Reviews

Denis Villeneuve's Dune project may still end up being one of the defining cinematic productions of this decade. The first film was a thunderclap of ambition; a shot in the arm for the lost art of the Epic. It set the stage for something like the 2020's version of Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings. In other words, the next great epic saga in movies. Dune Part II, for all its enormous hype, doesn't quite fulfill the promise of that first introduction to Arrakis by way of Villeneuve. This is a smaller, less monumental film that the first. It lacks the freshness, the wonder of discovery that defined the appeal of that 2021 film. But as the last shots of this newest Dune hint, this is not the end of the line. Could it be that an epic conclusion comes along and puts this middle piece into proper context? Time will tell.

One of the unavoidable problems with Dune Part II is its opening sections. Dune 2 begins with moments that, in the book, require the buildup of everything that has happened before. A sequence of Rebecca Ferguson's Jessica drinking the Water of Life is meant to be a crescendo of her character's arc. Instead, it comes with little fanfare at the very beginning of this movie. Same goes for Paul's worm-taming set-piece, which works properly only when teased over the course of time. Here, it appears right on schedule at the movie's midpoint. Dutiful storytelling, but without full impact. To make matters even less impactful, Dune 2 also ends with a pseudo-cliffhanger. Although all the material of the first book has been covered by the time we reach the credits, there is little sense of finality to this film's finale. The truth is that there is a narrative flow issue in Dune 2's pipes. A sluggish beginning and pomp-deficient ending being the main culprits.

But you have to take a movie like this in its full glory. When you do that, you see a continuation of the same level of craft, ingenuity, and ambition as Dune Part I. Denis Villeneuve is an undisputed superstar among blockbuster directors, and his strengths are readily present in Dune 2. The stark, bold visual palette, and obsessive attention to world-building are all there once again, albeit in smaller doses. We do get, for example, an astounding hiatus on Giedi Prime-an entire chunk of movie entirely designed to amaze the senses-but much of Dune 2 is subdued. Sights that we expect to take our breath away, such as the many Fremen rituals that pepper the film, are instead muted, practical affairs. It may be that Villeneuve is making a stylistic choice with his "down-and-dirty" Fremen designs, and it may even be a smart one. But it's a choice that diminishes the strange alien wonder that vaulted the first Dune into something truly special. This time the visual and aural amazement only shows up for scant moments instead of enveloping the whole picture.

It seems like the filmmaking qualities of Dune 2 are a given, but it is important to remember that stuff like sincere storytelling and controlled, considered visual ambition are traits rarely found in the world of mega-blockbusters. If Dune 2 is not the overwhelming experience its predecessor was, it is still a major movie event, and one I recommend engaging with. With time, and a stronger sequel, we may yet crown Denis Villeneuve's Dune as one of the Great achievements in movie history.

74/100.

Don't ask me why Ridley Scott has been cursed with an entire creative catalogue of underappreciated theatrical releases, later recut and lavished with retroactive praise. Because to me, the 86-year-old firehead English director is an undisputed master, whose only fault is in working on so many projects that his multiple masterpieces get lost in the shuffle. Before a frame of his newest film, Napoleon, was even shot, I could have told you that it would follow the same trajectory as his The Duelists, Blade Runner, Kingdom of Heaven, Prometheus, et all. Ambitious films that pass through the masses without much commotion only to be rediscovered as masterworks later on. Post-Napoleon screening, I'm even more certain of that diagnosis.

This film is obviously a consolation prize after Stanley Kubrick's dream Napoleon project went unfinished, and like my review of A. I. Artificial Intelligence, I must mention here how much more fascinating the definitive Napoleon epic might have been in the hands of an obsessive genius like Kubrick. Without dwelling on that could-have-been, however, it is fair to say that Ridley Scott is the top choice among living directors to do justice to this gargantuan cinematic subject. When so many other top directors of a certain age are wasting away the twilight years of their careers with trivial junk (I'm looking squarely at you, Messrs. Cameron, Raimi, and Zemeckis) Scott is out there taking a giant swing at something that may endure. Napoleon is an epic of the first order, something, finally, to stand with his other historical home runs.

It is tougher to make a biopic that catalogues a full life than to make one that zeroes in on a specific chapter of a great story, that is true. But the potential of the former is so much higher. Scott's Napoleon takes the route of complete A-Z epic, following Napoleon's entire career, from the final days of the French Revolution to his exile on St. Helena. Without a proper dramatic through line connecting his exploits within those 22 years, Napoleon might have felt like the illustrated Wikipedia article so many are already complaining it is. The film does not succumb to that trap, because Scott and writer David Scarpa approach the story of Napoleon with a dramatic point of view; Napoleon's destructive relationship with his wife, Josephine.

There's enough in Joaquin Phoenix and Vanessa Kirby's interplay to support an entire movie. A portrait of their toxic battle for power among each other would be fascinating enough in its own right, and I'm sure lesser, more timid directors would take this tact and gladly excise all the spectacle, blood, and scope of Napoleon Bonaparte's military career. Here's where Scott, a director with balls, shines. He marries the interpersonal wars with the actual politics and battles. The career highlights Scott focuses on throughout the film are outgrowths of his relationship with an unfaithful wife too scared to leave, too useless to further his position, and too magnetic to let go of. This is what fascinates throughout Napoleon's runtime; the idea that in this point in history, it was still possible for an unhealthy relationship between two people to spill into wars that fundamentally changed the world.

There's so much talk about the thematic interpretations of Napoleon: what the movie says about him as a man, what it says about the politics of the day, about women, incels, whatever else you can think of. None of it really tracks because this is not a film that screams anything at you. It doesn't worship Napoleon Bonaparte as a great hero, and it doesn't present him as a hapless loser either. It presents us an idiosyncratic military genius, who fell in with the wrong woman and stuck it out, to stratospheric success and ultimate failure. I don't think Scott is trying to present any grand thesis here, and had he, the film would have been lesser for it.

The focus on what Napoleon wants us to feel drowns out the greatest strengths of the movie. On the level of technical achievement, there have been few more amazing works in the last decade. Scott's The Last Duel, his dry run for this newest picture, was as dull a so-called spectacle as this great visual storyteller has ever attempted. It makes the work done here all the more breathtaking. Napoleon is massive, towering, bold in its visual strategy. Any given scene is alive with baroque beauty. When Josephine sits down with Napoleon to offer herself to him, the scene is shot, lit, and framed like a Rembrandt painting. It's a considered artistic decision, made with purpose and successfully pulled off for the entire film. Coming off of a historical picture that looked indistinguishable from any cheap TV drama, Napoleon consistently wowed me with its considerable capital C Cinematic look.

The battles operate the same way, giving us the sort of real-world scale that years of CGI-simulated "bigness" has numbed us to. I can't say how many of the thousands of men, their charging horses, and the cannons, mortar blasts, guns and clanging swords have been augmented in a computer, but what is up there on the screen sure looks real, and the sheer size and artistry of it all takes one's breath away not for a shot or two, but for entire, glorious sequences. There are people like me, die-hard fans of epic cinema, who have grudgingly resigned ourselves to the fact that movie battles like this, the sort which required the funding of a whole nation in Sergei Bondarchuk's case, would never be made again. Ridley Scott's Napoleon, with its several intricate, complex, clearly defined, and incredibly rousing battle scenes is like an elixir. The movie would be an enormous success on the merits of the battles alone. Yet there is so much more here to recommend it.

Ridley Scott brought this type of film back from the brink once before. Before Gladiator in 2000, I'm sure the pitch for a three-hour Crusades epic would have been the scariest thing in the world to bring to an industry dominated by high-concept action movies for teenagers. Today, the mere idea of an adult battle epic has already made theaters uncomfortable enough to take this awe-inspiring spectacle off IMAX screens in favor of the new YA cash grab. That's why any fan of this type of big dick CINEMA, owes it to themselves to buy a ticket. Forget all the trumped-up culture-war-charged discussion you've heard about this movie's "stance" and trust me when I say that Napoleon is the most amazing cinematic experience of the year.

91/100.

Oppenheimer is being treated as if it is another Christopher Nolan Film Bro Prestige Blockbuster. The semi-sarcastic viral marketing has sold it as the male answer to Greta Gerwig's Film Sis blockbuster, Barbie. And wouldn't it be nice if Nolan's much-anticipated new film was the next in the line of mind-bending action epics that have given the director his "must see" cred. But, for better or worse, Oppenheimer is a long, long way from The Dark Knight, Inception, Interstellar, Dunkirk, or Tenet.

This new film is something very heavy, very serious, and very grandiose. It shares those qualities with much of Nolan's signature pictures. However, those buying a ticket for Oppenheimer expecting filmic thunder and lightning and spectacular visual scope will be let down by what the film actually is. In effect, Oppenheimer is something almost uncomfortably intimate. The subject is Robert Oppenheimer, brilliant scientist, leader of The Manhattan Project and Father of the Atomic Bomb. Cillian Murphy inhabits the character handily. It's the role of a lifetime for Murphy, one of those miracles of casting where an actor who has put in great work over the course of a career is rewarded with a part that will define him for all-time. It's an inward performance, emphasizing internal struggles-not only Oppenheimer's moral dilemma in creating the bomb to end all wars, but his personal tribulations and the political pressure that had closed in on him in the post-war years. He makes superb use of his physical look; utilizing those sunken eyes and gaunt frame with face and body language that illustrates inner uncertainty. You couldn't have asked for a better melding of actor, material, and performance.

In its 3 hours, Oppenheimer zeros in on the development of the atomic bomb, from the early scientific breakthroughs that made it possible to the military strategy involved, the questions of security, fears of espionage, and the political repercussions of its ultimate detonation. It is a movie entirely made up of critically important conversations, and for that reason, it is an actor's dream project. The lineup here is about as good as it gets in this star-starved Hollywood era. Robert Downey Jr. Is the revelation of the cast as Lewis Strauss, a mysterious figure who lurks on the peripheries of the story until coming into startling focus in the third act. It is easily the best acting of RDJ's career, and an incredible reassurance of his talents after a string of bad performances in bad movies. The supporting cast is unusually stacked with big-name actors doing the type of stuff they got into the business for. Emily Blunt ought to earn an Oscar nomination for her work as Oppenheimer's fed up alcoholic second wife, looking unattractive and coming off as an unpleasant burnout. Matt Damon also redeems his recent misfires with some strong, modulated energy. The bit parts are too many and too good to earn anyone special recognition, but Kenneth Branagh, Jason Clarke, Josh Harnett, Dane DeHaan, Casey Affleck, and Gary Oldman in a single unforgettable scene, are joys to watch.

The most apt comparison for Oppenheimer's urgent, dialogue driven feel is Oliver Stone's JFK. The experience of watching the film is similar; you are caught in the grip of these discussions, and the director, in both cases, doesn't give you space to check out. "Pay attention to what these people are saying. The fate of the world is on the line." Nolan makes that energy work, although not with quite the level of craft that Stone showed in his film. Of course, as writer, Nolan can't resist time-jumping between Congressional hearings and science lectures and political machinations, but thankfully these mixed-up threads (some presented in black-and-white) make dramatic sense and sharpen the impact of the film's ending.

Oppenheimer is a better written film than it is directed. That's new territory for Christopher Nolan, who has made a career out of endowing basically intelligent action movies with grand visual might. He doesn't do much to amaze us here. His best visual ideas come in the form of recurring symbolic images such as ripples in a puddle, marbles in a glass, or the nuclear chain reaction of the bomb itself. These are simple ideas that convey great meaning. All very deft and powerful. What you don't get is spectacle. The suspense that is built up so intensely before the Trinity test, is let out somewhat underwhelmingly when the bomb is finally dropped. It's a big explosion that sort of looks like a nuke. My jaw remained right where it was. This movie is playing on IMAX screens, and I did see it on a large-format, but there is no real advantage to that presentation.

We're so starved for serious adult movies in the 2020s Hollywood landscape that even a less-than-triumphant attempt is a treasure that must be supported. I could sit here and tell you that Oppenheimer is a really "talky" movie, and one that doesn't quite teach us about some of the truly fascinating scientific aspects of the atomic bomb (I was never sure of exactly how Oppenheimer's previous work translated to the Manhattan Project, or why splitting the atom was such an important stepping stone), but there is no way I'm not going to urge people to see this film. Here is the good stuff we film buffs talk about. They don't make idea-driven mega-blockbusters about real people in the real world, but every so often one slips through. See it and savor the high.

85/100.

Never Doubt James Cameron. In the two decades that I've known of the Oscar-winning part-time filmmaker, part-time ocean explorer, I never have. But after Avatar: The Way of Water, it may be time to start. For my whole life, and for a few years before that, a new James Cameron film meant something very big. It meant a gigantic swing, a leap forward for special effects, a big deal. And now, after yet another decade-plus absence, Big Swingin' Jim has stepped back up to the plate and laid down a line drive single. Avatar: The Way of Water may be an amazing theme park thrill ride, but for the most precious filmmaker of this generation, that's not good enough.

In other hands, a sequel of this sort would be a red flag. Set 15 years after Jake Sully's introduction to Pandora, The Way of Water contrives a new conflict for Jake and his blended Na'vi family to deal with. The humans, defeated in battle at the end of Avatar, return to Pandora to resume their very mean, very dumb mission of exploitation (always remember: humans are mean and dumb). A certain resurrected Colonel is after Jake and his family, and there are talking whales that complicate things. That is the extent of the plot in James Cameron's latest go at a movie sequel. But I trust Jim. Cameron is not only experienced with sequels, he is the greatest sequel-maker of all-time. He's a storyteller with the instincts to sniff out that divine piece of inspiration that separates a sequel from its original and gives it reason to exist. Aliens took Ridley Scott's humble sci-fi horror movie and blew it wide open into a full-fledged action spectacular. Terminator 2 retrofitted the iconic villain of his first movie into a hero, and so transformed a dingy, low-budget action film into a blockbuster of epic scope and importance.

The Way of Water is not like these all-time great sequels. Avatar 2 is a sequel like Jaws 2 or Star Wars: The Force Awakens is a sequel. It's a piece of story that has been grafted onto Avatar, not its own entity nor a natural extension of the original. It's a gut punch to discover that we've waited over a decade for a new film from Jim Cameron, only to get a smaller, more perfunctory version of his last film. 'Perfunctory' is the last word I would ever use to describe the man sitting number two on my Favorite Directors list. But his latest, for all its technical ambition and physical scale, lacks the magic touch of a genuine "Cameron Event". It feels small. The stakes have been lowered to a few characters, the majesty has been contained to one new setting, and all the action and emotions just don't mean as much.

I feared as much when Cameron announced his desire for 4 Avatar sequels. We saw Pandora already, and we had ourselves a full dramatic arc while we were there. 2009's Avatar is itself a complete epic. A singular cinematic achievement with a beginning, middle, and end. I put my trust in the man to justify going back there, but what he's given us here is a movie equal to Avatar in all technical departments-the action is huge, varied, uniformly outstanding, the special effects are awesome, even the writing, in the big scenes at least, matches the work done before-only, in the end, much less significant.

Jim Cameron directs Avatar: The Way of Water on autopilot. That is to say, he wipes the floor with every other would-be action director working. From old-fashioned shootouts to creature attacks to multi-level sea battles and even an extended whale hunt, the action set-pieces of Avatar are always stunning. And forget action. There are plenty more set-pieces in The Way of Water that exist to showcase the underwater world Cameron loves so much, and the visual effects used to bring it to life. None of Avatar 2 looks, sounds, or moves "boring". Even at his most apathetic, Cameron delivers one of the great visual-aural thrill rides of the last decade. It's like a 4D theme park attraction, meant to give you a sense that you're out there swimming and flying, and breathing in the alien sea air. In that sense, the movie is awesome. It's a 3-hour version of a Disney World ride, only better, and for a fraction of the price. I whole-heartily recommend seeing it in 3D, despite the headache it gave me. Because Avatar: The Way of Water does do its predecessor's job of immersing one in a fictional world. Just don't expect that immersion to carry the same majesty or power as it did before.

Cameron poured his soul into the first Avatar. For better or worse, it represented the ultimate distillation of all his passions. It turns out, as I thought, there was nowhere to go from there. With The Way of Water, he's clearly reaching for something to get excited about. The bio-spiritual, tree-hugging environmentalism is simply recycled from the last movie, and there are many attempts at familial themes, but it's obvious that Cameron's heart is not in this. Not like it was during the 30-year stretch of his career where each successive film grew in size, scope, and dramatic power, until James Cameron became his own force of nature. He's always been a bold filmmaker, with a tendency to overestimate how excited his audience would be for his idealistic working-class hippy philosophy. But he's always made up for goofy characters and dumb dialogue with huge high-concept ideas, super-muscular action and special effects filmmaking, and vigorous story structure. We're blessed to be given anything from Jim Cameron, but when we wait 13 years between films, we expect more than your typical (if extraordinarily thrilling) blockbuster sequel. It's unfair, but it's part of the deal when you are the King of the World.

75/100.

Whatever this strange science-fiction, spy thriller, globe-trotting dinosaur adventure picture is, it feels like a far, far cry from Michael Crichton and Steven Spielberg's vision of Jurassic Park. Jurassic World Dominion is a mess of genres, ideas, and characters competing for space in one last go at making a "different" kind of Jurassic Park movie. An entertaining mess, don't get me wrong, but a mess nonetheless.

Jurassic World: Dominion claims to be the final Jurassic movie, although that is usually Hollywood-speak for "a reboot will be coming within ten years". It picks up where the fourth sequel, Fallen Kingdom, leaves off. Dinosaurs have finally spread to civilization, and in the few years since, they have become a part of modern life. Conflict is drummed up by Lewis Dodgson (remember him?) whose company BioSyn has set up an elaborate dinosaur sanctuary in a remote mountain range. Dodgson, the underhanded CEO from Crichton's novels, is the most interesting character of Dominion, thanks in no small part to a really weird but compelling performance by Campbell Scott. He sets the whole movie in motion by, get this, unleashing a swarm of giant locusts to devastate all crops not owned by his company. Did I mention that this is a very odd sort of Jurassic Park movie?

The plot, uh, finds a way... to tie Alan Grant, Ellie Sattler, and Ian Malcolm together with Owen Grady, Claire Dearing and the other two dozen characters in the film. They work their way to BioSyn's sanctuary on a mission to recover a kidnapped clone girl and a raptor, and be aware, locusts play a huge part as well. It's baffling that this is the story of a Jurassic Park movie. Especially when you also consider the snow-covered safehouse cabin, the redneck mercenaries, the CIA, and the underground dinosaur black market that are all heavily featured as well.

The glut of characters leaves the stars of the last two films, Chris Pratt and Bryce Dallas Howard, with reduced roles this time. They lead the rescue mission, but don't make as big an impression as they do in JW and Fallen Kingdom. And we're talking about two actors that had some real star charisma in that first reboot. Here, they are whisked through a series of action scenes, stopping along the way only for a quick kiss or quip.

Worse, I think, are the returning actors. It is great to see old friends. No question about that. But the performances are, to varying degrees, off. Sam Neil's American accent is shaky, Laura Dern is too broad, and Jeff Goldblum, I hate to say it, cannot give a serious performance. I can get past Neil and Dern; they basically work, but Goldblum really disappoints me. He's playing Jeff Goldblum, and so is kooky and comedic throughout. He accounts for some good laughs because Jeff Goldblum is a funny personality. But he's supposed to be playing Ian Malcolm, the arrogant mathematician rockstar who he has played with Oscar-worthy sardonic bite twice before. Is it that his public persona has usurped his ability to inhabit a character? Or that this material isn't worth taking seriously? I don't know. He obviously can play a serious character and he doesn't here.

I credit Colin Trevorrow, I really do, for trying new things with this Jurassic movie. There's nothing wrong with the tried-and-true formula of a team of scientists running from dinosaurs through jungles, theme parks, and control centers, especially if you've got the cinematic instincts of a Steven Spielberg. But if you don't, I applaud taking things in a different direction. Jurassic World Dominion is much more an "action" movie than any other in the series. We get the classic stuff: suspense scenes, creature fights, bad guys earning their comeuppance in the mouths of hungry dinos. Things that could fit in most other Jurassic films. But we also get a wild motorcycle chase through the streets of Malta, a pterodactyl dogfight, a dinosaur cattle drive, and more of the kinds of high-tech action scenes that we've seen in a James Bond or Mission Impossible movie, but never in the dinosaur-laden world of Jurassic Park. That's a lot of words to say that Jurassic World Dominion's action scenes are ridiculous, silly, absurd, but very entertaining.

There are once again new dinosaur threats, although the filmmakers are reaching deep into the bullpen for some of them (A beaked herbivore with giant claws is there for the climax). A mixture of CGI, animatronics and good old-fashioned puppets is used to bring them to life, and while all three techniques might be more sophisticated than they were in '93, that doesn't mean they are necessarily more realistic. The variety of dinosaurs, however, is great. Some of them are cuties, some are monsters, some are strange, and some are majestic. The special effects do give a sense of documentary authenticity in moments, but mostly it's all over-the-top fun for those of us that can't get enough of these prehistoric animals on screen.

Jurassic World Dominion is meant to finish off the franchise, but what was there to "finish", really? I love the series, and as much as I moan about sequels, I'd be there for a seventh film if they ever made one. I understand though, that Jurassic Park has been stretched about as far as it goes at this point. After Jurassic World re-invigorated the series, these last two did the best they could to mix things up. I would've liked something more traditional, but franchises must evolve, they say. I say, they can also go extinct.

69/100.

There are a few things you can compare Kenneth Branagh's newest film to: to Agatha Christie's original novel, to the Peter Ustinov-led film adaptation from 1978, to Branagh's other Christie adaptation, 2017's Murder on the Orient Express, or to the best of the Agatha Christie movies (For my money, Sidney Lumet's Murder on the Orient Express and the Guy Hamilton-directed Evil Under the Sun). Death on the Nile is better than one of these. It's a more patient, exciting movie than the Orient remake. But whether or not it stands toe to toe with those older films is weighted towards "not". Against the book... forget about it.

But there is a nice, easygoing quality to this whodunnit. A cast of eclectic actors-some big(ish) stars, a couple of hard-working character actors, and a wild card or two-play guests on a steam ship traveling down The River Nile. Armie Hammer and Gal Gadot have just been married and all the others on board have their reasons to want them dead. Classic Christie. We know the drill. Kenneth Branagh plays the resident detective, Hercule Poirot. When the glamorous starlet is killed, he interviews suspects, uncovers clues, and works his way, slyly and cunningly, to the drawing room for a reveal of the murderer.

It's all about the execution in a Christie adaptation. A good ensemble is a great place to start. Here, Branagh is hammy and magisterial, but only as far as the great Hercule Poirot ought to be. He's good fun to watch, moreso than any of the others in the cast. I'm not altogether convinced with this crew. Armie Hammer isn't bad at all as the hunk of the central love triangle, Annette Bening is more interesting than any of the other suspects, Russell Brand is a surprising and out-of-the-box pick as the doctor aboard, and Emma Mackey, my God in Heaven, is one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen. Eyes that can melt iron. Everybody not mentioned is varying degrees of boring and/or bad. I won't name names but instead implore you to watch for yourself and guess the one truly awful performance.

Branagh as director is not as good as Branagh as Poirot. One thing is for sure, he should not have looked at these computer-generated effects and said, "Yes, this is acceptable." Because the digital accoutrements filling up so much of the screen are distractingly bad. It's a shame when you consider that Branagh also has a way with nice, neat, symmetrical framing that cleverly compliments the hero's personality. He's a good director, but while the second half of the movie eases into a colorful, filmic look, there are whole passages early on that look like they take place inside an Agatha Christie PS4 game (hold on, let me jot down an idea I just got).

What Kenneth Branagh aims to do with this version of Death on the Nile is to keep Christie's story rolling along smoothly while adding a few flashes of a racier, more dangerous edge than its original adaptation had. Taken in total, it is successful. I can't give the movie an enthusiastic recommendation (too much shoddy visual effects and not enough good performances), but I do think for fans of all those Agatha Christie flavors, Death on the Nile is sexy, active, and fun to ride along with.

67/100.

They don't make historical epics anymore. That's still true, seeing as Ridley Scott's The Last Duel can't really qualify under 'epic'. But for a time, in the early years of this century, they did make historical epics. And Ridley Scott made some of the very best. With Gladiator, Kingdom of Heaven, and to an extent Robin Hood and Exodus: Gods and Kings, Scott created his own niche genre of brawny, muscular, elegantly made historical action epics. Movies that teenage boys could pump fists over, but that also felt like "art", smart and prestigious. The disappointment of The Last Duel is that it is not interested in belonging to this lineage. The Last Duel is interested in one thing, theme, to the detriment of story, drama, tension, and excitement.

How's this as a thrilling idea for a movie? A French nobleman challenges another to a duel to the death in order to prove his wife's allegations of rape are true. Very thrilling, that's how. And inherently dramatic and quite fascinating from a historical perspective. But The Last Duel treats the fantastic real-life story of the duel between Jean de Carrouges and Jacques le Gris as but a jumping off point for what writers Ben Affleck, Matt Damon, and Nicole Holofcener really care about; topical issues. The bulk of this movie is scenes depicting or revolving around an incident of rape. Shown in three chapters, from three points of view, these scenes take up a tremendous amount of time, retread much territory, and differ very little on their way to making a pretty obvious point about female agency in 1300s France. The movie is meant to give literary types lots of thematic gristle to chew on. Affleck, Damon, and Holofcener want to say things about society, and they want us to quibble over what exactly they are saying about it. I'm sorry, but I can't seem to care what they have to say about society. I bought my ticket for something that would affect me on a visceral level, not for a discussion prompt.

The actors will no doubt garner a lot of attention. No one is either good or bad enough, however, to really warrant a mention. But in the interest of prosperity, Damon plays a confused meathead, Driver a self-imagined lothario. Affleck is your standard posh aristocrat, and Comer is your standard strong, proud, wrongfully wronged lady. None of these actors even try to put on French accents. Regardless of how such attempts might have sounded, it would make their performances something other than inoffensively passable.

Don't worry, I'll get to what works about The Last Duel. This isn't a disaster. But first...Ridley Scott, one of our best filmmakers, shouldn't be making films that look this bad. I hate to say it, because nobody appreciates the accessible artistic grace that Scott can infuse into something even as schlocky as Hannibal as much as I do, but his newest movie looks like crap. White diffused light filtering through windows is a blight on cinema. The grey screen that is seemingly overlayed on top of each frame of this movie is a felony. There are about five great shots. Everything else is depressingly dim.

It sure sounds oafish of me to say it, but the best thing about The Last Duel is the action. The film kicks off with a thunderous battle scene, revisited later, where all the best Ridley Scott qualities are present. He has a way of shooting a line of charging horses, the clashes of swords, blood sprays and mud splashes like nobody else not named Mel Gibson can. There are a couple brief battles interspersed throughout the sitting around in dark rooms scenes, and they're just as great. Then comes the duel, where we feel, for the first time, some real tension. It rivals Gladiator's final swordfight for sharpness and palpable danger. Good stuff. Also the only part of the movie where I feel genuine passion coming through the screen from Scott.

Most of the time, The Last Duel feels inert. I won't spend my review speculating as to what message the filmmakers want me to get, because I didn't spend the film caring about such things. Social commentary is an optional garnish on a movie. Gladiator and Kingdom of Heaven garnished their stories with social themes, but underneath was real narrative propulsion, strong characters, solid dramatic storytelling. They were prime-cut medium rare steaks with chives sprinkled on top. The Last Duel is a plate of chives. It pains me to write such things. As one of the country's leading Ridley Scott fans, I was more excited for this film than anybody else. While there is enough respectability here to keep it out of the dust bin, and enough good action to make it worth a swords-and-horses fan's time, The Last Duel didn't stir me the way a good Ridley Scott epic does. I hope he has a couple more historical epics left in the tank, because he is the keeper of the flame, and when he's on, with a strong narrative and a creative spark, the results can be exquisite.

61/100.

Why do we watch movies? That will always depend on the person and on the movie. But why, really? It's something I have thought of. The real point of going to the movies. To explore ideas? To empathize with others? To simply be entertained? I have my answer. I watch movies in pursuit of the excitement, the unmatchable thrill, that comes from immersing myself in worlds I will never visit, and living vicariously through people I will never be. An experience like that of Joseph L. Mankiewicz' Cleopatra, one that comes around once in ten thousand movies, is what I'm always chasing.

I write in grandiose terms because this film warrants big language. Chances are, you've heard the dramatic back-stage stories; of clashes, lovers, and mountains of money burned to make Cleopatra happen. I'm sick of it. Because lost in all the talk of studio bankruptcy and movie flopping is a major historical epic. Cleopatra comes from the Golden Age (yes, the Golden Age. Not the "end") of the cinematic epic. The 1960s were the decade in which the Sunday school Cinemascope pictures grew up. The 60s gave us epics with grander ideas, more confident filmmaking, and a giant leap in that all important element: immersion.

The canvas is immense. Three political demigods of the antique world, charismatic Roman would-be emperor Julius Caesar (Rex Harrison), his general Mark Antony (Richard Burton), and the woman who would lead to the downfall of them both, the Queen of Egypt, Cleopatra (Elizabeth Taylor). Empires lie in the balance. Those fascinated by ancient history will no doubt be fascinated by Cleopatra's storyline. Based on thousands-of-years-old histories by Plutarch, Suetonius, and Appian, Cleopatra traces one of civilizations most dramatic stories. A politically charged love triangle-cum-power struggle which inspired two Shakespeare plays; plays whose best moments are brilliantly infused among the four hours of pageantry, battles, and high melodrama.

The first half of the film highlights Julius Caesar's hiatus in Egypt, his relationship with the young queen, and his aspirations of conquest. Aspirations shared by Cleopatra in one of the dozens of indelible sequences in the film, a plea for joint domination of the world at the tomb of Alexander the Great. The scene captivated me. Because it immersed me. Because, for a moment, I believed that I was really looking at the body of Alexander the Great; that I was privy to the actual Julius Caesar and Cleopatra's private thoughts. That sort of conjured electricity colors the best moments of Cleopatra. It's helped along, of course, by Rex Harrison. He gives the best performance of the film. So gallant, charming, erudite, and vulnerable, that I was rooting for the second half's doomed lovers simply because of their connection to him.

That post-intermission shift is more discordant than most, but that is only because Act I ends on an all-time great, goosebumps-inducing, stone cold stunner of a sequence. You may guess what the scene entails, but even so, it (and the proceeding ending) knocked me out emotionally. After that, the film has to almost completely reset, and it takes a while before the emotional heat is turned up so high again. But it does get there, in a scorching series of finales. Burton is a fiery Antony, better than he gets credit for. Roddy McDowell plays Octavian, a son-of-a-gun of a villain if ever there was one. And at the center of it all is Taylor as Cleopatra. She is a strong anchor, selling a years-long descent from ambitious young woman to a defeated, distraught queen. The biggest compliment I can give is that I understood her appeal to these men. Elizabeth Taylor isn't super-model sculpted, but the way she carries herself, in a confident, lilting, lovestruck way, is more sexy than any romantic lead has the right to be. Wowza.

Stories don't get much bigger, and Cleopatra employs a production to match. We open on a shot of thousands of Roman soldiers. A widescreen tableau ten miles deep. It's sumptuous. And Cleopatra is four hours of such exquisite grandeur. Be it the huge, detailed palace interiors, the few thunderous battles, the pageants, or just the basic establishing shots, Mankiewincz understands that standing back and letting the production and art direction do the work themselves, is what makes us feel "there". Those that dismiss the scale of this movie and movies like it as "overblown" or "bloated", completely discredit their immersive impact. It's not just about being wowed by spectacle, though wowed I was by Cleopatra. With film artists working this hard to create fully realized worlds, this film capitalizes on the promise of the movies. I spent an afternoon basked in an ancient world. The assertion that this, or any movie, would be better at a more modest scale is, frankly, ridiculous. The movie sunk its claws into me because of its enormity. Because there are so few movies that wow like this movie wows. So few movies that suck you in past the edges of the screen and hold you somewhere else. It does all this as it layers substance on top. Cleopatra is more than a parade of cinematic beauty shots. It submerges us in a fascinating period. A time when the whims of a few individuals could foment until they overflowed into world wars.

Cleopatra is the type of experience you (heartbreakingly) cannot get anywhere but the handful of great epic movies made half a dozen decades ago. It's a treasure. More valuable to me than a thousand "better" movies. They don't make these movies anymore. This experience, of settling in for a roadshow presentation of an amazing journey, is for all intents and purposes, extinct. That is a shattering shame. Like the young Egyptian queen did to Caesar for burning Alexandria's great library, I shame those that failed to appreciate this treasure. It's gone now, and it's your fault.

89/100.

The British romantic comedy has become a favorite genre of mine in recent years. Hugh Grant has become a favorite actor. Andie MacDowell has become a favorite actress. This movie, the one that kicked off the craze that led to About a Boy, Love Actually, and Bend It Like Beckham- a couple favorites and a soccer movie I like well-enough- is a perfectly charming template for the genre of dry English wit and light romance, but it's not quite a favorite.

Charles' (Hugh Grant) friends are getting married. Each wedding seems to bring another couple together, while he stays put in relationship limbo. Complicating matters is a vexing American, Carrie (Andie MacDowell) who somehow shows up to... Four Weddings and a Funeral. The rest follows the basic When Harry Met Sally outline, two acquaintances slowly learning that they love each other.

The difference, and what sets Mike Newell's film apart, is its very British sensibilities. That's the real charm of Four Weddings. Hugh Grant is in his nascent stage as the bumbling toff, and while his performance doesn't have quite the complexity of later roles, where he was funnier and more believably vulnerable, it's still quintessential Hugh Grant. I'm a fan of that. The supporting roles, as in other Richard Curtis-written films, are quite rich. Solid British character actors, as always, in some funny, quirky roles. It's always a delight to see Rowan Atkinson pop up in a movie and his big scene may be the best in the whole film. As a palette cleanser to all the tea and crumpets, Andie MacDowell does her job, although the character is a weak spot. There is so little in the way of background for Carrie, that you can almost imagine Charles' friends simply taking her out of storage just to attend weddings. Andie MacDowell is a special actress though, so effortlessly sparkling it's like she doesn't realize she's an actress at all. She salvages a lot from Carrie.

The film hits every emotional beat you expect a well-made rom-com to hit: humor, romance, melancholy, sadness, inspiration, and finally joy, but Four Weddings and a Funeral is only basically moving. I like Hugh Grant. I like Andie MacDowell. I want to see them get together. They get together. By that measure, the movie is a success. I don't discount that it's also a real chuckle-inducer and tear-conjurer. But it's just on that first level that the movie works. I don't believe Four Weddings and a Funeral has much real to say about love and relationships. It tells us that you should only marry someone you're fully, completely in love with. On that I agree, but let's be real, this is not a profound observation. Four Weddings and a Funeral gets by on charm. Lots of 90s, British, jolly-good charm.

76/100.

We are so used to movies feeling fantastic and fake, that a modest, real movie like Terms of Endearment is revolutionary. There isn't a thing flashy about James L. Brooks' debut film. It's not much more than a collection of ordinary moments in the lives of one Texas family. And yet, the compiled effect of those moments, of fun, love, and profound sadness, is mesmerizing.

Shirley MacLaine and Debra Winger are our anchors in the story, playing a mother and daughter who navigate various romantic, financial, and familial troubles over the course of several decades. And in all honesty, that short description covers most of the question, "what is Terms of Endearment about". Of course, there is color in the form of the supporting players in the women's lives. Jack Nicholson plays a former astronaut who woos the aging mother, and Jeff Daniels is very good as Winger's husband, a college professor and impatient father. The film lacks narrative drive. It is uncommonly patient, carefully sculpting an authentic, living world around its characters. But that relaxed composure may be its biggest strength. Based on the novel by Larry McMurtry, Terms of Endearment sweeps you away into the lives of these fictional strangers.

While there is infidelity, resentment, and other tensions, the characters' relationships and conflicts are never punched up for manipulative effect, but played assiduously and naturally, creating a deeply felt connection between us and them. This is a story we can feel in our bones, because the characters feel like people we know. Even if I don't see myself in Shirley MacLaine's Aurora Greenway, or Debra Winger's Emma Horton, I recognize them as personalities. They could be my mother, my aunt, my grandma. Danny Devito could be my neighbor, Jeff Daniels could be my professor, Troy Bishop could have been my childhood friend, John Lithgow could be someone I said hello to in the hardware store. They feel real. With that accomplished, the emotions are real. From the joys, the laughs, to the heart-shattering lows there is no disconnect between what we are seeing and what we feel. This thing culminates with an emotional thunderbolt. One we see coming, but convince ourselves every step of the way can't possibly come to pass until it inevitably does. In other words, a lot like real life.

Terms of Endearment is the rare film that inspires introspection on your own life; on your own family. It puts into perspective how important familial relationships are. To finish this movie and not be inspired to forge a stronger bond with your loved ones is impossible. The grand feat of Terms of Endearment is not that it makes you cry, but that it makes you think about why you cry. Few films have hit me harder.

95/100