An Alternate Reality: I saw Megalopolis

Francis Ford Coppola's enterprising, alternate-reality venture, Megalopolis, has been brewing over several decades (much like Kevin Costner's Horizon) and now manifests in a time where it may or may not parallel current events. It's reminiscent of Fritz Lang's Metropolis, but once the cards are dealt, it feels like a verbose and open-ended retelling of Fellini Satyricon: more surreal than concrete.   

As constructed, Megalopolis reminds us that those in power determine our lives, whether we like it or not, and among the unqualified stakeholders, there's always a tug of war. The sad thing is, those in power don't do a lot of good within their perimeters, and who gets hurt in the long run? Yep, the little guy, though this is never explicitly stated within Coppola's mythology.  

In the garrulous fight to do what's right on the populace's behalf, Adam Driver's architect/playboy Cesar Catalina (who's fashioned a vague, reality-altering/time-stopping device called the Megalon) combats Giancarlo Esposito's Mayor Cicero regarding how things should be run (or revamped): the former wanting to overhaul the Gotham-geared New Rome into a blessed utopia, and the latter seeing the attempt as impractical whimsy. I suppose one could argue that Catalina represents Coppola butting heads with a studio honcho, in this case, the stubborn Cicero. (In a way, though, hasn't this allegory been covered in a more upfront way? Consider Paramount+'s The Offer, the melodramatic making of The Godfather.) 

Each power faction has its members, some swindlers and others friendly pawns, who speak in awkward tongues and bounce off Catalina and Cicero like walk-on pinballs with intermittent, relationship-crossing segues. They're portrayed by Jon Voight, Dustin Hoffman (how's that for a Midnight Cowboy, under-the-same-banner reunion of sorts?), James Remar, Shia LeBeouf, Talia Shire, Jason Schwartzman, Grace VanderWaal, Nathalie Emmanuel, Kathryn Hunter, Laurence Fishburne (the fable's narrator) and sexy Aubrey Plaza, who as the power-hungry journalist Wow Platinum, brings much needed levity to the many brooding sequences, the majority of which are weighed by circling discussions and translucent, hallucinogenic imaginings that appear plucked straight from ancient Rome, Greece or, dare I say it?, the Third Reich. (Also, as a showmanship extra, a local actor is assigned to appear at the theater of one's choice to interact with Catalina, positioned below the screen, scribbling away for a quick, Zoom-inspired exchange, summoning shades of Rocky Horror and The Room: a neat, come-and-go gimmick, really).   

So, do any of these movie's exchanges prove that any one ideology or character is right? Such is never defined (any more than the Megalon and its powers), leaning on audiences to decide. (I guess it all comes down to one's socio-political position ... maybe). I, for one, can see the appeal in the long-term, artistic path, but where's the guarantee that all will turn out for the better? On this basis, perhaps the "populist" view is the wiser track (i.e. to serve the downtrodden here and now instead of making that demographic wait), and yet ...

It's safe to say that Megalopolis abides by a huge, consuming, subplot-anchored question mark (the type that Ed Nygma might dangle if only he knew the answer). The philosophical ambiguity is, therefore, its distinction, which is sometimes its weakness and sometimes its strength, but the erratic tottering, no matter how precocious, could steer it to sink. 

Megalopolis is one of those misapprehended creations that, even if it fails now, is destined to be reconsidered (if only by Coppola's association), perhaps prompting affluent scrutiny in a future still unborn. Will this eventually place Megalopolis on the same shelf as Aldous Huxley's Brave New World, Ray Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451, Frank Herbert's Dune and Ayn Rand's complementing set, Atlas Shrugged and The Fountainhead? Per Megalopolis' insinuation, that all depends on where our pietistic bureaucrats succeed or fail. 

I saw 65...

A Quiet Place's Scott Breck and Bryan Woods' 65 (co-produced by Sam Raimi) is a dinosaur-attacks flick that occurs sixty-five million years ago (thus the numeration), pitting Adam Driver's spaceship-crashed alien (but otherwise Earthy) astronaut, Commander Mills, against giant behemoths, in the desperate name of survival and ironic, Planet of the Apes, time juxtaposing. 

Like the Apes saga, as well as Outlander '08 and Star Knight, 65 perpetuates a fascinating formula, which is (at its core) akin to Mark Twain's amusing A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court and its kooky counterpart, Army of Darkness, though Driver's Mills is never light in tone, nor is 65. 

Writer/directors Breck and Woods know how to handle such monsterized stuff, and their attempt at a timeline flip works right from the melodramatic start: that is, it holds a seat-edging Apes/King Kong build-up, and once it gets rolling, doesn't hold back. That creates solid entertainment, with a plot that never gets too complicated. 

Breck and Woods' story rides on straight-forward action and perhaps more so, quality characterization, making Mills easy to champion: a man who took on a mission to succor funds for his wife (Nika King) and dying daughter (Chloe Coleman). Ultimately he finds and befriends a fellow crash casualty, Ariana Greenblatt's young Koa (a surrogate daughter), who never spoils a scenario by being whiney. (In fact, she's quite resourceful, regardless of what's thrown at her).  

The dinosaurs are as significant as our brave duo in this ordeal, doing what audiences would expect. The creatures' relentless voraciousness allows Mills and Koa to become indirect Scott Careys (from The Incredible Shrinking Man), but instead of a basement spider, they combat maddening reptiles. With this acknowledged, 65 also smacks of The Last Dinosaur: that rambunctious romp in which Richard Boone battles a T-Rex. 

It should be noted that unlike the Jurassic Park/World movies, 65 isn't tiered with marginal interludes. It plays rather like the recent Predator prequel, Prey: lean, but no less mean for it. I give the filmmakers a respectful pat on the back for that. Thanks for delivering the goods, guys, and doing so within a non-voguish ninety minutes. 

I saw the Dead Don't Die...

I like horror comedies...zombie comedies, from "King of the Zombies" to "Return of the Living Dead". In more recent years, the likes of "Fido", "Shaun of the Dead" and "Zombieland" have enthralled me, due to their kooky yet identifiable characters and set-ups. On the other hand, I thought "Zombie Strippers!" missed the mark, getting too damn high and mighty in its world-affairs views: no laughs in any of that. 

Now comes writer/director Jim "Dead Man" Jarmusch's "The Dead Don't Die" (not to be confused with the Curtis Harrington flick featuring Reggie Nadler). It's a flesh-eating zombie fable with particular focus on a trio of deadpan, Ohio police officers who must combat the infestation.  

Portraying these Buster Keaton variants are Bill "Zombieland" Murray as droopy Chief Cliff Robertson (surely a homage), Adam "Force Awakens" Driver as reliable Officer Ronnie Robertson and Chloe "American Psycho" Sevigny as queasy Officer Mindy Morrison. 

Steve Buscemi costars as Farmer Frank Miller (yet another homage or perhaps, just an unjust, conservative jab?); Danny Glover as downhome Hank Thompson; Tom Waits as narrative Hermit Bob; Rosie Perez as Chilly Billy-ish Posie Juarez; Caleb Landry Jones as monster-merchant Bobby Wiggins; Selena Gomez as comely hipster Zoe; and Tilda Swinton as Zelda Winston, an enigmatic undertaker with a straight-outta-"Doctor Strange" bent. (To prance among these stand-out supporters, we're supplied enough cameos to make "The Dead Don't Die" the proverbial, flesh-feasting "Around the World in 80 Days"; I suppose my fave come-and-goer is Iggy Pop, though I'm partial to Pop...Waits, too, for that matter.) The ensemble performs with pouts, frowns and sardonic wit galore. When a statement-making moment strikes, it stomps on Middle America: case in point, Miller's crass, reinterpreted cap.

And that's the film's blundering misstep. "The Dead Don't Die" is a big, environmental, blame game, signaling out those who aren't considered erudite (rural folks, you know) for the world's "problems". The film's frackin' (pun intended) failure, therefore, falls on Jarmusch, whose propaganda spoils what could have been an appeal-to-all "Night of the Living Dead" meets "Fargo" meets "Plan 9" meets "Twin Peaks". 

Some will say that Jarmusch's intent references George A. Romero and Larry Cohen, but those filmmakers planted care and consideration into their advocacy, covering both sides of issues. "The Dead Don't Die'"s agenda is an example of gory reversed discrimination: a bloody, biased, one-trick pony that invades the space of its quirky characters.   

Though a number of folks will hail the approach as progressive, that sorta slanting has never been my cup of tea, whether jammed in horror, fantasy or comedy.  In other words, highbrow ignorance is distasteful, no matter how dryly it's gnawed. 

I saw the Last Jedi...

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: "Star Wars" works best when it adheres to its John Carter, Buck Rogers and Flash Gordon roots. When it deviates from that, it becomes something other than the original intent: case in point, the prequel trilogy. 

"Force Awakens" pleased many fans by recapturing the old, George Lucas feel (though some critics claimed perhaps too much so, becoming more of a "New Hope" remake than a veritable sequel) and "Rogue One" (though a deep, somber vision) dared to capture (and basically succeeded) "The Empire Strikes Back" mystique. All signs looked promising, therefore, for producer J.J. Abrams and writer/director Rian Johnson's "Episode XIII: the Last Jedi" to continue the recharged spree, but hints that things might go awry surfaced some months ago in a couple enigmatic trailers. 

Is "Last Jedi" a fumble or on-course success? To be quite frank, it's a bit of both and neither, becoming an odd, unorthodox chapter that in one sense embraces tradition and in another, spits straight in its eye.

I won't spoil the plot, though many have speculated correctly as to what some of its elements might be, but I will surely confirm that it concentrates on Luke Skywalker (Mark Hamill), Ben Solo/Kylo Ren (Adam Driver) and Rey (Daisy Ridley). In this cozy, "family" affair (but don't hold your breath for a trustworthy reveal of Rey's lineage), we must come to terms with who's good, bad, and somewhere in-between, with various "surprises" installed in a somnolent attempt to give the memorialized "Empire" a run for its money. If the truth be known, this chapter is destined to break a few hearts, but when all else fails, we can at least count on the strength of its characters to snuff the discourse...right?

Alas, yes and no, and much of the blame goes to the new kids on the block. Rey is presented as far too perfect, too annoyingly preordained for us to empathize with her. Let's face it: Luke had a golly-gee, farm-boy, "I wanna make good against the odds" vibe that made him identifiable, but Rey is a blatant champion (and was pretty much so even in "Force Awakens"), leaving one little choice but to focus on the wayward Kylo, though he's not all that much better.

As "Force Awakens" villain, Kylo's temperamental and remorseful swings made him one of that installment's best features, but in "Last Jedi", his impetuous ambivalence has diminished. Ren, though still bad, has become downcast compared to his previous outing. Therefore, whether he champions the dark side or rejects it becomes of little dramatic concern or at best, confusing.

To make the film's character brevity even more agitating, Finn (John Boyega), who proved a respected underdog in "Force Awakens", is as monochrome as his young counterparts. (Man, it would have been swell to see him develop into something more than a something-already-close-to-better.) Though he does bumble some for tradition's sake, it's really his friend, Rose Tico (Kelly Marie Tran) who reinstates his air of levity. Alas, the duo's energetic escapades seem more disjointed than relevant to the plot. 

Who then (if only for complexity's sake) rises to the occasion? Why, it's none other than good ol' Jedi Master Luke. He's not the guy we once knew, and yeah, he might possibly be the sorrowful last of his kind, but he's seasoned enough to make his moments shine, and contrary to his cameo in "Force Awakens", he's given ample opportunity to dominate the scenes in which he's featured. 

Much of the credit for Luke's depth goes to Hamill, who layers his mature Skywalker with influential, Ben Obi Wan Kenobi contemplation, though with a threatening dash of fatherly Vader. Hamill has always been an underrated actor and for better or worse, forever linked to Luke, but in the case of "Last Jedi", his iconic presence sure does save the day...well, aesthetically, that is. (Again, I'm being respectful here not to give too much away.)

As expected, various established and more recent supporting characters revolve around our principles, like Supreme Leader Snoke (Andy Serkis); C3PO (Anthony Daniels); R2D2 (Jimmy Vee); Chewbacca (Joonas Suotamo); Poe Dameron (Oscar Issac); "DJ" (Benicio Del Toro); General Hux (Domhnall Glesson); Admiral Holdo (Laura Dern); Captain Phasma (Gwendoline Christie); Paige Tico (Ngo Thanh Van); and (maybe, just maybe) an adored, little, green guru from chapters past. In addition, we're given a heavy supporting appearance by Carrie Fisher as General Leia Organa, but most of the character nostalgia takes a backseat to the exotic locales; crimson trimmings; and fervent, spaceship roars. (On that note, where the hell is Billy Dee Williams? I've no real gripe in seeing a cutie-pie Porg occupy the Millennium Falcon, but gee whiz, wouldn't it have been cool if Lando Calrissian had sat in Solo's seat?)

By the time the interminable credits roll, "Last Jedi" can only be taken as a lofty, ideological bridge between chapters, with the line between right and wrong, light and dark, Resistance and First Order blurred at best. It in no way reflects Edgar Rice Burrough's straight-and-narrow narratives, let alone Hollywood's classic, moral-based serials. In other words, it's not true-blue "Star Wars", but then (as the jaded would be quick to point out), what is anymore? (I'd argue that "Guardians of the Galaxy" comes damn close, but that's another topic for another time.)

Perhaps when viewed as part of the three-trilogy saga, "Last Jedi" won't seem so conspicuously cumbersome, but for now, it looks like Lucas' mid-trilogy, tried-and-true formula has been yet again trampled. Don't get me wrong: It ain't bad (not by a long shot), but it sure ain't what it used to be or could have been; and damn it all to hell, didn't Abrams and Disney promise to give us old-timers what we crave? 

I saw Star Wars Awaken...

"Star Wars I-III" disappointed, not because it was a lousy saga. Au contraire, it's actually quite a sprawling epic (and a damn big moneymaker, at that). It's just that, well...somewhere in the hustle of things, it lost track of its roots. 

"Star Wars", as the adventure was presented in 1977 by George Lucas, surfaced as a shameless homage to adventure tales gone by and the heroes who led them, namely John Carter, Buck Rogers and Flash Gordon. (As we well know, Lucas would have returned Flash to the big screen if only he had procured the rights.) With this, a "New Hope" presented a basic tale of good vs evil, unconcerned with murky Trade Wars or the unnerving shades of gray that characterized a villain we all knew would be uncompromisingly dark in his heart. As such, Disney's assigned director, J.J. Abrams, has assured us a new movie-serial style "Star Wars" with its seventh chapter, "The Force Awakens". 

Has Abrams fulfilled the promise? The answer is yes and no, but his slight deviations on the basic elements doesn’t mar the splendor. It simply makes this chapter (written by Abrams; the legendary Lawrence Kasdan; and Michael "Toy Story 3" Arndt) its own cool thing, which simultaneously looks to the past and the future. In this regard, we again have good and evil at odds, three decades after the epic Battle of Endor and the destruction of Death Star II, with new heroes leading the charge and supporting characters taking their sides accordingly.

Of course, as we've anticipated, it's old favorites who set the cozy pace: Princess/General Leia Organa (Carrie Fisher); Han Solo (Harrison Ford); Chewbacca (Peter Mayhew); and even Admiral Ackbar (Tim Rose). Luke Skywalker (Mark Hamill) is also in there, but essentially in concealed form, his presence felt throughout "Force Awakens", just as Spock's was felt throughout "Star Trek III": a warm-up, in essence, for the saga's predestined shape of things to come. 

The acknowledgment of our past heroes helps keep this installment in check; for if there exists any remnant of the basic formula that distinguished the middle chapters, it's through these stellar stars, and its the new folks who redirect the saga into its spirited, sequelized stretch. 

The newbies include desert-dwelling Rey (Daisy Ridley); ace X-wing fighter Poe Dameron (Oscar "Ex Machina" Isaac); wise Lor San Tekka (Max Von Sydow); helpful Maz Katana (Lupita Nyong'o); and in-search-of-redemption Finn (John Boyega). They each figure into the plot, to some extent or another, the way the characters did in "New Hope", with a transported message prompting their actions. 

Finn, in my estimation, is this chapter's most identifiable protagonist, though some would argue that Rey is more so, if only for her Skywalker similarities. Still, Finn is the one through whom we experience the adventure: the misguided guy who gets thrust upon this gallant ride after befriending the dynamic Dameron, who in his own right becomes a significant Solo stand-in. (On a speculative note, the following chapters will probably do a better job of fleshing out Finn and Rey, thus strengthening their significance within this yet expanding universe and for better or worse, tease at a potential romance.)

So, what exactly does our dynamic duo face (or rather, should I say, fall into)? Well, again it's a division of sides, with the freedom-fighting Resistance vs the multiplying "Neo-Nazi" First Order/Empire loyalists. We also learn that matters weren't definitively resolved at "Return of the Jedi'"s end, with (and this is solely implied and never succinctly stated) ineffective leadership having allowed pockets of sovereign seekers to cause disarray (much as any typical terrorist group would when not kept under thumb). 

Finn is wise, having shed his Stormtrooper shackles in the name of galactic freedom and stumbles upon Rey, who immediately takes to him, and from there their alliance fortifies for a shared cause and against a common foe. 

There are a number of baddies in "Episode VII", including memorable supporting characters, like Supreme Leader Snoke (Andy Serkis); the staunch General Hux (Domhnall Gleeson); and the gleaming Captain Phasma (Gwendoline Christie), who make a strong visual (and sometimes dramatic) mark, but never dominate the plot.

The villainous beacon, therefore, is the heavily publicized Kylo Ren (Adam Driver): an often masked zealot with a most distinct light saber, who desires supreme, cosmic control. He's this segment's Ming the Merciless or Killer Kane; a counterpart to reality's hated Hitler and for the here-and-now, our would-be Darth Vader. He's hellbent on rekindling the Sith Lord's influence, and his impetuous temperament confirms this. Oh, and in case you're unaware, he's the son of...well, never mind; most of you've already caught wind of the startling revelation and outcome. Anyway, Ren's wayward presence is why Finn and Rey fight the good fight, though they require guidance along the way.

For such, they (along with the bad guys) seek the elusive Luke Skywalker, and with Solo, Chewy and the Millennium Falcon's help, "Force Awakens" starts to take shape, becoming at least on the surface, what Abrams projected: a thrilling quest story. 

Unfortunately, the film doesn’t always make the best use of its cast, opting (as the weaker chapters have) to emphasize organic window dressing instead of extended characterization. Tekka's presence, for example, could have been expanded, and Dameron, though engaging when given the chance, should have received much wider focus.

Though it may totter in its character balance, "Force Awakens" indubitably delivers the goods in visual glitz and not of the cartoonish CGI sort, either. This chapter is laden with old-school, heavy hardware and fast action, which earned it a PG-13: a warning to parents that such sleek intensity may be unsuitable for their coddled kids (sad, but true). Nevertheless, for those who savor movie-serial zest, "Force Awakens" should more than please and have most fans clamoring for more. 

Also to its benefit, this chapter downplays the cutsey stuff. Sure, the adorable, snowman-shaped BB-8 is there to pick up the torch from R2-D2 (Kenny Baker, who in this instance "consulted" on the droid's movements) and fidgety but amiable C3PO (Anthony Daniels), but it's all within the proper context. When given their various moments, the three give the film that Disney-esque charm: apt since the franchise is now officially Disney stationed. However, they are more of a cheerful additive than a mawkish, Jar Jar Binks distraction. 

At the end of the day, whether one labels it a hit or miss, "Force Awakens" is but another part in a progressing mythology. How this chapter will figure into the grand scheme is yet to be seen. (Remember, "Empire Strikes Back" wasn't necessarily praised as the best of the best upon release.) For the time being, and for the sake of launching a new start, the film now stands as the franchise's "new hope": a chance to avoid the disfavor paved by the prequel trilogy. It may also become, in the long run, another magnificent moment in space-opera history. For now, with the box-office numbers blasting through the roof and fan praise mounting, things look most promising.