 Rewatching the original Indiana Jones trilogy, one is particularly struck by the prodigious nature of Spielberg’s craft - it’s almost dizzying in its sheer visual inventiveness. Any individual sequence - such as the madcap opening of Temple of Doom, which effortlessly merges action, humor and suspense (on the heels of a full-blown musical number!) with laser-cut precision editing and a nonstop battery of visual gags - packs more cinematic expression than most filmmakers manage in an entire film (if not career). Spielberg is one of the few directors who never loses sight of the essence of the medium; the screen is his canvas, and he sees the world through its dimensions.
It’s an increasingly rare skillset, and one of the (many) reasons an Indiana Jones film without Spielberg at the helm is largely unthinkable (the original trilogy set a standard that even Spielberg himself has struggled to match - as evidenced by his much-maligned fourth entry Kingdom of the Crystal Skull… but even Spielberg in severely diluted form still runs rings around most other directors). That being said, if you had to turn the reins over to someone else, James Mangold isn’t an unreasonable choice, on the surface - a malleable filmmaker who isn’t limited to any particular genre or style and has managed an impressively diverse resume (including the likes of Logan, Walk the Line, 3:10 to Yuma, and Ford vs Ferrari). Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny, the fifth (and presumably final) whip-cracking adventure, sees Mangold working comfortably within the series formula. It opens with Indy (played, as always, by Harrison Ford) doing what Indy does best - fighting Nazis at the height of World War II (the de-aging technology used to restore Ford to his 80s prime is a mixed bag - some shots look outstanding, while others have the artificiality of a video game cut-scene). The sequence rambles on much too long (Spielberg, a master of narrative brevity, likely would have sliced it in half), but it lays the necessary groundwork… … as the story jumps to 1969 and picks up with an older, creakier Indy (taking full advantage of Ford’s marvelously sourpuss demeanor), his adventuring days long behind him and prepping for retirement from academia. There’s an unexpectedly mournful shade to these establishing scenes and they’re probably the aspect of the story best suited to Mangold’s dramatic sensibilities (he didn’t direct the most existential of comic book movies in Logan for nothing). But then Indy’s estranged goddaughter Helena (Phoebe Waller-Bridge) shows up, looking for the Archimedes-crafted titular artifact that he and her father (Toby Jones) acquired during WWII, and before you can hum the opening bars of the iconic John Williams theme, it’s another race against the Nazis, led by astrophysicist Jurgen Voller (Mads Mikkelsen) (Voller, it turns out, has been utilized by the CIA to help America win the space race; a clever conceit designed to resurrect Indy’s go-to antagonists in spite of the year, though one wishes Shaunette Renee Wilson played a more substantial role as Voller’s Foxy Brown-esque handler). Dial of Destiny is consistently functional, though rarely rousing… at least in the way the original films were rousing (which may seem like an impossible assignment, but that’s what you get for taking on a sequel to the absolute gold standard when it comes to cinematic adventure - adapt a Clive Cussler novel if you’d like a lower bar). As a filmmaker, Mangold has surprisingly little sense of fun, and exhibits almost no perception of visual wit - he handles the logistics of the action set pieces with great professional competency, but almost none of Spielberg’s crackerjack showmanship or impeccable timing… engaging on a basic level, but somewhat lugubrious (a scuba sequence on the ocean’s floor could desperately have used a touch of that old Indy spit & shine). What Mangold does manage, however, is to coax a hell of a performance from Ford. It’s remarkable how, even at age 80, the screen legend has barely lost a step in his signature role… and he grapples with Indy’s mortality and regrets in a way that cuts uncommonly deep for a summer crowdpleaser. Waller-Bridge, meanwhile, all but effortlessly aligns with the franchise’s tonal wavelength - she wouldn’t feel out of place in Raiders of the Lost Ark (which makes the clumsy attempts to denounce her character as yet another byproduct of Disney’s so-called “wokeism” all the more witless). On the other hand, Helena’s Moroccan sidekick Teddy is a bit of a head-scratcher; he’s basically a dollar-store Short-Round - right down to the origin story - and the pale comparison does the film no favors. Mikkelsen, for his part, remains a study in reliably sturdy villainy - few actors convey more through a facial expression that rarely twitches. Dial of Destiny suffers from a similar problem that plagued Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, which is a frustratingly vague set of stakes (one of the best things about Last Crusade is the ironclad simplicity of its “Nazis + Holy Grail = Bad” equation). Unlike the latter, however, Mangold’s film eventually shows its hand and it sets the stage for a fearless creative swing in the third act… one that finally sparks the priceless thrill of experiencing Indiana Jones in uncharted territory (some have chafed at the narrative choice, but you might have noticed that the franchise has never exactly been tethered to reality). And just when it appears the movie is shaping up for a bittersweet, No Time to Die-style denouement, Mangold - in one of his more inspired flourishes - shuts it down with a visual pivot worthy of Spielberg himself. The sendoff ultimately feels a lot more appropriate and satisfying than the “fan fiction”-flavored conclusion of Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. Dial of Destiny would most likely be boxed and stored in a crate stamped “acceptable”… it inspires neither adoration nor particular dislike… but it’s worth appreciating the opportunity for one last adventure. After all, there’s still a bit of residual magic left in the creases of that battered old brown fedora.
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7/21/2023 0 Comments no hard feelings As an actress, Jennifer Lawrence can often be a victim of her own considerable talent. Her meteoric rise (an Oscar nominee at age 20 for Winter’s Bone and an actual Oscar winner just two years later for Silver Linings Playbook, in addition to launching a little franchise called The Hunger Games in-between), locked her into a certain type of career trajectory - a steady diet of agency-approved prestige projects and sturdy yet largely risk-free studio fare, such as Passengers and Red Sparrow (she's since publicly shaded her involvement in the former). But Lawrence has always operated with an edge of nonconformist defiance; a stubborn streak that causes her to dig in her heels and bare her incisors (figuratively speaking, of course) if she’s told what to do. It’s that obstinate spark that gives her stardom its extra fierce gleam.
It’s also the reason why it’s almost irrationally thrilling to find her headlining a raunchy, R-rated comedy like No Hard Feelings - the sort of project most actresses would vent from their system long before solidifying their A-list standing. But Lawrence has long had a rowdy, tomboyish quality that rarely gets exploited on-screen… and which makes her uniquely suited to play Maddie Barker, a 32-year-old Montauk resident with no particular direction or ambition, whose short-term goal is simply holding on to her late mother’s house by hook or by crook. In one of those forgivable, only-in-the-movies type set-ups, Maddie - who works as an Uber driver - has her car repossessed (a near fatal blow to her financial prospects)… but soon discovers a wealthy couple (Matthew Broderick and Laura Benanti) who are offering a Buick Regal in exchange for dating their socially awkward son Percy (Andrew Barth Feldman) and coaxing him out of his shell before he leaves for Princeton at summer’s end (some have been bizarrely clutching their pearls and fanning themselves over this premise, which makes you wonder what they’d make of a movie like Porky’s Revenge, or the entirety of the 80s in general). Feldman doesn’t have a particularly distinct look beyond general gawkiness, and at first there’s a fear that Lawrence will simply blow him off the screen - that this isn’t a fair fight. But much like Percy himself, he has a disarming comportment that keeps Maddie - and the audience - consistently off-balance. The movie was co-written and directed by Gene Stupnitsky, working in the same general register as his prior feature, 2019’s Good Boys (he also co-wrote Bad Teacher in 2011). No Hard Feelings is a very funny movie (you’ve probably heard about its Eastern Promises-inspired nude beach brawl, with Lawrence ascending to new heights of comedic fearlessness), though it never *quite* reaches the consistent, side-splitting nirvana of the very best comedies. The real draw, rather, is the deep appeal of its two lead characters, with Stupnitsky threading a very tricky needle in terms of what the realistic endgame for this relationship actually is. Maddie and Percy are both characters who need to grow up in different ways and for different reasons and basically need each other to do it - which is certainly nothing new (young adults stuck in a state of arrested development is basically a comedic subgenre unto itself), but their rapport has an engaging and unorthodox specificity that hooks in on an emotional level. Much of the humor also benefits from a bracing sting (Maddie attends a pre-college mixer and discovers the hard way that high schoolers are a lot more immune to her sense of cool than she assumed). Feldman has a bright future (he’s like a guileless, high school version of Paul Rust), but the film, not surprisingly, belongs to Lawrence. Much has been made of how genuine movie stars are beginning to feel like an endangered species… the reasons for this are myriad, of course, but being called upon to predominately service franchise IP certainly doesn’t help the situation. Like all great comic actors, Lawrence suffers no vanity and isn’t afraid to go for broke (she crawls around on all fours, howling in lunatic agony after a misunderstanding causes Percy to mace her). But it can’t be overstated - perhaps given the degree to which she’s specialized in characters mature and capable beyond their years - how captivating it is watching her portray someone who’s the exact opposite… flawed and selfish, funny and cute, and, above all, relatable (just watching her skate awkwardly around Montauk in a pair of roller blades, for lack of alternate transportation options, is intensely charming). You can’t take your eyes off her. No Hard Feelings doesn’t cut as deeply as it might have (there’s a class conflict at the heart of the story that the movie is content to skim superficially), but Lawrence gives a bona fide movie star performance in a summer that - to date - has been largely bereft of them. Watching her on-screen is like taking a deep breath of precious oxygen. 7/16/2023 0 Comments Mission: impossible (1-6) rankings
Here are my current, updated rankings of Mission: Impossible 1-6, following a complete rewatch of the entire franchise in anticipation of the release of Dead Reckoning Part One.
6. Mission: Impossible II This entry has its fans, but ranking it last is a pretty easy call… if for no other reason then it’s not even a true Mission: Impossible movie, really. It’s basically an overripe and over-the-top action film version of Notorious with some superficial espionage sprinkled in (the sequence at Biocyte headquarters is positioned as the movie’s answer to the Langley set piece from the original, but it can’t scramble ahead to the mindless pyrotechnics fast enough). The film might still have worked as a John Woo eye candy extravaganza, but this was the precise moment the Hong Kong legend began to tilt into unfortunate self-parody (or, at the very least, exhausted his bag of cinematic tricks - almost every shot, every bit of bullet ballet choreography feels like something we’ve seen him do before, and better). The series has obviously been built around showcasing Tom Cruise, but not with this sort of preening movie star glamour - hair blowing in the wind as he pirouettes in slow-motion with twin guns blazing and leather trench coat billowing. Thandie Newton is absolutely ravishing, but the film seems to be drawing inspiration from the James Bond franchise in a way the subsequent sequels thankfully scrapped. The climactic motorcycle joust is like the peak of over-stylized 2000-era action idiocy. 5. Mission: Impossible I feel kind of bad ranking the original this low, because it has a lot of nostalgic mid-90s charm (“Hasta lasagna, don’t get any on ya!”). The Langley set piece remains an absolute banger (one of the best in the entire series... and the helicopter climax ain't shabby either), and the film has a lot more De Palma DNA baked into it than I originally gave it credit for - in fact, he arguably lends the proceedings an instinctual cinematic quality largely unrivaled by the rest of the franchise (there’s probably also an alternate universe in which Emilio Estevez gets to be the Benji prototype for more than 15 minutes). On the other hand, even if you’re willing to overlook the unfortunate mess the movie makes of the Jim Phelps character (assuming you’re familiar with the TV series), the oddly joyless plot is no great shakes, the would-be love triangle is DOA, and Cruise’s 90s mannerisms and faux-intensity are at their unhinged apex (he has so much more of a natural ease in the role now). Also, it’s not the movie’s fault, but the fact it was filmed at the dawn of the internet age results in extended swathes that feel almost clumsily quaint (Ethan’s AOL email correspondence with Max, the NOC list being copied onto a CD, etc…). There are some bumps in the road for sure - the franchise was still trying to figure out its formula. Those in my age bracket seem to almost irrationally revere it, but I prefer the later sequels. 4. Mission: Impossible - Rogue Nation Christoper McQuarrie assumes full stewardship of the franchise, delivering an extremely tight and solidly executed fifth installment that strikes a reasonable balance between the escapist fun of Ghost Protocol and the more grounded character drama of Mission: Impossible III. And yet… something about the film doesn’t quite stick, strangely. Of all six entries, this is the one I had the fuzziest recollection of pre-rewatch… and just a few days later, I can already feel key narrative details starting to grow foggy again (I’m not sure I could even walk you through the main beats of the climax). By far the best thing about the movie is the addition of Rebecca Ferguson as the enigmatic British operative Ilsa Faust, whose elusive loyalties are like quicksilver… keeping the plot genuinely off-balance, even if you know deep down she and Ethan are destined to end up thick as thieves. There have been other strong female characters, but she’s the franchise’s first genuine counterpart to Tom Cruise (as a bonus, their sexual tension is refreshingly kept to a minimum). On the other hand, Jeremy Renner’s return is a disappointment; his place in the Mission: Impossible landscape suddenly seemed a lot hazier (it’s not really a surprise he was subsequently phased out). But the set pieces - including a standout sequence in an underwater security vault, as well as the De Palma-esque opera assassination - flex some serious technical muscle… paving the way for McQuarrie’s greater ambitions to come. 3. Mission: Impossible III The most character-driven M:I adventure, this somewhat polarizing third entry focuses on giving Ethan an actual emotional stake in the proceedings, while exploring the intense personal toll of being an IMF agent. Of course, the consensus amongst fans seemed to be that this approach wasn’t altogether necessary, as the series subsequently sidelined Michelle Monaghan (a more than worthy love interest) and shifted and streamlined its focus back to Tom Cruise performing gonzo stunts and sprinting hither and yon with furious intensity. JJ Abrams probably puts less of a stylistic stamp on the movie than any other director in the franchise, but claims of this feeling like television are overstated; there’s plenty of high-octane ferocity on display, and Philip Seymour Hoffman remains the high-water mark in terms of bone-chilling villainy (he's so good he seems to have spooked off future A-list antagonists). One does wish Abrams didn’t get quite so carried away with the cutesiness of the Rabbit’s Foot being a MacGuffin (the external stakes never really match the internal ones), but the film otherwise offers an uncommon level of emotional depth. Maggie Q really should have gone on to play a bigger role in the series, but major kudos are in order for the game-changing introduction of Simon Pegg’s Benji. 2. Mission: Impossible - Fallout It’s not particularly surprising that Fallout is many people’s favorite - recency bias aside, it’s arguably the series entry that strikes the most balanced blend between popcorn entertainment, emotional gravitas, and character-driven drama, with Christopher McQuarrie (the first to return to the director’s chair) now showing full confidence in his narrative approach. That being said, the film’s scope feels a bit more unwieldy than it did in theaters (its 150-minute runtime verging on the bloated… which perhaps doesn’t bode well for the even more sprawling Dead Reckoning), while Rebecca Ferguson’s Ilsa is grafted into the plot pretty lazily - even if her return was as vital as it was welcome. On the other hand, the dizzying peaks the film ascends to are virtually unmatched… especially that final nerve-melting half-hour, which, pound-for-pound, is the most memorable climax the franchise has mustered to date (the inspired Wolf Blitzer gag is an all-timer as well). Sean Harris remains a mostly adequate antagonist, but Henry Cavill is tasked with most of the heavy lifting anyway - he’s a worthy foil for Cruise, an implacable, bicep-cocking slab of beef… their animosity almost visceral enough to strike angry sparks. Realistically, a franchise really shouldn’t be growing stronger and more self-assured a half-dozen entries in… which is a testament to the unique quality of the Mission: Impossible series. 1. Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol It all comes down to personal preference, of course (we all respond to movies for different reasons, after all), but Ghost Protocol is the entry that delivers everything I could possibly want from a Mission: Impossible film. Not only does director Brad Bird grasp precisely how to translate his acclaimed animated sensibilities into live action (to frequently glorious effect), but his nimble sense of staging and visual wit are reminiscent of Spielberg’s work on the Indiana Jones films - a comparison that is not made frequently, or lightly. More than anything though, Ghost Protocol nails the crucial team dynamic at the heart of the Mission: Impossible brand… better than any entry before or since. Tom Cruise, Simon Pegg, Paula Patton (dishearteningly yet to return) and Jeremy Renner are an exemplary foursome, their group chemistry superb… each of them working in total concert with one another and playing an instrumental role in the task at hand. The Burj Khalifa sequence remains a set piece for the ages (both in terms of vertiginous angst and comedic timing), while the climax in a multi-level Mumbai parking structure achieves a blissful state of Looney Tunes fervor that crescendoes beautifully ("Mission... accomplished!"). If Michael Nyqvist’s villain is merely sufficient and the film is largely content with surface-level escapism, it’s a small price to pay for an end result this compulsively enjoyable. |
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