Category Archives: Movies

Wonder Woman: Movie Review

I wouldn’t necessarily say that Wonder Woman is a great superhero movie. I’d say it’s just a really good movie. It’s exciting, and, best of all, it’s morally rigorous. At its heart, it’s a movie about an extraordinarily gifted and powerful young woman who is convinced she knows how to save the world. Her weakness, as a protagonist, is naiveté, innocence, based on a childhood in which she was raised on myth, not history. Ultimately, she has to cope with disillusionment and confusion. She has to make a crucial decision; given humanity’s propensity for war, are we worth saving? I know, that’s a familiar sci-fi trope. But it’s still compelling.

Gal Gadot plays Diana, who is pretty much a goddess, immortal, raised by Amazon warriors. She’s superbly trained in the ways of combat, which is weird, because the Amazons live on a remote island, guarded by mists, where no one ever comes with whom they might fight. They’re anti-war, like most great warriors, but war, for them, is at best a faded cultural memory. Still, they spend their days training. They’re in incredible shape, and they are amazing with bow, arrow, spear and hand-to-hand combat. But why? Who are they preparing to fight?

And then World War I intrudes. Steve Trevor (Chris Pine) comes flying in, his plane shot to pieces, and crash-lands in the Amazon’s lagoon. Diana dives in and saves him. A German flotilla sees him land, charges in after him, and Diana, and her Mom, Hippolyta (Connie Nielsen), and her BFF, Antiope (Robin Wright; so good to see Buttercup again!), fight them off. And Antiope dies, but only after executing the most spectacular stunt in action movie history. Movie’s worth seeing just for that one stunt. And also the scene where Diana takes out a German machine gun nest. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Diana (never once, in the entire movie, called Wonder Woman, BTW), decides that Ares, God of War, has to be the instigator of WWI. I mean, a massive war, tens of millions of casualties, fought for the most idiotic reasons; of course, it has to have had malevolent and superhuman origins. The God of War done it. Has to be.

Except he didn’t. Didn’t need to. We see, briefly, Field Marshall Douglas Haig (James Cosmo), head of the British Expeditionary Force, and he expresses typically Haigian indifference to his own soldiers’ high casualty rates. It’s hard to imagine the combination of pig-headedness, callousness and sheer imbecility of the British (and French and German) High Commands, but the completely insane way in which WWI was prosecuted, on all sides, is a matter of historical fact. No wonder Diana is misled, and goes on a search for Ares, who, she’s been told, she can kill with her special sword.

I’m delighted that the movie is set in the First World War, and not the Second. WWII might tend to support the ‘some enemy hath done this’ school of thought about warfare origins. I mean, Hitler, right? But no. No enemy hath done this. We’re perfectly capable of doing it to ourselves.

Finally, of course, Diana meets Ares, played by Professor Lupin, otherwise known as David Thewlis. And he tells her the truth. And initially, she can’t handle it. And finally, she does.

At the time I watched the movie, it didn’t occur to me how cliched that final confrontation between Diana and Ares really was. My son pointed it out to me. Final fight scenes between superheroes (good v evil, of course), are inherently undramatic; guys flinging other guys into buildings, doing massive amounts of property damage, but not actually hurting anyone. When you’re impervious to being damaged by ginormous collisions with big steel-and-concrete structures, then why do you insist on flinging your opponent around the way they all do. What are you accomplishing? It’s boring, honestly; nothing’s at stake. Diana and Ares are having a deep and profound conversation about the nature of evil, and why Men (feminist, right?) fight wars. They didn’t need to bash up buildings to have that convo. Also, spoiler, but the movie suggests that she decides for humankind because she’s learned about love by falling for Steve Trevor. It’d be more interesting if she fell in love with human beings, more broadly understood. For women, and their children, since this is a feminist superhero movie. Not just some dude, making this a romantic melodrama.

So it’s not as feminist as it imagines itself being, and the ending isn’t anything innovative. It’s still a fine film, beautifully conceived and superbly acted. And it stars Gal Gadot, who is a miracle as Diana. The whole cast is terrific, in fact, including Chris Pine, who gives depth and relevance to a pretty thankless pretty boy role.

It’s really good. If it could have been a bit stronger, so what? It’s the best summer action movie so far this year. It’s so good, in fact, that for a second I forgot who the President was. That’s my new benchmark.

 

 

Guardians of the Galaxy, vol. 2: Movie Review

Guardians of the Galaxy, vol. 2 was one of the summer movies this year I was most looking forward to. I hoped that I could catch it in its opening weekend, but other family members wanted to see it too, and coordinating schedules proved a challenge. But last night, we finally gathered at the cineplex. And we had a good time. It’s a surpassingly strange film, far more interesting in terms of its theology–I’m not kidding–than as the goofy comedy action movie it purports to be. But it’s entertaining; I’ll give it that.

Let’s start by talking about dramatic structure. Hollywood action movies follow the basic structure of late nineteenth century melodrama. All of them, without exception. Hero, heroine, comic sidekick, villains and their sidekicks, bad guys doing dastardly deeds, ultimately defeated by good guys, usually involving a fight, with awesome stunts. The plots are often rather baroque, with multiple subplots all racing towards a satisfying and exciting final confrontation. Still, there’s always a discernible hero, with a strong objective. Often it involves some kind of quest. The hero is trying to blow up the Death Star, or steal the Ark of the Covenant from the Nazis, or steal a magical orb from one bad guy, and using it to activate an ‘infinity stone,’ or something. That last bit was, as far as I can remember, Peter Quill’s (Chris Pratt) quest in the first Guardians of the Galaxy movie. In order to accomplish that, Quill assembles the team known as the Guardians of the Galaxy–Gamora (Zoe Saldana), Drax (Dave Bautista), Rocket (a raccoon, voiced by Bradley Cooper), and Groot (a tree, voiced by Vin Diesel). Comic sidekicks, in other words. It was an amusing, but frankly pretty conventional superhero action movie plot.

This sequel is very different in structure. For most of the movie, Quill and his pals are just trying to stay alive. As the movie begins, they have been hired by a gold-skinned, genetically perfect species called The Sovereigns, to protect Anulex batteries from destruction. A massive beastie attacks; they fight it, and win. But Rocket, the scamp, steals some of the batteries they were hired to protect. So the Sovereigns come after them, and destroy their ship. So there’s no noble objective, no quest. They’re just trying to stay alive, because they’ve infuriated an entire civilization for no good reason.

In my review of the first Guardians movie, I compared it to Star Wars. That would make this one The Empire Strikes Back, and sure enough, we get a “Luke, I am your father.” moment. (It’s not anything like Empire in any other sense). The father, in this case, is Ego (Kurt Russell), who we earlier saw, in a flashback, with Peter’s Mom, looking absurdly like Kurt Russell, age twenty. (I don’t know how they did that, but it’s a very cool effect). But the Ego who shows up and declares himself has aged, and says he has been searching for Peter for years. And so, Ego takes Peter, Gamora and Drax with him to his planet, leaving Rocket and Groot (now, baby Groot), behind to repair their badly damaged ship. Where they are captured by another group, the Ravagers, under the putative command of Yondu (Michael Rooker). They’re professional thieves, and Yondu essentially raised young Peter. But they’re on the outs from other Ravagers, who have rejected them because Yondu broke the Ravagers’ code, by selling children into slavery.

At this point, the movie gets very weird. We’re a third of the way in, and nothing like a plot has managed to reveal itself–no quest, no objective, other than just staying alive. And Ego is a generous and welcoming host, and his planet is beautiful, considering that he lives on it by himself, with one aid, the empath Mantis (Pom Klementiev). At which point, the movie becomes an exploration of the doctrine and theology of apotheosis.

Apotheosis: the process by which men become deified. Ego, turns out, is a God. He became a God over millions of years, during which time he constructed this planet to glorify, well, him. Peter’s his son, and Peter is divine. He has a share of Ego’s creative power. He can create worlds of his own, if he wants to. And he’s immortal. Human Mom, Divine Father. The music set it up beautifully. The songs are the best parts of this movie, as they were in the previous one, and as Ego’s ship descends to his planet, we hear George Harrison’s “My Sweet Lord.”

As a Mormon, I found this unexpected twist fascinating, because apotheosis is, sort of, a Mormon doctrine. “As Man is, God once was; as God is, Man may become.” Right. But the more Peter (and his friends) dig into it, the more we learn about Ego’s divine reign. He’s awful. He’s kind of a monster. Peter is not his Only Begotten–Ego’s fathered lots of children, who he then executed when he finds that they lack the divine spark that Peter has. Anyway, it looks like Ego’s kind of bored, and wants his divine son to hang around, for company. There’s also a bit of a ‘we can rule the universe’ vibe to it.

It turns out that his spark of divinity resides at the planet’s core, where it can be gotten to and blown up. Since Ego’s plan for ruling the universe involves mass slaughter, killing him seems like a good idea. He’s a God, and he’s immortal, but apparently, he can also be killed. So that becomes the big quest thing, the movie’s plot. But it comes very late in the movie. And has almost nothing to do with Peter, our protagonist, who does very little to accomplish it. Mostly, it’s pulled-off by Groot and Rocket, who escaped from the Ravagers (with help from Yondu, and also Gamora’s ferocious sister, Nebula (Karen Gillan), who wants to kill Gamora, because of how their father pitted them against each other as children.

And that’s another theme of the movie, isn’t it? The abuse and murder of children. Yondu’s great sin, the thing that got him excommunicated as a Ravager, is his sale of children into slavery. He loved his adopted son, Peter, but Peter’s childhood was grim; a series of petty crimes. And, of course, that’s Ego’s great sin, too; the murder of his own children. Although almost nothing in the movie establishes Peter Quill as a Christ figure, he’s torn between two fathers; the brutality of Ego, his biological/divine father, and Yondu, the Dad who raised him, a Joseph the Carpenter figure.

So this is a movie about apotheosis, about men becoming Gods, about the most profound ideas of divinity, and divine responsibility, and the endless challenge of eternal life: boredom. Eternal life without eternal progression, really: the Mormon conception of hell. And it’s a movie about child abuse, about fathers abusing their children, and even murdering them.

And absolutely nothing in the tone of the movie, the approach of it, suggests either profundity or tragedy. It’s a clever, fun, post-modern comedy action flick, stylistically. Self-referential, with lots of jokes and deadpan insults splendidly delivered by Chris Pratt. Peter imagined, as a child, that Nightrider-era David Hasselhoff was his father, and sure enough, Hasselhoff himself gets a cameo. The Looking Glass hit, Brandy, is solemnly declared, by Ego, the greatest piece of music ever written. I love this exchange: “We’re friends!” “You’re not friends! You do nothing but fight!” “You’re right. We’re not friends. We’re a family!” (And, of course, the music’s perfect yet again: Fleetwood Mac’s The Chain). It’s a clever, funny, self-consciously self-referential movie, with jokes based on the characters, yes, but on ’70s and ’80s pop music, and other tropes drawn from superhero movies.

It’s an odd combination: theology, and post-modern jokiness. It’s too genial a movie to dislike. But what do we say about it? That it’s reaching for a profundity it doesn’t ever earn? That it’s fun but plotless, and let’s just ignore the theology stuff? Or this: that the Divine can be approached many ways, reverentially, yes, but also through jokes and fight scenes and goofiness? Ambitious failure? Or better, deeper, more interesting than it needs to be, given its origins as a summer superhero movie? And do we even have to choose?

Alien: Covenant, Movie Review

My daughter and I went to see Alien: Covenant last week, having seen all the previous Alien movies, so why not this one? Like any Ridley Scott film, it’s stylish and attractive; the production design is attractively creepy, beautifully eerie. The acting was generally good, and the scary moments were appropriately scary. The fact that the movie really didn’t work very well at all isn’t really the fault of the production team. Editing, lighting, special effects: kudos to all. Sorry things didn’t work out overall.

We went to a weekday matinee, and the theater was close to empty. Which meant that my daughter and I felt freer than usual to talk a bit during the screening. And she kept saying “here’s what’s going to happen next. This is going to happen, and that’s going to happen, and that character there is going to die.” And I’d think, “I can see where you’re coming from. That’s clearly what they’re setting up. But it’s can’t possibly all be that obvious. Surely, a veteran filmmaker like Ridley Scott–just a few months shy of his eightieth birthday, with forty films in the can, an amazing career–will throw in some plot twist, surprise us, change things up.”

Nope. He never did. My daughter got it all right, every twist and turn. She got one thing wrong. She assumed that the character played by Danny McBride, a veteran spaceman named Tennessee, would be killed by the alien before the end of the movie. Because: Danny McBride. Fine actor, and it was nice to see him in a dramatic role, after all the obnoxious comedies he’s done. Still, it’s an Alien movie: I figured he was toast. So, here’s your spoiler: he survives.

But see, here’s the real problem. This is, as I understand it, the second movie of what should become a trilogy, closing out the Alien saga with Prometheus (2012), Alien: Covenant (2017), plus a third one, apparently. And based on the first two movies of that trilogy (if it happens, because IMHO, another movie’s completely unnecessary), what Scott’s trying to accomplish is to provide us with a complete, fully fleshed out origin story for the aliens. How did they come to exist, how did they spread, where did they come from, in short, what’s the deal with the monsters? And I don’t care, and I don’t think anyone else does either.

Here’s what I assumed: the aliens came from some planet somewhere. They evolved. They’re the apex predators on that planet, just as we humans are the apex predators on ours. At some point, some idiot brought them aboard a space ship, where they survived by, among other evolutionary traits, burrowing inside the body of a rival species so they can burst spectacularly out of some poor schmuck’s chest. That’s what I assumed. They’re a life form; they evolved. And I’m good.

Sorry, no. There’s an elaborate backstory. Michael Fassbender plays two androids, a good one and an evil one. I’m not going to give away anything more. Just know this; you’ll figure it out an hour in, and then you’ll doubt yourself, because it couldn’t possibly be that dumb. Yes it can.

So there’s lots of sound and fury. It ends up not signifying a darn thing. Various characters fight valiantly against creepy, evil, skeletal, fast moving aliens. And, mostly, succumb. The Ripley this time is a ship’s officer named Daniels. She’s played by Sam Waterston’s daughter, Katherine. She’s very good. She’s a fine actress, and she plays desperation convincingly.

Also, Billy Crudup is in this, and that’s always a treat. He’s such a fine actor, and he plays a complicated, compelling character, the ship’s captain (accidentally), out of his league and in over his head, but doing his level best to keep everyone alive. And screwing up, but still. Crudup is the reason to see the movie, I think, to the extent that there is one.

Other than that, I can’t even say it’s a big disappointment. My expectations were low enough, to be honest. This movie fell short nonetheless. Remember a few weeks ago, a very similar (VERY similar) evil-aliens-in-a-space-ship flick called Life? It was derivative and obvious and not very good. But the alien was scary, and I thought the movie, overall, worked a lot better than Alien: Covenant.  Shame, really. The first Alien movie was terrifically scary. The second one, Aliens, was even better. But the franchise hasn’t held up, and that’s disappointing.

 

The Circle: Movie and Book review

The Circle is a 2013 novel by Dave Eggers. I suppose you could say it’s both dystopian and futuristic; it has a 1984/Brave New World vibe. I found it more or less by accident, and liked it so much I recommended it to my wife and daughter. They both read it, and liked it as much as I did, and so, last Friday, we decided to go together to see the new movie based on it. The movie was quite good too, though we agreed it wasn’t quite as effective as the novel. I should point out that the movie got horrible reviews, with a very low score on Rottentomatoes.com. And also that liking the novel is, apparently, exceptionally uncool. Guilty as charged: I liked both movie and novel a lot, and think the critics that didn’t like either are wrong. I will add that the theater was packed when we saw the movie, and, shamelessly eavesdropping as people left, heard enough to think that pretty much everyone who saw it the same night we did liked it too. Found it as chilling as we did.

I’m going to take it a step further. I think it’s an exceptionally prescient and important novel. I think the questions it raises are important ones, and exactly the sorts of questions we should be asking ourselves right now. So there.

The Circle is a high tech company; that’s its name. It combines the best features of Facebook, Google, Twitter, Paypal, Amazon, and any five other exceptionally big, hi-tech companies. It’s the coolest place to work you could possibly imagine. It offers the best benefits–dorm-like housing, gyms, off-the-charts health care–provides the best after-work social life, and sells the best products. Today, you may have an Amazon account, a Facebook account, a Twitter account; you probably have thirty internet accounts, each with its own password. The Circle gets rid of all that inconvenience; you get everything through The Circle.

Mae Holland is a young woman, bright and ambitious, working in a dead-end temp job. But she has a friend, Annie, who works for The Circle, and who gets her an interview. Which she aces. Next thing you know, she works in Customer Care. Better money than she’s ever made in her life, plus they extend her health benefits to cover her parents. This is huge, as her father suffers from MS. Mae is ecstatic.

Except, it turns out, her social score is kinda low. She goes home weekends, to help her Mom; she’s a no-show at various Circle parties. Her bosses notice, and she’s called on the carpet; kindly, of course, but firmly. After-hours social events are, of course, completely voluntary. But a low social score is, hmm, a matter of concern.

Circle-world is a place where everything is enumerated, evaluated, rated, assessed. Every customer care interaction is scored on follow-up customer surveys, and she’s encouraged to follow up on the follow ups, inquire about low scores.  She’s also given a side responsibility; product surveys, attitude polls. Plus, you know, there are all these parties she has to get to. She acquires a boyfriend, Francis, who, after love-making, wants to know how he did. What’s his score? And who gets real whiny if he doesn’t get a perfect 10. It’s not worth the hassle telling him he’s closer to a 3.

The tone of the novel is matter-of-fact and straightforward. Eggers specializes in scenes that are both comic and kind of horrifying. Mae is our window into this company, and her character serves Eggers well. She loves the place. She’s a compelling character, and we want to shake her; we want to shout ‘run!’ But she doesn’t. Whatever unease she may feel, she works off by kayaking. Or in love-less, frantic, self-destructive sex with Mystery Man, Kalden. We can absolutely see what makes Mae the most all-in Circler of them all. Though we’re worried to death for her.

But there are warnings. Not just Kalden; Annie, her friend, who landed her the gig, is clearly losing it. And Mae’s specifically warned by her ex-boyfriend, Mercer. Mercer’s kind of a doofus; he makes chandeliers from deer antlers, and is pretty much a Luddite. Or at least, an anti-Circle version of one. Mercer is close to and wonderfully kind to Mae’s parents. But Mae wishes he’d just stop pestering.

The Circle has a political agenda, too. The company has three CEOs, one of which, Eamon Bailey, is, of course, like, the perfect boss. Kind, generous, endlessly sympathetic, a plausible surrogate father for all the young Circlers. And Eamon is the main spokesperson for the multiple uses for SeeChange, a small, easily overlooked digital camera with excellent video and audio pickup. Eamon urges followers to put SeeChange cameras everywhere, every public place. SeeChange, he says, will end both government tyranny and terrorism, through complete, radical transparency. He also urges all politicians to go transparent; wear a SeeChange camera 24/7. People behave better, he says, when they know other people are watching. He suggests that transparency is a basic human right. Privacy is Theft becomes one of the company’s slogans. (Sharing is Caring is another). And Mae, to set an example, goes transparent too. Wears a camera everywhere; is on display, on the internet, always. A more-aware ramped-up Truman Show.

Okay, spoiler alerts. All these policies and devices are revealed publicly, in a big  Circle auditorium (which in fact, is not an arena, but a proscenium, the one public space configuration that most emphasizes performer domination and control. Bailey’s radical democracy looks a lot more authoritarian the more we interrogate it). Anyway, Mae introduces a new Circle innovation; using SeeChange to find missing miscreants. It becomes a game; let’s see if we can find this fugitive from justice, everyone! And they do, in less than ten minutes. Then the crowd insists that Mae use that technology to locate Mercer, who has become something of a hermit. (Of course they all know about Mercer; they know everything about her). And all those busy SeeChangers out in the world find where Mercer’s holed up. Panicked, he gets in his truck, tries to escape, run away from all the cameras and drones. And Mae doesn’t call it off. And he runs his truck off a cliff.

To people who essentially live virtually, for whom the internet and it’s many uses and possibilities, I can see how this movie could be seen as a gratuitous attack on the coolest thing on the planet. I think that may explain at least some of the bad reviews. But Eggers is on to something; people do not necessarily act better when they know people are watching, especially when they’re part of a crowd. Jon Ronson’s So You’ve Been Publicly Shamed describes dozens of instances where people’s lives have been ruined by the collective judgment of internet users. And we may not have quite reached the point of The Circle‘s notion of radical transparency, and SeeChange cameras may be a few (very few) years off, but everyone has cameras, and it’s much much more common nowadays for particularly shocking (but context-less) images to go viral. Dr. David Dao was, no doubt, treated shabbily by United Airlines, but United flies millions of passengers around the world without untoward incident. Should the company pay? Undoubtedly. Should it be hounded out of business? Am I an old, clue-less white guy intimidated by technology? Of course I am. How implausible is the fictional Circle? Not remotely. Is Eamon Bailey something of a cartoon villain? Okay, sure. So’s Big Brother.

The movie takes the same essential scenario as the novel, but creates a filmic narrative around it. Mae’s two love interests disappear–there just isn’t time for Francis, who is in any event an essentially comedic character. If the movie had gone for satire instead of cautionary tale, Francis might have worked. As it is, I didn’t miss him–he’s completely absent. Kalden likewise goes away, sort of; in the book, he is eventually revealed to be Ty, the Circle’s Founder and one of its three CEOs. That revelation comes much earlier here, and Mae and Ty don’t have a romantic/sexual relationship. Biggest of all is this change: Mae isn’t a Circle-worshipper in the movie. She actively wants to destroy it. And does, but that’s creepy too; she wins by buying in most completely to Eamon’s doctrine of radical transparency.

The casting is well-nigh perfect, with Emma Watson as Mae, Tom Hanks (who else?) as Eamon, John Boyega as Ty, and Bill Paxton, in his last screen role, quietly superb as Mae’s father. The one misstep, I thought, was Ellar Coltrane as Mercer, who never really found his footing in the role. Best of all, IMO, was Scottish actress Karen Gillan as Mae’s friend, Annie. In the book, Annie ends up in a coma, but it doesn’t really have the resonance of the movie, where we can read Annie’s self-loathing self-destruction in the actress’s face. That’s what movies are great at; faces.

The movie’s good. It’s great to look at, beautifully acted, and tells the story of The Circle with economy and dispatch. I found it almost as chilling as I found the novel. I did find the novel a bit richer, but that’s often the case of novels-turned-movies. Above all, I found myself cherishing privacy more than ever. I’m a fairly social person, I think, and I love social media. Up to a point. Any tool can be abused, including, of course, the most powerful tool of them all. The internet. Can we love it, and also find it terrifying? I rather think we can, and should.

Gifted: Movie Review

As we lurch our way into summer movie season, full of preposterous chases and heroes in spandex and wicked awesome ‘splosions, it’s always nice when our local cineplex also features a movie about, you know, human beings. Makes for a refreshing change of pace. That’s Gifted; that’s its role in the cosmos. To remind us that movies can also just be about people.

Not that the people in Gifted are all that ordinary. Mary Adler (McKenna Grace) is, by any measure, an unusual seven-year old; a mathematical genius. She lives with her uncle, Frank (Chris Evans), who repairs boat engines for a living, and who has home-schooled her up til now. As the movie begins, she’s about to start her first day in school, and she doesn’t want anything to do with it. Her best friend, Roberta (Octavia Spencer), who lives next door, doesn’t like the idea either. Frank, on the other hand, thinks she needs a normal-ish childhood. She needs friends her own age; she needs social skills. (She does have a cat, a one-eyed stray she adores). And so, off she goes, into the classroom of a kind, sweet teacher named Bonnie (Jenny Slate). Who she dazzles when she’s able to multiply two three digit numbers in her head.

And Roberta’s fears come to fruition. Bonnie talks to her principal (Elizabeth Marvel), who pulls some strings and gets Mary a full-tuition scholarship to a special academy for gifted children. Which Uncle Frank turns down, a decision the principal finds incomprehensible. (She’s the first of the movie’s awful-female-authority-figure characters). But word of the whole Mary situation somehow manages to reach the ears of Mary’s only other blood relative, her grandmother (Frank’s mom), Evelyn (Lindsay Duncan). Who is a monster. Well-meaning, certainly. But someone who has, uh, plans.

Most of the rest of the movie involves the slow revealing of the backstories of three people; Frank, Evelyn, and Mary’s brilliant mother, Diane, who committed suicide, but not before turning over custody of her daughter to her brother. Diane was a math prodigy, who spent her life working on one of the Millennium Prize math problems. (There are seven such problems, only one of which has, currently, been solved; the premise of the movie is that Diane was working on one of the others). Evelyn thinks that Mary could finish her mother’s work, and wants her to receive the training that might make that possible. Frank, meanwhile, wants Mary to be a kid. And a custody battle ensues.

I liked the movie quite a bit. I thought Chris Evans and Jenny Slate were both marvelous, and Octavia Spencer is always great, though this movie didn’t give her enough to do. And the child actress who played Mary, McKenna Grace (who also plays the President’s daughter on Designated Survivor) was terrific. Adorable, like any little kid, but also plausibly bright. As the plot unfolded, it also kept surprising; my wife’s main reaction was that every time she thought she’d figured it out, it managed to throw in a plausible but unforeseen twist.

I agree. At the plot level, it’s inventive and interesting. At the character/moral level, it’s more predictable. It bothered me, the moral mapping of the movie, which almost Marxist. Academic: bad. Worker class: good. It’s one of those movies that suggests that the lives of egghead intellectuals are somehow less grounded, less in touch, less moral than the lives of good old solid salt-of-the-earth blue collar folks. Frank was once a philosophy professor. Now, he repairs boat motors, and that has made him a more caring, compassionate guy. Roberta is, again, salt-of-the-earth. Not one of those fancy-schmancy intellectuals. We approve of Frank’s budding romance with Bonnie, because, you know, she’s a school teacher. Smart, of course, but not too smart. But Grandma’s a schmuck.

The academics we meet are all creeps. Grandma Evelyn takes Mary to MIT, so her capabilities can be tested by a math professor. The prof is an arrogant jerk, who, giving Mary a problem to solve, throws some mistakes in there on purpose. And Mary catches those mistakes, but doesn’t correct him initially, because she’s a polite, well-raised child who doesn’t show up grown-ups. Prof of course, is nonetheless impressed by Mary’s ability to write formulae on a chalkboard. In a custody trial scene, we meet Mary’s biological father (completely absent her entire life), and his ignorance of and indifference to Diane and whatever became of the child he fathered are revelatory.

And, of course, Evelyn is horrible. Just horrible. She’s clearly the villain of the piece, and her ambitions for her granddaughter are so obviously self-serving, it becomes completely implausible that any judge, anywhere, would grant her custody over any child. (Especially when, it turns out, she tries to murder Mary’s cute one-eyed cat!) Lindsay Duncan is a marvelous actress, and she does her best to give Evelyn some moments of vulnerability, but the writing defeats her. On a movie-evil-woman-character scale, she edges out Cruella DeVille.

The blatant villainy of Evelyn throws the film off a bit, for me. I liked the movie a lot, and loved all the acting performances, and loved the little girl, and liked the story. What I’m going to say next is weird, because stories are stories, and history is just a narrative, but it’s a film I think I would have liked better if it were based on a true story. It was just implausible enough that it could have used that hint of authenticity.

Still, if you just can’t face the thought of yet another superhero movie, and just want a pleasant, feel-good, comedy/drama about a real sweet kid, I’d go see Gifted. There are a lot more reasons to like it than to not like it. Plus Chris Evans is genuinely charismatic. And McKenna Grace is sensational.

 

Beauty and the Beast: Movie Review

It’s fairly easy to dismiss the new Disney Beauty and the Beast as the conscience-less money grab it frankly kind of is. I mean, it’s a remake of a ‘beloved Disney classic,’ which is to say, one of the good animated Disney musicals. I loved the original movie, despite having to see it (or parts of it) many many times, and was wary of this one. But the value in cultivating a both/and aesthetic is realizing there are many ways to understand any cultural phenomenon. My wife and I went to Applebee’s for dinner before the movie, and our waiter waxed rhapsodic when we told him what movie we were going to see. He’d seen B&B twice, was considering taking his girls to see it again. Loved loved loved it. Which helped put us in a receptive state of mind.

My initial response to this Beauty and the Beast was to think that the weak link in the cast was Emma Watson. This really bothered me, because I like Emma Watson. My wife loved her in this; she thought the weakest cast member was Dan Stevens, who played the Beast, who I thought was one of the movie’s strengths.

Emma Watson strikes me as an exemplary young woman, courageous and intrepid and bright as hell. Hermione Granger is all that too, plus aces at magic, but I really don’t think I’m conflating the actress with her best known character, except to the extent that they’re actually similar. Hermione is a bookworm; Emma has a degree from Brown in English literature. Hermione is an activist for the ethical treatment of magical creatures; Emma is a UN Goodwill Ambassador, and a fervent feminist. They seem alike because they are alike.

Not to go all sexist, but what Emma Watson is not is a great beauty. She’s certainly an conventionally attractive young woman, and she has a modeling contract. But in Beauty and the Beast, she’s nothing special, and she flat isn’t the prettiest girl in the village. We see a trio of prettier village girls. So why is Gaston so besotted?

Because she’s all the rest of it; bright and intrepid and level-headed. He’s none of those things; he’s a spectacular narcissist. But as played by Luke Evans, he may be half-witted, but no one else in the village is even half. He has a tiny, pin-headed inkling that she’s special, that she’s unusual. And he wants to possess her. She’s a challenge. She dares turn him down. He’s a soldier and he’s strong and he’s so very good-looking; why she would turn him down?

Evans’ Gaston is a spectacular comic creation. He’s so good, it threw me off. Obviously, this insatiable mirror-gazer wants a shiny object on his arm; I was led to think that ‘beauty’ should be more beautiful. But Gaston wants to dominate. He wants to be adored, by more than his not-all-that-closeted friend LeFou (Josh Gad). I wanted a more movie-star-charismatic Belle. Emma Watson wasn’t interested. She got it, and I didn’t, initially. What distinguishes Belle from the rest of the village is precisely her independence and intelligence. That’s what constitutes her beauty, much more than an accident of bone structure.

And so, when she’s confined to Beast’s castle, what attracts her is not the Beast’s library, but the fact that he’s read all the books in it. They argue about Shakespeare. He is a former Gaston, a reformed Gaston; a spoiled rich brat who everyone adored, until cursed by a witch. He’s had to read, study, think, meditate. And at times, the Beast part of him takes over, and he rages. But the servant/furniture pieces all understand him better. They know he’s capable of kindness and gentleness. So when he orders them not to feed her, they respond by throwing her a feast. (And are so excited about it, she doesn’t get a bite to eat). And Belle comes to see it too, his essential goodness.

Granted, it’s still the Disney musical. We know all the songs; half the fun was anticipating what they’d do with them. (Hey, “Be our Guest” is coming up!) I’ve heard complaints about Watson’s singing voice. I thought she was fine. (Bear in mind, I also liked Russell Crowe’s singing in Les Mis). I wouldn’t want them to dub her voice; her singing fit her approach to the role. This is a more nuanced Belle, a quieter, smarter Belle. She didn’t need to be a Broadway diva anymore than she needed to be a movie star icon. She’s an actress; she thought her way through this character. And it works.

Of course, the movie looks great. The Disney Cinderella and Jungle Book both looked great. They’ve got the money to make these things look terrific. (If this is a corporate money grab, at least they make sure we get our money’s worth). And a who’s who of great British actors provide the voice work for the servants: Emma Thompson, Ian McKellen, Ewan McGregor.

There aren’t any details to point to and say ‘see, they got that wrong, that isn’t as good as the animated film.’ It is forty-five minutes longer than the cartoon, and I didn’t think the extra time was padding. They used it to explore Belle’s family history; the death of her mother, and her close relationship to her father (a wonderful Kevin Kline). I liked that extra detail.

Ultimately, I thought the movie gave good value. One of my favorite actresses gives a fine, nuanced performance in a classic role. What’s not like about that?

 

 

 

Kong: Skull Island Movie Review

I would have given anything to be in the meetings where they greenlighted Kong: Skull Island. I mean, I haven’t ever worked at a studio or been in those meetings, but I have a fertile imagination and have seen lots of movies about Hollywood. All these guys–not in suits, they don’t wear suits–in skinny jeans and mismatched shirt/tie combinations listening to some writer going “cross King Kong with Apocalypse Now, with an environmentalist twist. Plus, Tom Hiddleston’s interested!” And the head of the studio’s going ‘I love it!’

In other words, this movie is nuts. That doesn’t mean I didn’t like it; I liked it a lot. But it’s a big budget, major CGI, cast-of-thousands movie. And it literally is a cross between King Kong and Apocalypse Now. A King Kong movie that stays on the island and never takes its act to New York. It’s also the kind of movie where the main characters do completely insane things for utterly nonsensical reasons. Nothing in the movie makes the least sense, and our powers of disbelief-suspension are pushed to the breaking point, but it’s generally well acted, and the monsters are freaking awesome and the whole movie looks great. I was willing to go along with the ride.

Plot: wow, where to start. It’s 1973. The US is pulling out of Vietnam. So, okay, a “scientist” named Bill Randa (John Goodman) is obsessed with monsters. He thinks there may well be gargantuan super predators out there in nature somewhere, and he thinks the US government should find them before the Russkis do. And persuades a US Senator (Richard Jenkins) to fund an expedition, and also to provide him and his team with a military escort. His team includes a scientist named Houston Brooks (Corey Hawkins), who has what he calls his ‘hollow earth’ theory, namely that the earth has massive subterranean caverns where ginormous critters could live. And Randa and Brooks have seen satellite footage of Skull Island, which they think might prove both their theories. They also bring a Chinese scientist, San (Tian Jing), because movies like this need more than one female character. But Randa’s worried about security, so he hires a British Special Forces mercenary, James Conrad (Tom Hiddleston). And a photographer, Mason Weaver (Brie Larson).

And they get a military escort. Like, ten helicopters (I lost count), under the command of Colonel Preston Packard (Samuel L. Jackson), who is spoilin’ for a fight, Vietnam having gone so swimmingly. And lots and lots of soldiers, most of them pretty anonymous, but a few played by minor stars like Toby Kebbel and Shea Whigham and John Ortiz and Jason Mitchell. (We already know that they’re the ones who are going to survive). (Kudos to Kebbel, BTW; he also wore the motion-capture suit and played Kong).

Skull Island, it turns out, is in the Pacific (and not the Indian Ocean as in previous movies), and is surrounded by a permanent storm system. (The science in this movie is wonderful, what with the hollow earth and perma-storms and apex predators thirty stories tall). But the Pacific makes it closer to Vietnam, see. Anyway, they show up, and Sam Jackson pilots all those helicopters in past the storm system, and they see this tropic paradise (which really was cool looking). And Randa and his merry band of idiot scientists start dropping explosive probes onto Skull Island. And this pisses King Kong off. And he destroys all their helicopters, and kills a bunch of men. So the survivors are scattered to hither and yon. Eventually, they form two parties, one under the command of Colonel Packard (who’s getting increasingly nutty), looking for a way to kill Kong, and the other under the command of Conrad, because Tom Hiddleston. All the women are on that team, as is Randa and his scientist team. They just want off the island, and so are trying to reach a rendezvous spot.

Let’s pause for a sec and think about this. Randa and his team are looking for really big predatory animals. Which they think are on this island, or underground, in a hollow-earth-underworld. They find a new tropical island. A brand-new, extremely delicate ecosystem. Which they want to study. So they start by blowing a lot of it up.

Who does that? Who on earth thought this was a good idea? But, see, I think that’s the point of the movie. The movie has its scientist characters do wildly insane, incredibly destructive, pointlessly dangerous things, because it was the cold war and we did stupid stuff like that. I mean, is it stupider to drop explosive probes on King Kong, or drop atomic bombs on the Bikini Atoll? Or the Nevada desert? Or oceans of napalm in the jungles of Southeast Asia? Or all foolish things human beings do in the oceans and atmosphere and mountains and rivers and lakes of our poor mother Earth, searching for oil or coal or gold or whatever. Really, I think this movie, dumb as it is, has an environmentalist agenda front and center. John Goodman plays a scientist who is also kind of a moron (and whose lines are really quite absurd). And who sets off a chain reaction of events that kill dozens of US soldiers.

The ecology of Skull Island is fascinating. Insects are huge. A spider is twenty feet across. King Kong himself is maybe 200 feet tall. And he’s not the island’s scariest critter. Those would be these skull-headed dinosaur things, bigger than Kong, and with horrifying prehensile tongues. Which, of course, leads to this question: what do all these apex predators eat? Kong, we see, has a taste for octopus (if you can imagine an octopus 60 feet long). So, that’s one meal. But if skull-o-saurs do live in subterranean caverns, what else is down there?  Really big predators require really big prey. (They do seem to be able to eat American soldiers pretty well, but they end up urping them up afterwards).

John C. Reilly is in the movie, playing an American airman who crashed down on the island during WWII, nigh on thirty years earlier. He has been protected and saved by the island’s homo sapiens natives. Yes, there are native tribesman, mud-daubed and silent (though why they’re not 30 feet tall escapes me, given the relative sizes of other Skull Island fauna). Anyway, the natives all like Kong. He’s their protector.

In other words, King Kong is an apex predator essential to preserving the delicate ecosystem of this island. Tom Hiddleston’s character recognizes it; Samuel L. Jackson’s does not, and want Kong dead. (Though how he intends to bring that about is one of the many issues this screenplay doesn’t really address. I think napalm has a lot to do with it.)

Anyway, Kong, after some initial helicopter-bashing, turns out to be sensitive and courageous, with a soft spot for the ladies, like all Kongs before him. He and Brie Larson have a nice scene together, though on a high cliff and not the Empire State Building. And ultimately, insane Samuel Jackson and addle-pated John Goodman are appropriately eaten by monsters. And this preposterous (though wildly entertaining) movie marches off to its inevitable happy-ish ending.

I will say this; seeing a gas-masked Tom Hiddleston take on hundreds of flying menaces with a kitana in a field of poison gas was absolutely worth the price of admission. Do I recommend Kong: Skull Island?  It was very entertaining, the story and situation made no sense whatsoever, it got real preachy (though on subjects where I agree with it), and the action sequences were pretty well executed. What does that add up to for you? For me, it was two hours well-spent in a movie theater.

The Great Wall: Movie Review

The Great Wall was billed as something of a prestige film. It’s the first English-language film by an important international director, Yimou Zhang (Hero, House of Flying Daggers) with a major American actor, Matt Damon, and the biggest budget yet for a film shot entirely in China. It’s about the Great Wall of China, for heaven’s sake. But it had also gotten fairly bad reviews–35% on Rottentomatoes.com. I expected something fairly sober, like Hero, but perhaps a little self-important, hence the reviews.

What I did not expect was an exciting monster movie. What I didn’t expect was something fun, but insubstantial. The story’s kind of dumb, and a lot of the movie doesn’t work all that well. But it looks amazing, and it includes action sequences that are mind-blowingly intricate and superbly staged. My wife and I enjoyed ourselves.

Damon plays a soldier-for-hire named William, who, along with his best friend and fellow mercenary, Tover (Pedro Pascal), is in China trying to find the ultimate superweapon, an exploding black powder, thinking they can make a fortune selling it in the West. Gunpowder, in other words, which would set the movie, I don’t know, sometime in the 12th or 13th centuries. William and Tovar are attacked by a monster, and manage to cut off a foot while fighting it off. They’re subsequently captured by soldiers from the Nameless Order, posted at a section of the Great Wall, who are fascinated by this creature’s foot. The monster, it turns out, is a creature called a Taotie. And it turns out, they’re the reason for the Wall.

The Taotie (a legendary creature in Chinese mythology), are plenty scary. They’re sort of lizard-y, like a cross between an iguana and a velociraptor, with big teeth and claws, and eyes in their shoulders. They’re fast, highly intelligent, and, we’re told, pose a danger to all of humanity. They eat what they kill, and they regurgitate it into the mouth of their queen, who directs their actions, and replaces their losses. Eventually, they’ll eat enough Chinese people to spread further West. All of mankind is at risk, we’re told. And the Nameless Order, and the Wall, are all that’s stopping them.

And the Nameless soldiers are fantastic. They wear color-coded uniforms, depending on their tasks. Some are archers, some are foot soldiers. Some are spearwomen, who bungie-jump off high platforms with spears, and who seem particularly lethal (and vulnerable).  All the battle sequences, and there are many, are spectacular.

I don’t actually think the Great Wall could do everything this movie thinks it could do. I don’t think, for example, that there were/are slots in the walls where huge scythe-y blades would be inserted and swung about lethally. Or flute-arrows, good in a mist, because they warn you if a wounded Taotie is coming at you. Or ginormous flaming catapulted rocks. I question the historical accuracy of at least some of that. But it all sure looked cool.

Yimou Zhang is the kind of old-fashioned director who, if a scene calls for a thousand soldiers, will cast and drill and costume a thousand extras rather than rely on CGI. I found that those battle sequences were both exciting and heart-breaking. The stakes were high; you could see how risky combat was, and how much was at stake for these superb soldiers. They weren’t faceless casualties. They were people, brave and daring.

The Nameless are led by a woman, a Commander Lin (Tian Jing). Jing is wonderful in the role; I had never seen her before, but she was great, commanding and vulnerable. In fact, the Chinese actors all fared better than the Western actors, especially Andy Lau as Strategist Wang (their top military mind), and Lu Han, as Peng Yong, the company’s lowly dishwasher, who reveals an unanticipated valor by the end of the film.

As for the Western actors, Pedro Pascal is fine as the rather one-dimensional Tovar, and Willem Dafoe is forgettable as a character, Ballard, whose arc makes no sense whatsoever. (He’s there to steal gunpowder too, but after twenty five years has done nothing about it–mostly, he’s there to explain how Lin speaks English).

I love Matt Damon. I think he’s a fine actor, who has managed his career beautifully. He knows what sorts of roles he can play, and stays within his comfort zone. In this, he tries a sort of vaguely Celtic accent (Scots? Irish?), which comes and goes. He’s fine. But most of his better scenes are with Tian Jing, and she kind of blows him away.

The problem is, this is basically a monster film, and the moments that try to be something else don’t work very well. The monsters attack, there’s an astonishing action sequence, they’re driven off. Repeat, as needed. In the meantime, we see Tovar and Ballard plot to steal gunpowder, which we never are able to care about. And William’s supposed to be helping them, but he’s distracted, first by the monsters, but mostly with Lin.

The movie’s one stab at some larger relevance comes in William’s interactions with this Chinese female commander. She’s Chinese. She values cooperation, the individual sacrificing for the common good. He’s a Westerner; he values rugged individualism. That being the case, he really ought to be on his way with his two doofus friends and their black powder. But he’s drawn to these people, drawn to their heroism, drawn to the taut professionalism of their soldiers, and, of course, also drawn to this one particular fascinating strong young woman. It’s not a romantic movie; they never kiss, for example. But there’s clearly an attraction, and, of course, why wouldn’t there be? He’s a professional soldier. So is she. They’re both astonishing good at combat. And the Taotie are really, genuinely a threat.

In fact, the Taotie are such a threat, the gunpowder-stealing subplot is just annoying. And the philosophical discussions about which society is better, Chinese or Western, are about as compelling as abstract philosophical discussions usually are in action movies. When Lin and William talk, the movie stops dead in its tracks. But when they fight side by side? It’s magical.

It’s such a beautiful film, and the action sequences are so compelling, it kept our attention. Yimou Zhang makes gorgeous films. He’s also made profound ones in the past, and this is not one of those. I’m still glad I saw it. Matt Damon moves well, and his action sequences were fine. I don’t much care which foreign accent he mangles. And Tian Jing is marvelous. In fact, I intend to see the new King Kong movie (a singularly unnecessary film, I would have said, and not something I would ordinarily bother with), just because she’s in it.

It’s a shame, really. This film was promoted as an art film. A big budget feature by a major international director. In fact, it’s just a really scary monster movie, and it looks great. I wish it could have found its audience here, in the States. It should do fine in China.

Get Out: Movie Review

Sharp-witted and clever, Get Out splendidly satirizes privileged white liberal racism, while also managing to scare the socks off us. This is Jordan Peele’s first film as writer/director–you know him from the sketch comedy team Key and Peele–and he’s super-smart, and his film is cringe-worthily funny and the last half hour, I was on the edge of my seat. Even if you don’t much like horror as a genre, this film is so well done, so perfectly poised between terrifying and hilarious, it’s a film you need to see. FWIW, its Rottentomatoes.com score is a straight up 100%. Deservedly.

Meet the Armitage family. Dad (Bradley Whitford) is a neurosurgeon, Mom (Catherine Keener) is a psychiatrist/hypnotist, and they live in a gorgeous, huge home way off in the woods somewhere. Daughter Rose (Allison Williams) is coming home with her latest boyfriend, Chris (Daniel Kaluuya), a photographer who also happens to be black. She hasn’t told her parents, and Chris is nervous, but, she reassures him, needlessly. They’re cool. They’re liberal. Her Dad voted for Obama twice, and would have voted for him a third time if he’d been running. So it’s Guess Whose Coming to Dinner, updated. There’s another Armitage too, younger brother Jeremy (Caleb Landry Jones), also a doctor, but also something of an annoying brat sibling. Anyway, they’re all nice people, the Armitages, though perhaps just a teensy too anxious to mention, as though in passing, how much they admire Jesse Owens.

But before getting to her parents’ house, Rose and Chris have an unsettling episode. Their car hits a deer, and the police officer who investigates the accident is just that much too interested in this white woman’s black guest. She backs the cop down, but Chris is already uncomfortable before he even meets the fam.

Also–this is so embarrassing–the Armitage household includes two black servants. I know; the optics aren’t great. But, you see, Georgina (Betty Gabriel) and Walter (Marcus Henderson) are basically family. Though every time Chris interacts with them, Georgina and Walter are . . . off. Giving off weird and creepy vibes. But Chris is probably just overreacting. The Armitage’s are surely nothing worse than privileged and accordingly clue-less.

I don’t want to give away spoilers here. But part of what makes this movie so scary is the way it literalizes prevailing retrograde white liberal attitudes towards race. Do we not, in a sense, rather wish we were black? While still insisting that having blacks serve us is okay as long as they’re treated as family, respected and admired and all that. The evil at the heart of this oh-so-pleasant family perhaps doesn’t quite stand up to a lot of scrutiny, but for the two hours of the movie, it’s beyond chilling.

One thing I love about this movie is how even basic plot points are conveyed, not through dialogue or some discovery, but through acting, through the choices made by the cast. I mean, sure, there’s revelatory dialogue and opportune discoveries, but sometimes, there’s just an actor’s face, telling us what we need to know. This is particularly true of Betty Gabriel, Georgina, who smilingly offers the most innocuous explanation for having misplaced Chris’ cell phone, with a single tear undercutting every word from her mouth. It’s a brilliant scene, and without even knowing what it means, you want to shout to Chris to run, escape, Get Out.

Comedic filmmaking of this kind, this kind of character-driven social satire, requires carefully composed shots with little camera movement, so we can focus on what they’re saying. This is especially true of the film’s comic tour-de-force, a garden party with the Armitage and 50 of their closest friends. And after a golfing enthusiast Armitage buddy tells Chris how much he loves Tiger Woods, and after a woman asks Rose, with a wink and a nod, if it’s true, what they say about Black men, Chris has basically had it with these people. It’s a funny scene, and Peele knows how to frame it and shoot it and cut it to highlight the comedy.

But horror is more about what we can’t quite see; it’s about slow camera movies, panning past harmless (but maybe not quite so harmless) objects, letting tension mount. Peele knows how to do that too. He’s great with the camera and he’s great with lighting, and he knows how to sustain a joke, and he’s amazing with actors, and he also knows how to scare us.

It’s a great piece of filmmaking, you know? And a terrific film for our age. If you’re not already woke, this film should do the job. Especially if you are willing to admit you’re both in on, and the butt of the joke.

Hidden Figures: Movie Review

Hidden Figures is a pretty good film on an absolutely tremendous subject. Viewing it, you’re overwhelmed by the story and the acting and the musical score, and some outstanding characterizations; that’s the initial impression. And then its impact fades, and the weaknesses of its comparatively pedestrian screenplay come to the forefront. It’s a story about the early years of NASA and the space program and the civil rights movement, and the contributions of some extraordinary women. That’s enough to carry the movie, at least initially.

In the early 1960s, the Langley Research Center in Hampton, Virginia was tasked with computing the trajectories for the rockets and space capsules of the Mercury space program. A lot of those calculations were done by ‘computers.’ A ‘computer’ back then wasn’t understood to be a machine, but a person; someone with math skills, who could quickly and accurately do calculations. They had a machine too, what we would call a computer, only they called it an IBM. And nobody knew how to use it.

The Langley site was strictly segregated, with a West building for African-American ‘computers,’ almost all of them women, and an East building for the main NASA scientists, all of them white men. The film tells the story of Mary Jackson (Janelle Monae), Dorothy Vaughan (Octavia Spencer), and Katherine Goble Johnson (Taraji P. Henson), three ambitious and talented African-American women who wanted to be part of the space program, like most patriotic 1960s Americans did.

Jackson gets a job in the engineering program, designing the space capsule. She’s held back by the fact that she doesn’t have an engineering degree. There’s a program available through NASA, but she can’t quality for it until she passes a remedial class offered through night school at a local high school. A white high school. So she files a lawsuit to become the first African-American woman in a Virginia white high school class. That’s a terrific story right there, and it’s also the story that gets the least attention in this film, because the other two main stories are even better.

Dorothy Vaughan, meanwhile, is doing the work of a supervisor, but does not have the job title, seniority or salary of one. She’s been given a supervisor’s responsibilities, and has a leadership personality; she can do the job. But she’s Black; NASA doesn’t seem able to recognize her. That’s her battle; to become an supervisor. In the meantime, she teaches herself Fortran, studying IBM programming on her own time. And so she sneaks into the IBM control room, and quietly programs the machine in the evenings. And when NASA needs precise and fast calculations done, she knows how to get the computer machine working to provide them, and how to teach her ‘computers’ how to program.

Another great story, right? But the movie’s third story is the best of all. Katherine Goble (who marries mid-film and changes her name to Johnson), is a math whiz, who has skills that get her assigned to the main building, and to a team made up entirely of white men. The main mathematician there is a guy named Paul Stafford, played here by Jim Parsons. (It did rather crack me up; the idea of Sheldon Cooper as a (shudder) rocket scientist). Anyway, Stafford has no faith in her, blocks her efforts at every turn. Is he racist? Sexist? Sure, like most white dudes in 1961.

Meanwhile, the boss, the head of Langley, Al Harrison (Kevin Costner), cares about one thing only; getting astronauts into space, and back again safely. If that requires that he become a civil rights pioneer, so be it.

In one of the film’s most powerful scenes, Katherine needs to go to the bathroom at work, and the nearest colored women’s rest room is a half mile away. And so, a couple of times a day, she has to walk, in high heels, over half a mile just to take care of that most basic need. There’s a women’s restroom in the building where she works, but it’s for white women only. When an exasperated Harrison asks why she has to take such long breaks, it’s difficult for her to tell him–gender, race and workplace protocols all collide. Plus, it’s raining out, and she’s soaking. She finally does, though; she is able to speak out, and tell the truth. It’s one of the best scenes in the movie, and leads to a scene where Harrison personally rips a ‘colored’ sign off a bathroom door. Thereafter, all the women are free to use whatever restroom is closest.

There are a lot of bathroom scenes in the film, including a nice one between Spencer and Kirsten Dunst, who plays the supervisor of all NASA women at the facility. They’re both terrific in that scene, as Dunst is forced to confront her own racism in that most basic of settings.

So there’s a lot about this film to savor. Outstanding acting performances, and a powerful story; what’s not to like?

It’s just so conventional, though, and in ways that really do harm the telling of these stories. It’s a Hollywood biopic; of course, the heroines have to be superhuman, and the villains made of cardboard. This is clearest in the scenes with Katherine and the other mathematicians with whom she works. Every major breakthrough comes from her. We get the distinct impression that the mathematicians at NASA are not top talent, but in fact the remedial class in math school. There’s one scene, for example, where Katherine points out that their task is to turn the Mercury capsule’s orbit from an elliptical orbit to a parabolic orbit. I’m not kidding; the other mathematicians in the room stare at her like they’ve never heard of a parabola before. Jim Parson’s Paul Stafford literally moves his lips as he tries to figure out some calculation Katherine Johnson has put up on their communal chalkboard. Honestly, it looks like the Mercury program would be in much better shape if they fired all their white guy mathematicians, and just let the one Black lady do the whole job.

The same thing’s true of the scenes where Dorothy Vaughan figures out how to use the IBM. She’s got a library book on Fortran, and this brand new mainframe, and she figures out how to make the thing work, while the guys from IBM who are setting it up stand by, flummoxed.

Believe me, I’m not making some kind of alt-right argument about how egregiously this movie disrespects white people. Not even remotely. What I am saying is that the movie’s approach, in which Katherine Johnson is the Michael Jordan of mathematicians, and the guys she’s working with are the New York Generals ends up diminishing her actual accomplishments. Which is the better story: Black Supergenius astounds a village of idiots, or a brilliant African-American woman holds her own, and gains the respect of some of the top mathematicians in the world, and becomes their esteemed teammate and colleague? In 1961?

The truth makes a better story than a fictionalized, distorted version of the truth that this film, sadly, relies on. And I know you’ve only got two hours to tell your story, and that narratively, you need to conflate some characters or it just becomes unwieldy. I know that. But in fact, Dorothy Vaughan, Mary Jackson and Katherine Johnson were not particularly close friends, and the scientists they worked with were not dopes, and their contributions to the Mercury program, though significant and ground-breaking, were not as all-encompassing as this film makes them appear. Tell that story, the real story. They were remarkable women, and their achievements were extraordinary, especially in that time and place. They were patriotic Americans, and civil rights pioneers, and I’m thrilled that this movie got made. I just wish it were a better screenplay.

Still a fascinating, entertaining and educational piece, and well worth your time. Just not as good as it could have been, and should have been.