First Man – Film Review

 

Aaron Farrell

 

First Man chronicles Neil Armstrong’s (Ryan Gosling) life as a pilot, an astronaut and, a grieving father. All building up to the Apollo 11 Moon landing on 24^th July 1969.

There is a delicacy on show within First Man. The picture is always showing the silent determination of Armstrong but doesn’t do much telling as to why. With this attempting to be such a personal picture and adhering to Neil’s stoicism, it isolates the viewer. Armstrong was not an extroverted, personable guy and as such, this biopic being his from the point of view of his icy glares upon the intake of the trials and travels he overcame, is hard to buy into emotionally.

Damien Chazelle seemingly loves a resolute protagonist whose skin is impermeable to criticism and doubt. Whiplash and La La Land had me engrossed in seconds. I forgot I was in the cinema. When the former ended, I exhaled like I hadn’t for 90 minutes. And with the the latter, I lost a kilo in water weight. First Man never fully gripped me, engrossed me or encapsulated my mind. I was always at arm’s length although a lot of the action takes place from Armstrong’s point-of-view or, along his eye line.

Biopics are usually the chance for a director to spin their style onto a narrative already known. There usually comes a symbiotic fashion from the subject of the film and the filmmaking. Chazelle seems busier paying homage (quite wonderfully) to 2001: A Space Odyssey– a poetically scored space flight above Earth, Gravity – dizzying sensory-beating POV angles, and Interstellar – fixed shots from crafts and grand scales where ships blend with stars. First Man‘s own identity rarely shows itself but when it does – the Moon landing – it impresses a poignant sense of the responsibility and reserved genius needed for such a monumental mission. And, its own machinations of technical marvels.

Ryan Gosling had Emma Stone to sing and dance with in La La Land. Their chemistry was a science to be studied. There is a dance in First Man. A quiet dance, with the great Claire Foy as Janet Armstrong. This humble, home-bound waltz is affecting and a lovely respite from their at-odds marriage. It’s also a showcase of Chazelle’s muted craftsmanship on the film. And in turn, his cast.

 

Gosling is veering worryingly close to be type-cast as the pent-up hero. I ardently fought his corner – and always will – against many who thought his turn in Blade Runner 2049was a rehash of his work with Winding-Refn. Here however, he is anchored by a script that tries to make the first man an alien to his own people. That isn’t a bad thing. One of the best watermarks of Chazelle in Whiplash is the dinner scene. Andrew can no longer hold his tongue against family and friends who think his pursuit of art is a farce, showcasing how utterly dissimilar he is from them. First Man is obviously endowed by reality but there is always a little creative licencing that goes on in Biopics. Josh Singer adapted the screenplay from James R. Hansen’s biography. Was there something lost in adaptation? Armstrong perhaps needed a little more levity or a scene where he gives an honest insight into himself. An eject button to allow the viewers to see the scenery for themselves rather than just from the cockpit.

 

The rest of the cast includes Jason Clarke, Kyle Chandler, Ciaran Hinds, Pablo Schreiber, all pulling their weight in medium to small roles. Corey Stoll is Buzz Aldrin, Armstrong’s inverse in many ways. Cocky, sharp-tongued, judgemental, arrogant. Stoll does a great job at working off of Gosling’s stolid resolve but Claire Foy is the one who carries the film when it’s not with Gosling. Though many of her solo scenes are trying to keep the kids in check, some are lambasting the boys club of NASA to smile-inducing results. Janet’s resolve is perhaps as titanium as Neil’s although she is more nuanced and less likely to repress emotion. The tragedy of the picture is within this relationship. That perhaps wasn’t founded in ‘true love’ and only hardened at the loss of their baby girl. If distance makes the heart grow fonder then no man had been further away from his family, clearly with Neil even when he’s impressing his foot print on the moon.

 

Alt-Right debacle about the American Flag aside, this is a social picture too. The tumultuous times that the Gemini (which no one in the movie ever pronounces correctly) and Apollo missions were a part of, is shown deftly. Public dissent at the cost of the missions are expertly shown. Never better than with poet and activist Gil Scott-Heron’s rap Whitey on the moon. There is also political disinterest in space exploration showcased in scenes where astronauts must pander to congress. Vietnam’s on the TV and magazines only fan the flames surrounding the Moon landing missions. Though Chazelle satirises all of the naysayers in showing the worth of human exploration, of finding a new vantage point, of collectivising humanity in a daring to dream for more. Like the Apollo mission itself, I’d imagine this will inspire many to pursue their dreams, whether they’re out of this world or not.

 

Chazelle’s musical collaborator Justin Horowitz is back. And whilst this film isn’t thematically centred around music, it is still showcased to beautiful effect. Horowitz deftly scores subtle scenes with background emotion. But when the action, catastrophe or wonder of exploration ratchets up, the music acts as a voice to many of these voiceless scenes. The aforementioned homage to 2001 isn’t just a visual celebration but an astutely balanced audio one too. There is a suite that weaves into many of the scenes -akin to Ramin Djawadi’s dextrous use of the Game of Thrones theme tune in disparate stories – that is rousing, tragic and yet hopeful.

 

There is no doubt about First Man being a blisteringly well-made film. It’s technically sublime with seamless visual effects that recreate a milestone in humanity. This will only go on to cement Chazelle as one of the most visionary and vulpine directors working today. Though it does show that he is ever so fallible. The story-telling is never as arresting as the scenery and though this is a meticulous telling of a miraculous event, it can be unengaging and cold for the viewer. For all the propulsion needed to get man to the moon, First Man struggles under its own gravity. It’ll still undoubtedly be an award contender and is a showcase of the craft and determination of great people.

A Star Is Born – Film Review

Aaron Farrell

A festival headlining set introduces Jackson Maine (Bradley Cooper), a Country/Rock ’n’ Roll musician inflected with the meaty chords and funky dream beats of the likes of The Black Keys. He is clearly a titan of industry, revelling with his band, performing to the crowd and with talent to boot. But there is something sombre behind those glazed eyes. A drag bar with a frivolous sense of community and passion paves the way for Ally’s (Lady Gaga) musical intro -a magnanimous take on La Vie En Rose – to which Jackson has stumbled upon, desperate for a stiff drink. Both of these musical set pieces made me feel as if I should applaud rapturously. This deftly balanced introduction to Jack and Ally’s burgeoning love story, underpinning themes of Fame, Addiction, Mental Health, Art and Integrity is a microcosm for a film with something to say on all fronts.

Bradley Cooper, in co-writing, directing and starring in this remake of a remake of a remake is proof of the title. His vision is broad yet personal. A film this confident, this raw, is rarely seen from a directorial debut. Cooper’s battles with an industry symptomatic of attention deficit disorder perhaps worked as the emotional anchor for his desire to re-tell this well-worn story that always seems to capture a zeitgeistal shift in the industry it represents. Though, the soul of artists fighting to say what they have to say, in a time when audiences want to look but not listen, has never been more pressing.

The story beats are relative to the previous version starring Barbra Streisand and Kris Kristofferson, but this is one for the histrionic society so desirous to label itself. Cooper doesn’t attempt to appeal to the multi-faceted hoops of the modern-day dance, but rather aptly brushes them off. As a director and an actor. There is no mention of Followers, or Hashtags, thank the filmic godesses. The crowds are mostly watching through their eyes rather than their phone screens. This star is born in the now but the stipulations of many films released conveying the now are expertly denied by Cooper’s screenplay, adding to the timelessness of the central ideas.

On their first midnight adventure, Ally can’t believe Jackson’s passivity to someone stealing a picture of him as he’s trying to buy a bag of peas. Ally is the younger, more vocal presence toward society and their desperation to be snapped with a star. Jackson has grown up under the pressure of stardom and these contrasts of attitudes are balanced delightfully. Both characters not defined by any one ideal but by a library of them. Fitting as this world they inhabit is diverse, cosmopolitan. The shallow jokes that surround masculinity, gender and sexuality so often passed for Hollywood rhetoric aren’t given daylight. The laughs come at the zest of emergent characters exemplifying the divergent generations. Ally’s father and his friends portray the older generation grasping onto the past. Ally’s drag queen posse shines the spotlight on the LGBTQ community and their desire to define themselves, and have a good time doing so. Jackson and his brother Bobby (Sam Elliot exuding a powerful, poignant presence) represent family and the struggles sibling rivalry can represent as it battles against duty.

 

A Star Is Born isn’t the musical where song and dance represent ambiguous feelings – which is no bad thing, La La Land is one of my favourite films in the last decade. The songs here are the feelings, exemplified in the crafting of music.

“Tell me girl, are you happy in this modern world, tell me, is there something else you’re searching for?” This is the opening lyric to, Shallow, the film’s showcasing duet that played over the trailers. Jackson, ignited in the possibility of love but unable to shake the cynicism that acts as a parasite to hope. “Ain’t it hard keeping it so hardcore?” retorts Ally with a ponderous voice fluctuating through angelic range. There is much to be unpacked here, as there is with most of the songs that are given the time find their space. Cooper has clearly laboured to make sure the live performances are wrung not only for their musicality but the acting that displays more than the lyrics suggest.

Amidst the wonderful musical set pieces, the narrative seeps out. Love blossoms naturally, believably. Set aside the awesome talent of the two stars and you still have a chemistry so strong that I thought I should have brought a lab coat and safety goggles. Their commitment to the bettering of one another fizzes over into so much more than meeting cute and following the worn clichés of Hollywood love. All is wonderful when their together but their careers pull them further apart; Ally’s stardom’s goes supernova and Jackson addresses his addictive traits and his tragic upbringing. Alone they drift. No thanks to the British villain in Rafi Gavron’s Rez, Ally’s industry mogul.

Integrity is torn at by the demands of an industry so set on defining an artist’s talent and looks. At the Grammy’s, a stumbling, reluctant performance for Jackson is an evening of celebration for Ally. Like the best genre cinema, the drama here is engrossing and unsettling, leaving one praying for a release valve for the mounting pressure.

Cooper and Gaga both prove their stardom in their respective new forms. A Star Is Born is clearly a milestone in Cooper’s career, culminating from the desire to have something worth saying, in a form he adores. Undoubtedly a humungous gamble for all he puts on the line here, especially as first time Writer and Director and, not least for casting a pop megastar opposite his career best performance. The reward far outweighs the risks, heavy as they were. Artistry bleeds from this picture about the haemorrhaging of artists. Gaga’s poise in the quiet moments only lends itself to her conviction during the ballads. In a time of efforts by capitalist systems to industrialise artforms, Cooper and Gaga show that stars are not made but born.

P.S. Take tissues. I cry-breathed, gagging on raw emotion more than I ever have in a cinema. And I became dehydrated after watching La La Land.

Blackkklansman – Film Review

Aaron Farrell

Ron Stallworth (John David Washington) is Colorado Springs first black cop and just the catalyst to herald a daring new mission for the sleepy precinct. Infiltrating the KkK. After Ron strikes up telephone contact through a, ‘Do you believe in White supremacy’ newspaper ad, he enlists Flip Zimmerman (Adam Driver) as his white avatar to meet with the Coloradan chapter.

The film begins with an Americana style infomercial video, black and white aesthetic, White over Black meaning. Alec Baldwin channels his SNL take on Trump – the first but by no means the last skewering of the caustic man-child – as he offers ultra-right-wing Conservative rhetoric as The Birth of a Nation (DW Griffith’s landmark 1915 film that didn’t just advocate white supremacy but perpetuated it) is projected behind him, on him, through him. This scene sets the tone for Blackkklansman, funny, frightening and fierce.

Ron’s idealism and integrity are alluded to within his initially perfunct roles as a Police Officer filing reports and doling out profiles to his racist counterparts. He insists on black suspects being called ‘human beings’ and refuses to agreeably objectify an actress that his colleague is pining over in a magazine. Then comes the self-realisation of his character when, undercover in an excited crowd to gain intel on Corey Hawkins’ charismatic turn as Black Rights activist Kwame Ture, Ron finds agreeance with the man although his duty may deny him holding those views.

This being a Spike Lee joint, it is rife with social commentary, polemic politics and scathing satire. He explores much in the two-hour run time, but a central question is, What would you do when faced with this systematic subjugation? Black people must always – lest they be labelled animalistic, sub-human, inferior – exude composure in the face of animalistic, sub-human, inferior behaviour. Even when that comes from cops. And yet, they still aren’t allowed to meet the white yard stick they’re always measured against. Lee understands the hypocrisy of citizenry and the expectations toward black people, of course he does – check his filmography- but here he isn’t as much holding a portrait of racism as he is a glistening mirror. One with more stinging truisms than the that which is asked, Who is the fairest of them all? The answer is screamed throughout the film by slack-jawed, blindly ignorant supremacists. Amidst scenes of police brutality, cross-burnings and many a moronic meeting, rhetoric is shown as the villain. Words don’t have to be true to brutalise.

It isn’t just racism against the African American peopple on show here, as is usually synonymous with portrayals of the KkK. Anti-Semitism is rife within the drooling rhetoric and is as timely a takedown as white supremacy. The tension of the film can often be found in the infiltration scenes of the Klan meetings. Driver’s Zimmerman is a secretive, apathetic Jew and only in having to fervently deny his heritage does he realise that he shouldn’t have to. As ever, it’s a pleasure to watch Driver. Zimmerman’s arc is as moving and empowering as Ron’s and the actor’s chemistry is charged with a quiet camaraderie and respect.

 

Blackkklansman as a whole is a little imbalanced, in pacing and humour. Whereas some of the tension during the infiltration scenes is deftly managed, some feels too forced, tries too hard to make the audience gasp. There is plenty on show to do that and those scenes showcase weaker dialogue and erratic cuts attempting to juggle the shifting tones. This is a shame as Blackkklansman has the potential to be a masterpiece, but its second act is too rickety. It’s a good film but a great movie. There are shots that miss the mark and take you out of the story, and small conceits that delve into Sit-Com which this definitely is not. But there are three great scenes for every one that doesn’t quite hit the mark. Monologues and speeches from varied Black cast – verbal gems often pouring from Laura Harrier’s Patrice) contrast those of the bigoted Whites. Empowering where the Klan’s are defamatory. Unity over division. Beauty over ugliness. Equality not supremacy.

The third act is titanic. Lee and Co. showcasing the other times times lacking balance and dexterity. The power of a movie is exposed in the Third. Not only within the movie itself but about the aforementioned The Birth of a Nation. Ron/Zimmerman’s initiation ceremony is intercut with a soft yet rousing speech from Harry Belafonte’s Jerome Turner, speaking on a lynching of a disabled friend as a child. This sequence is perfectly drawn out, taking its time with the hard-hitting beats and wringing them for emotional gravity. Whilst the Klansmen whoop and holler at the ritualistic screening of The Birth of a Nation – reminiscent of Jarhead’s soldiers getting riled up from Apocalypse Now but more sinister –  Patrice and her fellow activists and Panthers listen to Turner contextualise the film, revealing its tragic impact on America, then and now. The power of Film, how it can incite and empower, coax and deny, enrich and destroy, is showcased wonderfully in metaphor and, prodigiously in the form.

Whilst Blackkklansman isn’t a masterclass in filmmaking, it is a masterful insight into a social history damned to repeat itself. From the same team as Get Out, the material mines a similar vein of bigotry, social hierarchy and racial prejudices. Whilst not as thrilling as its counterpart, Blackkklansman may stand to have a greater legacy. And if ever a film should be shown at the Whitehouse to exemplify a social climate for having its finger on the pulse, its this. Though this true story happened in the 1970’s, Spike Lee has stitched it into our conflicted times with many nods to Trumpian populist rhetoric but also a sobering ending, showcasing our real world. Flip the flag and raise your fist, its time to fight the power.

Lady Bird – Film Review

Aaron Farrell

Lady Bird is an honest, heartfelt meditation which Greta Gerwig has poured wit, charm and a keen eye into to create not just another coming-of -age dramedy but an autership of adolescence.

Christine ‘Lady Bird’ McPherson is a paradox. She’s the average seventeen-year-old girl struggling with the tribulations of teenagedom. Yet she’s witty, charming and has a keen eye for her surroundings. A proxy for Gerwig herself makes her very un-average. But are any of us truly average when we succumb to our individualism. Saoirse Ronan embodies Lady Bird with smatterings of ambition, humour, desire, passion and naivete. These traits and a barrel more make Lady Bird someone to root for even when she’s lying, loitering or longing for more with a precocious innocence. As I said, she’s a paradox.

Gerwig offers the coming-of-age tale as a paint by numbers, albeit one shaded in faded pink hair dye and the blue of eyes searching for meaning. Lady Bird, the film and the character subvert worn tropes by laughing at them and with them. Lady Bird’s best friend, Julie (wonderfully played by Beanie Feldstein) mirrors the titular character in confessions as they lay down in their Catholic school uniforms eating communion wafers from the tub. I can’t think of a scene that doesn’t play to the teen film expectations whilst subverting them, often hilariously.

Humour and heartache come in spades, usually because of one another. The duality between the laughter and the emotion are prominent whenever Lady Bird and her hard-working Nurse Mother, Marion (a note-perfect Laurie Metcalf) share the screen. They’re toxic toward one another, until they’re not. And one passive-aggressive remark pulls them right back into conflict. Though Lady Bird’s entangled love-tales may pale to Marion’s harsh financial woes, neither is downplayed but rather, they intertwine, creating relatable moments that take you back to your own memories of the apocalypse of teenage friendships and the tumult of first love.

Through the many sincere moments, a movie is presented like a collection of wispy memories. The loss of virginity, of friends, of self-respect and self-loathing. And the subsequent finding of fresh feelings. Gerwig’s sincerity, in the writing and direction is testament to the authenticity of Lady Bird and its lovely and numerous laughs and sweetness.

Lady Bird’s search for culture and longing for a faraway college (“I want to go to where culture is, like New York”), offers the tangible yearning of wanting to escape the confines of the in-between worlds of childhood and adulthood. What teenager didn’t want to run away? Escape the hometown for the rumours of a bigger world. The bigger world omnipresent in TV and Film and yet so unreachable. As the film is set in 2002, any TV set part of the mise-en-scene is spouting the rhetoric of a post-9/11 America but with no real consequence to the Sacramento-residing McPhersons. Although Lady Bird does think she may be in with a better chance of enrolment to a New York college as less people will be applying “because terrorism.”

The male players are all on form, Lucas Hedges is the sweet First Love, Timothy Chalamet, the rebellious First Lust and Tracy Lett’s, down on his luck Dad never shy to support and enable Lady Bird. Greta Gerwig has written all characters with three dimensions which supports the subtle undertones of Feminism through female independence in the film. This is what film Feminism is, the honest portrayal of women, warts and all living true lives. There are no stereotypes here, as much as my descriptions may sound like, this is a film about human beings.

The cinematography is a reluctant love letter to Gerwig’s native Sacramento, capturing celestial sunbeams and working-class family breakfasts. For such a personal film, the framing doesn’t intrude on Lady Bird but rather allows her to breath. We are observers not partakers. Jon Brion’s score is an Indie soundtrack best-of, layering the wonderful melo-drama with even more whimsy and quirk. Also keep an eye and ear out for the subtle 2002-isms building the believable world I remember rather well.

Lady Bird is a trip down memory lane. Or rather a gateway drug opening the door to it. Whether Lady Bird is smoking pot for the first time, tussling with her Mom about prom dresses or explaining the sheer underwhelming aftermath of losing one’s virginity, she is exuberantly human. A true to life adolescent trying hard to know what she wants when she can’t stop questioning her own identity. Her Mum states: “I want you to be the very best version of yourself that you can be.” Lady Bird replies with unsure melancholy, “What if this is the best version?” Whether it is or it isn’t, doesn’t matter, because the film sits in a place of unsurety and somehow exudes charisma. And if that doesn’t make sense, it’s because Lady Bird has me reminiscing my own teenage years and unfounded fears.

The Greatest Showman – Film Review

Aaron Farrell

 

P.T. Barnum was a visionary, in business, in life and in uniting disparate peoples. From humble beginnings as a tailor’s boy, he pursues a love that is a a few rungs of social class above his own and in achieving his dream woman, Michelle Williams’ Charity, he believe he must provide a life of luxury for her and their daughters. As a charming salesman Hugh Jackman’s Barnum is able to secure a bank loan to finance his hopes of putting on a show that dazzles and delights its audience. And as the title suggests, he achieves that and subsequently creates show business in the process.

I went in totally blind to The Greatest Showman as I was ten minutes late for a screening of Molly’s Game. It was a serendipitous moment as from the first beat of this film, it infected me with a purity of joy that is often saved for Disney’s greatest hits. The Greatest Showman isn’t a Les Miserables historical epic like the ultra-versatile Jackman roared in back in 2012 but it is a heartfelt, sing-a-long pop take on the structures of a movie musical.

Barnum enlisting the talents and tics of many weird and wonderful folks for his show holds some joyous moments and in seeing the World’s Shortest Man, Chinese siamese twins, Dog Boy, a brother/sister acrobatic duo (who’s special trait is that they’re black), and the whole troupe perform for the first time and be accepted (by some) is when The Greatest Showman is at its best. Delivering the best of what human beings can be, no matter what their appearance, social standing, race or dreams are.

The second act becomes bogged down in melodramatics when Barnum is on the road showcasing the singing talent of Rebecca Ferguson’s Jenny Lind to rapturous audiences. Though the story may go that way, it all felt a little contrived to shoehorn a larger arc for a character interesting enough. I found myself waiting for a song to lighten the mood that had been aptly balanced between desirous brooding and gleeful wonder.

One of the shortfalls of the film for me was the writing of the female characters in Williams and Ferguson. Whilst both look the part, that’s is all they really do due to sloppy plotting with not much desire to break a mould for feminine characters at a time so crucial to the cause. They are happy if Barnum is happy. Sad if Barnum is sad. It’s a shame that they don’t seem to live a life without a male counterparts influence.  Especially in where we are at this changing of gender tides washing Hollywood (and society) of its dirty laundry. Whilst this doesn’t break the film by any means, it stops it from pointing true north on its own moral compass.

Every song is sufficient in emoting feelings of the characters whilst evoking them in the viewer.  The songs are sung heartily and with gusto but the scenes they score are sublime. Whether it be tapping along in a bar with more shots of scotch than a meeting between Don Draper and Ron Burgundy or the troupe of unique performers unashamedly showing aristocracy and the larger world a little diversity.

Casting a musical is no easy feat. Star power that brings in an audience must sometimes be sacrificed for talent. Thankfully, the leading man here is Hugh Jackman so director Michael Gracey couldn’t have gone far wrong but this is an ensemble effort when it comes to delivering the musical performances. The charming love story spanning race culminates in Zac Efron and Zendaya performing Rewrite The Stars whilst acrobatically dancing around an empty stage. The child actors who play a young Barnum and Charity hit pitches that I have only reached when fearfully leaping off something very, very high. This Is Me is the highlight of the track list, rousing, inspiring and exuberantly performed by Keala Settle’s Lettie Lutz, The Bearded Lady. If this film is remembered it’ll be because of this song – helped by the fact it won the Golden Globe for Best Original Song.

Visually this film is a treat for its creative flare. The art direction is fitting with the accentuated 19th century aesthetic. An early scene sees Barnaby look from his office building across to another which stands shouldering a graveyard as uniform as the office space itself. There is much metaphor on show for being true to oneself, succumbing to your differences, setting sail on your own course and chasing happiness for its own sake. These quaint and stirring metaphors bolster the film’s overall message of acceptance, instilling the effort to deliver a feel-good time out at the cinema and one that the audiences can take home with them.

The Greatest Showman is party of people. A visual and musical treat for the most part but with some storytelling shortfalls. Though there’s plenty here to keep you tapping your feet, shedding tears of joy and most importantly, smiling. It’s a show that’s all too welcome and in fact needed in today’s times of division and anger. Come for the show, stay for the experience, leave with a lighter heart and uplifted soul.

Three Billboard Outside Ebbing, Missouri – Film Review

 

Aaron Farrell

Three dilapidated billboards that sit outside Ebbing, Missouri are recommissioned by Mildred Hayes (Frances McDormand) in a desperate attempt to incite local police Chief Willoughby (Woody Harrelson) into actively seeking justice for Mildred’s daughter, whom, seven months prior, was raped and murdered. So begins a plunge into a Southern rabbit hole full of moral depravity, black humour and a game of hide and seek with pathos.

Martin McDonagh is a terrific writer of black comedy. His other affairs are brimming concoctions of humour, graphic violence, irreverent sexual encounters and prideful cynicism. The drama often scored the comedy with Seven Psychopaths and In Bruges but here, the subject matter is dramatic enough.

The very serious battle against loss and the subsequent fight for justice only gains weight in the comedic moments as they more often than not, the laughter that could very well have been the tears. Especially true in everything Frances McDormand does as Mildred Hayes.

Three Billboards is telling of the current cultural shift we’re experiencing. A woman on a mission, against injustice and attempting to hold idling, incompetent men accountable is so poignant of the now. But McDormand is no stranger to bringing intelligent, resourceful and three-dimensional women to life on the silver screen. Oh heck, look at Margie way back when in Fargo. So her performance here of a woman as hard as stone, indignant in injustice, staunch in her goal and refreshingly flawed is utterly deserving of the awards and nominations that come with this season. This isn’t McDormand’s look at me now moment as much as a don’t dare take your eyes off my career testimonial.

McDormand is given so much to do, from repressed heartache, to comedic cursing at her children to an array of monologues that are symphonically cynical soundbites dissecting society, it is a wonder there’s anything left for anyone else. But there is, in spades.

Most off the characters here are somewhat unhinged, idiosyncratic or bordering sociopathic. Thankfully there is an array of supporting actors on hand to fill these rickety boots. Woody Harrelson is droll but deep, bringing the Police Chief called out by Mildred away from bad cop, worse policeman, and into the silhouette of a terminally ill family man who can’t catch a break.

The effervescent Sam Rockwell is delightfully dim as Willoughby’s subordinate lawman, Dixon. Although Dixon tries hard to vilify himself as a piggishly racist fascist whose badge is his free reign to accost and assault, he has an unexpected arc. The cliche of a small town cop is subtly subverted as McDonagh is like to do.

The unholy trinity.

Hayes, Willoughby and Dixon are intertwined in the pursuit of (in)justice, though their stories link in obvious terms to the plot, there is an unexpected shared spirit between each of them trying to do right by themselves and those they love.

The pacing and direction here from McDonagh are one of the many reasons, amongst tight, inclusive cinematography and propulsive editing, that Three Billboards is an awards contender. And, of course, the intricate, layered screenplay. There is an abundance of social commentary and stabs at the mainstream establishments that is a McDonagh watermark but also a personal and profound feel to the picture as a whole. Asking questions of morality, empathy and justice to name but a few before the real zinger which seems to present itself absolutely, What would you do in any of their shoes?

Three Billboards is a film that sticks with you. Not in a melodramatic way where you can’t stop crying or that the action scenes are to be dissected with friends. Three Billboards is a meditation of humanity as a human being. And what catharsis one chooses to deal with events that challenge individual humanity. Somehow these broad strokes are painted in comedic colours. A verifiable juggling act of artistry and craft.

Thor: Ragnarok – Film Review

Thor: Ragnarok

Thor: Ragnarok

Aaron Farrell

Ride the lightning!

Taika Waititi is renowned for humour and heart. What We Do In The Shadows is a bloody blast of benevolent and irreverent laughs delivered by four vampires house sharing in New Zealand.

Hunt For The Wildepeople is a tale of one young misfit, one old misfit and the bond they develop in finding relatability in all their differences. Both films are low budget independent pieces.

With Waititi being brought on board for Ragnarok, I smiled at the thought of the Mighty Thor being directed by such a comedic talent.

For the most part, Ragnarok doesn’t disappoint. Laughs come quicker and bigger than any other Marvel Studios film.

I do think that Watiti has more successfully walked the tightrope between heart and humour in the past.

But I’m fine with the trade-off as this is a high-concept comedy amidst the legacy of a continually expanding universe.

The prologue finds Thor (Chris Hemsworth) captured by a satanic fire demon, Surtur (Clancy Brown).

Though seemingly dangerous, the comedic tone is set right off the bat as Thor undercuts Surtur’s evil monologue.

Even when Hela (Cate Blanchett), Goddess of Death (and the colour black) shows up to beat a tentatively reunited Thor and Loki (Tom Hiddleston) across the cosmos, the laughs do not stop.

Chris Hemsworth is having as much fun as the audience. Though he still has the adonis physique and trademark cape, he truly lets his hair down, even after it’s been sheared off.

Hemsworth has always been a perfect fit for Thor but has now managed to step away from the caricature of thick-headed God. Hemsworth proved by his goofy turn in Ghostbusters that he has a bountiful amount of comedic timing and comic bravado but as he is front and centre in Ragnarok, he is the driving force for the wealth of gags.

The chemistry between Ruffalo (the Hulk) and Hemsworth is particularly palpable, their camaraderie-cum-competitiveness developing over the five years since the original Avengers.

Ruffalo is also on incredible form. Headstrong and brash when green, spacey yet scientific when puny.

Hulk is now a little more articulate (albeit with an angry teenager’s authority and eloquence) which adds a lot to the character.

Heroes and Villains

It’s a shame that the other characters don’t quite have the development they deserve. Loki is deliciously devious but very much an aside to the overarching plot.

Though I love what Hiddleston does as the Trickster, I don’t think he would have been missed either.

Tessa Thompson’s Valkyrie doesn’t do enough to leave a lasting impression as she’s basically the archetype of Thor in his first movie.

Hela disappoints too, never really living up to the potential that a doom bringer should have.

Cate Blanchett seems as though she’s having fun hamming it up with Hela’s pithy monologues and stylish action scenes but she is victim to the inherent problem Marvel Studios has had with villains deserving of their heroes.

The marketing campaign for Thor Ragnarok has rested on the pitting of Thor and Hulk against one another, again perhaps because the heroes are simply more interesting than the villains.

The gladiatorial scene featuring armour clad Hulk (paying kudos to the Planet Hulk comic storyline) and a Mjolnir-less Thor is delectable. This scene steals the show.

The fight is reminiscent of the crowd-pleasing Hulk-Buster Iron-Man vs out-of-control Hulk showdown in Ultron but way more bonkers.

From a comedic aspect, there’s nothing Thor Ragnarok won’t attempt. Hitting the marker for the majority of its hoofs at humour, this is a testament to Waititi’s unique and strange sensibilities.

He even lends his soft, Kiwi voice to rock-troll Korg, a caring, sweet-hearted gladiator with a habit of stealing scenes.

Cate Blanchett as Hela

Silly

The retro 80’s aesthetic is welcome, not only because of the success of Guardians Of The Galaxy but that in many ways, Ragnarok feels like a silly 80’s comedy.

Albeit one with a budget bigger than Hulk’s alluded to penis and a cinematic universe brimming with Easter Eggs and allusions to next year’s mammoth Avengers: Infinity War.

Though, whether through magic or science, Ragnarok is never bogged down by world-building, knowing winks and the grander plot at hand.

Waititi has trimmed the fat from past Thor instalments like the idling relationship with Jane Foster whilst delivering the fun, frenetic and frantic pace expected in each of the Marvel Cinematic Universe movies.

Watching any of the phase one MCU movies in comparison to something as well-designed and dazzlingly in-your-face as Thor: Ragnarok may seem a little tame.

This is a testament then to MCU honcho Kevin Feige who is willing to gamble with independent directors such as Shane Black, James Gunn and now Taika Waititi to deliver unique takes on the tried and tested formula that has shaped what a modern blockbuster should look, sound and feel like. For better or worse.

The soundtrack by Mark Mothersbaugh hits the usual dramatic tones of the MCU back catalogue but also does deliver on the retro vibe with some synthwave tracks that wouldn’t go amiss at a neon-lit rave.

It is in keeping with the tone and works well to heighten action and add a shade of cool to the wackier moments.

Whilst Thor Ragnarok isn’t as emotionally toiling as Civil War or nonchalant cool as Guardians Of The Galaxy, it is about as much fun one can have at a cinema.

Laughter and enjoyment is demanded by Hemsworth, Waititi et al, as they light up the screen in a splurge of toxic colour so sweet you’ll have to brush your teeth afterwards.

Be grateful that we are at a point in modern blockbuster cinema that for every three unknowingly stupid Fast and Furious or Transformers, we get one charming, winking slab of self-aware silly that is purely a good time for the sake of it.

Deadpool 2 – Film Review

Aaron Farrell

 

The opening to Deadpool 2 is like a Flip Book of of his comics; globetrotting mercenary levels of killing economy doused in meta-humour that reaches through the fourth wall to slap you silly. Though Deadpool may be wearing the same suit, and frolic with many of the same characters, the unkillable love child of Freddy Krueger and Monty Python is most definitely a sequel that’s had more money thrown at it whilst having less constraints set upon it.

 

Wade Wilson (Ryan Reynolds or perhaps simply, Wade Wilson in disguise within our reality) wants a family, and as such tells the viewers that this movie is in fact part of the Family genre, even following the same tropes that make up a large percentage of Disney classics. A death close to Deadpool sets him off on a journey that raises some apt questions around immortality and the meaning of existence, all wrapped up in delectable tortilla of humour and violence. A trademark Deadpool chimichanga that is upset by the appearance of future-soldier Cable who’s hell bent on killing a child who will prophetically go on to herald a dark dystopia.

 

Like many of the heroes within what has become an oversaturated genre, identity crises are as wrung out as falling cities and CGI-laden battles. Deadpool, the film, the character, the identity, has no such crisis. Reynolds, Leitch (One of the guys that killed the dog in John Wick) and writers Rhett Reese and Paul Wernick know precisely what makes Deadpool tick. And so gloriously bask in the blood, the bad mouthing and the bombast to deliver the promise of a blockbuster sequel. The locales are grander, the scope farther reaching and the meta-humour coming at you harder than the 3D Horror genre post-Avatar. For all the excessive violence and F-words there’s a precise balance here between the fourth wall and the Fucks.

 

Rules are oft spoken about in much of the discourse between the Great Silver Sinew that is Colossus and the Merc with the Mouth. Rules and their self-fulfilling prophecies are meant to be broken. Whilst these discussion aren’t aimed at the viewer, the self-reference is multitudinous. Deadpool has always had the comic book tropes in his crosshairs and that’s part of the reason he resonates. He is the rule, and the rule breaker squeezed tightly into a red leather sweatsuit. The nonconformist who exemplifies its black heart on its scarred sleeve for all the caped crusaders to see. Both metaphorically and literally, as nothing and no one is safe in Deadpool 2. Marvel, DC, James Bond, John Wick, Hugh Jackman and Ryan Reynolds. Even Deadpool himself. Nothing is off limits and that is the intoxicating rebellion that Deadpool leads. He is the author and the reader, so how do we go about acknowledging the death of the author (Reynolds is literally a Co-Writer this time round) when he can grow back limbs on a whim? Even if those limbs regrow in infant form first leading to a wicked Basic Instinct gag and streams of smut. When it comes to Deadpool, or meta-fiction itself, perhaps they truly are unkillable.

 

 

Whilst Colossus, Teenage Negasonic Warhead, Weasel and Ness are back, there is still some wiggle room for the newcomers to dance. Cable being the biggest pull for this new installment, announced way back in the hilarious end credits of the original Deadpool movie. Brolin straight off the back of his grandstanding turn as Thanos in Avengers: Infinity War brings the matured badass. The soldier from days of future past has always been the finest accompaniment to digest Deadpool, taking no shit and brooding in his own brutality all the while. And when he stops trying to blow Deadpool away with a gun that cranks the firepower to 11, Cable and Deadpool share in a reluctant, unbalanced brotherhood. Domino, played by the charismatic Zazie Beetz has fun in bringing her lucky streak to the unfortunate pair whilst becoming another iconic heroine amongst the established likes of Black Widow, Wonder Woman, et al. Heroines that look to change the playing field once more, and rightly so.  The expanded roster of heroes and villains fleshes out the world in which Deadpool plays, acknowledging and yet disavowing the presence of the X-Men that kicked off this Superheronaissance in 2000.

 

Deadpool works so well because he is the Punk to the established Rock ‘n’ Roll, only allowed such frivolities because he can deconstruct that which has already been constructed. This taste, or lack thereof (Deadpool’s words, not mine) of Action Comedy is by no means meant to serve everybody satisfactorily. The deeper one has swam within the seas of Pop Culture and Comic Books, the more one will appreciate this sequel. Or at least understand it’s desire to commit an established character to the screen faithfully. Deadpool 2 is as paradoxical as its titular character and the world he inhabits. You, yes you, dear reader, will feel the joys and sorrows Deadpool feels, as both Fiction and Film allow. You will laugh and you might even cry. You’ll groan and you’ll gag. And you might even throw roses toward the screen after the end credits in appreciation of this one man show whose lack of giving a shit is the fight with one sword for liberal politics, equality, justice and family values. And with the other, skewers them decoratively. Deadpool 2 is a riot of a movie that raucously fills the shoes of an iconoclastic idiot that might be the hero we all deserve.

 

Blade Runner 2049 – Film Review.

Blade Runner 2049.

 

A return to the dystopic, smoke-filled streets of neon darkness, Blade Runner 2049 is in no way a pompous, bloated sequel to cash in on the now legendary status of 1982’s Blade Runner. It is an exploration of the grand themes, electric atmosphere and volatile world which ignited the hearts, minds and souls of a generation of filmmakers and cinema fans alike.

This is a spoiler-free review so if I seem vague on plot it is so I do not ruin a single moment of the magnificence on display.

Much has happened since Deckard and Rachael decided to defy the rules and run. Three short films released by Warner Bros are a great way to fill in some of the gaps in-between but also to revel in this palpable world. The animated short Black Out 2022 directed by Cowboy Bepop’s Shinichiro Watanabe is the standout but all three wholly warrant attention. Thirty years on from the dangerous days of 2019 however, Ryan Gosling’s Officer K is a new breed of Blade Runner. Working for the LAPD, K’s job is to track, hunt and retire ‘replicants’ that hide in the shadows of the looming city. Whilst on the job, K stumbles upon a long-buried secret that has the potential to change the very rules of the world in which he lives.

 

Denis Villeneuve is an angel. When I read that he was attached to the Blade Runner sequel, whatever apprehension I had seeped from my bones as his body of work has never failed to blow me away. Enemy is a surreal nightmare of identity, Prisoners the spiritual successor to David Fincher’s genre-defining cop noir Se7en – capturing all its rain-soaked ambience and heavy hitting plot. Sicario is dread-inducing showcase of the human spirit in decline and Arrival, a big Sci-Fi blockbuster with intelligence, heart and importance. Villeneuve then, the angelic composer of genre cinema becomes a god with 2049 as everything that came before was merely a warm-up for what he presents here. Within minutes, the film absorbs the viewer into the atmosphere which hasn’t allowed fans much respite since 1982. Villeneuve utilises everything used in the past to deliver a film so replete with life, that its essence bores deep inside to salt the ideas presented, not only making them tastier but preserving their meaning.

As K explores the world within Blade Runner 2049, the audience is dragged deeper down the rabbit hole. If Blade Runner was the scramble toward the light above then 2049 is the plunge deeper into dystopia. This, all thanks to our proxy in Ryan Gosling. Gosling never leaves his presence at the door and here it glows. Although initially seeming like a quiet performance, as the narrative blooms so does Gosling. He certainly channels his performance in Drive but this is by no means a rehash. The angst, despair, desire, longing he portrays through his stare are subtitles to his mind. Conflict is prominent in K as a character, as it was in Harrison Ford’s Deckard. Although K is given a more rounded jumping off point. Still clouded in mystery albeit mysteries we delve into throughout the film. Gosling is a still tree in the first few scenes. Cold and distant although not unaware of his plights and the prejudices of the world. As the story unravels however the tree is whittled into a piece of living, breathing art. Gosling may be the spearhead here as 2049 is his film and story (this isn’t to take anything away from Deckard so worry not fellow fans) but every character casts a shadow.

Ana de Armas is vulnerable yet inspiring as Joi, K’s confidant and love. She is intoxicating and plays against Gosling tremendously, the characters complement one another, wanting to protect and enable. Robin Wright’s Lieutenant Joshi is stern and sharp, as if Claire Underwood left politics for policing. Niander Wallace is the self-appointed prodigal son of Tyrell and his corporation. He is a self-aggrandising romantic with a soft voice and stolid resolve. Jared Leto can be seen in one of the aforementioned short films as Niander proposes a new take on the Replicant race, as can Dave Bautista’s Sapper Morton. An android who must hide his humanity. Mackenzie Davis is Mariette, a sex worker that looks eerily like Daryl Hannah’s acrobatic Pris – when she was first cast I thought it must be for some sort of flashback involving Pris. Sylvia Hoek’s Luv; Wallace’s right-hand woman, is a revelation. Frighteningly subservient and with a penchant to prove herself. All these bold, full characters and I haven’t even mentioned Harrison Ford. I’ll say little other than this might be his most nuanced and aching performance on film. ‘Career best’ is a term that could be attributed to everyone involved in Blade Runner 2049.

Art Style and Direction was the means by which the original initially captured the imaginations of its audience. The imagination of Philip K Dick was transported from the pages of Do Androids Dream Of Electric Sheep – a classic of the Science Fiction genre and one of my personal favourites – into film reel with Ridley Scott at the helm of Blade Runner. A painstaking process of artistic design for logos, products, vehicles, weapons, people, androids and the world in which they all inhabit was treaded as designers breathed life into Los Angeles of 2019. The sheer scale of the world boggles my mind on every viewing of the original but 2049 somehow expands upon what was to create a gargantuan setting primed to swallow any who look upon it. We have a larger view of a world that is dying. Whilst we spend time in the darkened cityscape of LA, we get to view the larger area, granting a deeper perspective as to the eco/sociological state in which android and humankind inhabit a shrinking Earth. Yet one that is sparser than we are led to believe as the fabled Off-World is where most hope to ascend.

Art Direction wasn’t the only subliminal vortex which immersed the audience in Blade Runner for Vangelis’ score is as iconic as Roy Batty’s monologue or the steaming streets. Vangelis hasn’t returned for 2049 (Villeneuve common collaborator: Johan Johansen, was set to compose but Villeneuve decided to go with something closer to Vangelis’ original tone) but on board is Benjamin Wallfisch (recently scaring cinemagoers with his violent tones in IT) and the omnipresent Hans Zimmer. As such, the score is a delight, capturing the old in a haunting, impactful way whilst evoking K’s tumultuous journey in a different time. Prepare the soundtrack for the car journey home from the cinema.  

Blade Runner 2049 has a substantial runtime of 163 minutes but there isn’t a wasted frame. Roger Deakins has created a picture of such visceral beauty and vivid iconography that with such grandstanding aplomb he has cemented himself as the favourite for the hailed Best Cinematography Oscar. The lighting of the original film is thin and searching, adding tension as it passes over the key players in an accusatory manner. The lighting of 2049 is godly and ever changing. A presence in itself. Whether it be the light of dancing water in Niander Wallace’s HQ or the ethereal burnt orange hue of a deserted landscape that can be seen in the trailers and posters, light morphs and shapes the locales of 2049 into dystopic art installations. Not one of which is disposable to the aesthetics nor the narrative.

The pace of 2049 may be a slow crawl but you can be sure it is meant to be that way. There isn’t shock and awe manipulation of plot but there is plot enough that is shocking and awe-inspiring. It doesn’t ask for nor demand your attention as much as it rewards it on a titanic level for a little intellectual insight. There is a ponderous air to proceedings, allowing for time to digest the subtlety in the story. It’s scale and ambition are mighty and whilst I am speaking in hyperbole, it is hard not to gush about a story so important and integral to the genre and medium. This is a masterpiece that somehow honours and builds upon the humanistic themes of the book and the original film, all the while exploring the morality of a new generation.  It penetrates so deep as to scar your bones.

Blade Runner 2049 is a romantic, ponderous picture about the beauty and brevity of life. It showcases poetry and prose through its narrative and radiates imagery and sound that envelops and intrigues. Sitting and experiencing it for the first time, I knew that I was witness to a cinematic milestone, as I know I will be in every subsequent viewing. This is a child that had no right to be what it is and yet defied expectation in every conceivable way, a metaphor for what artificial life can achieve within the world on show. I think even Roy Batty wouldn’t believe what he has seen in Blade Runner 2049.

 

Written by Aaron Farrell.

Star Trek Beyond – Film Review.

Star Trek Beyond unfortunately doesn’t boldly go where no film has gone before but has a few standout moments to keep the franchise afloat but like the Enterprise itself, there’s only so many times it can be rebuilt before a Voyager needs to come along.

 

Beyond was garnering some animosity months before it hit cinemas because of the first trailer looking and sounding every bit like a Fast and Furious teaser spot which was a little too on the nose with Furious alum Justin Lin taking over the reigns of the JJ Abrams rebooted franchise.  The film itself doesn’t do a great deal to shake off those negative predictions unfortunately. I have loved this rebooted Trek franchise so far as it gave me great jumping in point to the huge ocean of Star Trek content. I had seen many episodes as a child whilst my uncle baby sat me but had never been a devout trekkie.  That isn’t to say I didn’t have a massive respect for the unique position Star Trek holds firmly in the popular culture zeitgeist but Abrams take is now my Trek.  Beyond held much promise for taking the franchise into its first five-year mission but it all seems a little drab as Chris Pine’s charismatic Kirk is disenfranchised by the monotony of CAPTAINING A STARSHIP INTO UNCHARTED TERRITORY(!?) and Zachary Quinto’s thoughtful Spock is feeling the pressure of the passing of his alternate self (a deftly handled nod to the passing of the great Leonard Nimoy) and the responsibility of helping establish New Vulcan.  Alice Eve’s Carol Marcus isn’t even mentioned nor is much of any of Into Darkness. Whilst it wasn’t as precise as the first installment of this reboot, I’d argue it is still one of the better blockbuster’s of recent years yet writers Simon Pegg(also Scotty) and Doug Jung seemingly wanted to brush past it.

 

The five year mission doesn’t go anywhere here as the Enterprise are lured from a far-flung base/intergalactic service station to an unknown planet past that lie beyond a deathly nebula, which is where most of the film takes place as the Enterprise is torn apart once more(it’s in the trailers before I get death threats).  I’m frankly sick of seeing the poor old Enterprise continue to take hits like a 40-something journeyman boxing for booze. It’s a big misstep in my eyes and has even lost its sacrilegious rite as it was destroyed just last film.  There’s no gravitas to it no matter what the reasoning behind it is, which here feels more like a jarred in plot device to maroon the cast rather than an attempt to boldly destroy one of cinemas most regarded spaceships.  For each thing wrong however there is something that works because of it which is a real shame as a whole with the film being a rollercoaster of high/low moments and not in the emotional sense.  The pairing off of the cast gives each key player a new lease of life, the standout pairing being Spock and Bones. The whole casting of (this version) of the Enterprise was inspired stuff in 2009 and they continue to shine through, exemplified here by  Karl Urban and Quinto. They seem to have a lot of fun playing off each other’s character tropes of Spock’s ultra-realist cum humanitarian and the perpetually pissed off and yet playful Dr Bones. Anton Yelchin is as hopeful and helpful as ever as Chekov but the actors untimely passing adds a real melancholy to the bright-eyed Chekov who is paired with Kirk. Scotty is helped out of a dangerous situation by Jaylah – an alien that has been trapped on the planet for some time – and so starts a new friendship. Sofia Boutella kicks ass as Jaylah whilst having some funny one-liners as she’s new to hollywood english but she still feels like a turn at redemption from the aforementioned Alice Eve’s Marcus as many saw her as poorly written object from Into Darkness especially with that semi-naked scene.  I liked her character and feel she’d have been better served returning strong, smart and savvy but also  have her grow naturally within the crew which would quell the whispers of misogynistic writing. It’s as if Zoe Saldana’s terrifically capable Uhura isn’t an integral part of the crew and cast. The internet does like to bitch at anything it can however. Uhura and John Cho’s Sulu are given the least to do but both still ooze capability and prowess. Sulu has been a staple of understated leadership within these films and yet his character being revealed as gay set the internet alight more than his prowess ever has.  The scene in which it’s revealed he has a husband and a daughter is quiet and as understated as Sulu himself and I liked its nonchalance.

With a new Star Trek movie comes a new villain and Krall is the big bad here played by the always excellent Idris Elba. It is such a shame then that Elba is morosely underserved here as Krall’s dialogue and motives are shamefully weak. Some character history and exposition during the climax isn’t enough to salvage Krall as a totally forgettable villain whose potential is left totally untapped.  

 

Lin’s direction does feel different from Abrams which is respectable but some of the action scenes are a touch too frenetic and pacy whilst the scale of the movie is toned down some, simply due to what feels like lower stakes; which wouldn’t be a bad thing if the focus was on thorough character development and world building. Beyond is still loud and proud like Abrams films which many die-hard trekkies don’t like for not capturing the spirit of the original series but I feel they still had me caring more than I did here. The solitary planet setting would have been better served in the next installment perhaps nearing the end of the five-year mission where Lin should have felt confident to explore the universe and put a stamp of his own on Star Trek but discovery is not a fruit of safety.  The music throughout the film is used very well.  Michael Giacchino has crafted a thing of beauty in the main theme that has run through the last three movies as each time I hear it it becomes more iconic and adept at capturing the old Gene Roddenberry spirit whilst becoming important to the new generation. One of the standout moments in Beyond is brought about through music, particularly Beastie Boys anthemic Sabotage. It blared out when we saw a young James Tiberius Kirk joyriding a motorcycle in Star Trek and its use here is executed with a wink to that moment whilst supplying a cheesy yet delectable moment of giddiness and spectacle.

 

All in all Star Trek Beyond is a serviceable threequel with some touching tributes to what has gone before but not quite enough to satisfy the desire of what may come.  There are some good moments and there are some bad moments but what is lacking are some new moments of wonder and awe. Beyond feels like a breather after two great films, a reminder that these beloved characters are still around and that they will be back. I’d like the next movie (which has been confirmed officially and touts a return from Chris Hemsworth who played Kirk Senior in the opening scene of Star Trek) to free itself of the shackles of the expectations of the franchise as a whole and head heartily and confidently into the unknown. A sense of wonder and less destruction would fit nicely with a dash peace and prosperity would serve these established characters perfectly. And isn’t that what Roddenberry always strove for anyway.  And dammit man, do not destroy the Enterprise again.