You can’t just punch someone in a patisserie, you animal!

Criminal

(2016)

(SPOILERS) I can’t say I was ever a massive Kevin Costner fan, but I appreciated his ability to fit into a certain sort of role like it was custom made for him; he had that movie star of old quality that suited a bygone era. So I took no particular relish into his descent into the realm of Bodyguards and Waterworlds and Postmen, no matter how respectably several of those performed, although Madge probably thought his box office demise was “neat”. A contemporary of Bruce Willis, both their careers began to splutter about the same time, and Costner’s in particular seemed to be over and done with by the time he reached 40.

Perhaps part of that is both having a face for older roles. Costner doesn’t look a whole lot older now than he did then, particular since he is fully on board with the benefits of a decent wig maker. Like many an actor, his time out of the spotlight – most of this millennium barring the odd pleasant surprise like Open Range and Mr. Brooks – gave way to a second phase. In this case, however, his second phase derived from a supporting role in a not-especially-loved movie (Man of Steel) and has resulted in a succession of vehicles that few have cared for, whether replicating the mentor relationship (Jack Ryan: Shadow Recruit) or taking the starring role (Draft Day) or both (McFarland). The latter two saw him rekindling his flirtation with the sports pic, which did him in good stead for a spell (Field of Dreams, Bull Durham, Tin Cup) but he has also attempted to embed himself in a genre that always elicited mixed fortunes.

Costner was never much of an action star. He could appear in vehicles with action in them, but they almost always required something else going on to become a success (The Untouchables, No Way Out). His pursuit of the mantle of geriatric villain buster, in a no-chance competition with reigning champ Liam Neeson, first found him teaming with the man who made Neeson in Taken, Luc Besson, for 3 Days to Kill. While no one was very interested, and McG’s name is considered such poison that few were even going to give it the benefit of the doubt, it’s actually a lot of fun, and Costner’s a lot of fun in it. Would that it were so true of Criminal.

I mean, full marks to Douglas Cook and David Weisberg (The Rock, Double Jeopardy) for the completely barking plot. I have no idea what attracted the cast to sign on (producer Avi Lerner being persuasive, or his cheque book, is the most likely answer), or director Arial Vromen (whose last flick, The Iceman, was at least decent). Ryan Reynolds seems to have a body swap obsession (Self/less, R.I.P.D.), so that might explain his decision to show up for a glorified cameo, before his memories get transferred into Kevin’s psychopath Bill Pope (“He doesn’t understand society, or how people are supposed to behave”) by Dr Franks (Tommy Lee Jones, looking more desiccated than ever; still, it’s nice to see him and Costner sharing a scene or two), so Kev can proceed to provide the information Reynolds had locked away in his noggin, in order to prevent even bigger psychopath Xavier Heimdahl (Jordi Molla) from buying a program that will access the globe’s nuclear defence codes from Michael Pitt (as The Dutchman – yes, he wears a vague approximation of a Dutch accent). Although, Xavier’s plan (“I’m calling for the overthrow of all governments”) doesn’t sound like such a bad idea.

Costner playing a really bad guy who turns out not to be so bad after all feels like déjà vu (wasn’t that roughly Waterworld?), and Mr. Brooks was wound up much more effectively in fashioning a tug of war between impulses. Jerico Stewart (!) may slaughter a few people, but as soon as he happens upon Reynold’s gorgeous wife (Gal Gadot) and feels a paternal pull towards his daughter (Lara Decaro), we just know he will metamorphosis into a big softy (“I wish I could keep being him”). Indeed, as absurd as this whole thing is, it’s a little alarming how far Cook and Weisberg push it, right down to a beachfront final scene suggesting Gadot is quite willing to play happy families with a murderer infested with her husband’s memories. What kind of sicko is she, exactly?

The London setting gives rise to the occasional incongruous piece of dialogue (“What’s he doing coming on a fishing boat to Dagenham?”), and actors such as Alice Eve, Scott Adkins and Colin Salmon (to give it that Bond authenticity?) pop up in small roles. Gary Oldman plays an American, by the name of Quaker Wells (!!) and gives a truly dire performance laden with wretched dialogue (“Don’t give him the flash drive! He will SCORCH the Earth!”) Any movie with a special appearance by Piers Morgan is bound to have problems, and if Vromen just about keeps Criminal moving, it’s really the cast and the brazen dumbness of the plot that ensures this is half watchable. Just as well for Kev that Hidden Figures came along when it did, since it means he can now have another second shot at supporting actor acclaim.

Agree? Disagree? Mildly or vehemently? Let me know in the comments below.

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She was addicted to Tums for a while.

Marriage Story (2019)
(SPOILERS) I don’t tend to fall heavily for Noah Baumbach fare. He’s undoubtedly a distinctive voice – even if his collaborations with Wes Anderson are the least of that director’s efforts – but his devotion to an exclusive, rarefied New York bubble becomes ever more off-putting with each new project. And ever more identifiable as being a lesser chronicler of the city’s privileged quirks than his now disinherited forbear Woody Allen, who at his peak mastered a balancing act between the insightful, hilarious and self-effacing. Marriage Story finds Baumbach going yet again where Woody went before, this time brushing up against the director’s Ingmar Bergman fixation.

You're not only wrong. You're wrong at the top of your voice.

Bad Day at Black Rock (1955)
I’ve seen comments suggesting that John Sturges’ thriller hasn’t aged well, which I find rather mystifying. Sure, some of the characterisations border on the cardboard, but the director imbues the story with a taut, economical backbone.

My name is Dr. King Schultz, this is my valet, Django, and these are our horses, Fritz, and Tony.

Django Unchained (2012)
(MINOR SPOILERS) Since the painful misstep of Grindhouse/Death Proof, Quentin Tarantino has regained the higher ground like never before. Pulp Fiction, his previous commercial and critical peak, has been at very least equalled by the back-to-back hits of Inglourious Basterds and Django Unchained. Having been underwhelmed by his post Pulp Fiction efforts (albeit, I admired his technical advances as a director in Kill Bill), I was pleasantly surprised by Inglourious Basterds. It was no work of genius (so not Pulp Fiction) by any means, but there was a gleeful irreverence in its treatment of history and even to the nominal heroic status of its titular protagonists. Tonally, it was a good fit for the director’s “cool” aesthetic. As a purveyor of postmodern pastiche, where the surface level is the subtext, in some ways he was operating at his zenith. Django Unchained is a retreat from that position, the director caught in the tug between his all-important aesthetic pr…

He tasks me. He tasks me, and I shall have him.

Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan
(1982)
(SPOILERS) I don’t love Star Trek, but I do love Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan. That probably isn’t just me, but a common refrain of many a non-devotee of the series. Although, it used to apply to The Voyage Home (the funny one, with the whales, the Star Trek even the target audience for Three Men and a Baby could enjoy). Unfortunately, its high regard has also become the desperate, self-destructive, song-and-verse, be-all-and-end-all of the overlords of the franchise itself, in whichever iteration, it seems. This is understandable to an extent, as Khan is that rare movie sequel made to transcendent effect on almost every level, and one that stands the test of time every bit as well (better, even) as when it was first unveiled.

How do you like that – Cuddles knew all the time!

The Pleasure Garden (1925)
(SPOILERS) Hitchcock’s first credit as director, and his account of the production difficulties, as related to Francois Truffaut, is by and large more pleasurable than The Pleasure Garden itself. The Italian location shoot in involved the confiscation of undeclared film stock, having to recast a key role and borrowing money from the star when Hitch ran out of the stuff.

Haven’t you ever heard of the healing power of laughter?

Batman (1989)
(SPOILERS) There’s Jaws, there’s Star Wars, and then there’s Batman in terms of defining the modern blockbuster. Jaws’ success was so profound, it changed the way movies were made and marketed. Batman’s marketing was so profound, it changed the way tentpoles would be perceived: as cash cows. Disney tried to reproduce the effect the following year with Dick Tracy, to markedly less enthusiastic response. None of this places Batman in the company of Jaws as a classic movie sold well, far from it. It just so happened to hit the spot. As Tim Burton put it, it was “more of a cultural phenomenon than a great movie”. It’s difficult to disagree with his verdict that the finished product (for that is what it is) is “mainly boring”.

Now, of course, the Burton bat has been usurped by the Nolan incarnation (and soon the Snyder). They have some things in common. Both take the character seriously and favour a sombre tone, which was much more of shock to the system when Burton did it (even…

She writes Twilight fan fiction.

Vampire Academy (2014)
My willingness to give writer Daniel Waters some slack on the grounds of early glories sometimes pays off (Sex and Death 101) and sometimes, as with this messy and indistinct Young Adult adaptation, it doesn’t. If Vampire Academy plods along as a less than innovative smart-mouthed Buffy rip-off that might be because, if you added vampires to Heathers, you would probably get something not so far from the world of Joss Whedon. Unfortunately inspiration is a low ebb throughout, not helped any by tepid direction from Daniel’s sometimes-reliable brother Mark and a couple of hopelessly plankish leads who do their best to dampen down any wit that occasionally attempts to surface.

I can only presume there’s a never-ending pile of Young Adult fiction poised for big screen failure, all of it comprising multi-novel storylines just begging for a moment in the Sun. Every time an adaptation crashes and burns (and the odds are that they will) another one rises, hydra-like, hoping…

It looks like we’ve got another schizoid embolism!

Total Recall (1990)
(SPOILERS) Paul Verhoeven offered his post-mortem on the failures of the remakes of Total Recall (2012) and Robocop (2013) when he suggested “They take these absurd stories and make them too serious”. There may be something in this, but I suspect the kernel of their issues is simply filmmakers without either the smarts or vision, or both, to make something distinctive from the material. No one would have suggested the problem with David Cronenberg’s prospective Total Recall was over-seriousness, yet his version would have been far from a quip-heavy Raiders of the Lost Ark Go to Mars (as he attributes screenwriter Ron Shusset’s take on the material). Indeed, I’d go as far as saying not only the star, but also the director of Total Recall (1990) were miscast, making it something of a miracle it works to the extent it does.

Anything can happen in Little Storping. Anything at all.

The Avengers 2.22: Murdersville
Brian Clemens' witty take on village life gone bad is one of the highlights of the fifth season. Inspired by Bad Day at Black Rock, one wonders how much Murdersville's premise of unsettling impulses lurking beneath an idyllic surface were set to influence both Straw Dogs and The Wicker Mana few years later (one could also suggest it premeditates the brand of backwoods horrors soon to be found in American cinema from the likes of Wes Craven and Tobe Hooper).

The President is dead. You got that? Somebody’s had him for dinner.

Escape from New York (1981)
(SPOILERS) There’s a refreshingly simplicity to John Carpenter’s nightmare vision of 1997. Society and government don’t represent a global pyramid; they’re messy and erratic, and can go deeply, deeply wrong without connivance, subterfuge, engineered rebellions or recourse to reset. There’s also a sense of playfulness here, of self-conscious cynicism regarding the survival prospects for the US, as voiced by Kurt Russell’s riff on Clint Eastwood anti-heroics in the decidedly not dead form of Snake Plissken. But in contrast to Carpenter’s later Big Trouble in Little China (where Russell is merciless to the legend of John Wayne), Escape from New York is underpinned by a relentlessly grim, grounded aesthetic, one that lends texture and substance; it remains one of the most convincing and memorable of dystopian visions.

Now In Full Color, with a Happier Ending

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