Tag: comedy

Dub’s Take: Deadpool and Wolverine (2024)

A spoiler-free mini movie review.

NO STAR RATING *

Actor-turned-filmmaker Viggo Mortensen says, “More and more…what passes for critical thinking in terms of reviews… having some understanding of film history, how movies are made—the level is really low. … It matters to me more…than as an actor because the fate of the movie…hangs in the balance as to how it’s received critically.”

On one hand I agree: modern accessibility in media production means that anyone with a passing interest in cinema & an opinion can produce a TikTok video, or free website (ditto), or novel-length Facebook post to showcase it. Film Criticism may be a category of Pulitzer, but Roger Ebert never bragged about his salary like Dan Bilzerian. On the other hand, even if I have the training (I’m a dropout), why would I want to apply Film Theory to a movie that doesn’t justify it?

I could not take one word of “Deadpool 3” seriously, to the extent I feel a shot-by-shot analysis is not necessary – nor do I think homaging “Intolerence” ever crossed the minds of Ryan Reynolds et al while they made it. I could be wrong, but you don’t get more High Concept than a superhero spoof: they’ve been making spoof movies for years, and Marvel needs one now more than ever.

But Deadpool 3 isn’t a spoof. This is a full-fledged Marvel Studios & Disney production, unlike its pre-merger forerunners. And – despite appearances from Jon Favreau’s Happy and the TVA, firmly mounting this instalment in the same canon – it’s so disconnected thematically from the rest, with it’s incessant fourth-wall breaking & non-sequitur humour, sickening violence (the fight in the Honda Odyssey), and litany of profanities, that I have trouble picturing the upcoming “Secret Wars” even using Deadpool at all, unless he’s toned-down by executive order.

Everyone else seems to love this one: “it’s just for fun, Warren”; “it’s some jokes & cameos, stop taking things so seriously.” I’m not a fan of Reynolds’ deadpan improv and that may be part of my problem. But I’m a fan of Hugh Jackman’s, and his appearance here screams a divorce-inspired desire for future financial security. One cameo was fantastic and another appeared stoned the whole time. As a motion picture, it looked, moved, and sounded fine.

No one cares what I think. Deadpool 3 and its box-office success is the contemporary poster-child of ‘critic-proof’.

*this is a reflection of my feelings towards the film’s posterity, and not the film itself. If I were to give D&W a star rating, it’d be a 1.

Poster sourced from impawards.com.

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Dub’s Take: Bad Boys Ride or Die (2024)

A spoiler-free mini movie review.

3 out of 5

“Bad Boys 4” must be the stuff professional movie critics dread: a campy action yarn neither ground-breaking, nor a colossal tire fire. Even without seeing every major 2024 North American theatrical release thus far, I have immense respect for working writers who can pump out 400-words-or-more per screening and still find things to talk about.

There’s much to like about the sequel: sleek cinematography that recalls Billy Gierhart’s direction on the “SWAT” TV show (swooping drone shots a go-go); a refreshingly easy-going Will Smith performance; and at-least 75% mindless entertainment. For most, that will be enough. But a side-story about Martin Lawrence’s Marcus having a near-death experience is too dour; there is wasted opportunity for more action when instead we get more bereavement; and even under two hours, it’s still a bit long. Everything is too long these days.

I don’t think Will Smith is a bad actor: maybe too focused – even in looser caricatures, like here – and his choice of roles is unvarying. Here, his Mike lacks metalepsis, but this is likely the most relaxed we’ll ever see him on-screen. Lawrence is also fine, but this time around, his Marcus is handicapped by a heart attack, and the film’s subsequent riffs on “Fearless” – such as trying to help Mike bond with his estranged son – are too on-the-nose for what’s supposed to be a high-concept action-comedy. The chemistry between the leads is still there thirty-years on (one need only watch the opening scene to agree), but I only laughed out loud once, and it was at DJ Khaled’s cameo.

Ultimately, Bad Boys 4’s visual candy is so sweet that it masks how the script doesn’t take any chances in the same way. Halfway through, the boys are targeted by every LA gang similar to “John Wick 4”, and the film sets up an alleyway confrontation that could have played like an ultra-violent “Anchorman” News Team showdown, but it ends before it begins. Mike & Marcus may be older, but that doesn’t mean the franchise needs to become more rooted in reality as a result.

Maybe swapping Smith’s & Lawrence’s roles for a new property would give everyone – actors & viewers alike – something different to chew on.

Poster sourced from impawards.com. What do you think? Do you think a 90-minute action-comedy where Will Smith plays the goofy Martin Lawrence character and Lawrence plays the serious Smith character would work, or do you think it could only sustain a ten-minute SNL skit? Does anyone even care about the Will Smith “slap” enough anymore – other than Smith himself – to draw parallels between it and Mike’s panic attacks in the film? Leave your comments below!

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Dub’s Take: Ghostbusters Frozen Empire (2024)

A spoiler-free mini movie review.

I’m not a “Ghostbusters” fan. The first film was not in my childhood rotation, although it was a clever idea that could have only come from the renaissance of ’80s cinema. I did see “Ghostbusters: Afterlife” (2021), but I don’t agree with bringing dead actors back digitally, so I thought the ending was a cheap excuse to wring a wet rag of nostalgia over viewers’ heads. We saw the cast we wanted back (sans Rick Moranis) plus the Ectomobile & proton packs, and the script regurgitated all the flashy pseudo-science that made the first film’s screenwriters Dan Aykroyd & the late Harold Ramis giddy in ’84. And since it made money, now we have ANOTHER ONE.

For the first 75 minutes of “Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire”, you’d be forgiven for thinking it’s a John Cassavetes picture: there’s minimal “busting”; a girl-crush with a ghost; quick flashes of what the old crew is up to; the tribulations of new, inexperienced management taking over an old, established operation; and, ultimately, the triumphant bureaucracy of William Atherton’s Walter Peck. After the small-scale atavism of the last instalment, the only thing producers had to do in this sequel was up the stakes. Yet, so little of consequence actually happens in the first hour-and-a-bit of “Ghostbusters 5” that it feels more like melodrama than the supernatural action-comedy team-up throwback it should be. It’s boring.

It all segues to a big finale that is heavily-spoiled in the trailers. All the new & old actors show up for the one camera shot audiences are all expecting (in uniform walking toward the camera in slow-motion), but the final fight takes place inside the cramped studio corridors of a firehouse when they should be outside in, you know, the world of ice (I thought it was cheaper to shoot against a green screen)? And when our heroes exit to their adoring public in the epilogue, the old actors mysteriously disappear. The final half-hour smells so foul of behind-the-scenes scheduling coordination, and contract negotiation, and cost-saving measures, that its equivalent would be watching a dramatization of the film’s accounting spreadsheet.

Maybe this is all you want out of another Ghostbusters sequel: to see everyone again, one last time. And if they make another one again, then maybe you’ll get to see them all one last time again, forgetting of course we’ve already been through this a few times already. But I’m done with busting. Not that busting ever made me feel good.

1 out of 5

Poster sourced from impawards.com. What do you think? Am I being overly critical? Do I need to chill out more and appreciate that Paul Rudd can turn in a consistent, median-emotion performance whenever he wants? Would you be as awkward as Finn Wolfhard looks in the pre-show interview sitting next to a blond, long-haired Mckenna Grace? Leave a comment down below!

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Dub’s Take: Argylle

A spoiler-free mini movie review.

In an age of debating whether movie studios like Warner have the moral right to destroy unreleased films like their “Coyote vs. Acme” and “Batgirl”, here we have “Argylle”: a movie that didn’t need to be made at all.

Director Matthew Vaughn also helmed all three “Kingsman” movies. Both Kingsman 1 & 3 (“The King’s Man”) were fun and non-conformist, with well-textured characters and believable dialogue that injected some juj into their otherwise-boilerplate spy-caper stories. And where Kingsman 1 leaned towards comedy, Kingsman 3 was effectively dramatic. The reason that absurdist humour in Kingsman 1 and those unexpected tragic beats in 3 worked so well was because the movies were good and had earned your disbelief.

Vaughn is obviously capable, so it’s perplexing that Argylle inspires no audience empathy. Its narrative coalescence is predictable & uninspired. Its special effects are functionally on the level of a television pilot. The all-star cast – from Sam Rockwell to Bryan Cranston to Catherine O’Hara – does exactly what you expect them to with neither subtlety nor relish. And, no surprise, it’s too long, with a final third that introduces an assembly line of misdirection that ends with a dance number, all of which plays like it was written during an endless night of bong tokes.

It is these workmanlike qualities that suggest everyone on Argylle was just doing it for the money: it’s exactly what you expect and nothing more. Vaughn made an inoffensive “Kingsman for Girls”, which will serve its purpose as disposable entertainment for its audience and as a tax write off for its executives. The actors knew that no one was winning any awards: they all showed up with their lines memorized (we hope), did their job, and went home. You will guess all the twists. Your partner will laugh at the cat. And there’s so much leg n’ boob from Bryce Howard & Dua Lipa that you can see what they had for breakfast.

1.5 out of 5

Poster sourced from impawards.com. What do you think? Did this review come across a little too “Red Letter Media”? Where was the cat’s gas mask in the finale? Is that like the “lorem ipsum” being left in the “Last of Us Part 2” PS5 remaster? Do you feel that there is a lack of attention-to-detail in these contemporary corporate-led media releases when there needs to be more scrutiny? Do you see that box below? Leave a comment!

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the damned can’t send dimes

A short story for mature readers.

“A dead egoist is sentenced to Hell and, in one all-in effort, tries to send a message of support to the family he left behind. It doesn’t end well, not that it would.”

Lukas Hassic was an asshole in life, and when he died, he went to Hell. One afternoon, when he was all by himself, he suffered a massive heart attack in his office gym. A soothing voice recited affirmations from his portable speaker, as he lay on his back on the cold hardwood floor next to his weight bench, exacerbating the chills he felt through the sweat that had seeped through his t-shirt.

It was not Luke’s intention to damn his soul – so could say anyone – and his first thoughts out-loud in front of Saint Peter weren’t to ask of the wife and two children left behind in his wake, but why he needed to be reviewed for entry at all. He hooted & hollered and raised a stink at the front of the line before the closed doors of Heaven and its gatekeeper, making sure everyone behind him could hear: he prayed every night with his family; he made sure to work hard in his thirty-four years of painting homes for a corporation; he consciously attempted to remain nonjudgmental, pushing up the people around him; and he canvassed every year for Jeans Day. There was more, but it just didn’t make any sense to him why there was any question he shouldn’t be sanctified.

Lately, Peter had been binging “Judy Justice” on Paradise’s on-demand service – which contained every episode of every court show ever – and he was curt and to-the-point with Luke: he was fake.

“Well that’s not fair.”

“Be quiet! I’m speaking!” The ground in the four-feet around them began to shake under the tremor of Peter’s voice. As quickly as they were needed, flashes of moments Luke had fogged with his own narcissism played before him as clearly as if they had just happened: moments that, when they are reflected on for what they are, temporarily break a man’s defences in their afterglow.

The brief silence that followed was disrupted by Peter, who enjoyed the privilege of calling Luke “a piece of shit” without repercussion, said goodbye, and then pulled a wooden lever to his side that disappeared into the clouds underneath him, triggering a mechanical system which opened a trap door beneath where the answerable stood, sending Luke plummeting towards the depths of the non-denominational Underworld, where the likes of Adolph Hitler, Robert Pickton, and the child molester down the street from you, all reside.

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