I saw Furiosa

Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga is a prequel to George Miller's Mad Max: Fury Road. It reveals the background of Charlize Theron's titular cyborg, now portrayed by Anya Taylor-Joy, and in the movie's preluding phases, Alyla Browne. 

For this origin fable, Miller and cowriter, Nico Lathouris, install the required, Maxian elements to ensure the chapter fits into the post-apocalyptic, modern-western mythology. Much like Miller painted Max Rockatansky as a victim, who then rose to right the wrongs done to him (and his loved ones), the same goes for Furiosa. No one would argue, she has good reason to seek righteous revenge. 

For Taylor-Joy's version, there's more pathos at play, since we see her closer to her idyllic foundation before it gets ripped to shreds by the marauding entitled. (Many viewers may find the scenarios reflective of what's happening in today's world.) In this respect, Furiosa loses her valiant mother, Charlee Fraser's Mary, in addition to her innocence, optimism and complacency after being kidnapped by a monstrous, biker army. An unexpected warrior soon blooms, who must hold her own in a locale where two, ruthless leaders brawl for dominance, in order to dominate others.

The preponderate villains are Chris Hemsworth's Dr. Dementus and Lachy Hulme's Bane-ish Immortan Joe. They're both dastardly, but we know from Fury Road, who'll endure. However, that doesn't steal from the dogged reckoning that unfolds. 

Though Furiosa often comes out on top, she's no Mary Sue. In fact, this earlier version of the character resembles Alicia Vikander's Lara Croft of Tomb Raider 2018, with Furiosa surrounded by virile, vile specimens, with whom she must mingle and combat to survive. (Tomb Raider took flack for being too male-oriented and for Croft having to develop into her admired character, as opposed to being fine-tuned from the start; I suspect Furiosa might meet the same derision from certain, foolish sects, but screw them.) Furiosa earns her station within this bizarre nation (and it really starts with wee Browne): a swell departure from the current abundance of fleckless, movie heroines.

Beyond the movie's competing chieftains, Furiosa is accompanied by Tom Burke's tanker-hauler supreme, Praetorian Jack (who, even if a semi-conformist, has a Rockatansky vibe about him); George Shevtov's interpretive History Man; Nathan Jones' lumbering Rictus Erectus; Josh Helman's overeager Scabrous Scrotus; John Howard's bureaucratic People Eater; Angus Samson's doctorly Organic Mechanic; and many others who populate Miller's world in a way that sticks to the series' established look and feel. 

As with Burke's Praetorian Jack, who holds considerable, stoic charisma (and could/should get a movie of his own), Hemsworth proves a pervading scene-stealer, looking a tad different due to a nose prosthetic and heavy beard, but within this dystopic niche, he's nearly as formidable as the Mighty Thor, even if nowhere near as reasonable. Keep in mind, a protagonist is only as worthy as his/her antagonist, so Hemsworth's imposing kingpin acts as a worthy adversary to Taylor-Joy's small, resilient grappler, thus creating a David-and-Goliath parable, with the persistent Immortan Joe and his Citadel acolytes nudging in. (BTW: The girthy, exchangeable-part vehicles and mind-blowing chases fuel the Furiosa/Dementus/Immortan triangle with growling gusto, as does Simon Duggan's Homeric photography and Tom Holkenberg [aka Junkie XL]'s rumbling score.)

Granted, the movie's main, reactionary principal is female, but Furiosa is really a guy's flick at heart, which gals have every right to enjoy. It carries Miller's tradition to the max by assembling a well-oiled, action-adventure machine, with a reasonable analysis of good and evil, but more importantly, how standing up for oneself and fighting back are always the best antidotes for any upheaval.  

I saw Thor IV...

Thor: Love and Thunder, directed by Marvel-movie veteran Taika Waititi, who cowrote with Jennifer Kaytin Robertson, is (up to a conspicuous, preluding point) as much a sequel for the Guardians of the Galaxy as it is the titular hero, though that only figures since we last saw Chris Hemsworth's God of Thunder as a mirthful component of his close-knit (though jealous) chums. 

Though we find Thor still immersed in rambunctious shenanigans, he must ultimately face Christian Bale's anguished Gorr the God Butcher, who's as far from the actor's Dark Knight as one could imagine (a shadowy, kidnapping Joker on metaphysical steroids, if one will); yeah, frightful, formidable stuff with which to contend and so right for our eponymous champion, for heroes are only as heroic as their villains are villainous.

Abetting the Love and Thunder joust are Russell (Man of Steel) Crowe as the Pan-prone Zeus; Taika Waititi as the narrating, Kronan gladiator Korg; Tessa Thompson as faithful King Valkyrie; Jaimie Alexander as durable Lady Sif; Kieron L. Dyer as rockin' Astrid (aka Axl); and comprising those great, bumbling Guardians, Chris Hemsworth as Star-lord (aka Peter Quill); Vin Diesel as Groot; Karen Gillian as Nebula; Dave Bautista as Drax; Pom Klementieff as Mantis; and vocalizing the dyspeptic Rocket Racoon, Bradley Cooper. 

Natalie Portman also reprises her role as scientist supreme Jane Foster (Thor's main squeeze), a welcoming presence who's somehow managed to mend Thor's hammer and now acts as a God of Thunder counterpart. This may seem a woke move (and probably is), but there's a poignant, underlying trigger to Foster's "graduation", which coats the movie in a most surprising way. It's just too bad that the revealed secret comes a tad too late in spurring the Thor-v-Gorr core.  

Even so, the movie deflects this minor misstep with fun fringe benefits, including Barry "Baz" Iodine's stunning, effects-enhanced photography and a roaring score by Nami (Star Trek) Melumad and Michael (Jurassic World) Giacchino (perhaps the most prolific music composer in cinema today). The Guns N' Roses inserts are also a real nice touch, and the same goes for those giant, goofy goats. 

Beyond any doubt, Love and Thunder is a sometimes goofy, sometimes serious (and therefore sufficient on the whole) segment in Marvel's Phase 4 Multiverse, and it should more than financially compensate Disney in light of Lightyear's (Tim Allen-scorned) box-office shame. Go in with an open mind and open heart, and you're sure to come away feeling mighty (pun intended) contended.

I saw MIB 4...

"Men in Black: International" is the fourth film in the satirical, science-fiction franchise, directed by F. Gary Gray and written by Matt Holloway and Art Marcum (known for their Iron Man/Punisher comic-book efforts), based on Lowell Cunningham's successful, Malibu series.  

"MIB: International" is a restart, if only for the lack of Will Smith and Tommy Lee Jones's Agent J and K.  For the new, dark-lensed duo, we get Chris Hemsworth and Tessa Thompson (reuniting from "Thor: Ragnarok") as Agent H and M respectively. Liam Neeson plays their boss, High T.  Their home base is British; the action, globetrotting. (To recall previous chapters, there's Emma Thompson's Agent O and good ol' Frank the Pug.)

The concept is as basic as those that preceded it: Morphing, aliens (Laurent and Larry Nicolas Bourgeois) wreck havoc in pursuit of an "ultimate" weapon. Agent H and M investigate after attaining the device through an indirect sojourn. 

Since this is a parody, H and M's aspirations don't always manifest as planned, lending icky goofiness and slapstick at every turn.  The antics eventually lead to a dire discovery right at MIB's hub, which gives the story a science-fiction, Watergate ambiance, for a lack of a better label. (During the investigation, Ralf Spall's Agent C tosses persistent doubt on H, but not enough to throw the irreverent hero off track. If anything, C's interference makes the story more interesting.)

For traditionalists, Smith and Jones (and let's not forget good ol' Rip Torn's Agent Zed) oozed oodles of comedic chemistry, but as hard as their act is to follow, so do Hemsworth and Thompson (as they proved in "Thor 3"); Neeson is on target, too, though that should go without saying. It's more a matter of getting acquainted with these new personalities within the two-hour slot: not an easy task considering how much scene-skidding there is.

The latter is Bondian staged (typically colliding with the incessant pratfalls) and complemented by Danny Elfman's barreling score. Unlike the CGI competition ("Godzilla, King of the Monsters '19" being at the top of the murky list), the sprees are nice and bright, though sometimes a little too fast for their own good. (If one is going to invest in state-of-the-art imagery, slow it down a tad here and there; let the audience appreciate the work that went into it.)

The extra-terrestrials (some cutesy, some scary) layer enough weirdness to match those of earlier installments, though at this point, some might detect a predictability to the queue. Still, I gotta give credit to Kumail Nanjiani's little Pawny for his chivalrous cheer, and Rebecca Ferguson's Riza is quite sexy as a three-armed, arms dealer.)  

Unfortunately, as bouncy as it is, "MIB: International" never reaches its own verve, but then why go all out with an unrecognizable reinvention?  It's a damned-if-you-do/damned-if-you-don't quandary, I suppose.  

Heck, why argue the film's variances? They are what they are. The movie entertains. Those who've enjoyed the previous films should dig this one, even if the original remains a classic distance from the pack. 

I saw Thor: Ragnarok...

"Thor: Ragnarok" is a blast--a blast, that is, for its video-arcade colors and surreal structure, more a dream than other Marvel movies, with the exception of, perhaps, "Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 1-2" and "Doctor Strange". It's also amusingly austere and damn gusty in its adult sensibilities: a commendable contrast to the competing samplings of lame, juvenile magic and bad-is-good, playset antics that Hollywood has tried to force upon us within the past year. 

This new Thor journey, directed by Taika Waititi and scripted by Eric Pearson, resumes with Tom Hiddleston's Loki disguised as Anthony Hopkins' Odin. The once-epilogue springboard doesn't last long, steering us to the real story at hand: hellish Hela, the Goddess of Death (Cate Blanchet), seizing control of Asgard; and to rid herself of the competition, she uses high-powered sorcery to dispel her foes (by accident or plan) to fight in a distant junkyard arena. Jeff Goldblum's Grandmaster, a clever cross between Willie Wonka and Ming the Merciless, oversees the deadly matches, and at one point (as those who've caught the trailers know), the Mighty Thor and the Incredible Hulk go toe to toe. 

Much of the film's charm stems from the interaction between Chris Hemsworth's Thor and Mark Ruffalo's Bruce Banner/Hulk, whether they're clobbering each other or saving each other's butts. When these titans go at it, the screen adapts a psychedelic, raucous zeal that not even the most uninhibited, freewheeling graphic novels can surpass. In fact, their contentious collaboration returns us to those glorious Marvel days when the two swapped punches without apology or threat of cry-baby critique, but not before we experience heaps of crazy glitz. 

The precise (mis)steps leading to how Thor, Hulk and (for that matter) Loki enter the Hela's imposed conflict matters little, for the circumstances are comically convenient. As an unofficial "Spartacus" derivative, it's the fighting that counts in this torrential spree, which consumes about ninety percent of the tale and projects the Norse prophesy of Ragnarok: the end to everything. But fear not: Character development bridges the mayhem. Though "Ragnarok" may look and feel like an old, violent video game, it never skimps on substance. In other words, fans of "The Matrix" sequels may not be thrilled with the results; but those who fancy "Winter Soldier" and "Logan" should be satisfied.

Perhaps more than in previous Avenger adventures, "Ragnarok" becomes Hemworth's most hammering jaunt. He carries the film with brawny deftness and humble class, making him perfect for the fair-haired god. Though his interaction with Ruffalo's Banner/Hulk is the highlight, Hemsworth's affable aura also connects with several other characters, particularly Hiddleston's Loki. 

With that said, Hiddleston once more brings a cogent mischievousness to his scenes, just as Hopkins supplies his essential air of regal wisdom as Odin. Respectful nods must also go to Idris Elba as visionary Heimdall; Karl Urban as the reluctant Executioner; and let's not overlook Benedict Cumberbatch as Dr. Stephen Strange, who gives "Ragnarok" just enough manly mysticism to make his brevity important to the plot. 

Of course, the fellas aren't alone in dictating the tale's terms. Blachett's Hela is breathtaking, though rather in a dominatrix, Sarah Douglas/Ursa sort of way; and Tessa Thompson's Valkyrie is an equal sight for sore eyes. Those who might object to sexy babes in tight-fitting outfits (even if they're represented as strong and/or resourceful) may take issue with "Ragnarok'"s eye candy, but for those of unpretentious, open-minded tastes, these feisty gals add to the fun in more ways than one. 

Hey, folks, this ain't Shakespeare, any more than the "Guardians" movies are; but like those wonderful, intergalactic escapades, Thor's latest, big-budget exploit hits all the rapturous marks: a good, ol' two-fisted, transcendental action flick, and as such, one of the year's irrefutable best, no matter what the comparison or category.