I saw Gladiator II (aka Son of Gladiator)

Gladiator II is director Ridley Scott's unexpected but welcome sequel to his 2000 epic, starring Russell Crowe, though the follow-up only features "the Spaniard," General Maximus Decimus Meridius, through an archival view. This sequel's main brawler is his son. 

Paul (Foe) Mescal portrays Lucius "Hanno" Verus, a boy Maximus knew and with whom he shared a furtive, biological link. Lucius has been long separated from his mother, Lucilla (Connie Nielsen), serving his Numidia homeland with his warrior wife (Yuvel Gonen), until they fall into defeat by Rome, which then leads Lucius to follow his father's fate into the Colosseum.  

Lucius is joined by another beleaguered fighter, Pedro (Wonder Woman 1984) Pascal's General Marcus Acacius, Lucilla's spouse, who Lucius considers a foe, though he's more a friend if the truth be known. In this respect, Marcus wishes to stage a coup to cease Rome's maddening campaigns. 

David (Napoleon) Scarpa and Peter (The Batman) Craig's story creates a next-generation flow within the plot's governmental scheme, which adheres to the original's structure, with honor and survival placed on the line. The concept represents those who's crime is speaking their minds, working off principle and yearning for freedom and peace: something that Rome's myopic bureaucracy doesn't believe the populace understands or deserves. 

At the heart of the contentious politics is Denzel Washington's Macrinus, a former slave who harbors plans to rule Rome, per crafty, League of Assassins methodologies. Marcinus is flanked by Tim McInnery's giddy but reckless Senator Thraex; and Joseph Quinn's sadistic Emperor Geta and Fred Hechinger's imbecilic Emperor Caracalla: Romulus/Remus brothers entitled to a malicious and detrimental fault. In philosophical opposition to this group is Derek Jacobi's Senator Gracchus, returning from the previous chapter to denounce their out-of-touch deceit. 

I've heard a fair sum of advance, anti-virility condemnation for Gladiator II, with claims that it, like the original, is too rebellious and toxic-fueled. Such views are, of course, utter nonsense. Gladiator II, like its predecessor, is an acceptable, rise-against-the-odds fable, which reflects such rough and honest, hills-and-valleys tales as Rocky, First Blood, The Black Panther, Mad Max, Rollerball 1975, The Mark of Zorro (any version) and the now politically incorrect, mid-Star Wars trilogy. 

Gladiator II's pure-at-heart message is, indeed, simple, but keep in mind, it's often a basic foundation that resonates strongest for many of us, for such reflects the strife of everyday life, in particular those ridiculous, dictatorial mandates we hope to sever. For this reason, Lucius and his father represent and inspire the downtrodden, whether in the fictional realm or beyond it. Their need to fight the good fight is what makes their saga so enriching, and Gladiator II is the sort of sequel that our long broken, social climate needs more than ever. 

CELEBRATE ALIEN '79 FOR HALLOWEEN '19!!!

Director Ridley Scott’s "Alien" celebrates its 40th anniversary release with a special, Halloween spree, thanks to Fathom Events.

Written by Dan O'Bannon and Ron Shusett, "Alien" was an affectionate homage to such classic, space-monster movies as Edward Cahn's "It! The Terror From Beyond Space"; Curtis Harrington's "Queen of Blood" (aka "Planet of Blood") and Mario Bava's "Planet of the Vampires" (aka "Demon Planet").

Through its streamlined simplicity, the film reflects endurance and survival aboard the starfreighter Nostromo, assisted by a legendary cast that features John Hurt, Tom Skerritt, Yaphet Kotto, Harry Dean Stanton, Ian Holm, Veronica Carlson and Sigourney Weaver in her breakthrough role as Lt. Ellen Ripley.

The movie is also respected for its atmospheric "hardware", courtesy of such artists as Ron Cobb, Moebius and H.R. Giger, who designed much of the story’s eerie segments, including the facehugger, chestburster, full-fledged Xenomorph and ominous space jockey/engineer. (Carlo Rambaldi, of “E.T.”/“King Kong '76” fame, mechanized Giger’s macabre visions.)

Jerry Goldsmith’s score also contributes to Scott’s mounting suspense, which starts off with gradual menace and leads to a heart-pounding climax. 

"Alien" redefined science-fiction/horror cinema, as much as "Star Wars" redefined the space-opera genre, refashioning familiar elements to form something startlingly original. "Alien" also proved so popular that it spawned sequels, prequels, crossovers (with the "Predator" franchise) and abundant collectibles.

"Alien" will re-enter theaters on October 13, 15 and 18.  Check it out on the big screen or revisit it on disc at home.  No matter the format, "Alien" is guaranteed to chill to the cosmic bone. 

I saw Blade Runner 2049...

That in the Year 2019, our reality won't reflect the melancholy wonders of Ridley Scott's "Blade Runner", or for that matter the Phillip K. Dick novel upon which it's based, designates its sequel to the same, alternate-reality scheme. However, Denis "Arrival" Villeneuve's sequel, "Blade Runner 2049", produced by Scott and penned by Hampton Francher (the original's scriptwriter) and Michael Green (of "Logan", "Green Lantern" and "Alien: Covenant" fame) becomes its own speculative entity, while savoring the original's flavor.

Scott's classic was characterized by an invading Japanese, cultural influence, but since Japan has opted for a less effective, economic prowess, the predictions of '82 no longer hold weight. Gone is the Asian panache, perhaps to symbolize Japan's subdued status, but at least the original's New Wave, anguished-android glow still occupies the landscape.

In Scott's world and Villeneuve's re-entry into it, the androids are pretentiously called replicants. They're still abused and confused, just like Rutger Hauer's Roy Batty and Daryl Hannah's Priss. That's good, because their rebellious response makes sense in such a cold, cruel, computerized world. Also, to underscore the replicants' empathetic traits, classic questions remain: Are they mere devices for us to use as we please? Do these "machines" have the right to snap from their stupors and revolt? For that very matter, do they ever dream of electric sheep? Fans of both Dick's novel and the Scott/Fancher adaptation would say yes, but in "Blade Runner'"s extended universe, the same prejudices and misconceptions persist decades after the fact.

In particular, they hound beleaguered, replicant blade runner (yep, you heard right) Officer K, portrayed with somber, Harrison Ford-esque focus by Ryan Gosling. During K's duties and musings, he stumbles upon a long concealed plot with startling consequences. (Say, do androids reproduce?) However, K must substantiate his suspicions through investigation, which leads him to former blade runner Rick Deckard, reintroduced per Ford's seamless artistry. Deckard, we learn, has been out of the loop for some thirty years. As expected, he's not easy to find and once K does locate him, the old gent appears as woeful and vexed as when last seen. 

Fans of the '82 classic may not fancy what's become of Deckard: his fate having been mulled over by viewers for so many years that this film's lonely relegation might feel anti-climatic, if not disenchanting. (Personally, I felt quite at ease with it.) But as significant as Deckard is to the mythology, "Blade Runner" followers must surely realize he's not its only component. 

In this new story line, we're offered additional characters (android and human) to accentuate and oppose Deckard's painful perspectives: replicant designer/guru Niander Wallace (a next-generation edition of Joe Turkel's Eldon Tyrell), portrayed with creepy calm by Jared Leto; "Guardians of the Galaxy'"s Dave Bautista as renegade farmer Sapper Morton; "Walking Dead'"s Lennie James as child, sweat-shop overseer Mister Cotton; Robin Wright as cynical but supportive Lt. Joshi; Mackenzie Davis as sexy Mariette; Sylvia Hoeks as tough Luv; Carla Juri as memory-maker-with-a-profound-secret Ana Stelline; and paying us a sentimental cameo, Edward James Olmos as our old pal, Gaff. The film also contains a sporadic, holographic beauty in Ana de Armas' Joi. 

In addition to being easy on the eyes, Joi gives the plot its sense of normalcy and hope, not unlike Dick's Rachel, who came to be played by the stylish Sean Young. Since leading-lady Joi owes much to leading-lady Rachael, she isn't as novel as her counterpart, but fills the spot with loads of charm. As with Deckard, Joi's position in the story may not satisfy those craving an elongated manifestation of Rachael/Young, whose presence is felt, but only in a throbbing-thread way. Again, "2049" may link to the old, but as mentioned, it's also its own thing; and allows Joi to present her own compassionate and encouraging variation: ironic since she's artificial, but then, per Dick's fable, does that matter in cognition's pensive plan?

The story's revealed secret, in the wake of its "human" touch, is powerful, but perhaps not as important as its emotional and visual execution. (If the truth be known, "2049" cuts more along the lines of "Futureworld" and the recent, revisionist "Westworld" than its founding, cinematic chapter.) Atmosphere is what matters here. Though "2049" isn't characterized with as much wet, twinkling glitz as its predecessor (snow is this picture's rage), it still looks great--no, make that feels great--in the Syd Mead way we desire, and when required, remains respectful to the initial film's gum-shoe framework. To have abandoned that aspect would have been disastrous, but Villeneuve, Francher, Green and cinematographer Roger Deakins never let us down, granting us another fascinating, futuristic Mickey Spillane. (For the record, Deakins pays such exquisite homage to Jordan Cronenweth's influential '82 photography that many are proclaiming his work Oscar worthy.)

Indeed, beyond the film's moody meaning, it's the engrossing splicing of old and new that makes this follow-up worth one's while. "Blade Runner" fans, therefore, should be satisfied with the film's overall aura and may possibly find  "2049" even stronger upon repeated viewings. It may not be the vision they long sought or imagined, but as time passes, they're destined to rank it high on the sequel scale. 

Covenant: Lucifer Re-engineered...

I kept quiet (somewhat) about it, fearing I might spoil the surprise when I assessed Ridley Scott's "Alien: Covenant" back in May. I like the movie, but what can I say? There's an element so subtle but once revealed, so stark, that with the film available for home viewing on Aug 15, I felt the urge to re-elaborate upon it. 

"Covenant" (in a reflective nutshell) is a retelling of Lucifer's leap into destructive autonomy, but redesigned in such a way to blend seamlessly into a franchise best characterized by its unsettling science fiction. The soft-spoken David, Michael Fassbender's android, whom we met in Scott's "Prometheus", has gone mad: the result of an apparent and well meaning repair. As we soon learn, David's simmering arrogance compels him to rebel against the breed that made him, just as the Devil did against God.

Indeed, "Covenant" is enriched with more than a few Lucifer nods. Some surface when David unveils his Frankenstein derivatives to his "twin", Walter, proving the refurbished replicant a full-fledged "Modern Prometheus". We come to know that David's Xenomorphs--those sleek, black beauties that Scott, Dan O'Bannon, Ron Shusett and H.R. Giger conceived so many decades ago--are the monsters, the demons, the fabricated life that will jut a symbolic middle finger in the eye of any magnanimous lord. Oh, what contorted terrors our conniving, charismatic, synthetic Satan has sprung upon favored human kind, not only externally, but (with chest-bursting seeds implanted) internally. We won't be annihilated merely by the disciples of this neo-Nick, but we'll hatch his precious beasts, to boot. 

Perhaps when you (re)watch "Covenant", my view of David will become as strong an obsession for you. And in case you hold any qualms about latching on, please do keep in mind that obsessions can prove most rewarding, especially when they catapult a work of art onto a whole new level of meaning. "Covenant" deserves that second chance, that second wind, even if the damn Devil does not. 

I saw Alien: Covenant...

Ridley Scott’s “Prometheus” was a dream come true for those in the long-term know: those of us, that is, who were informed of the prospect in ’79 when the likes of Famous Monsters of Filmland reported the director's plans for a prequel. That promised tale of the Engineer/"space-jockey" race, and how its members met their fate, seemed an intriguing one, but its delay long exceeded expectancy. The Engineers' cause, when finally revealed, startled many with its Christian references.

“Alien: Covenant”, as the “Prometheus” sequel has come to be known, picks up on its predecessor's inspiring and disturbing concepts. However, the story (by Michael Green; Dante Harper; John Logan; and Jack Paglen) concentrates more on rampaging H.R. Geiger offspring than theological essay: a tactic evidently used to appease those fans disenchanted by the previous film's spirituality. That's not to say "Covenant" is shallow, for it rehashes "Prometheus'" themes in its own, disquieting way, while still supplying multiple monsters. 

Noomi Rapace's Elizabeth Shaw is but a shadow here, leaving Michael Fassbender's refurbished, Peter O'Toole-ish David to interact with the Weyland-Yutani colonists, who come upon a world that could be Paradise's equivalent. 

Fassbender also surfaces as David's charismatic, Covenant "clone", Walter, but it's David who knows what's impacted the planet: an experimental unleashing of a black substance the Engineers concocted, something that's triggered a peculiar pact or merger (a covenant, if one will) with the landscape. 

The crew includes (in addition to Walter and the nearly two thousand who remain hibernated) Captain Jake Branson (James Franco, in cameo); his wife Daniels/"Dany" (Katherine Waterston), a terraforming officer and this chapter's roundabout Ripley; Sergeant Lope (Demian Bichir), the security head; Sergeant Hallet (Nathaniel Dean), her husband; Christopher Oram (Billy Crudup), a pious, accidental leader; Karen (Carmen Ejogo), his biologist spouse; Upworth (Callie Hernandez), the medic; Tennessee (Danny McBride), the prime pilot; and Faris (Amy Seimetz), his co-pilot wife. They're good people, interesting and well meaning, but have entered the wrong place at the wrong time, due to their shared ambition. 

Once the obligatory introductions are made and the androids form a touching, though odd bond, the monsters position themselves for attack (in their various, progressing shapes, of course), but why did the Engineers set forth these horrid things? "Prometheus" proposed the question, but does "Covenant" answer it?

That's up for debate, for the interludes are sometimes more ambiguous than clear. Nevertheless, Scott's film alludes to the idea that some of the Engineers wished to punish the human race for harming one of their own, but was this victim a surrogate Christ--or the Christ--as Scott has mentioned in his "Prometheus" interviews? It appears another chapter is required to substantiate this theory. (Scott has gone on record, stating that "Covenant" is his way of returning to the series' traditional, terrifying roots, so perhaps the once intended religious extrapolation will be stripped for the sake of another entry.)

At least on an atmospheric level, the current film matches its predecessor, thanks to cinematographer Dariusz Wolski, who creates a visual revitalization of Mario Bava's "Planet of the Vampires"/"Demon Planet", with smoky blues and hazy grays to represent the egg-laden danger. The demons now look more freakish and frightening than before, coming and going among the weird pigments and baroque architecture. 

One harrowing scene depicts a traditional Xenomorph atop a Covenant shuttle, grasping it like some elongated gremlin, in hopes of getting inside. The scene's visual composition is raw and unsettling because on an subconscious level, we know this sleek, lethal thing could very well have sprung from any of us, if only the vicious variables had allowed. 

Writers Dan O'Bannon and Ron Shusett hatched the latter concept for the '79 film, along with some rape implications and the jarring effects that such physical violation brings. Given the chance, there's no telling how far such a mad cycle could go, but then we've already gotten a hardy hint via James Cameron's "Aliens". 

Unlike the tough-as-nails Ripley, Daniels projects a caring, cautious side, which shines especially in her relationship with Walter. When push comes to shove, though, her fight for survival consumes any cordiality. In fact, most folks would sooner resign than battle the daunting circumstances she and her crew mates face. 

Though the Xenomorphs are outwardly bestial, their symbolic seeds were planted with lofty care in "Prometheus". In fact, Guy Pearce's Peter Weyland (who set forth much of that film's conflict) speculates on humanity's content in "Covenant'"s flashback prologue, but even without this handy trigger, we'd still find ourselves pondering who and what we are. 

The Engineers created humanity, but our inherent, recurring penchant for evil defiled that gracious gesture. The saga's serpents are simply our inner devils unleashed, hugging our faces and chest-bursting forth to punish us for our sins, just as Hyde dared to overcome Jekyll or Shelley's Monster dared shackle Frankenstein. If life was the Engineers' gift to us, then the Xenomorphs are our curse.

When the Covenant crew meets its fate, we realize there's no escaping our harbored evil. Once that ugliness is revealed, we are, in essence, preying upon ourselves: a shocking notion, but one any sinner should consider. Primal rage has never been alien to the human race, but rather something that's nurtured, encouraged, and as long as we live and breathe, we'll suffer its consequences. "Covenant" knows this, conveys this, and because of this, we come to learn that humans and their so-called aliens are (for better or worse) one and the same.