Death of a Unicorn

Death of a Unicorn has a premise made to catch our attention. Too bad the movie can’t hold it.

The idea is that a father and daughter accidentally kill a unicorn. They do this on the way to a secluded estate, at which the father will have a sort of job interview with a wealthy family that owns a pharmaceutical company.

If you can believe it, that’s about as believable as the movie gets. The characters are one-dimensional (evil tycoon and spoiled son; emo daughter of over-worked father, etc.). Any time there is about to be a moment of genuine communication, something interrupts; this happens far too much to be realistic. And with landscape visuals that are computer-generated in a bad way, we’re taken out of this story a lot.

The comedic acting does range from good to great, though; kudos to the spoiled son, the calmly conniving mother, the bald butler. And the direction can be smart and subtle (for example, when the camera focuses on the mother walking over a printout of the daughter’s, it’s letting us know how the mom thinks, even if it seems like she was approaching sweetly). But we’re also given too many quick cuts of nothing actions to transition between scenes. It feels like the director knows the writing isn’t great, and is trying desperately to keep our attention.

To reveal any other plot points will spoil the movie, but if you use your imagination, you can make a pretty good guess about where this story will go.

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.

Once Within a Time

Once Within a Time is a hazy, twisted fairy tale—that’s somehow instantly recognizable.

Its moviemakers are scared about how now, within our time, technology hijacks our every thought and action. So as a sort of prayer and last laugh, they’ve created an hour-long play for us to consider.

The images are nightmarish and lush, but we get the picture. Our story began with mother nature’s song; then a face appeared, one that smiled and engaged us and offered us something shiny. And of course, we took the bait.

Now we spend our time watching grotesquely-shaped characters dance. Adults (in age only) wither away in digital cages, too scared to interact with the tangible world that gave them life.

And so, this movie is a trip. It’s an uncomfortable and sobering and striking incarnation of what we’re all feeling these days: Something is wrong.

The Matrix Resurrections

Resurrections? I’m not sure anything died.

Something sure does stink, though.

You see, three Matrix movies preceded this one, and that trilogy stands as a monument in movie history. Its blend of ground-breaking visual effects, wild choreography, and intricate storytelling blasted philosophy off a dusty page and onto on our modern screens. It made questioning reality fun.

The Matrix Resurrections tries to do the same. Unfortunately, it relies too much on what’s been done before without adding anything meaningful.

This one starts with our saviors, Neo and Trinity, living obliviously amongst their sheep. Just a mom at work and a video game coder going through the motions. How did this happen?

Neo’s therapy sessions and psychotic visions enlighten us. He has put so much of his hopes and fears into his popular video game (called The Matrix) that he now can’t distinguish his memories from game sequences.

Much of the movie passes by before we learn why. And much of that is filled with clips and characters from the original trilogy. Not only are these callbacks overkill for those who don’t know the backstory, they are jarring for anyone who does. They’re reminders that what we’re witnessing pales in comparison to the original stuff.

So Neo is unsure about his reality; Neo is awakened; Neo must fight machines; the odds seem awful. We’ve seen this all before, folks. Having watched The Matrix Resurrections, I now feel like I’ve met the lazy, insecure child of one of my heroes. There is something recognizable in it, but nothing that grips me.

All that said, kudos must go to many of the moviemakers on this one; the production and set design, the special effects, and the camerawork especially drew us in even as the writing worked so hard to take us out.

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.

Users

I was at a loss even as the credits ended. Users was a movie so beautiful and sad; its parts so basic but its whole so unique. Only some time later did I realize: This movie made me grateful that movies exist. It was a learning experience unlike any I have had.

Looking at the story one way, it’s nothing special. Not a story at all, in fact. Just a narrator thinking out loud about the world technology is creating for her child. Thoughts we’ve all had before.

But Momma’s musings—her questions and concerns—are not about what the next generation of cell phone might look like. She is thinking about the very core of human interaction with this container we call Earth. And she is speaking to us.

See these cold, uninviting spaces? This is life now. These iced shoeboxes are the new womb. In this factory we grow plants without soil or sunlight. All our memories and communications? Instantly accessible, everywhere, but kept on quarter-inch-thick cable surrounded by millions of gallons of murky green water at the bottom of the ocean. Good luck restarting.

In pondering what life might look like, our narrator (the director) takes the time to show us what life does look like. And in doing so she spotlights how technology has already changed the course of humanity. For example, thinking about a baby being raised by a computer without its mother’s touch is scary, but so too is a scene where hundreds of TV screens glow in the faces of airline passengers. The perspective out the window—the perspective from the miracle of flight—has become so commonplace that we ignore it. Comparisons like these are powerful and plenty.

The scenes are simple, usually static, rarely showing more than one thing to focus on at a time, and yet the movie is an overwhelming sensory experience. A masterclass in direction, editing, camera- and sound-work, music.

Sure, a minutes-long rainstorm of recycled motherboard chips will have you feeling bad about the excess of our world. But the moviemakers pass no judgement here; rather than illustrating our “forgotten” connection with nature, they remind us that it is multi-faceted and ever-changing. We pass from the warm electricity of a baby at its mother’s teat to a computer assuring its child at play in the forest that it is safe. (Computers do not forget.) Each scene is beautiful; each ultimately reminding us that we are just animals trying our best in the universe.

From beginning to end, the imagery is crisp, incisive, and breathtakingly gorgeous. Tides of life and breath, water and memory, geometry and physics take turns washing over us.

I won’t tell you to watch this before you die. If there’s anything to take away from it, it’s that watching the world around you is what’s important. But if you’d like to do that from a new perspective—or if you need a reminder of how to do so, or whether it’s even worth it—then you’ll want to add this experience to your bucket list.

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.

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.

Wish Dragon

You have three wishes! Go!

Of course Din, our dear, kind-hearted Din, can’t go. What he wants most in this world can’t be granted. 

It has to do with Li Na. She’s gone from the neighborhood and on to richer things. But she still remembers Din and their friendship, right? If there ever was a time for him to find out, it’s now, with the help of a wish-granting dragon from a teapot.

Don’t let the extremely-on-the-nose opening sequence scare you off. What we have here is a wholesome story for the whole family to enjoy, one that highlights the deep joys of human connection. You’ll smile and chuckle plenty—and breathe a sigh of relief when you realize it’s not another story where a dull boy pines for an impossibly perfect girl.

Smooth, soft animation rounds out the feel-good feeling. Though we’ve seen this idea done before, good execution is good execution.

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.

In and Of Itself

These days, we can watch anything we want, any time. Go to a party, go out on a date, and you’ll talk about “what you’re watching” as much as anything else. Binging an entire weekend away has moved from joke fodder to culturally acceptable. Is this good?

Derek wants to know. He’s a magician, and In and Of Itself is a magic show, but he cares about what we do and how we define ourselves. And, I promise, this one man and his six skits will beat any binge.

It’s almost not fair. Derek’s a card sharp, after all. The ease with which he plays with our minds—even with the camera zoomed in on his hands—is downright scary. But he’s not stealing. He’s teaching: the different ways to shuffle or hold a deck; the ways he hid his mom’s sexual orientation from friends; the ways people judge him. Here, Derek’s tricks are microcosms of life.

So the show is furiously personal. Just as often as you’ll ask how he just did what he did, you’ll ask how he’s so comfortable unloading his baggage with strangers.

He speaks softly. Slowly. His eyes glass up with tears for much of the show. But this is the opposite of a sob story. It’s funny, sweet, and entertaining, and our magician knows exactly how to keep us engaged. As much as the movie showcases his talent and storytelling ability, it spotlights us.

Whatever magic is, this must be its highest calling. It’s hard to imagine it ever getting better.

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.

Klaus

Nobody gets toys on Christmas.

That’s because Smeerensburg is about tradition, and tradition says to hate thy neighbor.

Jesper is thrown into this lovely setting as the town’s new mail carrier. But he’s no saint either: He sees Klaus, a nice old man, as his ticket out. At least, that’s how their relationship starts . . .

At the end of the day, this movie tries to do too much. It’s really about Jesper growing up, but jams in Santa’s origin story, the meaning of secular Christmas, the corrupting power of adults, and more. This makes things confusing. Who should we root for? What’s the moral of the story?

You can watch it with family, but it’s more for adults (who overthink things) than children. All that said, its tie-ins to Christmas traditions are clever, and the animation can be gorgeous. Lights and lines create vivid portraits that just so happen to move.

Godmothered

The Godmother industry is going out of business. People just don’t believe in happily-ever-after anymore.

That includes Mackenzie, which is bad news for Eleanor, Godmother-in-training and complete ditz.

Will Mackenzie ever rekindle the light in her life? Eleanor thinks so, and tries her best to make it happen. She’s completely out of place—and hilarious and charming. The same can be said for the whole movie. This fairy tale includes funny twists on oldies-but-goodies, but leaves behind outdated values.

The cast gels together, and every so often, camerawork adds to the theme of magic in our everyday. What we have here is a wholesome story just in time for the holiday season.

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.

Ne Zha

Heavenly powers have a plan for Ne Zha. So do his parents. Neither seems to matter to the kid, who’s as stubborn as they come.

Can you blame him? It’s hard to learn right from wrong when everyone under the sun thinks your fate is sealed. But what makes life difficult for Ne Zha is what makes this movie worthwhile.

Complex but cute animation creates a fantasy world worth exploring. Quirky characters keep things light, balancing out a heavy premise.

The Old Guard

The Old Guard is something new.

In a world filled with wrongs, they fight for what’s right. And there’s nobody better.

Why? It’s a secret few know, and one that Big Pharma will stop at nothing to learn. So begins the latest fight.

It’s not every day an action movie blends espionage, fantasy, history, and philosophy into something that goes down easy. This one does. A cast more-representative-than-usual adds to the justice theme, and the writing can be downright poetic.