Wonka

Please share Wonka with someone you love. Not only does it capture the excitement that chocolate can bring, it reminds us of the deeper truth behind the feeling: It is a gift to share moments with your special people.

The story is that Willy Wonka finally has a chance to sell chocolate in the big city! He’s poor, young, and illiterate, but the lad has a heart of gold—and well, the most incredible chocolates the world has ever seen! Made with fantastical ingredients, these chocs can somehow create a feeling that the eater needs, right then.

Of course, small print and big business want to take advantage. They make it difficult for Wonka (and his new friends) to live their dreams.

What to do? Give up, or use creativity and hard work and friends to make the day brighter? Become greedy, or sing songs to express your emotions, because you’re too important not to be yourself?

Folks, take notes and enjoy. Wonka is the best of cinema: both entertaining and meaningful.

Spider-Man: No Way Home

It’s way deep down, I think. The one, irreducible reason why we watch movies. We want to feel again how we felt that very first time, when something on a screen had us thinking, just, WOW.

Sometimes I think chasing that sensation is useless. And then a movie like Spider-Man: No Way Home comes along and I have hope again. Just, WOW.

I’ll get to the story in ten seconds, but at the risk of overstating things, it’s hard to understate how well written, produced, and acted this movie was. The action/adventure/thrills are entertaining, yes; but more importantly, they are held together by the strands of a believable coming-of-age story. In this one, empathy and love don’t always make things easier. Characters—both good and bad—have nuanced internal struggles. This is a superhero movie, matured.

Peter Parker therefore struggles for much of it. This good-natured, rather jacked teen is trying to figure out how to best live in a world that villainizes his superhero alter ego, Spider-Man. His loved ones (Aunt May, girlfriend MJ, friend Ned) usually keep him grounded, but he’s tired of the dramas of his life hurting theirs. So he asks an older, wiser fellow superhero, Dr. Strange, for help. Oh child, how the problems do follow.

If you ever have the chance, I would recommend not pulling on a loose string in the fabric of space and time. To share any other plot points with you would be to spoil (several, wonderful) WOW moments, but it’s sufficient to say that this movie is as fun and funny as it is surprising and deep. Truly a blockbuster.

Sure, you’ll enjoy the story far more if you’re a fan of comic books, previous Marvel or Spider-Man movies. But I wouldn’t consider myself much of either, and boy—no, man—have I been trapped in this web. I am so happy about it.

Dune

Tell me—what did you dream of last night?

For Paul, the answer never changes: a face bathed in warm light and swimming sands, whispering. Of what, we don’t know. But the dreams seem meaningful all the same.

Perhaps they’re just the byproduct of a little excitement; the Emperor has chosen Paul’s family to take over the desert planet called Arrakis, after all.

You’ll find out soon enough. And long before that, you’ll realize that this movie is magnificent. The worldbuilding is heart-stoppingly beautiful; the story, spicy. Polticial, religious, and romantic intrigue swirl around everything from persons to planets.

But brining things back down to Arrakis for a second, it’s quite popular. Scorching sun and monstrous sandworms won’t stop an endless caravan of colonizers; the sand here has spice, and spice fuels interstellar travel. Arrakis’s natives, the Fremen, are therefore forever subject to the whims of power-hungry outsiders looking to profit.

Paul’s Atreides family (from their own lush and oceanic planet) might be different. They sympathize with the plight of the Fremen and value their ways. But even so, when the Emperor asks you to do something, you do it.

So we follow the family’s journey in governing a new world—and we do so from Paul’s perspective. The smart young man with the dreams has a special aura about him. Likely inherited and cultivated by his mother, Jessica, who is as quiet as she is cunning. When the two spend time together speaking in all sorts of languages, it’s clear that in this universe of different things, they are yet still different . . .

The introduction to Paul’s life and home—like the introduction to Arrakis, the other power players and their home planets—is a feast for the eyes. The moviemakers give us breathtakingly realistic and impressive vistas. Everything from the haze over an alien city down to the woodworking detail in a living room adds to the gravity of what we’re witnessing. This feels real. Real culture; real history; real lives at stake.

When the Atreides meet the Fremen, things do not go as smoothly as anyone would like. And complicating this is the Harkonnen, who the Emperor has chosen the Atreides to replace—and who are desperate to have their position back.

Dune is not action-packed, but boy is it an adventure. Rather like a dream that moves you, it is so real, so filled with things you recognize, and yet so very different from what you’ve experienced before.

Vivo

Has your life gone the way you thought it would?

Or does it sometimes feel like you’re just a monkey, flailing around in a complicated world? Well, Vivo can relate with the latter.

OK, he’s a kinkajou, not a monkey. Irrelevant! What matters is that he can sing and dance! Along with friend Andres, he busks at the local plaza. Connection and fulfillment in sunny Havana, Cuba; what’s not to love?!

A letter. A letter written by someone from Andres’s past, asking him to travel all the way to the United States. The old man is ready for this, probably his last big adventure. But Vivo is not. His world was once big and scary, before he found meaning in Andres and his music, and he’s not ready to lose either.

But life happens, doesn’t it? Vivo finds himself journeying alone to Miami, and in doing so, re-learning what it means to engage with his surroundings.

It’s a sweet story, and very often funny. This world is colorful; its animation, in that sweet spot between campy and hyperrealistic. And though a cute, singing animal can do no wrong, Vivo’s friend-along-the-way Gabi, played by Ynairaly Simo, steals the show. Not only is her character (arc) adorable and instructive, Ynairaly’s performance hits high notes across the emotional spectrum.

Music, of course, rounds out the movie. The songwriting is recognizably modern (and recognizably Lin-Manuel Miranda), though rooted firmly in its Afro-Cuban inspiration.

Vivo’s earliest scenes may be on the nose, but that doesn’t bog it down. It’s an energetic, fun family movie—and one whose best parts, funnily enough, are its heavier scenes. When the music stops and the hard work of feeling begins, characters and audience alike have a chance to reflect.

So what if life doesn’t always go the way you thought it would? If it did, how could it ever be better than you had imagined?

Free Guy

Do we need another movie about the rat race? Well, why not? Creatives gonna create, and we can always take it or leave it.

As for Free Guy, you might just leave it.

In this one, we follow handsome but plain Guy. Good morning!, he says to his goldfish each day. What an exceptional experience!, he croons, sipping the same coffee he always orders. Ryan Reynolds’s performance here is typical: Quip after quip gives the feeling of a lively character, but a restrained delivery has us questioning if the character—or the actor—has anything else to offer. The answer is yes and no.

You see, this is no repetitive time-loop movie. Though Guy (and everyone else in his world) sticks firmly to the comfort zone, Guy chases his (apparently unique) intuition that there must be more to life. Mundane but honest banter with his security-guard office-pal (played sweetly by Lil Rel Howery) brings a certain charm to the movie.

And it’s funny, too, in large part because Guy is a stooge. Literally. He is a background character in a video game. As tanks rampage through his city and as his office is robbed he doesn’t blink an eye. This makes about two thirds of the movie a running joke—and one that often pleases. It’s a novel idea, seeing a game from the perspective of a clueless insider, and a good metaphor for our own lives sometimes.

When the jokes don’t cut it anymore, the movie tries to level up by introducing a couple of programmers involved with Guy’s universe. One works for the game’s host company; the other plays the game. Their three paths eventually cross in unexpected, cute, and dangerous ways. And this is where the movie lost me.

The programmers might have feelings for each other; the computer might be sentient; the head of the game company might be evil. Yadda yadda. Not only do parallel, drawn-out storylines fail to keep the movie fun, they refocus it away from truly interesting ideas: Guy, our thinking, feeling protagonist who dared for something greater in his life, was in true human fashion being used all along as a tool to tell a less interesting human story.

Watch Free Guy and you might find Easter eggs about intelligence, or love, or evolution. That can be nice. But those tidbits don’t make up for the logic errors in this movie’s programming.

The Green Knight

Oh, the silly games we play . . . the things we do for what we think we need . . .  

So, what do you play for? More stuff? More money? Or do you yearn for those intangibles like love, or recognition?

Young Gawain usually plays for pleasure. As King Arthur’s nephew, he’s able to take advantage of all the bounty that medieval times can possibly offer. Drink and women seem to be high on the list. 

But he wants more—honor, to be exact. Inadequacy gnaws at his brain as he sits among legends like the King and his knights. Connected he is, but proven he is not. As luck (or something else?) would have it, a special challenge might solve Gawain’s problem.

On Christmas, when gifts are exchanged, the Green Knight visits the King’s court. And our world is changed forevermore. 

This knight is something wild. Unnaturally natural. When he offers a test that not even Arthurian legends will take, Gawain licks his puppy lips and bites.

What follows is a dark, mystical, and fantastical journey. The moviemakers—and without a doubt, the writer and director David Lowery—have reveled in the fact that the tale of Gawain and the Green Knight is centuries old and has many different versions: They’ve taken a cue from this and flooded their own telling with symbolism, double entendres, camera tricks, actor re-use, stunning sound and visuals and other tools that, quite simply, confuse us to high heaven. This is not a bad thing.

Legends exist for a reason, regardless of whether we can decipher it. They make us feel a certain way about the nature of the world and how we make our place in it. The Green Knight’s moviemakers understand this, play with it, and bask in it. Give this movie a watch with that in mind, and you just might awe in the confusion, too.

The Loneliest Whale: The Search for 52

There’s a whale out there who has swam alone all of its life, crying into the vast nothingness of the oceans and never hearing a reply.

What a sad story—and one that we are all too ready to believe is true. You see, we don’t actually know the details of 52’s life. The scant data we have simply tells us that it communicates at a frequency which we haven’t encountered before or since. 52 hertz, hence the name, 52.

The Loneliest Whale is the riveting story of the first ever search for 52 in the flesh—if it’s still out there. We learn about the military who first discovered this phenomenon, the civilian scientists who dedicated years to studying the unknown, and one moviemaker who, like so many others, had his life change after learning this story.

The movie condenses years of preparation—and shows mere days of electric, open-sea adventure—in a way that puts the videos you watched in science class to shame. It’s a modern-day treasure hunt which also explores why so many people identify with an animal yearning for connection.

This duality is what makes the movie. It’s curious and playful even as it helps us contemplate serious (and sometimes uncomfortable) questions about connection and meaning in our world. The pace is smooth and engaging, and yet in only one hour and thirty-six minutes is still reminiscent of the highs and lows of life: Brief moments of ecstasy as we approach majestic creatures are balanced out by the more typical—and many—mundane moments. 

Having hooked us with all that, the movie draws us in with booming, plaintive whale songs. I could listen to these endlessly. It’s a language like ours, from a creature who thinks and feels and has families. Hearing it, knowing this, will have the sound resonate through every fiber of your being. This is just one example of how the movie will affect you.

The needle in the haystack may never have been so thoughtfully used to weave a story.

Space Jam: A New Legacy

To succeed, don’t do what you want; do what they tell you.

This is what LeBron James—perhaps the greatest basketball player of all time—tells his computer-code-wiz son, Dom. By working hard and pushing computer games aside, he says, one can provide for themself and their whole family.

LeBron may be right. And this is a big problem.

You see, Al G. Rhythm is jealous of it all. The fame, the adoration. As an algorithm for Warner Brothers Studios, his work creating movies has gone unloved and unrewarded. But not anymore.

Al has a plan to finally win over the hearts of humans: He will kidnap LeBron and Dom and challenge them to a game of high-stakes basketball. Oh, and whereas Al’s teammates will be NBA and WNBA superstars, LeBron must pick his crew from the lowliest of the low, some stale old Warner Brothers intellectual property called the Looney Toons.

If you have questions at this point, I have answers. Yes, this movie is ridiculous. Yes, about half of it is as stiff and try-hard as you’re afraid it’s going to be.

In fact, it feels like Warner Brothers rushed through the brainstorming phase and made this movie purely to advertise its previous hits: It constantly ties characters, quotes, and even clips from its more successful movies into this story. Sometimes it works, but most times it doesn’t. It’s uncomfortable and embarrassing to watch a studio stoop this low, just as it’s embarrassing to think that in what was clearly planned as a blockbuster advertisement for itself, it decided to have its own computer—the thing that we’re supposed to believe creates its movie ideas—be evil. (Let’s not even think about the computer knowing that the Looney Toons have overcome impossible odds to win a basketball game before, and that it has decided to attain human validation by beating down a human admired by millions of people.)

So, this movie may be the most expensive, least effective advertisement of all time. But it’s not all bad. LeBron’s conflict with his son Dom is believable, and Dom’s acting is genuinely good. LeBron’s slighty-more-stiff delivery even punches up a few one liners. And the second half of the movie almost redeems the first: It reinvigorates the clever ridiculousness of the Looney Toons of old, toying with our natural instincts and creating laughs for the whole family. 

But that’s not enough. Although light and family-friendly, Space Jam: A New Legacy is a forgettable movie. Though “don’t overthink it” can sometimes be good advice about a movie, this is more a “don’t think it at all” one, which, if you ask me, is not a worthy way to spend your valuable time.

America: The Motion Picture

Lest you forget that the Declaration of Independence was written over a game of beer pong, or that Washington and Lincoln were totes besties . . . behold, America: The Motion Picture.

It throws whatever you know about American history into a blender, and pours out a raunchy, pun-filled adventure. Namely, some of America’s biggest names form a supergroup to, well, form the nation.

It’s mostly outrageous, and often hilarious. Take Sam Adams. He’s just a beer-chugging college bro, with blind dedication that’s somehow endearing—and racist giggles that’re telling. The writing respects people’s contributions while acknowledging their (grievous) faults. But what’s it all for?

Washington is our main character, and his inner journey leads him to realize that what makes America great is its openness. But in a whiplash moment even for such a wacky story, the movie ends with Americans fighting because of their differences, and Washington losing hope.

This is disappointing. If the moviemakers wanted to make a ridiculous, fun movie, they could’ve done so. But they brought in philosophy, and only did half the work.

Free thinking is not just a luxury, it is a responsibility to approach other ideas with patience and charity—especially if you disagree. The moviemakers seem smart enough to understand this, so the next time they make a movie about their country burning down, they’d do better than to simply draw a caricature from across the street, point, and laugh.

Stowaway

Stowaway has a major malfunction—yet still works.

That’s because, when you watch people blast off into space, you get invested. It’s only natural, rooting for the home team.

What’s more, we can identify with each of the three crewmembers on a personal level. Whether by ambition, altruism, or curiosity, their reasons for going to Mars ring true.

The issue—which is also what makes most of the movie suspenseful and nerve-racking—is that there’s a stowaway on this rocket ship. Yes. In something engineered down to the smallest detail, an entire human somehow managed to squish in.

So what to do?

Well first, push the ridiculousness of this scenario out of your mind. Then, soak in how human ingenuity and emotion can blaze through the dark vacuum of space. The ship wasn’t built to handle four people, and things aren’t looking good, but we are seeing one of life’s most pressing questions being worked through in real time: We didn’t ask to be here, but now that we are, who will help themselves, and who will help each other?

Wolfwalkers

r e v i e w

Do you remember your favorite bedtime story? The bedsheet fuzz which lulled you to sleep, as you and your loved ones explored worlds? This is one of the treats of childhood, difficult to replicate as we age.

But we try. And it’s more than just nostalgia-seeking, or a bribe to sleep. We tell bedtime stories to teach our most vulnerable, receptive minds the knowledge of generations. We want them to know what we know, and more, without them having to endure the hardship. It is a rational and laudable goal.

The story from Wolfwalkers seems made for this ritual. But is it worthy of it?

Robyn would say yes. She’s an adventurous young girl, ready to explore the world. While father sets wolf-traps in the forest, she shoots her crossbow around the house. Sure, chores are important, but higher callings even moreso. Like catching wolves.

That’s our first problem. Robyn’s higher callings have been chosen for her: by her father (to keep her safe) and by the Lord Protector (to keep her civilized). The three are English invaders, and must be careful in this wild, pagan Ireland.

And that’s our next problem. Whether it be the Irish hunting wolves or the English hunting the Irish, nobody seems to get along. So when Robyn sneaks out of the house, difficulties surround.

What she doesn’t expect is to befriend a wolfwalker named Mebh. But this part-human, part-wolf teaches Robyn more about family and harmony than any civilization has.

The moral of the story—that all living things are connected and deserving—is certainly bedtime story material. The idea that we must care for the planet while caring for ourselves is demonstrated tenderly. But the movie loses force when it picks its bad guy.

Here, that bad guy is a different religion. The Lord Protector quells wolf and human rebellion alike, and sees the Irish’s close connection with nature as something dangerous. To be tamed. This religiously-motivated awfulness is subtle, and will likely be lost on children who are paying attention to the story of two brave girls encountering danger and caring for family. And the movie is a quality one; vividly animated, touching, and family-friendly. But bedtime story material it is not.

Bedtime is for bedrock values, and this movie isn’t consistent about its own. It disparages colonialism and indenturing groups of people with the intention of making their lives better—however misguided such behavior is—while it takes no issue with its heroes using nature and other animals—even taking over their bodies and consciousness—to suit human purposes. Both “religions” are using the world around them for their own purposes and doing what they think is best for the less fortunate. The movie overlooks this fact in its search for something worthwhile to share.

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s t a n d o u t s — **spolier alert**

(1) It’s All About Perspective

In one sense, this story pits civilization and its strictures against the wild and its freedom. Even the Irish, who serve the English, fear unbridled nature and will take English help to tame it. The moviemakers’ animation styles weave in with this theme.

For example, scenes of the town are largely in two dimensions. Perspective is flattened, and highlights the symmetric, grey monotony of civilized life. There is no flourish here, no growth. Just the various cages we live in called home, town, city.

Compare that to scenes of the forest, where wolves and other creatures live together in balance. For these scenes, the animators show a lush, deep, three-dimensional world. Colors and lines are never the same. Here we see life flourishing; wild beauty unchecked.

Each kind of animation is striking, and a thing to behold. But maintaining their differences throughout adds depth to the movie.

My Salinger Year

A movie about writing? Sounds risky. Everyone knows that words trigger; words attack. And worse still, words can be boring. Still with me?

The thing is, words make us who we are, and give us what we know. Actions speak loud enough, but when that moment has passed, I bet you’re going to say something. Because words matter.

Few people understand that this is a powerful magic. Even fewer like it enough to become magicians. We call them writers. And Joanna wants to be one.

She’s not sure how, but she’s determined. So she moves to New York and goes to open mic poetry. Sounds about right. How about taking a job as a literary agent’s assistant (whatever that means)?

Joanna will find out soon enough. It means typing form letters, shredding fan mail—and answering calls from J.D. Salinger.

Wow. Joanna is so close to great writing. But is it her writing? Here’s our conflict.

Watching Joanna learn the tricks of the trade is like visiting a new bookstore: It’s quiet but exciting, fresh but recognizable. If you’ve read this far, chances are you’ll like it.

The Night is Short, Walk On Girl

Remember that best night ever? When somehow, everyone out was tapped into the same line of electricity in the air?

This movie is that night, thanks to The Girl with the Black Hair. She knows life is short, so she’s going to take a hit of that new drink; to chat up that stranger. Though her positivity is irresistible, so is her appetite.

Her quest for more lights up the entire city. Each place she visits, each character she meets, brings its own charming quirks.

The movie is a drunken delight. A poem to serendipity, with exaggerated animation that’ll change the way you take in the world, if just for one night.

Tenet

Tenet spelled backward is Tenet. But Tenet spelled forward is Tenet . . . So which way is which? And what if the fate of the world depended on your answering correctly?

For our lead, this problem is too real. Not only does he need to find the bad guys, he needs to fight their new weapon. Think apple falling up the tree. Or bullet speeding into the gun.

Confused? You’re not the only one. But our lead has a knack for asking the right questions—and throwing the right punches.

This movie is complicated, sprawling, exhausting—but exciting and impressive. It’s a globe-trotting, mind-bending, action-packed dream, and our brains can’t keep up.

The Midnight Sky

So you’re terminally ill. Oh, and the last person on Earth. Finding it hard to focus?

Augustine sure is. But he still finds time to search for a future. You see, a few stranded astronauts can use his help.

Dystopian futures can be downers, but this one isn’t. Its weaved storylines are never boring—and never too heavy. It’s about relationships and connections, not how scary the end of existence might seem.

The story is engaging enough, but pro moviemaking adds depth. For one thing, each scene is pretty enough to watch on its own. Barren settings are made beautiful. Alternating focus draws our attention. Subtle differences in light, greys and blacks, change our mood in a split second.

In a cold, dark universe, there are pockets of light. This movie is one.

Soul

If you died tomorrow, would you be OK with it?

Without any words, that’s what Soul asks us. The short story is that Joe needs to pick between following his jazz-piano-passion and holding down a steady job. The long story is that he has other things to figure out, and it takes a journey through space and time for him to realize it.

Sound heavy? That’s because it is. But this remains a movie for the whole family, filled with approachable characters and silly scenarios. The music is mesmerizing, and the animation everchanging. You’ll be hooked in the first two minutes.

It’s something special when a movie can work on multiple levels; when your child can have fun learning a life lesson—and you can have fun re-learning it. So now that you know there’s something special in your life, what are you waiting for?

Vampires vs. the Bronx

Miguel loves his community. But more and more, neighbors are leaving: The Bronx is gentrifying.

That may be a bad thing, but there’s something worse to be tackled, and only Miguel and his friends seem to recognize it. The Bronx is now feat. vampires.

The kids’ quest to save home is witty and entertaining. Bronx-ness permeates every scene without feeling fake or forced. The movie is meant to be spooky, but you’ll find yourself more happy than haunted.

Borat Subsequent Moviefilm

Borat has given a bad name to his home, Kazakhstan. To make up for it, he must travel to the U.S., and make good with its leaders.

That’s the idea. The execution is ridiculous, cringe-worthy, and many times, laugh-out-loud funny.

The movie oversimplifies things, and is arguably pretty offensive. But it also spotlights ridiculous behavior. Because the leads play their exaggerated characters to perfection, it makes us wonder—as we laugh—where satire ends and sad reality begins.

Get Duked

Teenagers can suck. These three stand out even in that crowd, so they’re sent to the Scottish countryside for detention. The idea goes: You can’t fool around if you want to survive.

What could go wrong? A lot, it turns out. Especially when drugs and secret societies are involved.

This movie is just outrageous. It’s hilarious, punchy, and filled with youthful irreverence. The leads work well together, and as silly as it is, it makes an interesting point.

My Octopus Teacher

Craig is strong; Craig is gentle. Craig free dives in the wild ocean.

One day, he comes across something he’s never seen before. This begins an unexpectedly long and touching journey, where a man learns about an octopus, and an octopus learns about a man.

Waiting for the punch line? It is a funny story. But it’s also dead serious—about survival, intelligence, connection. Crisp picture gives us a movie that, like its parts, swells with life.