Thunderbolts*

Review #2378: Thunderbolts*.

Cast: 

Florence Pugh (Yelena Belova), Sebastian Stan (Bucky Barnes / Winter Soldier), Wyatt Russell (John Walker / U.S. Agent), Lewis Pullman (Bob Reynolds / Sentry / Void), Geraldine Viswanathan (Mel), Chris Bauer (Holt), Wendell Pierce (Gary), David Harbour (Alexei Shostakov / Red Guardian), Hannah John-Kamen (Ava Starr / Ghost), Julia Louis-Dreyfus (Valentina Allegra de Fontaine), and Olga Kurylenko (Antonia Dreykov / Taskmaster) Directed by Jake Schreier.

Review: 

Sure, why not? I don't read many comics, but screw it, let's do a bit of digging: Thunderbolts originally had their own comic book line in 1997, as originally created by Kurt Busiek with art by Mark Bagley. I suppose most people who know about the group would call them "anti-heroes or super-criminals", so we'll go with that. Eric Pearson, who had written the screenplay for Black Widow (among other things, as pointed out here), pointed out that the character played by Pugh felt like a "natural leader", and he brought that idea to Marvel that eventually brought attention to making a movie, although re-writes were done by Joanna Calo that saw each credited for the screenplay (Lee Sung Jin apparently did "additional literary material"); evidently, the twist at the end is the one big thing that survived from the original script. This is the third film directed by Jake Schreier, previously the director of a handful of television shows and movies such as Paper Towns (2015). Folks who might have been curious about the movie past opening week probably already know why an asterisk [*] is in the film title, but, well, sometimes I do look like an idiot and forget to think about that before taking time to watch a movie in a theater.

Sure, it's a group of misfits coming around together to make a team dealing with a certain type of threat beyond just themselves. Sure, it probably will strike a bit differently for those who are more or less invested in what happens with folks with heightened responsibilities or, well folks who need a super-kick in the pants. Sure, it is a familiar one in mayhem and entertainment value (126 minutes), and maybe it is more of a movie for those who've invested their time with these characters beyond movies (read: streaming shows**). But I did like the ride the film went on, one that wanted to have an ensemble worth watching to see where their chemistry could go from there and succeeded in most of their goals, mostly on the strengths of the middle of the film when you have these folks in the set-up. With that in mind, Pugh does make for a quality lead to focus on first, wracked with vulnerabilities that come in the feeling of being wrapped in doubts and the traps of in one's head about regrets and trying to do anything other than just being the cog in the metaphorical ass-kicking machine, which namely involves weariness. Pullman makes for a capable last piece of the puzzle that arises in gloomy people on the inside that has his own battle in self-doubt that is an interesting presence to see grow in terms of what one is beyond just "Bob", suffice to say. Him and Pugh make an interesting connection when it comes to realizing the importance of seeing people beyond just a shadow, although the threat presented with the Void stuff is pretty fascinating for a time. Russell is entertaining in that cocksure attitude that could only come from attempts at overbearing confidence that fascinates me when realizing that he apparently was meant to be the actual threat in the original vision - sometimes changes are for the better. Admittedly, there isn't as much to say about the character played by John-Kamen beyond realizing, yes, it has been seven years since Ant-Man and the Wasp. Louis-Dreyfus mostly coasts on her own timing to make what is basically a thankless role into one that is semi-interesting in terms of craven power-searching. Stan comes here and there in that shakiness that comes in trying to seem different beyond brooding heroics with "U.S. Congressman mode" (with a hairdo that reminds me of Billy Mitchell) that one knows will probably have something to really do later on, I suppose. Admittedly though, it is Harbour that holds the movie together in support because of the warm amusement that he generates (the Russian accent is up to you, though) in that ambition to be in the spotlight in heroics without just being craven for it all. In general, the movie works best with the ensemble and having actual fun there, since it can be a funny movie at times with the mishmash of quirks more so than its action sequences, which are fine in the routines (debate about lighting all you want, naturally) and the inevitable that comes in trying to reconcile the status now established for a rag-tag group that has their first big team-up basically relying on a group hug (to deal with the threat from within) to make it out. In that sense, it is a fine movie, maybe not nearly as great as it might have aimed for in overall execution but still a fine one in entertainment value for those into that sort of thing.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

*Call me a nerd, but I lost interest in the idea of watching a Black Widow movie in theaters because why the hell would I watch a movie that will remind me that the character is dead rather than Hawkeye (who I barely can tell you about)? I never even really considered Hawkeye much of a member of the Avengers. Even the Hulk, the one with the weakest movie in Phase One, had a movie to introduce him to "the MCU", but Hawkeye? Really?

**Look man, I just can't do shows that sound like overextended movies on streaming places. Hell, I couldn't even do Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. for longer than like a season, and that was even with the whole "so Agent Carlson is there but not in the movies, because...?" Daredevil might as well be a ghost with how he is treated in movies, and we do not speak of the Hulk on television. The MCU should've taken a year-ish break anyway, since the best movie after Endgame was, what, Guardians of the Galaxy 3?

High Fidelity.

Review #2333: High Fidelity.

Cast

John Cusack (Rob Gordon), Iben Hjejle (Laura), Jack Black (Barry Judd), Todd Louiso (Dick), Catherine Zeta-Jones (Charlie Nicholson), Lisa Bonet (Marie DeSalle), Sara Gilbert (Anaugh Moss), Chris Bauer (Paul), Lili Taylor (Sarah Kendrew), Joan Cusack (Liz), Tim Robbins (Ian "Ray" Raymond), and Joelle Carter (Penny Hardwick) Directed by Stephen Frears.

Review: 

“I liked the idea of it being in America. It had a sort of, this sort of more optimistic way in which Americans live, seemed to me to add something to it, rather than taking it away. So it lost some of its stoicism and became slightly more romantic.”

Yes, movies from the new millennium are soon to turn 25 years old, so it seemed apt to cover a movie just as much a result of the writers as it is the director. In 1995, essayist Nick Hornby (probably best known already for his 1995 memoir Fever Pitch), had his first novel come out to the frenzied attention of British audiences who apparently found something in themselves with a setting at a London record shop and a distinct inner monologue. There were rumblings of doing a film as soon as the book came out, with plans ranging from having a draft script done by Scott Rosenberg set in Boston or having Mike Newell involved as a director. Eventually, it was sprung to have John Cusack take a crack at writing a film screenplay, one done in collaboration with D. V. DeVincentis and Steve Pink, who each had worked on Grosse Pointe Blank (as released by Buena Vista Pictures Distribution in 1997). It was through Hornby's permission that they could change the setting to Chicago. Basically, Cusack and Pink/DeVincentis would each go through the book and write what they structured from the book and eventually edit what they saw by basically approaching it as "a checklist of things we need to get done". Cusack suggested trying to approach Stephen Frears to direct. He had actually studied law at the University of Cambridge before electing to work as an assistant to Lindsay Anderson at the Royal Court Theatre (he also worked as an assistant to Karel Reisz as well) and he soon honed his skills for British television. He became a feature director with Gumshoe (1971), but he became a name with My Beautiful Launderette (1985). Hornby was apparently quite satisfied with the adaptation, mostly because a good deal of the dialogue addressing the audience is basically straight from the book. In 2020, a television adaptation of the book came out that lasted one season.

There is something strangely comforting about a comedy that doubles as a sort of male confessional. It is the kind of movie made for people who besides having a certain interest in music maybe, just maybe, need to grow up. The love affair one can have with music in all of its meaningful depths and reaches is palpable with the people we experience in the film that actually end up feeling like people we know in some way or form. Maybe we don't all make top five lists, but we sure do stew on something in the great book of lists and hang-ups. Strangely, it reminds me of Annie Hall (1977), which also handles the anatomy of a breakup through a lead that likes to address the audience (of course, one actually feels the pulse of a tolerable human being in terms the direction and in the acting with High Fidelity, so chew on that). From the jump, it is quite understandable to see Cusack at his most curious and possibly his most effective role. He corrals the movie with a certain kind of slacker (one can operate a store and still slack) charism that really does come through in a manner that we follow along with in ways that a lesser actor would've simply just made a muddled mess. I posit that while some people are self-absorbed, we call them friends anyway because there is a difference between terribly behaved people and people with terrible behavior (i.e. the type that needs to hear "shut up!" once in a while), and some movies win out with weirdos like this. We chuckle and recoil at what we see and hear of a person in all of his bewildering aspects because Cusack just happens to have the voice to carry that drumbeat of weirdness to finding something to do besides just looking back. Of course, it just so happens that there is a pretty capable cast right behind Cusack to make things work beyond just a grandstand for music. Black and Louiso are a dynamic pair of amusement because each just happen to have their own distinct type of humor that connects from the jump in terms of timing and general energy for the material that is palpable in more ways than one. Hjejle goes along with the proceedings that arise from being presented in the prism of one-sided weariness that works in parts. There are a few other little surprises to be found in small moments to see someone such as Robbins take one on the chin in one particular scene of imagined confrontation or one particular cameo to raise a chuckle. I like the overall mood of the film, one that doesn't just dally to conventional means to try and say something about weird hangups or the people you see along the way, and doesn't overstay its welcome at 113 minutes. In general, what we have is a film made by people who clearly had an interest in making a confessional for the hang-ups in all of us that has a distinct love for Chicago and enough charm to make one mix themselves into seeing it play out.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.