films going forward, at least if they weren’t already in production. Even with the success of the Guardians of the Galaxy films – which thrived on their absurdity and James Gunn’s comic sensibilities – no one knew if people would buy into a character whose entire mode of being was revamped just before he showed up for the grand finale of the whole Infinity Saga with everyone else. For any other character in the MCU, the switch would have come way too late. And yet, the gamble paid off. Not only was Ragnarok a bigger hit than the first two Thor films, it was a major hit on the critical scale, its highest praises being Chris Hemsworth’s comic timing and Taika Waititi’s heartfelt storytelling. It came the closest of any solo film apart from Captain America: Civil War to grossing $1 billion at the domestic box office (Black Panther would shatter that record only three months later). Naturally, Marvel Studios wanted Waititi back for another go-round, but unfortunately, Love and Thunder isn’t nearly as successful in its storytelling (and is likely to be less successful in its box office) as its predecessor was.
 
To be sure, there is a lot to like about Love and Thunder, from its design work to most of the performances. Chris Hemsworth is so much Thor now that seeing him outside of the MCU feels alien, as if those are his alternate personas whereas Thor is his real one, and it works here just as well as it always has, with great comic timing per usual. Christian Bale - easily the best part of the movie – is gripping as Gorr the God Butcherer, wringing a genuinely terrifying, nuanced performance out of a character whose screen time essentially amounts to threats of action but little else. And of course, as heavily advertised, there is the return of one Doctor Jane Foster (Natalie Portman) to the franchise. Portman is definitely having a lot of fun here, and you can feel it coming through the screen (though her character’s story leaves a bit to be desired, which will be discussed in the spoiler review I may or may not forget to write). Who wouldn’t love wielding Mjolnir with biceps like those and summoning lightning from the heavens? Essentially, almost everything that worked last time – good performances, cool villain, fun side characters, uniquely styled production, solid classic rock-heavy soundtrack – works again. Even some of the jokes land in unexpected ways. But that’s not enough to carry a movie that doesn’t seem to know what it wants to be or what story it wants to tell. As a matter of fact, it seems like it doesn’t know whose story it wants to tell.
 
As Korg narrates (which happens multiple times), we’re taken through the storylines of a few different characters, and while I won’t spoil much more than that here, a lot of time is spent with each before we have to go back to do the whole thing again with whoever’s next in line. This causes the film to feel messy, unfocused, and improperly paced. If anything, Love and Thunder isn’t quite long enough to give the necessary space to everything it wants to do. The adventure this time around has almost nothing to do with helping the characters resolve any inner conflicts – as all the best stories do – and that adventure occupies most of the runtime without ever truly coming together with what the characters are going through except by proxy or when it’s unavoidable. This is where the issue arises wherein the film doesn’t seem to know what story it’s telling, or whose.
 
Plot-wise, this one is already pretty thin, so any time devoted to non-plot-essential stuff has to focus on emphasizing whatever themes the movie has through its characters’ actions. The first Thor was about humility being the key ingredient in leadership, knowing that one cannot lead without first humbling themselves. Ragnarok was about a civilizations demise in the wake of their own genocidal past not only being justified but righteous and that any true nation is made up of the people within it rather than the ground they stand on (it really is a subtly deep movie). In fact, The Dark World is the least liked Thor film largely due to the fact that it’s not actually about much other than setting up what’s to come (that and its first half is genuinely boring). Love and Thunder – though it’s not setting up anything in particular – has the same problem.
 
There doesn’t seem to be a unifying theme or message here. What is this movie about? The question isn’t “what happens in the plot?” or “what beats does the movie hit before moving on to the next?” or even “what do the characters have to do to advance the story,” but what is this movie about? Having seen it a few days ago, I still don’t really have an answer. The film doesn’t really have an identity of its own, only one similar to its predecessor and nostalgic for its franchise beginnings. And as far as whose story this is, that sort of thing would typically arise from whose internal conflict the movie is attempting to resolve. Some would say Thor’s, but there’s not a lot of emphasis on his “figuring out who he really is,” as the marketing told us, since the conflict with Gorr takes up most of that space and doesn’t really explore that aspect of Thor’s character at all. Others may say Jane’s or even Gorr’s, but Jane doesn’t really have an internal struggle to speak of, and while Gorr does have both internal and external conflicts, they don’t really match up with each other very well.
 
As far as character, Love and Thunder also skews fairly close to the bones of what it needs for any interactions between them, and apart from Thor and perhaps Valkyrie, hardly any of them are given anything interesting to do. To justify bringing Jane Foster back into the fold so she can become “The Mighty Thor,” the film doesn’t really give more than a half-assed answer, and the rest of the time, she doesn’t really drive the plot forward at all. It’s as if she’s “along for the ride” but never actually gets to drive. Gorr, too, is also given almost nothing to do for most of the film, which testifies to Christian Bale being one hell of an actor, since his performance remains the best part of the movie. Even Korg and Valkyrie don’t really do a whole lot. As I’ve noted before, though, these are larger issues kept beneath a shiny surface, and that surface does look pretty nice on the whole.
 
All in all, the MCU’s latest entrant is a fun summer romp, tailor-made for a casual Sunday afternoon viewing, but doesn’t have much else going for it beneath the surface. Unfocused, oddly paced, and thinly plotted, its best moments can’t suffice for the fact that it doesn’t really seem to have much substance beneath its candy-coated exterior, or anything it wants to say. Even Doctor Strange 2 at least had Sam Raimi’s whacky filmmaking to keep it interesting, but this one doesn’t really make a lot of interesting choices in that vein, at least not choices that haven’t been proven to work before. It mostly succeeds on its own terms, and it’s hardly the most aimless thing or one of the worst efforts that Marvel Studios has produced thus far, but Thor: Love and Thunder will likely rank pretty low when paired with the whole of what the MCU has to offer.
 
I’m giving “Thor: Love and Thunder” a 6.5/10
 
- The Friendly Film Fan

Cooper Raiff is moving up on independent film scene. On the one hand, many film aficionados consider him to be the next great auteur filmmaker, a true millennial’s version of a Richard Linklater with the writing sensibilities of Mike Mills. On the other hand, although many others do admit to admiring his efforts and seeing the work he does as beneficial to the scope of American popular movie culture, they also think the 25-year-old may be a little in over his head with his sophomore effort. Cha Cha Real Smooth, an AppleTV+ movie and bona fide Sundance sensation which sold to the service for $15 million in January, finds the Shithouse director operating at a larger level than with his debut (also a Sundance hit), operating with a higher budget and a more comprehensive story, if not a holistic one.
 
The charms of Cha Cha are simple, almost deceptively so if one’s eye isn’t trained to spot just what makes the movie so damn likeable, but nonetheless effective. Cooper Raiff’s charisma as lead character Andrew is simply undeniable as he navigates his character’s life post-college, wondering if he’ll go anywhere he actually wants to go or do anything that’s meaningful to him. He wanders around from space to space, never holding back anything in thought or practice, often to the warmth of others but occasionally to his own detriment. Early on in the film, he plans to follow his ex-girlfriend out to where she lives so he can be with her, despite not really seeming all that passionate about it. His post-school life, like many others’, has turned him into a wanderer with no real sense of what his purpose is, so he seeks it in other people, most evidently in his relationship to his younger brother. Conversely, Dakota Johnson’s Domino, a down-spirited mom with an autistic daughter, who seems to be holding so much inside with her husband absent on a case in Chicago, knows exactly what and who is most meaningful to her, and is at the point in her life where going where she wants would mean having to give part of her life up that she’s worked so hard to build and to foster as a purposeful thing. Spontaneity isn’t really in her vocabulary, nor is freedom from obligation. When the two meet at a bar mitzvah, the unlikely friendship they form feels as though the need between the two of them could blossom into something more meaningful for both, but Cha Cha isn’t especially interested in romancing you. Instead, it hopes to explore how love is far from as simple as falling into it, as much as one might want to. Wants can only take a human being so far before needs get in the way, and having the two collide for even a brief time is far more special than only ever having one or the other. Rather than being solely about finding purpose, the film also finds the beauty in releasing oneself of it.
 
As Andrew takes on a job as a party starter for the bar mitzvahs he attends (bar mitzvahs that Domino and her daughter also happen to be at, mostly), he takes on a second task, watching Lola – that’s Domino’s daughter – so that Domino can go out, be away, experience freedom not from obligations or responsibilities, but from purpose. Domino’s entire purpose to this point has been raising Lola, caring for Lola, ensuring Lola’s safety and happiness, so much so that she never seemed to think about doing the same things for herself. As Andrew and Lola (played by scene-stealer Vanessa Burghardt) become closer over time in one of the film’s sweetest subplots, Andrew too begins to feel closer to Domino, but that closeness isn’t reciprocated in quite the way Andrew may wish it to be, though Domino certainly isn’t averse to the closeness Andrew so clearly wants. But if Domino is the purpose Andrew seeks, it’s born of passion. Andrew being the escape from purpose that Domino needs and come to accept is born of love. This is what makes Cha Cha so special, beyond it simply being a more technically proficient film than Shithouse (it’s smoother, it feels more complete, the writing is that little bit better, etc.).
 
To understand the dichotomy between passion and love is not so much a challenge in practice as it is a tough thing to translate in storytelling. Writing that conflict with nuance so that no one seems the villain or the hero is such a difficult thing to do in moviemaking, especially when absent parties to the film’s main conflict – such as Domino’s husband – could so easily be made the villains or the ones our protagonist must overcome. The only thing there is to overcome in Andrew or Domino’s lives is their individual unwillingness to accept what they need unless they can get it from each other, and Cooper Raiff’s thoroughly nuanced script seems to understand near-perfectly that what each of them truly need is to pursue those needs of their own accord, not simply vicariously through other people.
 
Cha Cha Real Smooth may not be the strongest film of the year thus far or even the best thing AppleTV+ has ever put out, but it is proof positive that the service knows exactly what it’s doing when it comes to acquisitions and that Cooper Raiff – however one feels about this film as a follow-up to Shithouse – is certainly heading in the right direction as a filmmaker. Directionally, the film does sometimes get away from him a little bit, but the writing and performances bring it all back by the end. He has all the talent he needs to eventually become one of the indie greats, and the more tools he has at his disposal, the better. It’s fairly rare to see someone so in the spirit of Linklater continue to be more than simply a pale imitation of the Dazed and Confused scribe, and Raiff’s personal spin on the stories he tells is a record I want to keep on listening to for a little while longer.
 
I’m giving “Cha Cha Real Smooth” an 8.9/10
 
- The Friendly Film Fan