#240. Big Hero 6 (2014)

 

 

Despite my enduring affection for animated Disney movies, I haven't exactly done a stellar job of keeping up with the new releases. In the last twenty years, the only ones I'd seen were Wreck-It Ralph and Frozen, so I thought it was about time I got around to another one. And I settled on Big Hero 6, mainly because the big, fluffy robot always looked so adorable to me.

 

Now that I've watched it: yeah, he absolutely is adorable. I'd almost certainly die for Baymax if I had one in real life. But he's not the only draw here. The story's also really sweet and likeable (even if the message is a bit overstated in the early goings), and the visual aesthetics are extremely crisp and clean. I especially love how fluid everything is, as well as the colourful, futuristic setting that combines elements of Tokyo and San Francisco.

 

Granted, I'm still writing this in the midst of my superhero fatigue, so a few of the action sequences caused me to slightly disengage, but I enjoyed the animation, meta humour, and cute character dynamics enough to have an extremely fun time. Plus, this is the first movie on the blog that made me cry (damn you, Disney), so I can't pretend that the emotional aspects - no matter how manipulative - didn't work on me.

 

Grade: A-

 

P.S. If there's one major minus here, it's gotta be the villain. Dude might genuinely be in the running for least interesting Disney baddie, right up there with the governor from Pocahontas.

 

#219. The Vikings (1958)

 

 

The problem I tend to have with historical epics from the '50s and '60s is that they're usually devoid of personality, so The Vikings has an automatic leg up on the competition merely by being charismatic and boisterous and kind of pulpy. The presentation's still a little on the dry and earnest side for my liking, but there's enough exuberance and energy throughout that I was honestly surprised by how invested I was.

 

You can also really feel the communal effort with this one. The writing's got some morally compelling character dynamics, the cast (particularly Kirk Douglas and Ernest Borgnine) brings a lot of welcome flavour and intensity, the cinematography, courtesy of Jack Cardiff, is rich, beautiful, and atmospheric, and Richard Fleischer ties everything together with his textured direction. A lot of people are firing on all cylinders here.

 

So even if a handful of the slower scenes somewhat impair the pacing (the lead-up to that final battle is perhaps the worst example), and the relationship between Jamie Lee Curtis's parents is a total afterthought, the otherwise unique interplay, exciting bursts of action, and keen mix of opulence and depravity ensure that this is ultimately a higher-tier swashbuckler. 

 

Grade: A-

#218. Tarzan the Ape Man (1932)

 

 

Here's something I didn't expect to say: I think I prefer the opening half hour of this movie, before we actually meet Tarzan. Those early expedition scenes have a real sense of adventure and danger to them (in a way that really anticipates King Kong), and I feel like the energy starts to flag a bit once the title character shows up.

 

Not overly so, though. While the second act is often little more than a series of unrelated nature vignettes, it's all still gripping and exotic enough that I'm mostly fine with the change. Helps that there's a new animal in just about every scene (which goes a lot further with me than I'd like to admit), and that Tarzan and Jane have such compellingly primal chemistry with one another.

 

Of course, most of the other character/story elements are lacking at best (we never really delve into Tarzan's backstory, and the interpersonal conflicts are generally quite tepid), but I guess that stuff doesn't really matter. At least, not compared to the exotic scenery, the clever technical effects, and the spectacular stunts - like seeing Johnny Weissmuller wrestle a fucking lion.

 

Grade: B+

 

#216. Pokémon Detective Pikachu (2019)

 

 

Yeah, I was a Pokémon kid. I collected the cards, watched the show, and played the video games. For a good three or four years there, it was pretty much the center of my entertainment universe. So the prospect of a big-budget live-action Pokémon movie absolutely appeals to the inner child - and, who am I kidding, adult - in me.

 

And, honestly, I thought this one was pretty good. The plot's extremely predictable (especially if you're at all familiar with Ditto), most of the characters are cutouts, and the jokes don't have a great hit rate, but there's a sense of livable, vicarious plausibility to the whole thing that basically renders those elements moot for me. Frankly, when I'm watching these real people interact with Bulbasaurs and Mr. Mimes, I can't pretend to care about depth or nuance or whatever.

 

If you do, though, the movie wisely takes the Roger Rabbit route of attempting to balance the silly cartoon stuff with a grounded, noirish story involving the protagonist's family. Again, it's not as successful as Roger Rabbit, mostly because said story's nowhere near as interesting, but it nevertheless provides a decent amount of heart, a cool neon aesthetic, and some fantastic worldbuilding, all of which I appreciated.

 

What I didn't appreciate, though was the fact that Poliwhirl doesn't make a single appearance. What the hell, guys?

 

Grade: B+

 

P.S. A lot of these Pokémon were much furrier than I was expecting. Like, in my mind, Jigglypuff's always had the texture of one of those squeaky bouncy balls that you'd find in a Toys "R" Us bin.

 

P.P.S. Loved the Angels with Filthy Souls reference, especially because it fits right in with the whole '90s nostalgia thing.

 

#211. Project A (1983)

 

 

Okay, I can see that these Hong Kong martial arts movies are going to take some getting used to.

 

Like, obviously I knew better than to expect seamless dubbing, but I wasn't quite as prepared for the borderline-amateur technical aspects (for instance, there are almost zero establishing shots here, so each scene just kind of awkwardly crashes into the next one), bizarre tonal shifts, and weirdly dense plotting. I don't even know if these defects are specific to Project A or if they're simply par for the course with this subgenre, but, either way, it made it really hard for me to get wrapped up in the story, to the point where I was starting to zone out in between all the action.

 

But I guess the action is why we're here, and it doesn't disappoint. Every single fight scene is a striking display of creativity, athleticism, timing, and certifiable recklessness not seen since the days of Buster Keaton, and they consistently took my breath away. In particular, the back-to-back bicycle and clock tower sequences are just spectacular, even if they result in the movie peaking far too early.

 

Now, is the action good (and plentiful) enough to make everything else worth sitting through? It's a pretty close call in my opinion, but I'll go with a tepid "yes". Even when the movie's at its least accessible, you can always tell that Jackie Chan is trying his absolute hardest to entertain, and I admire that level of effort.

 

Grade: B-

 

#174. Star Wars: Episode I - The Phantom Menace (1999)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 4-5

 

Here it is, the most widely reviled film of my lifetime. We all know the story: expectations were unreasonably high, and all those years of build-up and excitement eventually led to disappointment, which turned to anger, which turned to hate, which turned to endless screeds about how George Lucas "raped" our collective childhoods (yes, people actually said that).

 

It was all a bit much, honestly, to the point where the heavy backlash inevitably received a backlash of its own. Nowadays, you're much more likely to hear about how this trilogy's actually underrated, and that the initial reception was far too negative. I'd like to agree with that stance. I really would. But it frankly doesn't survive actually sitting down and re-watching the damn thing.

 

Yeah, sorry, but, all these years later, long after I've come to accept this prequel for what it is, it still doesn't do all that much for me. I don't hate it by any means (in fact, the kiddie tone [along with Darth Maul and "Duel of the Fates"] might even give it a tiny leg up on the two entries to come), but the defects are just too overwhelming to ignore. They almost go without saying at this point: convoluted plotting, clunky pacing, wooden acting, awful dialogue, bland CG environments, a general lack of passion, etc. Despite the wealth of potential here (which might partially explain all the fruitless fan edits), most of it's squandered by tedious storytelling and lazy creative decisions.

 

Now, in fairness, Lucas always insisted, rather defensively, that these movies were made for children. Maybe so. But I was six years old in 1999, and, as a member of that target audience, I can assure you that I still would've chosen any of the Original Trilogy episodes over this one every single day of the week.

 

Grade: C+

#163. Labyrinth (1986)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 1, though I'm no longer certain I actually saw the whole thing, because all the stuff I remembered happens in the first half.

 

My fifth grade teacher actually showed this one to us, and, in hindsight, I'm glad she did. Ten is basically the perfect age to handle a darker fairy tale while still being kinda scared by it (okay, a few elements were downright terrifying to me - particularly Bowie himself), and that sense of danger really makes the whole experience feel stirringly vivid and real. 

 

Watching the movie again over twenty years later (I didn't enjoy doing that math), it still feels vivid and real, but that's mostly because I'm now far more appreciative of the '80s creativity on display. The practical puppets are adorably tactile and full of life, and the labyrinth itself is just a fantastic series of sets and set pieces. There's a new design and creature around every corner, and they all really come together to bring this nightmarish world to life.

 

Sure, the story becomes a little repetitive here and there, and it starts to lose some steam after the Fire Gang scene (though the Relativity-inspired climax gets us back on track), but this setting is ultimately so imaginative and weird that I can live with a meandering narrative. 

 

Grade: B+

 

#161. Osmosis Jones (2001)

 

 

Doesn't surprise me to learn that this one bombed. I mean, I was a dumb eight-year-old in 2001, and even I wasn't especially interested in seeing it. And yet, there must've been something about the title and character design that made an impression on me, because here I was, a quarter century later, still kind of curious about what I was missing.

 

And... I actually quite enjoyed it. My younger self would've been pleasantly surprised. There's a Y2K feel to the animation, the upbeat R&B soundtrack (god, I miss this kind of music in movies), and the general sense of humour that hit my nostalgia bone, and I was really into the premise and worldbuilding. Just the concept of making characters out of human cells and organisms is genuinely clever (it's very Inside Out meets Magic School Bus), to such a degree that I'd have to imagine that the jokes and conflicts basically wrote themselves.

 

There's also some live-action stuff going on here, and while it's definitely on the lazy and lethargic side (especially given the over-reliance on gross-out humour, and the fact that Bill Murray's turning in another one of his "I'm way too good for this" performances), I still found it funny and energetic in a way that gels with the animation. But you might want to take that opinion with a few grains of salt - I'm a sucker for any movie that combines these two mediums.

Grade: B+

#139. Rango (2011)

 

 

As studio-backed animated films go, this is certainly a strange one. Even on just a visual level, I'm not really sure how I feel about it. The character designs are hideous, frankly, but Gore Verbinski also manages to bring a lot of life to the movie through detailed lighting and well-realized environments. Most of it pops off the screen - even, on occasion, the ugly freak creatures that inhabit it.

 

Shifting our attention to the story, it's not quite as memorable or unique as I'd like (especially in regards to the Liar Revealed plot, which has always, by far, been my least favourite kids' movie trope), but I love that it's willing to take its time and really bask in this blistering setting. No matter how ridiculous the action or comedy gets, there's a measured pace to the movie that captures the essence of westerns in a way that actually kinda surprised me.

 

When it comes to this medium, I'll always be partial to the likes of Disney and Pixar (forgive me, I was brainwashed from a very young age), but I can absolutely appreciate a big-budget animated movie that seeks to do something different. Especially when the results are this bizarre.

 

Grade: B+

#112. The Navigator (1924)

 

 

Thus far, the silent films I've covered haven't exactly rocked my world, so I thought I'd return to ol' faithful.

 

More than maybe any comic actor prior to... god, the seventies?, Buster Keaton still manages to make me laugh. It's all there in his stone face, limber body, flawless timing, and legitimately certifiable stunts. And even if his films lack the plotting and emotional depth of, say, a Chaplin movie, I think it's precisely that jokes-come-first prioritization that continues to make him so likeable and watchable (and besides, who really cares about plot in something like this?).

 

Of course, that's not to say that The Navigator is structurally flawless. It takes a little too long to get going (especially given the runtime), and much of the third act conflict with the cannibals has obviously not aged well. But everything in between - i.e. Keaton and Kathryn McGuire on the boat - is pure bliss. It's nothing but physical comedy and clever prop work, which is exactly what we came for.

 

There's also something I find especially cozy about this one. Probably has a lot to do with my love of large and largely empty settings (think The Overlook in The Shining, or the mall in Dawn of the Dead), of which this boat is a perfect example. It's grand and intimate at the same time, which adds an extra layer of warmth and comfort to the humour, in my opinion.

 

Grade: A

 

#104. The Living Daylights (1987)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 3-4

 

If you asked me, point blank, to pick a favourite movie franchise, I wouldn't have to think twice before answering: it's Bond. James Bond. I adore this ridiculous series, and have for roughly as long as I've been familiar with film as a medium (which is my way of preparing you in advance for a lot of unusually high grades). Like, were I to jot down a list of the hundred movies I watched the most when I was a kid, I'm dead certain that every one of the first twenty 007 entries would qualify. 

 

Well, make that nineteen. For whatever reason, I almost never returned to this one. Probably had something to do with the lame and underdeveloped villains, the downright convoluted (even by these movies' standards) plot, and my fraught feelings on Timothy Dalton. In any case, as recently as two days ago, I would've asserted that The Living Daylights was among my least favourite Bond adventures.

 

Not anymore. This past viewing finally made everything click for me. Yeah, the villains and plot are still pretty blah, but I was really taken with the tonal balance this time. It's just a solid mix of visual spectacle and grounded stakes, made even better by that killer opening, a strong supporting cast, generally solid pacing, and some of the best stuntwork in franchise history.

 

As for Dalton, I continue to find him a little uptight for this particular outing (his frigid presence gels much better with a darker tone, and we'd see in his one and only follow-up), but Maryam d'Abo humanizes him with perhaps the sweetest performance of any Bond Girl. The two are a cute pair.

 

Grade: A-

 

P.S. That Necros dude really needs to expand his musical library.

 

#93. The Rock (1996)

 

 

Look, I never said I was perfect, okay?

 

When it comes to '90s blockbusters, especially of the action variety, I'm embarrassingly easy to please. But, even with that in mind, I still have to cop to being surprised by how much I enjoyed The Rock. Michael Bay has never exactly been a favourite filmmaker of mine (shocker, I know), and it's not like this one's tonally or stylistically different from anything else he's made. So what was the secret ingredient here?

 

It could be a premise thing. I'm far more into the idea of "Die Hard on Alcatraz" than I am, say, "drillers in space" or "robots in disguise". Or it might be the fact that Bay wasn't leaning too heavily on obnoxious spectacle just yet (frankly, the whole thing feels more like it belongs to Jerry Bruckheimer, which might explain the quality). But I think the most likely answer is also the simplest one, and that's the cast.

 

When you combine the talents of Sean Connery (who's as suave as ever), Nicolas Cage (who's possibly at his most endearing), and Ed Harris (who certainly can't be accused of not committing), the material basically elevates itself. And when you then tack on some sincere humour and a plot involving the US military industrial complex, you're left with a movie that's at or near the top of its class.

 

Truly can't believe I hadn't seen this all the way through before now. 

 

Grade: A+

 

#78. Saludos Amigos (1942)

 

 

There are now over sixty entries in the Disney Animated Canon, and it's my goal to eventually get to all of them, so I figured it was time I finally knocked one out.

 

We're all familiar with the struggles Disney was facing in the '40s, and how they needed to resort to cheap package films during the war to stay afloat. Well, Saludos Amigos was the first of those "films" (it's only forty-two minutes long), and it mostly exists as both a tax write-off and a government-funded piece of propaganda aimed at Latin American goodwill.

 

And, uh, you can tell. This barely feels like a completed movie, especially relative to Walt's first five features. But I guess that's the thing: you can't really compare it to Snow White or Pinocchio, because it couldn't afford to aim that high. In other words, you have to judge it on a bit of a curve. And, to that end, I suppose I can still appreciate the cute animation and well-intentioned attempts at integrating some culture, even if it's all quite dry and unengaging and inessential. 

 

Suffice it to say, had this movie been made by any other company, it probably would've been completely forgotten by now.

 

Grade: C+

 

#77. The Black Pirate (1926)

 

 

Figured it was about time I gave another silent film a shot. Unfortunately, the results were about the same.

 

I mean, there's a lot to admire about The Black Pirate. The two-strip Technicolor process really holds up (and it gives the movie a certain immediacy that might've been lacking in a black & white format), the sets, ships, and costumes look exactly how you'd want them to, and the stunts continue to impress - especially on the occasions where Douglas Fairbanks effortlessly flies around from one end of the ship to the other.

 

Once again, though, the story and pacing didn't really do it for me. And I'm fully willing to admit that my modern attention span is likely the culprit (either that or the fact that the movie had such an influence on swashbucklers that it feels kinda cliche now). The first twenty minutes and last twenty minutes are pretty fun, as is the scene where Fairbanks single-handedly takes over that other ship, but I thought everything in between felt kinda sluggish and repetitive.

 

Ah well. I'm still holding out hope that a few of these early movies will eventually be to my liking - and not just in an "appreciation" kind of way.

 

Grade: B

 

#76. The Edge (1997)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 1-2, though I don't think I'd seen the entire thing from beginning to end before now.

 

The Edge belongs to possibly my all-time favourite quasi-genre: the '90s studio thriller. These movies are silly (compliment), disposable (another compliment), and stylistically nostalgic to me. They're like my form of cinematic comfort food, and I have a soft spot for almost all of them - particularly the ones I've long been familiar with.

 

Even putting all that aside, though, this movie's got some genuine muscle. It has stunning views, suspenseful action set pieces, and a sense of arduousness to it (by the end, these guys look legitimately battered and worn). Despite the pulpy and somewhat heightened presentation, it all feels real, which I guess is bound to happen when you use an actual bear in your production. Bart's the true MVP here.

 

Also making a difference are the humans involved. David Mamet's script injects some predictably sharp dialogue (with more than a few amusing anecdotes), and Alec Baldwin and Anthony Hopkins manage to create some compelling and ambiguous chemistry with one another. This isn't some hidden masterpiece or anything, but I think it's a lot more beautiful, heart-pounding, and entertaining than its reputation often suggests.

 

Grade: A-

 

#74. Pacific Rim (2013)

 

Guillermo del Toro makes action movies with the energy of a ten-year-old boy - and I mostly mean that as a compliment. Like, even when the results aren't to my taste, his enthusiasm is so palpable, and his artistry is of strong enough quality, that there's something infectious about it.

 

Take Pacific Rim, possibly his dumbest movie to date. The dialogue and characterizations and arcs are about as elementary as they come, and the premise is literally Robots vs. Aliens. I won't pretend that it's is my preferred brand of action, but I place this one above, say, a Transformers sequel thanks to its visual quality. And I'm not referring to the battle sequences (they're mostly bland and muddy), but the dialogue scenes, which contain enough stylistic weirdness and bioluminescent beauty to frequently remind you that an actual filmmaker was in control here.

 

It also helps that del Toro keeps everything relatively simple and dynamic, and his understanding of things like pacing and focus allows the rest of us to actually follow - and moderately care about - what's going on.

 

Grade: B

 

#73. The Big Blue (1988)

 

This movie's probably too much. It's almost three hours long, it's overblown, it's melodramatic, it's cheesy and sentimental as hell, and it contains zero subtlety. But I tend to be a sucker for those adolescent qualities, especially when they're drenched in atmosphere and nostalgia, so I was generally able to go along with it.

 

As you'd expect, the strongest sequences in The Big Blue are the ocean-related ones. This movie really captures the wonder and terrifying beauty of that mystical place, with nature doc-worthy photography and a portrayal reverent enough to put James Cameron to shame. And while the human element's not quite as strong (though maybe that's the idea; Jacques is clearly only happy when he's underwater or engaging with dolphins), I like the friendly rivalry between the two male leads, and Arquette and Reno give fairly affable performances, over-the-top as they are.

 

Is this movie as deep or complex as the setting its depicting? Not especially. But there's a hypnotic and cartoonish quality to it that I nevertheless found mesmerizing.

 

Grade: B+ 

 

#72. 8 Heads in a Duffel Bag (1997)

 

Yeah, I'm aware that this one has always had an absolutely abysmal reputation, but it's got too many of my cinematic vices (a crime story, some dark comedy, and Joe Pesci, to name three) for me not to have been a little curious. And it's probably thanks to those vices that I didn't hate the movie as much as most people seem to.

 

Granted, that's not to say that I liked it. The movie never quite manages to live up to its amusingly gruesome premise, the plot's too convoluted, a lot of the comedy doesn't land (especially the more exaggerated moments, which fly in the face of the darker subject matter), and Andy Comeau is just terrible as the co-lead. No offense to the guy, but pretty much anybody else would've been better suited for that role.

 

Again, though, the crime-comedy elements were generally my speed, especially when the movie wasn't afraid to get a little weird and macabre (the two best examples being the "Mr. Sandman" dream sequence and the instance where an obnoxious character suddenly gets thrown from a vehicle off a cliff). I'm verging on calling this one underrated, but that's not necessarily a hill I'd be willing to die on.

 

Grade: B-

 

#64. Iron Man (2008)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 3-4

 

I, like a lot of people, have a bit of a love/hate relationship with the MCU, a relationship that I'll explore more thoroughly at a later date. For now, I'll just say that I'm interested in seeing how well these movies hold up now that the Marvel empire has all but collapsed. The plan is to cover everything up to Endgame eventually, and it only makes sense to check them off in order (especially given the continuity), so let's start with the one that got the ball rolling. 

 

Watching Iron Man nowadays is a strange experience, not just due to how unwieldy the Avengers franchise became, but also given the current state of Hollywood. But that's not exactly fair of me, is it? Like, yes, this movie is arguably patient zero for much of what came later (safe storytelling, lifeless visuals, quippy dialogue, annoying fan service, post-credit stingers), but, taken on its own, I think it's a really solid origin story.

 

Something this movie gets right, and something many of its follow-ups got wrong, is scale. What really works for me is the simple story, the character-heavy drama, and the low-stakes conflict. It's refreshingly small and sweet, which causes Favreau's quick pacing and action bombast to feel like a welcome burst of energy, rather than a smothering, paint-by-numbers irritant.

 

Like most origin stories, though, the movie falls off a bit once Stark's backstory and suit are finished.

 

Grade: A-

 

#41. Nebraska (2013)

 

 

Prior Viewings: 1

 

While Alexander Payne has almost always been able to masterfully combine the heartbreaking with the heartwarming (I'm told Downsizing is the lone exception here, but I haven't seen that one yet), Nebraska comes with an added dose of tenderness. It's even quieter than his usual output, gently capturing the melancholy of the American Midwest through open landscapes and ordinary characters. 

 

This is a movie about the past (hence the beautiful black & white format), about rediscovery, and about possible redemption, and it's all held together by understated storytelling, simple-yet-effective camerawork, and a tremendously vague performance from Bruce Dern. You're never totally sure just how coherent the guy really is, even if his determination is certainly never in question.

 

I don't think this one quite reaches the same entertaining heights that Sideways and The Holdovers do (though I guess that's kind of the point), but it's still an amusing, emotional, and highly satisfying journey.

 

Grade: A