January isn’t known as as particularly good month for new film premieres – studios generally view the month as a dumping ground for their less-than-stellar material. The best films to find in theaters this month are mainly those that had their debuts in December – namely, Christmas blockbusters and Oscar-season hopefuls.
The three films up for discussion today all had their premieres in late December, both in theaters and on streaming platforms. One is a blockbuster wannabe, one an Oscar hopeful, and one an eclectic mix of both. I have thoughts on all of them, so let’s get to it.
The Matrix Resurrections
Are you sick of franchise sequels? Are you tired of pointless brand extensions? Are you bored of nostalgic cash-grabs? Good news, compadre; Hollywood has got just the brand-extending cash-grab sequel for you!
Matrix Resurrections carries the unmistakable flavor of a studio-mandated film. Debuting nearly two decades after the conclusion of the original Matrix trilogy, it is a movie meant to remind us of the glory days of Neo, Trinity, and 360-degree freeze-frames. If you were wowed by the original Matrix in theaters in 1999, if you obsessed over the film’s moral and ethical implications and debated the concept of “redpilling” before that word (like so much else) turned toxic, this is the movie for you.
Except… it also isn’t. Director Lana Wachowski (handling solo duties this time, after sharing credit on the original three films with Lily) was reluctant to revisit the series after the 2003 conclusion of Revelations, but has found a clever loophole – Resurrections is a franchise sequel that hates the concept of franchise sequels. The first 45 minutes are chock-a-block full of digs at IP branding by way of unsubtle metaphor. Thomas Anderson (Keanu Reeves, staying fit between John Wick movies) is introduced as a tech developer who has created a trilogy of Matrix video games. When his corporate overlords request a fourth installment, he is reluctant to dilute the brand, but he no longer has the final say; pretty soon, his fellow techies are eagerly debating the merits of bullet time.
The first act of Resurrections quickly turns into an internal tug-o-war. For all its bluster about nostalgic revivals, the film is more than happy to replay clips (lots of clips) from the original trilogy, and to once again introduce Thomas/Neo to the wonders of the Matrix. After a while, it becomes clear that the meta-commentary’s prime purpose is to serve as a preemptive shield against criticism against the film’s key role as a piece of corporate brand extension.
It’s almost a shame when the uncertain tone of these early scenes gives way to full-blown muddle, as the story brings us back to the Real World – as in, the dreary, flat, uninvolving environment of Zion. (Because of course we didn’t spend enough time there in Revelations.) This development, not coincidentally, comes with a load of expositional gobbledygook, as well as a slew of surprisingly bland action sequences. No one expects this film to change the game the way the original did in ’99, but the image of Keanu Reeves forcefully “pushing” at people without making physical contact can’t hold a candle to the first Matrix‘s freeze-frame kicks and slo-mo gunfire.
There are moments in the film’s second half which take advantage of the Matrix’s visual potential (a scene of dive-bombing killer bots is particularly memorable). And the cast features some worthwhile new additions – as Morpheus, Yahya Abdul-Mateen II brings a level of playful mystery to the character previously inhabited by Lawrence Fishburne, and Jessica Henwick is fun as one of the rebels who enlist Neo to their cause. And while the romantic chemistry between Keanu Reeves and Carrie-Ann Moss is as nonexistent as ever, both actors still know how to acquit themselves in a fight.
But too much of Resurrections feels slack and tired, not to mention incoherent. In condemning the typical Hollywood sequel as soulless and unnecessary, it does an admirable job of proving the point.
Score: 4/10
Being the Ricardos
Aaron Sorkin is no stranger to stories set behind the scenes on a television production – he’s created no fewer than three TV shows based on that premise, at least one of which was even worth watching. In recent years, he’s garnered more acclaim for his film scripts, with historical biopics about Mark Zuckerberg, Steve Jobs, and Molly Bloom. And with his latest film, he combines the bones of Sports Night and Studio 60 with the meat of The Social Network and Moneyball. And the result is… well, it’s certainly an Aaron Sorkin film.
Set in the early ’50s, during the dawn of the first Golden Age of television, Being the Ricardos tells the story of Lucille Ball (Nicole Kidman) and Desi Arnaz (Javier Bardem), the stars and producers of broadcast’s original megahit, I Love Lucy. Ball is the key focus, and through flashback the film charts her course from has-been movie starlet to burgeoning TV queen. Fame comes at a cost, though, and as the film highlights, that may be her relationship with Desi, whose aloof behavior drives a rift between husband and wife, even as they turn into America’s #1 couple when the cameras flip on.
As with his other biopics, Sorkin takes plenty of artistic liberties – and for noted TV nerds (such as yours truly) they may be more noticeable than usual. (The film is set during Season Two of Lucy, yet the story is framed around the filming of “Fred and Ethel Fight,” an episode from Season One. Furthermore, the story coincides Ball’s pregnancy with her interrogation from HUAC, despite the fact that those events took place years apart. Other historical continuity issues abound; don’t treat the text as gospel, is what I’m saying.) But such liberties are fine, so long as they’re used well in service of the characters and story. And the tightening of events to base them all around a single week is well used in this context, as a way of displaying all that different pressures Ball is under and how she inhabits the brighter and simpler life of Lucy Ricardo as a way of coping with life offscreen.
And as a character study of the most famous woman in television, Being the Ricardos almost works. It falters only when you put it in context of being an Aaron Sorkin drama. If you’re familiar with the rhythms and cadences of a Sorkin script, you know exactly what you’re getting with this film – characters trading smug and witty comebacks, characters using ten words in a sentence when four will suffice, characters rattling off their résumés as though they expect a talent scout to leap out from behind the nearest potted plant. (At several points during this film, I found myself shouting “Sorkin moment!” at the screen. Yes, I watch these movies alone, why do you ask?)
Obviously, every writer has their own stylistic imprint (see Shonda Rhimes or Amy Sherman-Palladino or a pre-toxic Joss Whedon), and Sorkin is no exception. But Being the Ricardos has a tougher hurdle to clear than his prior scripts, because it is focused on some of the most well-known faces in TV history. At no point do we see Ball and Arnaz and Vivian Vance and William Frawley as actual people; we always see them as Kidman and Bardem and Nina Arianda and JK Simmons. The generally talented Kidman gets saddled with the heaviest burden – she has to play both the widely recognizable Lucille Ball and the protagonist of an Aaron Sorkin movie, and it’s a balancing act that proves near-impossible.
Though he’s previously worked with renowned directors like David Fincher and Danny Boyle, Sorkin has recently begun getting behind the camera on his own scripts, and the resulting look for Being the Ricardos is pretty flat. The sitcom scenes benefit from staid camerawork, but the rest of the film is indistinguishable from standard TV movie fare, and the use of fake interview footage adds little novelty. There are a lot of good ideas pinballing around this film, but not enough are given room to shine.
Score: 5/10
Don’t Look Up
Speaking of Aaron Sorkin – there have been a lot of recent parallels made between him and another Hollywood director who’s fast gained attention from the Oscar crowd. The comparisons between Aaron Sorkin and Adam McKay largely seem modeled on the fact that both are men with a lot on their minds, and more than willing to use their movie camera as a bully pulpit – even if they often wind up preaching to the choir.
But Sorkin, to his credit, usually starts with an external idea and a character-centric focus, with the messages typically used as window dressing. McKay (who began his career with straight comedies like Anchorman before taking a hard left turn towards political theater) starts with his messages, and hammers them home with all the subtlety of a power drill.
In Don’t Look Up, McKay spends 138 minutes raining anvils down on an audience that is thoroughly familiar with the sound of each clang. The film tells the story of a devastating comet on a collision course with Earth, and the two hapless scientists (Leonardo DiCaprio and Jennifer Lawrence) who desperately try to get the politicians, the military, and the hoi polloi to care. Easier said than done; most of those rubes are too busy fiddling with their phones to glance up at the flaming ball of death hurtling towards them. Lol, kids today!
As with Vice, McKay’s chief critique isn’t so much the issue at hand but his frustration over the dearth of people who care about it. Which is, of course, a weird critique to level at the people who hit play on Netflix and resisted the temptation to switch over to The Witcher at any point in the next two-plus hours. (I count myself among this dubious cadre.) But hey, at least Vice offered some ironic pleasures in its knowing twist of historical events (and in McKay’s continued hatred of the Bush administration a decade past its conclusion). Don’t Look Up, on the other hand, has no historical backdrop. It’s set not on the recent past but in a potential future – “based on truly possible events,” the tagline tells us – and thus its satirical undertones (a term I use far too kindly) must stand or fall on their ability to tap into our own volatile present.
And this is where Don’t Look Up misses, wildly and often. In taking on the most basic and broad of targets (mainstream news, social media, the Trump administration), the film struggles to say anything of humor or substance. Indeed, much of the story weathers at the mercy of the message – the President (Meryl Streep, in what may be her least Oscar-worthy role that will presumably still earn her an Oscar nom) waffles from not caring about the comet to supporting its destruction to simply denying its existence, depending on the whims of the script.
The all-star cast can only do so much to liven such staid material, and often doesn’t even rise to their usual standards. Too-fleeting laughs come from a few inspired casting choices, such as Ron Perlman as an Army dinosaur and Cate Blanchett as an ever-peppy morning talk show host, but many of the talents are wasted. DiCaprio (whose character turns from sympathetic scientist to bad Facui caricature and back – again, all at the mercy of the film’s message) comes off particularly weak, more interested in providing lectures than entertainment.
But then, I get the sense that McKay isn’t interested in entertainment; he has axes to grind and a large studio budget with which to sharpen the blades. And based on the widespread buzz the film is generating (notably from a few vocal defenders who insist that the film’s message somehow makes it impervious to criticism), those efforts seem to be paying off. But just because McKay sees fit to make a $75 million Twitter rant doesn’t mean people need applaud him for confirming a series of priors that no one outside his target audience will even care to hear.
Score: 3/10
Happy new year, folks! I’ve toyed with the “Movie Roundup” format a couple of times in the past, but I’m now trying to make it more of a semi-regular occurrence. A way to talk about new movies that don’t necessarily merit full articles on their own, but still deserve some level of discussion. If it works out, maybe I’ll try for some “TV Roundup” article as well. It’s all experimental at this point. I’ve only been blogging on this site for ten years; do you really think I’d have figured it out already?
Critically Touched 