Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse

It's been a good couple of years for Spider-Man fans, which is something of a pleasant surprise when you consider the radically different position the character found himself in just four short years ago. Cast your minds back to the winter of 2014 for a moment – Spider-Man couldn't help but feel like yesterday's news, what with the newly crowned Marvel Cinematic Universe dominating the screen, the Raimi trilogy already being something of a distant memory and Webb's attempt to restart the franchise failing to ignite much passion in anyone but its most vocal detractors. Things weren't looking great for ol' web head – and yet since then, we've seen the character make his debut in the Marvel Cinematic Universe to much applause, star in his first good solo movie since 2004, make a hugely enjoyable appearance in probably the most successful and talked about film of 2018 and even star in his own critically acclaimed and highly successful video game. It's been quite the impressive turnaround – so really, I guess it's only fair that Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse ends continues that winning streak.

We follow Miles Morales, an Afro-Latino New Yorker teenager who (wouldn't you just know it) winds up getting bitten by some kind of radioactive spider and gaining superpowers. But this isn't your average origin story – after a plan to stop a dangerous experiment held by Wilson Fisk goes wrong, several other Spider-Folk are dragged into Miles' universe, all of whom will soon die from the side-effects of being in the wrong universe if they cannot get back to where they came from.

It's an exciting conceptual hook that helps Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse stand out amongst the crowd, but vitally, it's not a hook that ever threatens to overwhelm the film entirely. In fact, it could be argued that Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse is actually fairly restrained in this respect – it would have been easy (and I imagine incredibly tempting) to really cram in as many Spider-Folk as possible, but by keeping that number reasonable and ensuring that the real meat of the story centres on just three of them (namely Miles, Peter and Gwen), the film manages to perform a careful balancing act that ensures the multiverse concept neither overpowers the movie nor ends up feeling under-utilised.

The result is a film that manages to both have its cake and eat it too, indulging in all the fun weirdness that the multiverse concept brings while also telling a tight and well-focused story about a young man figuring out his place in the world. I had assumed from the marketing that Nicolas Cage's Spider-Noir or the adorably anime Peni Parker would end up being my favourite characters, but wonderful as they are it was actually Miles himself who ended up taking the top spot. But he's far from the only stand out character – virtually every other character in Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse leaves an impression of some kind, whether they be Jake Johnson's Peter Parker, Hailee Steinfeld's instantly iconic Spider-Gwen and others that would be mild spoilers to even talk about.

And it's funny too, which probably shouldn't come as much of a surprise given the talent involved – Phil Lord and Christopher Miller's fingerprints are all over this. They might not have directed it (that particular credit goes to Rodney Rothman, Bob Persichetti and Peter Ramsey) but one has to assume that Lord and Miller were very hands-on producers – it fits their style and sense of humour to a tee, filled with neat visual gags and open slapstick right alongside some character driven humour that never seems to miss, all of which only adds to the sense that Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse is an immaculately crafted movie on every level.

Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse bursts at the seams with innovation and heart, it's a movie that demands your attention from frame one and never wavers in its commitment to earning, so consistently, fundamentally great. Even as a fan of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse is a fantastic movie that single-handedly justifies Sony's decision to hang on to the rights to the character. I can't see a film this different and daring coming into existence under the Disney banner, and if the price of that is the risk that Spider-Man could simply disappear from the MCU one day? Well, so be it. It's worth it, and I don't say that lightly.

Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald

From a film-making perspective it's bad - drab and unexciting in all the ways that instantly mark it as a David Yates movie - but from a Harry Potter perspective it's downright insulting, inserting clearly made up on the spot backstory where none is needed and (seemingly) altering established facts about this world and its characters on a whim. It's fan fiction-y and pandering in all the worst ways, and it ends with a reveal so deeply unearned by the film itself and totally at odds with the larger Harry Potter canon around it that I have to assume that the characters involved are either mistaken or simply lying, less my brain be turned to mush trying to figure out just what the hell J.K. Rowling was thinking. Making a film "just for fans" is easy - making a film that's "just for fans" that even the fans are going to hate is bloody hard, yet it's the one thing that Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald unequivocally succeeds at.

If I sound exasperated, well, that's because I am. Even ignoring the way that much of the film is effectively just unneeded backstory about characters you don't really care about, from a purely storytelling level, Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald is fundamentally dysfunctional, consistently failing to give the audience the information they need to be engaged in the movie that they're watching. Like almost all of J.K. Rowling's other writings, it's ultimately a mystery story at heart - but here, the mysteries that are central to the story are so poorly seeded by the film itself that there are multiple instances of the audience not knowing what the question even is until the answer is on-screen in front of them. Worse, even if these mysteries had've been set up better, the answers themselves only either raise more questions, or ultimately have very little impact on anything of importance.

Which means that for the vast majority of it's running time, Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald is downright directionless, never really feeling like it's started in earnest because it's either unable or unwilling to give you any indication of what this film is ultimately about or where it might be headed until far too late. With the benefit of hindsight, it's clear that at least part of Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald is Rowling's attempt to reckon with the return of fascism as a political force in the West and the rise of the alt-right, how the disenfranchised can so easily be seduced by a charismatic leader who offers supposedly simple, ideologically driven solutions to complex problems, and that's a noble goal - but frankly, Rowling isn't anywhere near as good a screenwriter as she is an author, and the resulting product can't help but feel flimsy and spineless (and maybe even naive) in comparison to what I imagine it could've been had it been fleshed out in novel form.

But the biggest problem with all this is that it's so easy to imagine what this franchise could've been in the right hands, so easy to see the potential that a prequel series about a young Albus Dumbledore and Newt Scamander travelling around the world doing wizard stuff (that eventually - not yet, but eventually - sees them moving against Grindelwald). I like Eddie Redmayne's Newt Scamander and Dan Fogler's Jacob Kowalski; I like Katherine Waterston's Tina Goldstein (even if she has almost nothing to do here); I like Jude Law as a young Albus Dumbledore; and much as it pains me to say, I even think that Johnny Depp isn't bad as Grindelwald. There is value here, entertainment to be found if you look hard enough. With a better sense of direction and someone who isn't David Yates at the helm, I do think that these films could've been an interesting entry into the Harry Potter canon.

The Grinch (2018)

For their eighth fully animated feature, Illumination and Universal Pictures present The Grinch, based on Dr. Seuss’ beloved holiday classic. The Grinch tells the story of a cynical grump who goes on a mission to steal Christmas, only to have his heart changed by a young girl’s generous holiday spirit. Funny, heartwarming and visually stunning, it’s a universal story about the spirit of Christmas and the indomitable power of optimism. Illumination’s take on How The Grinch Stole Christmas is as warm and sweet and comforting as a hot mug of cocoa that’s mostly marshmallow.

Those familiar with Dr. Seuss’ Christmas tale will recognise the opening all too well. We sweep and swoop over the town of Whoville—bustling with Christmas colours and sounds—as the introduction to the place and time of year is given through voice over. Feelings of familiarity trickle in, accompanied by a dynamic camera that grabs us by the hand to explore the town. In a movie that might seem uncalled for, the same-ness you might be expecting ends there. The core story is tried and true, but the slick pace of The Grinch doesn’t waste time showing us things we’ve seen before at length, and goes as far as to realign and shed what’s not important in this fictional land. As the happy town of Whoville busies itself preparing for Christmas, Academy Award nominee Benedict Cumberbatch lends his voice to the infamous Grinch, who lives a solitary life inside a cave on Mt. Crumpet with only his loyal dog, Max, for company. With a cave rigged with inventions and contraptions for his day-to-day needs, the Grinch only sees his neighbours in Who-ville when he runs out of food. Each year at Christmas they disrupt his tranquil solitude with their increasingly bigger, brighter and louder celebrations. When the Whos declare they are going to make Christmas three times bigger this year, the Grinch realises there is only one way for him to gain some peace and quiet: he must steal Christmas. To do so, he decides he will pose as Santa Claus on Christmas Eve, even going so far as to trap a lackadaisical misfit reindeer to pull his sleigh. But of course, we all know this classic story by now!

From the snowy opening alone it’s clear the animation style goes straight down the middle. The characters are simple and nothing stands out, but the textures in the snow and materials are delicate, bringing winter and the fuzz on the Whos’ faces to life. What’s most noteworthy is the fun direction. One of the blessings of animation is total control, and that’s something directors Yarrow Cheney and Scott Mosier make full use of. The delights of the swings, loops and circles that dance around the characters are enough to keep the visuals interesting, and even if they weren’t, the saturated colours and beautiful details of Whoville and the Grinch’s mountain peak would be. A lot of what The Grinch lacks in fully developed storytelling is made up for with pretty renderings that do well to distract.

Dr Seuss’ original work is short on side plots and additional details so this animated offering – like the 2000 live-action movie – finds ways to embellish and expand the story. Both offer an insight into the Grinch’s childhood loneliness to provide some motive for his lack of Christmas cheer, but this animated offering also adds in a side plot involving a rotund comedy reindeer called Fred and opts to give Cindy Loo-Who, voiced by Cameron Seely, much more agency than before, giving her a parallel plot of trying to make a Christmas wish for her mother come true. A big difference here is that the 2018 incarnation of The Grinch is immediately more sympathetic than any we’ve seen before. His mean-spiritedness is clearly conflicted, with numerous indications that he’s not the mean and nasty creature of previous versions. His dog Max, for example, is clearly loved and loves the Grinch in return and while he’s not the kindest of friends, the Grinch has friends in Whoville and he’s not the ostracised villain seen in other adaptations.

It’s exactly what you would expect, though, from Illumination, whose family-friendly animated offerings often skew young and cutesy and when it comes to that target audience, this film plays like gangbusters. The Grinch won’t be revelatory for anyone who’s seen on-screen translations before, but for a new generation of little ones it spreads a wonderful message of love and outreach. So although this film will be added to my annual December viewing list, it does not reach the level of the 2000s adaptation. Jim Carrey still holds the Grinch crown in my eyes. 

The Holiday

It's officially December, so I'm going to revisit one of my go to Christmas-vibes film. It's not my favourite, and I'm not always complimentary of it, but I do reach for it around this time every year. So let's dive in!

To list all the contrivances strewn throughout The Holiday would require more words than are warranted by Nancy Meyers’s festive batch of cinematic maple syrup. However, the kooky, heartwarming cutesiness peddled by this lovefest is—despite the film’s numerous references to, and accompanying desire to tread in the path of, classic Hollywood screwball romances—of a distinctly modern vintage. 

The Something’s Gotta Give writer-director’s painstakingly arranged tale involves the twin plights of neurotic American movie-trailer editor Amanda, played by Cameron Diaz, and clingy British newspaperwoman Iris, Kate Winslet. Iris lives in London, Amanda in Los Angeles, both are as different as can be. However, they have one thing in common; lousy relationships with men who take advantage of them. Feeling fed up, they agree to trade houses for two weeks and soon find themselves crossing the ocean in hopes of leaving their troubled lives behind. What they did not expect was to find love on the other side of the pond... Gag, I know. But in December, I love it!

The film's love interests/dreamboats take the form of Jude Law (for Diaz) and Jack Black (for Winslet), a superficially raw deal for Winslet that nonetheless works to her benefit once it’s revealed that Law’s book editor Graham is a hunk of blandness and Black’s film composer Miles is a witty, self-deprecating charmer. Of course, these guys have secrets and/or personality quirks that make them seem initially wrong and then ultimately ideal mates for their respective beauties. Yet stranger than The Holiday's by-the-books fantasy is its subplot involving Iris’s friendship with neighbouring senior citizen and Oscar-winning screenwriter Arthur, played by Eli Wallach, which, besides giving Myers the opportunity to pointlessly juxtapose the sight of The Good, The Bad and the Ugly star with an Ennio Morricone tune, both features an odd criticism of Hollywood’s obsession with opening weekend box-office figures, and adds a nauseating dose of sentimentality to the proceedings. While Amanda and Graham make a strikingly attractive but thoroughly dull couple, Winslet and Black’s credible chemistry partially makes up for the run-of-the-mill characters and implausible situations they’ve been saddled with. The duo’s genuineness, however, doesn’t change the fact that, for the sake of his career and the good of moviegoers everywhere, Black needs to stop with the improvised weirdo singing that’s become his worn-out trademark.

It may come as a surprise that I love this Christmas movie, and it is probably not for reason you think. Actually my love of the film is for the side-story of Iris and Arthur. As mentioned, Arthur is an elderly man, quite alone, Iris encounters in Los Angeles. Arthur is portrayed by the legendary Eli Wallach; who's career spanned over seven decades. He was a legend and to see him in The Holiday was a very sweet treat indeed. His scenes with Kate Winslet in the restaurant are poignant and amazing and will give food for thought for all of us who feel a little less confident at times. To me, the movie is worth seeing for those scenes alone.

Granted, the movie has, at times, painfully dull or overly-sentimental moments, yet my love for this movie does not diminish with each viewing. If you have not seen it, I urge you to do so. It is syrupy sweet, fitting the standard Rom-Com template, but it's a comfortable watch and surprisingly festive in feel. 

Halloween (2018)

40 years since Michael Myers, The Shape, first terrorised the quiet town of Haddonfield on Halloween night. Although audiences didn’t know it, John Carpenter’s Halloween was the start of something special when it hit the big screen in 1978. It not only introduced us to one of the most famous killers to be put to film, but it laid the groundwork for every slasher film that followed it. Sure, the rules it set were sometimes bent and occasionally broken, but its influence can still be felt in every masked killer horror film that has come out in the years since it made those rules. Four decades, seven – not always watchable – sequels, and a much maligned reboot later, Blumhouse, one of the biggest names in modern horror, brought Halloween back. And expectations were high. 

It’s been a long time since the kid with a penchant for masks and stabbing people found his way back to his home town, grown up, angry, and ready to take it out on any babysitter he could find. Now, having wallowed in Smith’s Grove Asylum for 40 years, an ill-fated bus trip to a new prison ends with a crash and Michael on the loose. Carving a bloody trail towards his hometown, The Shape appears to be single-minded in his need to finish what he started all those years ago and eviscerate Laurie Strode, the babysitter that got away. Unfortunately for the near supernatural serial killer, Laurie hasn’t been idly twiddling her thumbs for all these years; she’s been preparing herself and her now three generations deep family for this day and this upcoming fight.

Nearly ten years after the last film to don the name Halloween seemed to all but kill the chances of another, it has taken an unlikely pair to bring Micheal Myers back to the big screen where he belongs. Teaming up with Blumhouse Productions for this new entry in the series, screenwriter Danny McBride and Pineapple Express director David Gordon Green. The pair come out big and bold, not only showing that they have the balls to take on a project of this magnitude, but give us an hour and forty minute, scene by scene showcase on why they are the perfect guys for the job.

Refusing to waste its audience’s time, Halloween gets straight to the point with a trip to the soon-to-be closed down asylum where Aaron Korey and Dana Haines (Jefferson Hall and Rhian Rees), a pair of investigative journalists looking to resurrect the Myers myth try to interview, and subsequently taunt, our antagonist. Not to be discarded as a throw away opening, this scene gives us our first look in 40 years at Nick Castle’s The Shape and instantly shows us the man and his demeanour, without really showing us anything of the actual man as camera angles, fast edits and dirty windows disguise Myers as much as his mask has done in the past. For those thinking that we might get a killer we can sympathise with, a character flawed and needing nothing but a good hug, Halloween reminds you quickly that that isn’t the case. Michael’s first on-screen kill is cold and vicious and serves to show you that this might be the softer, nicer 21st century, but this killer didn’t get your memo. The film takes you to a place that many audiences would have thought off-limits until this point, as writers, producers, and the director flash you their platinum horror membership cards and show you they mean business. He's nasty, he’s brutal, and he’s wholly unforgiving of anyone that gets in his way. Once freed from the shackles that held him, he’s dangerous; once he has his mask back, all bets are off.

It doesn’t happen very often; horror is a genre much forgotten and abused and frequently used for quick cash, but Halloween is a perfect horror experience. Heavy on scares, atmosphere and fun kills; light on plot sag and story slowdown. You can get behind our soon-to-be victims as much as you can get behind the mythical monster chasing them and you can find yourself scared for these people and holding your breath in hope of a safe escape. Green and McBride know they owe everything to the 40 years before this and they show an unending respect for that heritage. They know that there is no 2018 iteration of this legendary series without the films that provided the roadmap to get here. They know this series doesn’t continue without the twists, turns, and frankly ludicrous left field moments in the lore, and whether they and fans want to admit it or not, without Rob Zombie’s much hated vision of The Shape, this film simply can’t exist. These gentlemen know this, and they treat that legacy with the respect it deserves.

There is plenty for newcomers and die hard fans alike: glorious kills, and nostalgic throwbacks that even get an old Halloween cynic like this writer a happy tear and a wry smile.

First Man

We hear the metal of the ship groaning in protest of the immense forces being placed upon it. We see various dials and displays that are shaking so violently they're impossible to read. Over a headset, a voice gives barely audible instructions that the crafts pilot can do nothing about thanks to the intense G-forces that are pinning him to the back of his chair. This flight isn't graceful, or easy: it's a tiny, claustrophobic tin can that is propelling itself through sky not with finesse or grace but through nothing more than a vaguely controlled explosion that has been pointed in roughly the right direction, and the grimace of the astronauts face as he endures the shaking and hopes against hope that everything will turn out OK only worsens as the screaming of the metal gets all the louder and the shaking all the more vicious. And then, as the nose of the craft begins to glow red hot, just as you think this almost comically primitive shuttle hurtling through the air at incredible speeds can't possibly take much more: silence. Stillness. Peaceful serenity as it exits the atmosphere. Floating gently, the shuttle offers its inhabitant a beautiful glimpse of Earth from afar. It's a view that very few people are lucky enough to have seen to this day. The journey was a success - he survives, at least for now.

It's in these moments that First Man is at its very best, managing to imbue the NASA missions that Neil Armstrong and others undertook with an incredible amount of tension despite the fact that we already know what the outcomes are, fully managing to make us understand both how dangerous the early space missions were and how terrifying they must've been for those brave enough to undertake them. Sequences like this punctuate First Man's nearly two and half hour long running time throughout, each one more tense and gripping than the last.

Around those sequences First Man is a different film entirely, either giving us an abridged but still educational overview of how NASA went about putting a man on the moon, or speculating about what might've driven Neil Armstrong to become that man through the lens of his family. Chazelle's decision to shoot the majority of the movie on small, grainy film stock lends First Man a sense of authenticity that is not only heightened by some scenes being shot in a documentary-style way but also helps make the IMAX moon landing finale feel all the more spectacular. There is a sense of quiet confidence and simple, solid filmmaking that really, really works, proving that Chazelle isn't particularly interested in being just one kind of filmmaker, refusing to stay in whatever box his previous films have placed him in.

That isn't to say that First Man is totally different to his earlier work, however. They may be worlds apart in terms of genre or style, but First Man is still very much a story of ambition, the lengths that people might go to and the sacrifices they have to make to achieve their goals, and in that sense it actually feels surprisingly apiece with both Whiplash and La La Land, all three of them adding up to create a far more nuanced look at these topics. Previously, we were left to wonder where Chazelle actually stood on the arguably ambiguous endings of his films - now, I think it's pretty clear that they're all approaching the same ideas from different angles and viewpoints, showing the greatness that can be achieved when people aim for the stars and the way those ambitions can end up driving someone down a bad path. I could be wrong, of course - there's an outside chance that Chazelle sees the story of Neil Armstrong and the story of Whiplash's Andrew Neiman as one and the same - Andrew's victory at the end of Whiplash justifying what he was put through in the same way that Neil Armstrong walking on the moon justified the hardships he and his family went through - but I doubt it.

All that being said, ultimately I'd struggle to argue with anyone who said that First Man isn't quite able meet the standard set by Whiplash and La La Land. Despite all its prestige and a number of fantastic performances (particularly from Claire Foy as Janet Armstrong, who almost single-handedly makes the sections of First Man work on a deeper emotional level), First Man is ultimately a touch too formulaic and not quite attention grabbing enough to leave the same kind of impression that Chazelle's previous films have, regardless of how solid the filmmaking is throughout. What it is, however, is proof, if proof were needed, that Damien Chazelle has a lot more variation in him than Whiplash or La La Land might've suggested - and I can't wait to see where that leads him next.

A Simple Favour

A Simple Favour is a pretty delicate balancing act. It's a thriller told with a broad sense of humour (even slapstick at times). One false move could have been deadly, resulting in a film self-serious, or straining to be relevant. But A Simple Favour, directed by Paul Feig, has its cake and eats it too. It's suspenseful, but also hilarious. It's insightful about the head games women can play with each other, but it doesn't burden itself with trying to be meaningful. It's not trying to say something about how we live now or anything like that. What a relief to watch a film unafraid of letting its hair down - reflective, I believe, of the film's leading ladies. The plot shares some similarities with Gone Girl, but that's where the comparison should end. Gone Girl took itself very seriously. A Simple Favour doesn't take itself seriously at all. And that's a good thing.

Single super-mom, Stephanie Smothers, played by Anna Kendrick, meets the mother of her son's best friend, Emily Nelson, Blake Lively, who likes to drink, has a demanding job, and isn't much of a hands-on mother. The two have hardly any anything in common, but quickly become good friends. Several weeks later, Emily vanishes without a trace leaving her husband, Sean, Henry Golding, and Stephanie with a mystery on their hands. As they investigate what happened to Emily, they quickly realise they didn't know her as well as they thought.

A Simple Favour works because of the performances of all three leads. Anna Kendrick is fanatic as the awkward and naive Stephanie. She has tons of really funny moments and is very sweet, but even with a slight edge - the character and the performance is believable. Blake Lively is endlessly entertaining, extremely enigmatic, and unbelievably charismatic. It helps that I am a little bit in love with her. She's beautiful and seemingly lovely in real life! Henry Golding also oozes charisma and adds an unexpected amount of intrigue to the film. All three of them have excellent chemistry and provide, in my opinion, one of the best ensembles of the year. One of Paul Feig's gifts as a director is working with strong charismatic women, giving them space to whoop it up, work off one another, be co-creators. There's space in his approach, space left for behavior, humour, spontaneity.

The plot is really engaging and has seemingly endless twists and turns that leave you constantly wondering what is going to happen next and what is actually true. Each of these characters have secrets, each more shocking than the last, and there are some jaw-dropping moments throughout the film. Director Paul Feig does a great job of giving us his vision of this story. The direction is marvelous and stylish and wouldn't be nearly as good in a lesser director's hands. Unfortunately, the afore mentioned twists and turns overwhelm at times and turn the film into something it didn't intend to be - a parody of genre cinema. Granted, it does find its way back on track, but the journey isn't entirely smooth.

A Simple Favour is one of my favourite films of the year. It has excellent performances all around, a really engaging story and great direction. Interestingly, one of the strongest aspects of this film's success has been its marketing. I don't often interact with film campaigns but I could not avoid this one - the intrigue was there from the start!