Ghostbusters II (1989, Ivan Reitman)

About the only compliment I can pay Ghostbusters II is the first half or so doesn’t reveal how terrible the movie’s going to get. The film had a troubled production, which might explain the special effects looking rough for the third act. II’s third act apes the third act from the first movie, only without any of the stakes. Ghostbusters II is profoundly without stakes.

Ostensibly, the boys in beige (and navy blue to fit into the popular contemporary cartoon series “The Real Ghostbusters”’s continuity) are trying to save Sigourney Weaver’s baby from Peter MacNicol, her pervy boss who’s become an agent of evil. Except the movie’s not going to kill a baby. So it’s all about how they save the baby. Except Ghostbusters II’s third act is horrible. It gets worse every stake-less scene. The movie’s also got this “New York City sucks” undertone, which is kind of strange. It could work—the movie picks up after the Ghostbusters have been sued out of business, so maybe they could hate the Big Apple, but… no, it’s just for the jokes. The really tepid jokes.

The first act establishes the new ground situation—Weaver’s got a baby (Murray’s not the daddy), Murray’s a psychic TV talk show host (which fits because the character’s written like a talk show host the entire movie), Harold Ramis is doing hard science, Dan Aykroyd is running a used book shop while not doing appearances with Ernie Hudson. Does Hudson have anything else going on the side? Don’t ask; the movie doesn’t care.

Along the way, we’ll learn Rick Moranis has gone back to school and become a lawyer. Annie Potts will be back, then David Margulies comes back as the Mayor, too. Margulies seems exhausted at the whole production, which tracks. Kurt Fuller plays his dipshit aide, who doesn’t trust the gang.

The movie feels long because nothing connects. Ackroyd and Ramos’s script gives them more to do for a while (Ramis especially), but it doesn’t go anywhere. Moranis and Potts get about the best subplot, which is only fair since they’re giving the best performances, but they also don’t have the worst writing. Ramis and Ackroyd saved it for themselves—plus Hudson. II forgets about Hudson for most of the first act, then turns him into an exposition delivery device in the second—alongside Ramis and Ackroyd—and it’s way too much.

Then Weaver starts phoning it in for the finale, which is not good, given it’s all about her baby becoming an evil god. I can’t remember when she goes flat, but it’s way too early, and it’s way too flat. II can’t figure out how to make her and Murray cute together, so they have him play with the baby a lot. Ghostbusters II targets the weirdest demographics—boys who love “Real Ghostbusters” and their moms who didn’t like the first movie but can handle it because the baby’s adorable.

Reitman can’t direct that movie. He does an awful job. As far as the technicals, no one does a good job, really—Michael Chapman somehow shoots it poorly, and then Randy Edelman’s score is arguably offensive—but there’s some basic competence to the production. Dennis Muren’s special effects leave a lot to be desired, though.

So it’s all doomed.

There are also a bunch of stunt cameos for some reason. They don’t amount to anything.

As for top-billed Murray… maybe HBO should’ve given him a talk show or whatever. But it’s not a performance. Many people embarrass themselves in II—Aykroyd, Weaver, Hudson, MacNichol, Harris Yulin—but nothing compares to Murray. He’s been fixed. I’m not sure II’d have been any better without the snip-snip, but it might not have been so dull.

Ghostbusters (1984, Ivan Reitman)

In the almost forty years since Ghostbusters’s release, the film remains unparalleled in terms of present-day, urban sci-fi action. The film’s a mix of crisp action comedy and a special effects spectacular, with Reitman’s direction toggling as needed and Elmer Bernstein’s score tying a beautiful knot. With the special effects, the film never isn’t grasping too far and never isn’t succeeding. It’s visually exquisite, even when there’s some noticeable foam versus marshmallow. Richard Edlund produced the effects and, well, accept no substitutes.

The film’s also got an incredibly brisk pace—partially due to an elongated victory lap of a third act. In the first few minutes, the film introduces real ghosts—in the New York Public Library, establishing an expectation of location shooting. The film kind of takes a dodge on for set pieces but still impresses with what they do pull off on-site. Fake ghost-investigating scientists (played by Ghostbusters co-writers) Dan Aykroyd and Harold Ramis play second and third fiddle to lead Bill Murray; they’re the true believers, Murray’s just in it to manipulate coeds. Just when they see their first real ghost, the university has had enough and boots them.

This turn of events could lead to the worst in Murray’s character, but instead, the movie skips along, hurrying to put the trio in business as New York City’s first (albeit entirely unlicensed) professional ghost hunters. The second act starts with their first potential customer, professional classical musician Sigourney Weaver. She’s got a valid cause for concern (the movie shows her haunted apartment, which also gives Weaver a great scene opposite in-camera effects, which the film provides a number of its cast). Except Murray tries to get some action instead of taking her seriously, and she’s out of the plot for a bit.

Weaver will be—from a particular point of view—literally a girlfriend in a refrigerator, but the film smartly keeps her in play during the second act as the Ghostbusters start getting actual business. The media coverage will transition to Weaver, along with her neighbor, Rick Moranis. Eventually, it’ll all come together in hilarious and scintillating ways. And scintillatingly hilarious ways. Those ways might be the funniest. Oh, and with occasional major effects sequences. Moranis and Weaver end up doing the most work in the film.

The ghost-busting business booms so much the trio brings on Ernie Hudson as their first busting employee (they’ve got a secretary, played by Annie Potts, who seems to know she will be unappreciated for her turn but still kills it). Hudson brings the soul to the team, being the only one who professes a belief in God. Ramis and Murray never really talk about it, but it’s obvious Ramis is a science atheist, and Murray’s a libertarian atheist. Meanwhile, Aykroyd’s a go-along-to-get-along all religions have a kernel of truth guy. The third act brings in all the religious stereotypes, which includes blowing their outfits around in ghosts of wind (and implying the Catholics are corrupt in some way, but also seemingly happy about it). But the God question? No comment.

Gods, to be sure, are real, however. Gods and ghosts.

However, the film also skirts the undead aspect of ghosts. There are some definitely human-looking ones, but they’re mostly just ghostly (and slimy) creatures, which is all fine. Edlund does a phenomenal job with the ghosts; the film’s always got the right tone in the paranormal encounters.

Performances-wise, Moranis is probably the best for his range, followed by Weaver for her seriousness, playfulness, and willingness to play a hair band video vixen. Murray’s an engaging asshole, especially once the celebrity aspect comes in. Since Ghostbusters takes place in the real world, there’s a lengthy, sometimes salient subplot about their notoriety. It’ll put them on the radar of EPA pencil pusher William Atherton, who thinks the Ghostbusters are poisoning the air with hallucinogens and saving people from the ghosts they’ve convinced them are real. Given the initial suggestion, Murray’s a sexual predator….

Anyway.

Murray gets reformed really quickly in his courtship of Weaver. He’s never too creepy around her (because she’s a grown woman and not a coed, apparently), but he ends up downright cute.

Akyroyd’s incredibly likable but kind of barely in the movie. He gets a couple big moments, but none really in the second act. The second act has a lot for Ramis, not Akyroyd. Hudson… well, theses will be written about the film’s hostile indifference to Hudson. He gets some material, even some jokes, but he always gets the fastest cuts away.

Speaking of the cuts… editors Sheldon Kahn and David E. Blewitt do just as singular work as the more obviously superlative work from cinematographer László Kovács, Edlund, and Bernstein. Reitman’s not slouching in his direction either. But back to that cutting, Kahn and Blewitt do this thing where they’ll cut just as the next setup begins, usually a comedy scene, and instead of seeing it play out, it becomes this implication for the viewer to mull as the next scene begins. It’s excellent work.

In terms of narrative, the smartest thing about Ghostbusters is that celebrity angle. Akyroyd and Ramis know how to give the audience directions to Willful Way, and seeing their two bashful characters embrace the spotlight is a really cute, absolutely passive subplot. The third act’s got some really functional plotting, but it can’t overshadow the sometimes outstanding story moves.

Ghostbusters is pretty darn awesome. It’s great-looking, well-acted, and a lot of fun.

I really hope they don’t try to turn it into a franchise and screw it up somehow.

The Princess Bride (1987, Rob Reiner)

I’m undecided on how to discuss The Princess Bride’s second act. It’s a misstep but an intentional one. Instead of being the story of reunited lovers Robin Wright and Cary Elwes, the film becomes an action comedy for Mandy Patinkin and Andre the Giant, which is fine; they’re great. But the film entirely ignores Wright’s experience, with her scenes instead being from her antagonists’ perspective. Meanwhile, Elwes becomes a rag doll. Having not read the William Goldman source novel—Goldman adapted it himself—I don’t know if it was always the plot.

Again, it works out fairly well because Patinkin and Andre the Giant are wonderful. Patinkin’s performance is phenomenal; Bride’s got four great performances—Patinkin, Christopher Guest, Wallace Shawn, and Chris Sarandon—though in descending weight. Patinkin’s got a tragic backstory, while Guest is an affected-less sadist with funny lines. Shawn’s got affect and funny lines, but he’s also got the least to do in the main cast. Finally, Sarandon’s a Disney cartoon villain—the good-looking, bad one—come to life without the aid of CG, just presence, delivery, and costuming.

Princess Bride’s got great costuming all around—Phyllis Dalton does terrific work. Bride’s a swashbuckler: an odd mix of movie serial tropes, which it ably disassembles through the first half only to reassemble in the second. There’s just no room for the ostensible heroes in the reconfiguration. However, Wright’s just helpless in a locked room. She’s way too ultimate a damsel.

But in the first act, with the masked pirate (doing a classic Hollywood riff) chasing after Wright and her kidnappers, Bride is sublime. The kidnappers are Shawn, Patinkin, and Andre the Giant. Shawn wants to start a war between two countries; Wright’s about to be the princess of one, and he’ll kill her and frame the other. Patinkin and Andre the Giant are troubled by the plan (Shawn didn’t tell them about the killing), but they never have to make a decision on it. The pirate—presumably after the princess—interrupts their plan long before.

Now, Bride has a framing device. Sick kid Fred Savage wants to play video games, but grandfather Peter Falk wants to read him a book instead. It’s a family tradition, making the book in the movie from the 1920s (as I try to couch the plotting problems). Falk’s very cute as the grandfather, and Savage could be more cloying, but he’s still way more cloying than he ought to be. And then there’s the whole male entitlement thing.

The frame occasionally breaks up the actual story, with Savage bored or scared, or worried. Or disgusted at the kissing, which—admittedly—isn’t a weird reaction to your grandfather telling you about lusty kisses.

Elwes was Wright’s first love, who went off to sea five years before. Wright got news he’d been killed by pirates and, so, when prince Sarandon came knocking, looking for a commoner to promote to royalty, she said sure. Shawn’s trying to prevent such a union, but he didn’t expect someone else coming for Wright.

After three boss fights, the pursuer reaches Wright and reveals what’s happened to Elwes, just in time for Wright and Elwes to do a runner from Sarandon and Guest. Elwes and Wright have a charming reuniting adventure sequence, hinting at the potential for a road movie, as they’re now on the run from multiple parties.

But then it becomes Sarandon and Wright’s wedding preparation story. Sure, he’s forcing her to get married while torturing Elwes in a secret lair, but it’s also just the bridging section of the film. They need to get Patinkin and Andre the Giant somehow back in to save the day and encounter other big-name cameos.

The ending’s way too rushed, both the fairytale and the frame. Bride is done on a budget and singularly charming, so it can get away with a lot. Sometimes director Reiner, cinematographer Adrian Biddle, and editor Robert Leighton can make the limitations work for them. For example, the first act’s action sequences always have some obvious budgetary constraints. Still, it works—they’re doing a swashbuckler, complete with Mark Knopfler’s score, which makes numerous nods to action sequence music tropes.

They just aren’t doing a swashbuckler by the end, which makes the fairytale’s finish awkward. It’s too quick, especially for Elwes and Wright, whose romance never regains the spotlight after losing it in the second act. Then the frame finish relies on Savage before realizing Falk’s the real star. It’s muddled.

So when the end credits come up playing over scenes from the movie—good scenes, sometimes out of order to showcase their likability—it’s an apparent attempt at a save. And it works all right.

Technically, Bride’s best in the first half. Leighton’s action editing—and Reiner’s action directing—is more impressive than their medievally-tinged light action comedy in the remainder. Biddle’s photography’s excellent throughout, but he’s got very little to do in the second half. Lots of scenes take place indoors with bland lighting.

And Knopfler’s score. It’s got a pretty theme, a lot of self-awareness, but is lacking. Especially when Reiner wants the score to carry a scene, which happens a lot in the second half and makes no sense since the score’s better in the first.

Still. It’s delightful, with some phenomenal performances, and when Goldman’s not ignoring his female protagonist and whatnot, the writing’s on.

The Batman (2022, Matt Reeves)

The first rule of the The Batman is the most interesting thing about Batman is Batman, so new Batman Robert Pattinson spends his time in the costume, with only a handful of scenes moping around as Bruce Wayne. The second rule of The Batman is “show, don’t tell,” which is strange since the third is “tell, don’t show.” But it works out; because Pattinson’s spellbinding in the costume. Pattinson’s biggest scene opposite supervillain Paul Dano—who’s also great, though not in his costume, a DIY number made out of green garbage bags apparently—is just eyes.

Heck, Pattinson doesn’t even do the Batman lip work. Back in the Forever days, some interviewer asked Nicole Kidman about Michael Keaton (who she wasn’t in a Batman with) and Val Kilmer (who she was in a Batman with), and she said the important thing is the lips.

Pattison and Reeves don’t worry about the lips. Pattinson does more with his jaw than the lips. Whatever else, The Batman’s an exemplar of person-in-mask acting.

For the story and tone, director Reeves and co-screenwriter Peter Craig pick and choose from the decades of comics, movies, video games, and seemingly Darren Aronofsky’s old Batman: Year One proposal. The ground situation is where the show, don’t tell, comes in; Pattinson’s been masked vigilanting for a couple years, long enough to become best friends with police lieutenant James Gordon (Jeffrey Wright). Wright brings Pattinson, in costume, to official crime scenes where a bunch of dude cops make fun of Pattinson, and then Pattinson finds some clue they’d all missed.

The Batman’s got a boy problem. None of the cops are women, and they’re all at least jerks, though we’ll find out a vast majority of them are murderously corrupt (Reeves and Craig rush through that story arc). But Pattinson’s Batman is another “this is my father’s house” Batman. Not only doesn’t he care about Martha, but she’s also a de facto Eve, whose personal failings led Papa Wayne to dishonor. Despite being a subplot, the parents aren’t significant, especially not after fellow orphan Dano’s soapboxing about what it must be like to be a billionaire orphan.

The movie’s A-plot is Riddler Dano, a TikTok serial killer terrorizing Gotham’s elite. Batman’s been on the job a couple of years and hasn’t done anything about them eating Gotham’s wealth and spirit, so Dano will have to do it. Reeves and Craig make some excellent observations about Batman and his resulting rogues, leaning in on the idea of anonymous power. They don’t end up amounting to anything because The Batman needs a disaster movie finale, but the groundwork’s solid, and Dano’s monologuing is fantastic.

There’s lots of great acting in The Batman. Dano and Wright without masks, Pattinson with, and then the unrecognizable Colin Farrell in prosthetics, showing off the potential for actors acting as someone else. The rest of the acting’s at least good. John Turturro as a mob boss, Andy Serkis as an utterly pointless Alfred, and, of course, Zoë Kravitz as Catwoman.

Kravitz figures into the A-plot through Farrell and Turturro; Farrell owns a club where the mob and the corrupt politicians play, Kravitz works there. When Pattinson goes to interrogate Farrell, he sees Kravitz and follows her for investigatory purposes. Pretty soon, they’re fighting bad guys together and getting horizontal under the proverbial mistletoe. They gaze at each other with common sympathy and bridled lust, which always comes with composer Michael Giacchino’s gentle but passionate love theme. Even with their finale sequence’s oddly bland visuals and Kravitz disappearing too long so Pattinson and Dano can play, The Batman does an excellent job with the romance.

When Kravitz isn’t runaway strutting past gross white guys at Farrell’s club, she’s mooning at Pattinson for one reason or another. She doesn’t get much of a story to herself. She’s got a missing friend, but it soon becomes part of Pattinson’s investigation, and her relationship with the mob bosses also ends up being for the big arcs. It’s okay; no one else gets much to themselves either. Mask-off, Pattinson’s a teensy-weensy arc about being ungrateful to Serkis. It won’t matter because Serkis is either shoehorned in or edited out. Not like a three-hour Batman needed more.

But the film also doesn’t explain Pattinson and Wright’s relationship; for the most part, Wright’s a true blue copper, only he knows most of his fellow officers are on the take, so he can only trust Batman. Does it matter? Yes and no. Or, yes, but Reeves, Pattinson, and Wright make you forget about it.

The big mystery’s okay. Dano leaves riddles at each scene, which Pattison usually figures out immediately until suddenly, he doesn’t, so there can be the disaster movie finish. It’s about the performances, the interactions, the mood. Pattison, Reeves, composer Giacchino, cinematographer Greig Fraser, and production designer James Chinlund create a mesmerizing film. Reeves cracks how to do a grim and gritty Batman in broad daylight, in crowds, and so on. The filmmaking’s never remarkable, but it’s never not consistent, confident, compelling. However, William Hoy and Tyler Nelson’s editing is closer to exceptional than not. Chinlund’s Gotham City is modern, Gothic, and humid, a dream turned nightmare.

If only Reeves and Craig hadn’t strung together two movies’ worth of A-plot (cutting the character development for time) to get it done.

But The Batman—thanks to Reeves and Pattinson (with help from Kravitz, Wright, Dano, Farrell, and the crew)—is the most special and successful this franchise has felt in numerous decades.

Upload (2020) s02e01 – Welcome Back, Mr. Brown

“Upload” starts its second season making some immediate changes from the previous season cliffhanger. One’s a reveal at the end of the episode and a good twist. The other’s Andy Allo’s not great real-life love interest Matt Ward getting axed in the first scene. They’re on the run in upstate New York, and Allo ditches him at a bed and breakfast to run off with dad Chris Williams to the off-griders.

With lead Robbie Amell still stuck in the reduced data area of the digital afterlife, Allo’s adventures with the “Luds” (as in Luddites) takes up the first half of the episode. Despite being a tech junkie in her regular life, Allo takes to the Lud colony, where she’s soon teaching the orientation classes and flirting with community leader Paulo Costanzo.

Besides growing their own vegetables and not having any wifi, the Luds also have a fundamentalist Christian terrorist thing going on under the leadership of pastor Peter Bryant. Allo and Costanzo bond over being charming, attractive, and not extreme like Bryant. And gardening.

Meanwhile, back at Allo’s job, her absence has coworker and bestie Zainab Johnson getting a lot more responsibility and a promotion. She and boss Andrea Rosen get to be better pals with Allo gone too; they’ve got to suffer a particularly obnoxious new upload (a dead person’s consciousness uploaded into a virtual afterlife paradise)—Amell’s fiancée Allegra Edwards.

Edwards waits a few weeks to wake Amell up from his data cap, wanting to make changes to his existing apartment. Amell’s immediately worried about Allo, who was almost killed in the previous season’s finale because she and Amell found out he’d been murdered (by Edwards’s dad), and runs off to check up on her.

Except she’s entirely off-line, so he can’t find any information or get in touch. All his calls go to voicemail, including the one where he finally tells her he loves her too.

There’s some bro buffoonery with Amell’s neighbor and dead bestie Kevin Bigley (who’s semi-dating, i.e., getting horizontal, with Edwards’s dead grandma, Vic Michaelis, which continues to be hilarious). And Mackenzie Cardwell joins the cast as the temp Johnson hires to cover for missing Allo.

There’s also cybercrimes detective Hiro Kanagawa, who seems like he’s going to have something to do with the season—the whole Amell hacking the real world to save Allo last season.

It’s an okay season starter; Allo’s extremely likable, Johnson’s excellent, and Bigley’s broadly funny. Edwards is very intense as the de facto villain. Amell’s kind of got nothing to do except cyberstalk, which is a bummer. Allo’s his only human connection on the show, and they’re not talking.

Upload (2020) s01e10 – Freeyond

After ignoring the initial A plot but actually the B plot because Robbie Amell and Andy Allo are cute for eight episodes, this episode’s almost entirely about the mystery behind Amell’s death. And his missing memories. The ones he didn’t find out about until halfway through the season but didn’t care about because… bad writing?

Except the show wants to do some big twists, starting with Amell waking up after—presumably—getting his memories back as a side effect of a system upgrade. Think there’s a chance a show like “Upload” would pull some twisty shenanigan so it can split Allo and Amell onto their own subplots for a while before bringing them back together.

Except it runs twenty-four minutes so it’s like three minutes of the show, maybe four. If Greg Daniels had just written it out, he might have given Allo and Amell something sincere to perform (so obviously not) but it’s frustrating how lazy “Upload” gets.

Though there is a lot of action this episode. Daina Reid directs. She does a good enough job given the constraints. See, it’s time Allo to be put in actual danger. Season finale only has nineteen minutes to go and the show has three big changes it needs to get set up.

Instead of doing anything with its first season, “Upload” has done a “totally different season two” setup. I didn’t see some of the twists coming—mostly because they’re all pretty terrible—but I’m still not exactly disappointed. I didn’t have any hope for “Upload” to get to a good place with this season or to get set up well for next season.

Amazon ought to cancel this one and put Allo and Amell in something else, something with better writing. Zainab Johnson ought to get her own show, however. Then you’ve got all the best pieces of “Upload” in at least not this project. Because it’s not a good showcase for Allo or Amell.

Maybe I did expect the season finale to be better.

Upload (2020) s01e09 – Update Eve

Turns out “Upload” is able to surprise me. This episode reveals the Horizon app where all the dead people live is getting an upgrade. Including having more than two seasonings, which is a heck of a long time into the show to reveal none of the digital dead people eating are tasting anything the viewer can imagine.

Of course, I shouldn’t have expected any episode-to-episode continuity—creator Greg Daniels is back to write the season finale two-parter, starting here—and we’re just now finding out reality can be upgraded. It’s like the season finale for a traditionally plotted sitcom season versus streaming tenner “Upload”.

Not only is the system upgrading, it’s also a chance for Robbie Amell to get his memories back because even though they’ve been stolen and hacked and erased, Andy Allo’s fairly sure if they break the rules and keep him awake during the upgrade, he’ll remember everything.

Everything like what? We still have no idea because the show’s done a laughably bad job establishing Amell’s supporting cast. So it’s going to be a surprise for the season finale. We’re just getting to that surprise, which involves Allo bringing causal sex partner Matt Ward to an office party no one had mentioned until this episode because of course they didn’t.

So Allo’s got to sneak around the office party to play with Amell on the computer while she’s supposed to be making out with Ward to keep boss Andrea Rosen from being suspicious (if Rosen were good, “Upload” would be a lot better, instead it gives her a bunch of time but no content). Meanwhile, Zainab Johnson is trying to convince her dead virtual ward—Kevin Bigley—to cheat on the Easter egg hunt for money.

They also don’t say Christmas in this future.

Because SJWs.

Because Greg Daniels is a rebel.

Anyway.

If “Upload” were good it’d be an Imagine Entertainment movie from the late eighties, like if Tom Hanks’s career went differently. Instead, it’s a middling, underdeveloped, underproduced—albeit occasionally charmingly casted. Hopefully it’ll get Johnson, Allo, and Amell better work in the future; and in that order only.

Space Force (2020)

Unloved and Misunderstood

“Space Force” | Season one, 10 episodes | Netflix, 2020

While comedic sitcoms usually take a while to find their footing on the way to a successful vehicle, the creators of “Space Force” seem to be striding the fence here in their pursuit of a balance between comedy and darker social satire. Steve Carnell and Greg Daniels have literally packed each 30 min episode with enough material to stretch it to an hour, but that would effect the flow too much, so “Space Force” conforms to the half hour format in hopes of finding an audience with the average limited attention span for comedies these days.

Carnell plays the general in charge of Space Force, Trump’s latest invention to keep his simple take on reality and romantic notion of what armed forces should be now. Now I should state that Trump is never mentioned by name, nor are really any references here specific, but alert sycophants should pick it up they’re talking about here and now. While some of these jokes are simple and obvious, “Space Force” is loaded with quieter, subtler, textural elements that belie more than just your typical half hour sitcom.

First, casting John Malkovich as his civilian counterpart, is a perfect compliment/foil for Carell’s by the numbers, stiff, obedient military character. They really don’t plow against one another in the typical protagonist/antagonist relationship, but rather compliment each other in their cooperation and clashes, bringing for a genuinely unique approach to what one would be expecting from such a relationship. The setting of “Space Force,” with its pseudo sci-fi action genre, makes the most of the thirty minute drive toward a conclusion with lots of tidbits that you have to look for to appreciate totally. It’s not necessarily about the absurd reality of its situation, but the reactions and motivations of its characters here that keep you interested. The nuances of their relationships, coinciding with the genuinely human dictates of what they’re about drive your interest.

It has plenty of humor, but no laugh tracks here, you either are paying attention and getting the jibes, or you’re not, which is ok. The serious manner depicting its characters gives it a feel of caring and understanding, not two dimensional characters in service of the unusual two plot story carried to a neat conclusion, but gives it an outlier feel.

Also present in this dramedy are some solid use of bit casting, giving its humor weight and double take seriousness for a two edged sword type of approach. While it’s finding its way, Space Force never goes the easy route in its ten episodes (except for perhaps the one featuring a competition between two warring military factions to control Space Force). Also wildly unusual are Carell’s relationships with his wife (Lisa Kudrow, of all actors, who was thrown in jail for life after the first episode for a reason we still don’t know), his complicated, uncomfortable yet very funny scenes with a female head contractor at the base, and his abrasive, yet acceptable ones with his rival heads of the other branches of the armed services of whom Space Force is consuming larger monetary budgets than theirs. Jimmy Yang, quietly and carefully understated as Malkovich’s head assistant, and Tawny Hewsome, as Carell’s aide de camp in a spectrum of roles, are fleshed out nicely, and add greatly to overall recipe. Perhaps Diana Silvers, as his put upon daughter, is still in its developmental infancy stage, is the least satisfying, but since she plays it straight and isn’t out of place I’ll forgive this.

The stories of “Space Force” aren’t just about the ridiculousness of the current world and of the current Washington administration, or even the semi fantasy world the characters live in. While it’s finding its feet in its first ten episodes while trying something different, it succeeds more often than not, and I genuinely hope to see a second to witness whether they succeed. A personal experiment for Carell and Daniels, one that deserves to find an audience and reach its conclusion.

Space Force (2020) s01

Unloved and Misunderstood

“Space Force” | Season one, 10 episodes | Netflix, 2020

The Man with Two Brains (1983, Carl Reiner)

The Man with Two Brains does not age well. It’s a case study in not aging well, even more so because when the three writers—director Reiner, star Steve Martin, and George Gipe—can’t figure out how to do an ending so they just do an extended fat joke… well, it’s hard to continuing giving the film a pass. Not after a racial epithets joke, which the film doesn’t even realize is lazy.

Because it does recognize its easy jokes. There are a lot of easy, easy, easy jokes Brains wants to get away with and it usually is able to do it thanks to Martin or co-star Kathleen Turner, but the finale doesn’t use anyone well. In fact, it’s a call back to a completely different section of the film they probably don’t want to be recalling.

The movie’s got a really peculiar structure. The first act is about Martin falling for evil gold digger Turner (not knowing she’s an evil gold digger) and her refusing to consummate the relationship. So boss Peter Hobbs (who’s pleasantly sturdy and game for even the fail jokes) sends Martin off to Europe for a conference; a little continental seduction and so on.

In Europe, Martin meets mad scientist David Warner, who’s—oh, right. Martin’s the world’s premier brain surgeon. Anyway. He meets Warner, who’s a mad scientist who wants to transplant brains he’s been keeping alive thanks to hydroxychloroquine or something. Warner’s oddly disappointing in the film. I was expecting something from him and he never does anything. The film’s got problems with the supporting characters though; Warner’s butler, Paul Benedict, gets more personality than Warner in fewer scenes with less exposition. Reiner’s direction is… not great. He and Martin (and Gipe) are trying a lot of different things, some things are a lot less successful than others.

And even the big successes are often qualified. Like when Martin is prowling the streets to find a woman to murder so his soul mate—a disembodied brain voiced by Sissy Spacek—can find a new home. It’s all very complicated, with the brain stuff being Martin finally getting free of animate costars and getting to do his wild and crazy guy thing in the spotlight. It’s better when he does it opposite other cast, specifically Turner, who frequently can’t hold her femme fatale. Martin so funny she’s laughing. It’s brings Turner almost too much personality.

Back to that successful sequence—Martin lurking the streets of Vienna, looking for a woman to murder. All of a sudden the backlot shooting starts to work—Reiner and cinematographer Michael Chapman(!) shoot Two Brains like they’re trying to figure out how to not make it look like a sitcom but end up making it look more like one because of how they compensate. Like Joel Goldsmith’s ludicrously inappropriate synth score; it ups the zany so you don’t think too much about Martin’s premeditated murder scene and so on, but it’s also terrible. And doesn’t help the scene. Ever. In fact, it’s always actively hurting it.

Overall, Two Brains doesn’t have the pieces to succeed. The story’s not there. The plotting isn’t there. The pacing’s there. The direction’s not there. Martin and Turner do an excellent job doing absurd caricatures (at best, Martin does just mug occasionally), but it’s like no one’s curating the gags or even taking note of their successes. It’s got its ambitions just no idea when they realize.