Review: Spiral: From The Book Of Saw

Image courtesy of Lionsgate.

The alleged origin story of "Spiral: From the Book of Saw" is more interesting than the film itself. The story goes something like this: Chris Rock, a longtime "Saw" fan, approached Lionsgate with an original idea for the at-that-point defunct series that the company's leaders found compelling and agreed to make it, giving Rock some creative freedom in the making of the picture.

Well, here it is, and there's little sign of whatever it is that the Lionsgate executives found so compelling. "Spiral" introduces a timely and relevant theme into its proceedings - corrupt and violent police behavior - and then does nothing interesting with it. Also, anyone who thought the addition of Rock and Samuel L. Jackson would liven up this dreary series was mistaken - instead, they've merely been sucked into its vortex.

As the film opens, Zeke (Rock) is an undercover cop infiltrating a violent gang of thieves, telling them a joke that reimagines the film "Forrest Gump" with Jenny as the villain. Once the bust occurs, his captain (Marisol Nichols) berates him for once again taking matters into his own hands. But who can blame him? Zeke has been ostracized in his department after turning in a corrupt partner who once shot and killed a witness who could identify a police officer who committed a crime.

Prior to our introduction to Zeke, we get one of those improbable "Saw" setups, this one including a crooked cop in Zeke's department who finds himself in a predicament in which he must either sacrifice his tongue - this was a cop, we're told, who frequently lied in courtrooms to get convictions - or his life to an oncoming subway train on a track. Needless to say, it all ends with a splat.

Against the wishes of his fellow officers, Zeke lands the case and, in the process, gets a new rookie partner named Schenk (Max Minghella), whose naivete is irksome at first to Zeke. Meanwhile, Jackson is Zeke's towering figure of a father, a former captain at Zeke's precinct who once protected his son from the dirty cops in the department who wanted to target Zeke after he turned in his former crooked partner.

All the while, someone pretending to be Jigsaw, the serial killer from the previous "Saw" movies, begins capturing bad cops and leaving them in dicey situations - one must choose between losing all of his fingers or being electrocuted, while another must choose between hot wax on the face or severing the spinal cord. As usual, these sequences emphasize the gruesomeness of the scenario, all the while glossing over how completely preposterous and, at this point, tired they've become.

Prior to its release, audiences were promised that "Spiral" would take the series - which at eight entries had long become stale and, to be honest, I never even liked the first movie - in a new direction and that "Spiral" would be more in the vein of a David Fincher film like "Seven," rather than another "Saw" movie. It's hard to see the difference between "Spiral" and the previous eight "Saw" movies - it's gory, ridiculous, has paper thin characters, is visually drab and features a lame, last minute twist that I figured out about 20 minutes into the film.

So, all that's left are the gory but lame death sequences; a central plot element that could have been compelling regarding police brutality and corruption, but is never addressed in a meaningful way; occasional histrionic acting and absurd flashbacks (one of which includes the funniest fake mustache in recent memory). The film is appropriately titled, considering how this latest entry into this exhausting series just circles the drain.

Review: Here Today

Image courtesy of Stage 6 Films,

Until it goes all in on a barrage of schmaltz during its final 15 minutes, Billy Crystal's "Here Today" - which the comedian wrote and directed - utilizes the surprisingly effective teamwork of Crystal and Tiffany Haddish to full effect. This is a funny, charming, witty, well written and somewhat serious look at the horrors of old age - that is, until it suddenly feels like a Hallmark Channel movie in the moments when the film is winding down. Those who can get past such things might find the film to otherwise be a genuine surprise.

In the film, Charlie Burnz (Crystal) is somewhat of an icon in the world of comedy - although his career trajectory doesn't exactly make sense. He is the "old guy" writer among a team of young people who write for a late night sketch comedy show, and once wrote Broadway plays and movie screenplays for comedies that have become legendary. In the real world, Burnz's career might have been flipped around, having written for the sketch show before graduating to big time movies and plays. But I digress.

The problem is that Charlie is in the early stages of some form of dementia. When we first meet him, he is walking to his job at the TV station, memorizing the route he takes. For now, his main goal is to not break routine, so he doesn't get confused. His boss on the sketch show obviously has affection for him, but some of the younger writers don't get why he's kept around. They come to realize that Charlie's affinity for what works on TV and what doesn't is spot on.

An early sign that he isn't doing well comes during a scene in which Charlie sits on the stage during a retrospective - at which Barry Levinson, Kevin Kline and Sharon Stone play themselves - and the audience thinks Charlie is joking when he acts as if he can't remember the names of the people on stage.

Meanwhile, Emma (Haddish) is an aspiring singer with a jerk of an ex-boyfriend, an actor who was obsessed with Charlie's work. Therefore, he bid $22 during a charity event to have lunch with Charlie, but Emma managed to keep the raffle ticket when they split up. That's how she meets Charlie. Although their luncheon doesn't go so well - Emma is apparently allergic to shellfish and the lunch date culminates at a hospital - they soon begin to bond.

After he pays her hospital bill, Emma is determined to befriend Charlie, especially after she is the only one to figure out that he has a health problem, while his busy children (portrayed by Penn Badgley and Laura Benanti) are too busy with their lives to notice. Charlie's goal, before he loses his senses completely, is to write a book dedicated to his late wife, a young artist with whom he was madly in love. She died years before in an accident, and it's clear that at least one of Charlie's children sort of blame him for it.

There are some funny and warm moments in the picture between Charlie and Emma - and Haddish and Crystal have surprisingly strong comedic chemistry. Also, thankfully, the film doesn't make the mistake of having Charlie and Emma provide important life lessons for one another of the type that films about friendships between people of two different races tend to include. They're just friends - and they show up for each other, most notably a hilarious bat mitzvah that Emma attempts to liven up.

This is a mostly sharp and witty film about two likable people whose unlikely friendship makes for some good laughs and some genuine displays of emotion. That, unfortunately, is nearly undone during a climactic scene in which Charlie - in the throes of dementia - wanders into the woods, and Emma and Charlie's family must go looking for him. The schmaltz factor is cranked up quite high in this scene, and although its last shot is a nice one, the final scenes come close to being a deal breaker. But it's the insight, strong writing and genuine warmth of the film that make it worth recommending. "Here Today" might not be Crystal's strongest work, but it's good to have him back.

Review: The Human Voice

Image courtesy of Sony Pictures Classics.

Pedro Almodovar's "The Human Voice" is essentially a one-woman - well, and dog - show starring Tilda Swinton that is ornamented and enacted in the typical Almodovar style: props and decor bursting with color, some melodramatic flourishes and a dab of dark humor here and there. It's also apparently based on a Jean Cocteau play titled "La Voix Humane" and runs a mere 30 minutes. It's the shortest film I've ever reviewed on this site, although it is by no means a slight trifle.

At the same time, it's a minor Almodovar film, but one that's effective and enjoyable enough. The picture opens with Swinton and her pup visiting a hardware store and her purchasing an axe, which might lead you to believe that some sort of foul play is in motion. Instead, she arrives home and puts the axe to use on a man's suit, which is neatly laid out on a bed.

Swinton's nameless woman then pops a mouthful of pills and guzzles it down with some wine before reclining on the bed and apparently hoping for death to overtake her. Instead, her dog licks her face to awaken her as the phone rings. She answers and engages in a long conversation that makes up most of the rest of the film's brief running time.

As it turns out, the woman has been involved with a man for the past four years, but now he has left - perhaps for another woman - and this phone call will be their last contact. The woman goes through the various stages of grief - at first, she attempts to make him believe she's doing fine and tells him she spent the previous evening at the theater with friends. Then, she tries bargaining with him, then threatens her own safety and then pleads with him for mercy.

This all leads to an ending that might seem on the surface to be apocalyptic - you'll know what I mean when you see the woman's most drastic action - but then it ends on sort of a lark involving the woman and her dog. Almodovar films often feature great tragedy and a fair amount of drama, but there's always room for redemption or levity.

A few years ago, Almodovar made his best picture in a decade with the remarkable and personal "Pain and Glory." "The Human Voice," on the other hand, is the type of small film that could be knocked off somewhat quickly to keep the creative juices flowing. It's enjoyable, Swinton carries the picture and the camera work is strong, especially considering the tight quarters in which it is mostly set, but it's not the type of movie to rank among the great Spanish director's best. 

Almodovar currently has more films in the works than he possibly ever has - there are several in various stages of production during the next few years - so until then, "The Human Voice" is an amusing little picture to keep fans satiated. 

Review: Mortal Kombat

Image courtesy of New Line Cinema.

Opening with a quote from Immanuel Kant... almost had you there, right? The reboot of the movie franchise of the adaptation of the controversial video game "Mortal Kombat" is neither any better or any worse than you'd expect it to be. It is, however, much more R-rated.

The "Mortal Kombat" films of the 1990s were kitschy and made for a younger audience, whereas this latest version is closer to the video game, I'd imagine - my familiarity with the game is somewhat limited - due to the high quotient of gory, albeit campy, violence. 

I'm not even going to try to compare this new film to the previous ones (I saw the first in 1995 and missed the poorly received sequel) or the video game, so suffice it to say this: "Mortal Kombat" essentially follows the story of a young MMA fighter named Cole Young (Lewis Tan), whose days in the cage appear to be coming to an end due to a string of losses. However, he's tracked down by a fighter named Jax (Mehcad Brooks), who tells him he's among a chosen group of warriors on Earth who must take part in a battle with some otherworldly ninjas - or something like that - for the sake of mankind. Etc.

Prior to all this, the film's main villain, Subzero (Joe Taslim), attacks and murders the family of another warrior named Hanzo (Hiroyuki Sanada) in 17th century Japan, and the feud between the characters' bloodlines informs the tournament into which Cole and several others - a soldier named Sonya Blade (Jessica McNamee) and an Australian mercenary named Kano (Josh Lawson) - have been drawn. As it turns out, Cole is a descendent of Hanzo's bloodline.

The film's middle section brings it somewhat to a halt when Sonya tells of a temple in a mountain where they all can train with the Earth's best warriors and, because it's convenient, Kano knows how to get there. One magical mystery tour and misty mountain hop later, the three of them find themselves being trained by a pair of the video game's most popular characters - Liu Kang (Ludi Lin) and Shang Tsung (Chin Han), who has a gnarly flying hat.

The point of all the training is for the characters to discover their "arcana" - or special powers - that they'll need for the tournament... which never actually comes. You see, the film's villains have tried to prevent the tournament for reasons much too exhausting to go into here, but the good guys manage to create their own makeshift tournament, in which they show up unexpectedly to challenge an assortment of baddies, which include a woman with creepy fangs, a dude with six arms, an armor-clad fighter, a guy wielding a massive hammer and, of course, Subzero.

To sum up the film's latter third: Much blood is shed. For a movie of this type, it delivers well enough when the old ultra-violence ramps up, but "Mortal Kombat" is otherwise pretty silly. It has some decent enough setpieces, but the aforementioned training session goes on way too long and the plot is so all over the place that you'd likely have to have been a devotee of the video game to know what the hell is going on. Regardless, the film's end sets up the inevitable sequel. The picture has its moments, although by its finale I was ready to shout, "Finish it!"

Review: Giants Being Lonely

Image courtesy of Gravitas Ventures.

Grear Patterson's "Giants Being Lonely" is stylish proof that its writer/director has some talent behind the camera, but the film's meandering story and aloof characters keep the picture at a remove and a ludicrous ending takes the film down a lurid route that's not justified by anything that has gone on before.

The brief film - which clocks in at just under 80 minutes - follows the travails of several players on a southern high school baseball team, but mainly spends its time with Bobby White (Jack Irv), the star pitcher who has a consistently drunk father and manages to find his way into the beds of local women (including the coach's wife, a woman who shrinks from her explosive husband), and Adam (Ben Irving), the seemingly troubled and somewhat shy coach's son who suffers abuse at the hands of his father (Gabe Fazio).

The most preposterous element of the film is the fact that anyone would allow Adam's father to coach the team. The man is a seemingly sociopathic loose cannon who doesn't so much inspire the team members to do well on the field, but rather than terrorize them and verbally abuse them before each game starts. Imagine if Dennis Hopper's character from "Blue Velvet" were coaching your child's baseball team. It's hard to fathom how anyone would let this guy mentor their kids.

Adam is awkward, and is surprised when a popular girl agrees to go with him to the prom. He's also jealous of Bobby - although he doesn't know that his teammate is sleeping with his mother - because of the attention he gets from being a great pitcher, and during one scene Adam slips some sort of drug into Bobby's water bottle during a game. Although it makes him slightly dizzy, he still pitches a winning game. Adam is constantly abused by his tyrannical father, who forces him to undergo some type of suffering to which we are not witnesses in a barn behind their house.

Bobby is even more of an enigma. Although his father is an alcoholic, there's no sense of abuse going on in the household - just, perhaps, some neglect. Bobby wanders his small southern town, often shirtless, and strips naked in front of a group of female classmates and dives off a bridge. He ambles about somewhat aimlessly, despite his great talent at the mound. His relationship with Adam's mother seems to exist for no reason as it ultimately goes nowhere.

The film's tone bounces all around. Much like another recent odd movie about youth titled "Ham on Rye," Patterson's film feels like a Richard Linklater hangout movie during its first half, but while "Ham on Rye" dives into Lynchian territory during its second half, "Giants Being Lonely" starts to feel like a horror movie shot by Terrence Malick.

The film culminates in a dreamy sequence during which Adam hosts an after-prom party at his home while his parents are supposedly out of town. The early scenes of the party are among the film's best visual moments - the dreamy music blends with the candy colored visuals to great effect. Unfortunately, the whole house of cards comes tumbling down with a last minute plot twist (if you could call it that) and the film's final shot is among the worst narrative decisions of recent memory.

"Giants Being Lonely" - which apparently gets its title from a line from a Carl Sandburg poem - shows promise for its writer/director, but that's about it. The film has its moments, although watching it involves a fair amount of extending one's disbelief - why, for example, do all of the lead characters look like members of a 1970s southern rock band? - and the final scene, which is supposed to be shocking, is an absurd cop out. Patterson obviously has talent, but I hope it's better utilized next time around.

Review: City Of Lies

Image courtesy of Saban Films.

Brad Furman's long delayed "City of Lies" - it was supposed to be released in 2018, but was held up for release for several years - is a case of a film that should have been much better than it is. The material is there - Detective Russell Poole's investigation into the murder of The Notorious B.I.G. and a reporter (Forest Whitaker as Jack Jackson, who is based somewhat on Randall Sullivan, who wrote the nonfiction "LAbyrinth") who is seemingly the only person who believes him - but the execution feels a little stale.

This is not a bad film, even though it's one that steals most of its moves from much better works of its type - namely, David Fincher's "Zodiac." Much like that masterwork, "City of Lies" plays like an obsessive's case files regarding an unsolvable mystery - in this case unsolvable because the LAPD seemingly doesn't want to solve it.

The fictionalized Jackson is a reporter writing a piece on the 20th anniversary of Biggie's death who becomes interested in Poole (Johnny Depp), once a decorated LAPD detective who has since been shunned by the department and now lives in an apartment with photographic evidence from the 1997 death of the iconic rapper strewn across his wall.

The strained nature of the relationship between Jackson and Poole seems to exist for dramatic purposes, and so do the endless scenes in which Jackson gets information from Poole, runs it by the LAPD, whose leaders dismiss it as nonsense and try to sway Jackson against Poole, only for him to run back to Poole to relay the messages. The manner in which Jackson is seemingly played by both sides so easily makes it hard to swallow that this is a guy who won the George Foster Peabody Award.

While Poole is dismissed as a crackpot by the department, according to this movie at least, Voletta Wallace (Biggie's mother) appears to trust him, and Poole's stories about crooked cops working for Suge Knight, the much feared Death Row records magnate who was seemingly both on good terms with the Bloods gang, but also allegedly had LAPD officers on his staff, some of whom - Poole claims - were involved in the Biggie shooting.

Various clips during the East Coast/West Coast feud in which Tupac Shakur and Wallace found themselves engulfed are strewn about the film as are some tidbits - apparently, rappers DJ Quik, Foxy Brown and Kurupt were attending the party where Wallace was before he was shot - and quite a bit of information from the investigation kept me interested throughout the proceedings.

And yet, "City of Lies" felt like a missed opportunity. There's some discussion early on about the history of the LAPD's abuses and mistreatment of black men - the Rodney King case is mentioned - and the OJ Simpson case comes into play (one of the allegedly dirty cops that Poole names was apparently represented by Johnnie Cochran), but all of that material was used to much better effect in the remarkable documentary "OJ: Made in America," whereas here it's just window dressing.

Whitaker does what he can with a role that was written to essentially move forward various plot points, while Depp gives a certain wary grace to Poole. But "City of Lies" is a whole lot of fascinating material in search of a better film. For those fascinated by the case, it'll do, but there have been better documentaries on this same subject matter.

Review: The Unholy

Image courtesy of Screen Gems.

Anyone seeking an extra portion of ham this Easter weekend will be well served by "The Unholy," a ridiculous religious horror movie about a journalist who thinks he has broken the story of lifetime involving a young girl who can perform miracles through God, only to find that she's at the service of - you'll never guess who, I'll let the Church Lady give you a hint - Satan!

The film follows the story of Gerry Fenn (Jeffrey Dean Morgan), a disgraced journalist whose career tanked some years before after he got caught writing embellished stories. One might think after four years of MAGA shouts of "fake news," it might not be great to encourage further violence against the media, but here we are.

Yes, Gerry fits the bill perfectly for the sinner in need of a spiritual makeover - he's a heavy drinker, pretty shady and will do anything to get a story. In fact, we first meet him as he tries to convince a farmer to rearrange a scene after being sent on assignment to cover a story about satanic symbols seemingly being placed on cows, so that the story looks more legit. I'm not going to even bother to go into how unrealistic it is that Gerry would be getting paid $150 to do an out-of-town story on satanic symbols on cows by any respected news source. While there, he stumbles upon a creepy doll and smashes its head, which sets the events of the story in motion.

While driving one night, he nearly runs over a mute girl named Alice (Cricket Brown), who he follows to a tree, where she appears to be getting some sort of sign from beyond. It should be noted that the film's very first scene is set in 1845, and involves a woman - a witch, I'd imagine - being burned on that tree. Suddenly, Alice is able to talk, Gerry wants to get the exclusive on the story and the entire town begins calling upon Alice to perform miracles, thinking that the "Mary" who she claims is speaking through her is, you know, the virgin one.

An old priest named Father Hagan (William Sadler) who cares for Alice - he's her uncle - thinks things look too good to be true, and he warns Gerry in the words of Martin Luther that when God sets up a church, Satan sets up a chapel nearby. Sort of like how you often see hotels clumped together in otherwise vacant areas - you know, to catch the spillover. I digress.

A monsignor named Delgarde (Diogo Morgado) and a muckety muck from the Catholic church played by Cary Elwes - who is also seemingly possessed by a southerner and a Bostonian because his accent keeps switching back and forth between the two - show up to assess the situation. Delgarde's specialty is apparently disproving miracles because I'm sure the Catholic church pays for such things. 

Even more useful to Gerry is Dr. Natalie Gates (Katie Aselton), a local doctor who often speaks to Alice via sign language (that is, before she regains her speech) and can seemingly translate Latin. That's helpful when Gerry stumbles upon diaries written in the dead language, and Dr. Natalie is able to give him all sorts of warnings about the evil presence in town. She can really do it all. I'm guessing Dr. Natalie is a general practitioner. 

If the film's plot is ridiculous, then its execution is even more so. The film features what has to be the least convincing scene ever made of two people bursting through a door and landing on the pavement. It also includes a scene in which a man is killed by a slowly falling burning cross that probably could have been avoided by anyone under the age of 85. The man killed was likely in his 30s.

There are a few decent jump scares in "The Unholy," although it features the type of repetitiveness often scene in horror films of this type. For example, every night Gerry returns to his hotel and, like clockwork, a spectral presence appears to linger behind him as he makes his way to his room. Also, statues in the town's church continuously bleed from the eyes, but only when no one is around to notice, which seems to defeat the purpose.

Regardless, "The Unholy" is not particularly good. There have been so many movies of this type that, at this point, one would need to do something drastic to distinguish itself. This one doesn't. As such, it's merely a silly entry into an exhausted subgenre.