Wilson (2017, Craig Johnson)

From the start, Wilson’s got two problems it can’t possibly overcome. First, director Johnson. He’s never got a decent idea. Not with the actors, not with the composition, not with the pacing. He does seem to understand Laura Dern’s far and away the best thing in the movie, but he doesn’t address compensating for her not being around sometimes.

The second problem is lead Woody Harrelson. He’s Wilson, an old curmudgeon who loves his dog. He inserts himself into people’s personal space to ask invasive questions and just generally be a prick because he’s a white guy, so he’s always gotten away with it. Harrelson will have a comeuppance of sorts, but the film never addresses how that comeuppance affects him or how it manifests in the everyday.

Harrelson’s usually okay. He’s never good. He’s not better in the Dern scenes because Dern’s so awesome it carries over. He’s got no great third-act character arc to bring things around for the finale. Just to get it over with: the third act’s a disaster. When Wilson is good—which is before Cheryl Hines shows up as Dern’s sister in an intentionally unlikable stunt cameo—it’s good enough to make up for the clunky first act. Screenwriter Daniel Clowes, adapting his own graphic novel, stumbles through the entire first act, doing narrative pratfalls and showing off how read mediums can have superior structuring. Though Johnson’s direction is also blah.

And Harrelson’s not making it compelling.

The movie starts with Harrelson’s best friend, Brett Gelman, announcing he’s moving away. I was wondering how the movie was going to deal with Harrelson having such an obvious chemistry vacuum with Gelman’s wife, played by Mary Lynn Rajskub. But they disappear, so it doesn’t matter. Harrelson only ever has to do character development with Dern and Isabella Amara. Amara is the daughter Dern gave away for adoption. Further into the second act than it ever should, Wilson becomes about their mutated take on the nuclear family.

All three characters will have profound arcs.

The film will ignore all of them. It will vaguely acknowledge them, though the solution to all of Amara’s problems seem to just be “don’t be goth,” whereas the movie doesn’t ever get specific with Harrelson or Dern’s exact problems. Like, Harrelson’s got some definite problems at a few points in the movie, but they’re taking on his overarching character development arc in the third act, kind of invalidating the second act for the audience. We just sat through this better movie and now the worse movie tells us it was all for naught.

The copout with Amara and Dern can just be chalked up to “the mystery of women.” Trying to explain them would require adjusting the narrative distance to encompass their points of view. Not going to happen in Wilson, even though Johnson seems to be leaning into Harrelson coming off like a serial killer in the first act, stalking his prey.

The other technicals are all just okay—Frederick Elmes’s photography, and Paul Zucker’s editing. Whoever okayed Ethan Tobman’s entire production design concept should have made better decisions. Jon Brion’s music initially seems like it’s going to bring something to the film.

It does not, though no one really brings anything special except Dern, who’s so great when the film lets her be, which isn’t often.

The rest disappoints.

Shadows on the Grave (2016) #8

Shadows on the Grave 8 I just got the final reveal in the Deneaus conclusion. Not like I just finished reading it and got the reveal; a few hours later, sitting down to write about Shadows on the Grave’s finish, I got it.

I should’ve gotten it earlier. Maybe I would in a single sitting reread (I mean, probably not, but we’re pretending here). It’s a nice touch. It doesn’t change anything about the final chapter, but a nice touch. Creator Richard Corben’s had a bumpy road with Deneaus, the only serial in Grave, and it’s nice he’s got it to a solid finish. The art’s particularly lovely, with lots of white space for the open skies and empty landscapes. It contrasts the very busy panels of the rest of the book, which mostly takes place in graveyards.

Literally.

Over fifty percent of the other three short stories and two one-pagers takes place in a graveyard. The non-graveyard one-pager, opening the book, involves a corpse. Corben’s got his standards, and he hits them well here. Well, after the first story, anyway.

The first story’s another robber story; some dude is going to rob an antique shop and pawn the goods somewhere else for cash. The shop owner can tell there’s something skeezy and kicks the guy out, who then watches the store owner acting weird about a cabinet. Of course, the robber will return for the cabinet, with its contents providing scary fodder for the rest of the story.

The MacGuffin’s only okay because Corben does a weird epilogue thing where he skips some of the action. The epilogue doesn’t work, making the MacGuffin less of a disappointment in comparison. Lots of scary, ominous details, though.

They really come through in the following story, about a couple of kids playing in a graveyard. One dares the other to go into a child killer’s crypt, only for the gate to get stuck. Corben uses the same epilogue device here and to great success. Corben writes a lot more this issue since he’s still doing eight-page stories, and there’s not much action in them, and the prose here’s better. He’s more patient with it.

The next story—also a graveyard story—has a woman visiting her mother’s grave, then her three husbands’ graves. Corben does a quick exposition dump, then turns it into a zombie action story with a couple unexpected turns (outside the zombies). No epilogue device in this one (though I’m now thinking about how Corben usually just does them in narration, not scene). Anyway. Another really strong entry. While the first story’s lacking, the second two more than make up for it, then the Deneaus finale brings the issue to a strong close.

The back cover one-pager bids Grave and its readers an amusing, witty farewell.

The series has ranged from excellent Corben to uneven Corben. The art’s always been on point, even when the writing’s been wanting (more often than not, that writing isn’t Corben’s). In all, an outstanding Corben horror anthology.

Shadows on the Grave (2016) #7

Shadows on the Grave 7

I’m back to wondering if they commissioned a bunch of stories from the same prompt, and now it’s creator Richard Corben’s turn to do them himself. There aren’t any co-writers this issue, not even on the one-page strips. It’s just Corben, and it’s a triple.

Unfortunately, there are four stories, but the first three more than make up for the lag.

The first story’s the writing prompt one. Some selfish nephews visit a dying relation, looking for some cash. The relation tells them to bugger off—it’s a Shadows standard—and then the money-seeker kills them. Except here, the relation dies of natural causes, and the boys are left contesting a will. It isn’t actually Richard Corben illustrating an estate law procedural, but it’s just as weird in the end. There’s some beautiful pacing on the story too. It feels double-sized, thanks to Corben’s opening narration and how it carries the opening one-page strip’s tone.

Beautiful work.

Then the following story is about a gravedigger who works for his corrupt cousin. After being particularly shitty one day, the cousin decides to follow the gravedigger home and check up on his living situation. He’s in for a big surprise.

Similar to the first story, Corben sets up one horror story trope only to do something else with it. This story also has the biggest haunting factor of the issue (and it’s in the running for the most haunting of the series)–another strong entry.

The third story’s about a woman getting a ride from some dude, and they stop at a roadside horror museum. Except the only thing in the museum is a creepy garden with moldy statues.

Corben pushes too hard on the writing—he draws the couple like love interests, but their dialogue just has them acquaintances. It’s so noticeable by the third page I went back to check if he had a co-writer. The story turns itself around enough by the end, with some really dark humor, even for Corben. The art’s particularly gorgeous on this one.

The last eight-page feature is the Deneaus chapter, the Ancient Greek action epic Corben’s been doing the whole series.

It’s the penultimate chapter. Most of the chapter is a battle scene with the bad guys falling right into Deneaus’s traps. Some good art, but there’s nothing to the story. Even with all the twists and turns, Corben’s not going anywhere with it or the characters. It’s too bad. Still totally fine, but a disappointment. Especially taking the rest of the issue into account.

The two one-pagers are fine. The back cover color one gets away from Corben, but the first one’s solid.

I’m going to miss this series.

Lady Bird (2017, Greta Gerwig)

Lady Bird is a loving tribute to Sacramento, California, specifically growing up there as a teenager, from the perspective of a main character who hates Sacramento. Writer and director Gerwig opens the film with a travelogue of Sacramento streets and locations, a device she repeats sparingly (only significantly in the fantastic finale); Lady Bird is set in the fall of 2002; Gerwig and cinematographer Sam Levy shoot it in a grainy, succulent style. It looks seventies; only it’s very, very 2002 (and 2003). It’s particularly particular when Gerwig does an absurdist—but grounded—comedy aside.

It’s a gorgeous film, start to finish, and Gerwig’s enthralled with her subjects, whether setting, scenery, or character.

Despite an exceptionally on-point opening quote and irregular narration from lead Saoirse Ronan (and despite her being the Lady Bird of the title), the film is not a character study. Especially not of Ronan. Laurie Metcalf gets scenes from a character study, which ends up just making Gerwig’s big swing of a finale even more successful. Ronan is the daughter, Metcalf is the mom. Lady Bird is all about the two of them missing each other, hating each other, loving each other. From the start.

Before the Sacramento montage, which turns into a Catholic high school ground situation montage, Gerwig and Metcalf are on their way back from a college visit. They’re bonding over the Grapes of Wrath on audio cassette (2002), and then one of them says just the wrong thing, and the other one gets pissed off, and they argue and ruin their moment. As the film progresses, Gerwig’s going to reveal the depth of their emotionally rending relationship, layering in the details from conversations between the two, but also just comments from the supporting cast. Because Gerwig and Metcalf’s relationship is at the core of the family dynamics; dad Tracy Letts plays peacekeeper, while brother Jordan Rodrigues and his live-in girlfriend Marielle Scott watch from the sidelines. Everyone’s got a slightly different perspective on it, whereas Ronan just thinks Metcalf can’t stand her.

Which isn’t wrong.

The family drama is backdrop. In the foreground, it’s Ronan’s senior year of high school. She goes to a ritzy Catholic school on a scholarship. Her best friend is another scholarship kid, Beanie Feldstein. Their friendship is one of the film’s tectonic plates, and they’re fantastic together. Lois Smith is the nun in charge. She encourages Ronan to try theater, which leads to her meeting Lucas Hedges, her first love. Except then they all go to a Thanksgiving concert, and Ronan gets a look at moody boy Timothée Chalamet, and things start getting complicated.

Chalamet runs with an entirely different crowd—the rich and popular one—while being a tragically hip, soulful, Goth anarchist who sits through everything performatively reading A People’s History of the United States. Chalamet simultaneously looks twelve and thirty-eight; when he’s going, everything stops and stares—Ronan, Gerwig, the viewer. He’s captivating. And such a perfect little jackass.

But it’s not like Hedges doesn’t come with problems, and Ronan’s never met anyone like Chalamet. She’s not in college yet, where she’ll discover he’s just a trope, albeit with some substantial motivation with his own home life. Besides Ronan, the most family we get is from Feldstein and Hedges, but it’s there for all of the kids. Metcalf’s very aware she’s living working class in expensive circles, something she tries to impart to Ronan without success.

Things get worse when Letts loses his job, especially since it adds to the things he keeps from or downplays with Ronan. The character relationships are delicate and precise, with Gerwig and editor Nick Houy making all the right cuts.

The film’s technically superlative. Gerwig’s direction, Levy’s photography, Hoey’s cutting, Jon Brion’s music (though the soundtrack is more important, and—in what can only be described as a baller move—Gerwig has the stones to turn liking a Dave Matthews song into a plot point), and then April Napier’s costumes. But the film’s all about Ronan’s performance.

Watching Lady Bird is watching Ronan to see what she’s going to do next. The same thing happens with Metcalf, which is such an outstanding echo—but Ronan’s in the spotlight. Gerwig throws a lot at her but then—especially in the second act—skips significant dramatic moments, so Ronan doesn’t have a steady character development arc. Instead, Gerwig uses skip-aheads to adjust the narrative distance, finding a different angle to inspect Ronan’s performance. Ronan’s full-stop great, but Gerwig hinges the entire thing on her being able to do the development arc in summary; Gerwig’s incredibly trusting and fully rewarded for it.

Ronan, Metcalf, and Chalamet are the best performances, but there aren’t any slouches. Letts, Feldstein, and Hedges are all great too. Smith’s awesome, as is Stephen McKinley Henderson as the theater teacher priest.

Lady Bird’s one of a kind from its first story beat (in the prologue) and then, over and over, one of a kind. It’s even magical at times. Gerwig, Ronan, and Metcalf do incomparable work.

It’s so damn good.

This post is part of the Fake Teenager Festivus hosted by Rebecca of Taking Up Room.

Shadows on the Grave (2016) #6

Shadows on the Grave 6

Shadows has a nice rally this issue. It works out even when the stories are too long (or too slight). They’ve all got eight pages, but creator Richard Corben and (especially) first story writer Mike Shields pace them out beautifully. Also, there aren’t any stories on repeat this issue, which is nice.

Although, that first story does open with a con man approaching a small, isolated town, ready to score off the yokels. It quickly becomes a comedy of errors, with the townspeople mistaking the con man for someone else, and he’s all too happy to pretend, so long as he can still get out ahead. The story feels like it’s at least twelve pages. Another page in the resolution would’ve probably made it feel like sixteen; Shields is writing a feature story and getting all the Corben art he can for his script.

It’s a standard, not-unpredictable story, but it’s still awesome.

Then the second story—Corben writes the rest in the issue—is this fantastic art piece about a trapper on a snowy mountain hunting the wrong kind of animal. Corben goes from whiteouts to blackouts, with lots of playing with the narrative distance as the trapper gets increasingly afraid. It’s a simple story, maybe three events, and Corben draws the heck out of it to fill the eight pages.

The third story combines talking heads and a graveyard scare story. A guy’s in with his therapist, talking about his recurring nightmare of a zombie stalking him through a cemetery–lots of good scary art, excellent talking heads composition, and a familiar but solid twist ending. Again, Corben uses empty space to pace out the story but also takes the twists into account to change the reading pace. The trapper story’s better because the art’s got more places to go, but Corben’s story is tighter here.

And then the Greek epic chapter is back on track. Corben does a slightly different style for one of the scenes, and it nicely turns it into a prologue, though the chapter benefits from a second read, thanks to the reveal. But the story gets back to the main characters, throwing them on an unexpected story arc. I’m still confused why the ninja isn’t around; I guess she’s not coming back, which is a shame.

Corben gets to do an Ancient Greece subterfuge sequence followed by a hack-and-slash fight scene. Great pacing, plus a glorious two-page action spread.

I’m not sure if this issue’s the best overall, but it’s a serious contender. It’s an awesome start to finish.

Oh, the bookend one-pagers. There’s a creepy eating thing with Corben and co-writer Beth Corben Reed showing off how gross certain words can be to read; then there’s another food-related punchline color strip for the back page. Good stuff too, but the meat’s inside.

Shadows on the Grave (2016) #5

Shadows on the Grave 5

Creator Richard Corben’s got some co-writing help again on this issue of Shadows and it doesn’t work out. The whole issue just never quite works out, including the Greek epic, which bums me out.

The issue starts okay, with a one-page romance comic gag. Nice art too. The issue’s got excellent art from Corben throughout—including some great art on one of the stories—but it’s not enough to compensate for the slight writing.

The feature stories are all eight pages, which is a Shadows no-no. Corben does much better when he varies the length for what the story actually needs. None of the four features are balanced well this issue. It’s such a bummer.

The first story is about a guy who gets lost in the rain in rural America, pulls up at a stranger’s house, demands the old lady put him up for the night. Now, elements of that narrative have already appeared in Shadows within the last couple of issues. What’s the house’s secret, will the rude dude survive, and so on. It’s a mad-libs Corben horror strip.

The following story is the exact same situation. It feels very familiar—the protagonist is a shitty nephew gone to swindle a rich aunt (same setup as a story… in the last couple issues). When he gets there, his aunt’s got a secretary who makes him wait to see her, which gets the guy curious enough to snoop. Disaster ensues.

Beth Reed co-writes both stories. The first one’s better than the second, but the second is where it’s clear what’s going on. The script’s trying too hard to fit the “formula,” which seems to be because of Reed. It doesn’t make sense for Corben to write “more Corben” but with a co-writer.

I did just have the thought maybe a few writers used the same prompts from Corben. If so, those stories obviously should’ve been presented together and with context. This issue’s entries would still be lesser compared to whenever they appeared before, but the book wouldn’t seem repetitive, at least.

The third feature is Corben solo writing. A blind woman is in Africa trying to find a cure from a remote, hostile tribe. If Corben establishes the time period, it wasn’t forcefully enough I remember, but hopefully, it’s sometime in the mid-twentieth century and not today.

The art’s phenomenal, with Corben illustrating from the point of view of the blind woman, which is incredible stuff. The script’s just okay—the plot’s underwhelming, and the twist is creaky—but the art makes up for it. Though it’s still a bummer. The first story didn’t work out, the second story didn’t work out, the third story didn’t work out.

Surely the Greek epic will come through.

Incomplete. The Deneaus chapter gets an incomplete. It’s eight pages too, which is way too short. Corben rushes the opening hook, which brings the Greek gods into the story, but then the main action is about the shitty prince and his shitty king dad. Corben pads around it a little, but the whole story is just their villainous banquet.

It doesn’t hurt the story, big picture-wise, but it does stall it out and bleed momentum all over the road. Some exquisite art on it too. Just not the story.

I once worried Shadows would be a “one good issue, one bad” situation. Now I hope there aren’t any more of these troubled issues before this wraps up.

Unsuccessful Shadows is still successful comics, of course, so the issue’s time reasonably well-spent.

Shadows on the Grave (2016) #4

Shadows on the Grave 4

Okay, so this issue’s the best so far. In addition to the three strong stories (with guest writer Jan Strnad again contributing, this time a better tale), the issue’s got three one-pagers. Inside covers, back cover. Basically a pin-up punchline with a small panel setting it up, Mag the Hag narrating. They’re all good. The one-pagers are all good, the opening story’s awesome, the Strnad collaboration’s good, the Ancient Greek entry’s fan-flipping-tactic.

The opening story is about a pickpocket at the circus. He’s trying to score, but there’s just not much visible cash floating around. Plus, he keeps seeing this particularly creepy clown decoration all around the place. The pickpocket’s industrious, though, and he’s not going to give it up, even if he has to get his hands bloody. Richard Corben’s art and his pulpy script set the tone for the whole issue. Lots of darks for people (and clowns) to get lost in, but also bright refuges in that dark.

It’s a great little tale, eight pages. Two eight-page stories, double that count for the Ancient Greek story. It’s the right formula, especially since—in theory—Corben could connect the one-liners. But Shadows is definitely hearing me from the future as far as story lengths. This issue’s perfectly balanced.

Strnad’s story involves a bodybuilder frustrated at repeatedly losing to an Arnold Schwarzenegger analog. The bodybuilder hears about some special steroid and is willing to do whatever it takes to get it, regardless of cost to his soul.

It’s a more straightforward story than the opener, instead concentrating on some outstanding art from Corben. The story gives him some strange opportunities to (no pun, it just happens to be the story’s title, too) flex.

Then the coup de grâce, chapter four of Deneaus. It hasn’t been collected by itself, which is a shame. I’m very interested in how it’d read in a sitting.

This issue has Lustea, the Amazonian in love with dopey Deneaus, getting to the other side of the same island he’s questing on. She’s hanging out with her ninja friend, who takes her home to her village, where they talk ominously about things for later in the story. Not this issue matters, except magical weapons. They can’t miss. It’s important before the end of the chapter because Corben’s not wasting any time getting to the cyclops fight. Deneaus and his royal rube charge have their showdown with the great beast.

Ancient Greek soldiers versus cyclops, with a bit of comedy but also ultra-violence, apparently perfectly fits Corben’s very particular set of skills. There are black nights and bright days in the story, both incredibly full (and contrasted in a way similar to the opening circus story). The action is fast and fierce, and the comedy is sardonic. Excellent writing from Corben. This entry fulfills and surpasses my hopes for the Greek epic.

Shadows finishes its first half on a series high. It’s such a good issue.

Shadows on the Grave (2016) #3

Shadows on the Grave 3

And now Shadows on the Grave is doing the very bizarre thing where the subsequent issue does what I said it should do; only it’s years later. In this case, creator Richard Corben does differing page lengths on the horror stories and lets the Greek story be the feature with the most pages. It’s twelve pages, which is enough time for Corben to do a prologue, feature, and epilogue setting up the next issue. I had been wondering if the Greek story was good enough, would it cover the rest—it could (the story’s great this issue), but it doesn’t have to do any covering. The other stories work out.

The first story is a four-page quickie. A woman goes to a mansion where she used to know the owners but hasn’t been able to reach them. There she finds some odd brothers and has a tense encounter. Exquisite art. It’s dark, dangerous, and action-packed.

It’s also only four pages, so Corben’s able to ride that momentum into the second story, about a group of grave robbers who get their just desserts. This one runs ten pages, which is a little long but successful. Again, lots of good art and design work with all these curious artifacts. It’s got the most story of the three horror tales, which Corben otherwise truncates.

Like the third story, scripted by Jan Strnad, two hikers get lost in the woods and must stop at a cabin. There’s a hospitable host, maybe a little too enthusiastic about his many cryptid encounters, but it’s all good. The hikers start getting curious about what else is happening in the cabin, leading to a surprise finish.

Or not. I mean, it’s a decent trope-full story, but it’s a little long for the punchline. They could’ve shaved a page, at least.

Though I’m not sure I’d want it on the Greek story, Denaeus. When I started Shadows, I had hoped this one would be the standout and the last issue disappointed. This one does not, far from it.

Corben splits the story between Denaeus on his mission, which seems doomed, but he’s too dense to realize it, and his would-be sidekick, Lustea. Despite clearly being a warrior, some sailors pick on Lustea, leading to a fantastic action sequence. Lots of fighting and hand-held weapons, unlike anything else in the issue for sure.

The fight has a resolution to move things along, then there’s some convenient lightning—or is it because Lustea’s new friend, Malgia, can’t stop cursing Poesidion as they try to cross the sea? Then there’s an epilogue with Denaeus to prepare things for next time.

It’s a fantastic entry. The art, the writing—Malgia’s hilarious and Lustea’s characterization is excellent—Corben’s delivering the goods.

I just hope Grave doesn’t run hot and cold every other issue.

Shadows on the Grave (2016) #2

Shadows on the Grave 2

Shadows on the Grave #2 is not a bad comic, but it does show how far down I’ll follow creator Richard Corben without batting an eye.

Once again, Corbin’s got multiple done-in-ones, then a chapter in his Greek epic. If it weren’t for the Greek epic featuring a cyclops eating a bunch of soldiers, it’d be a talking heads story. But, damn, can Corben draw a rampaging cyclops. It’s also incredibly confusing since there’s no real recap of the previous entry; I’d forgotten it was all about some Greek hero who needed to get out of town. I thought it was all about the cyclops.

I’d be very curious to read the story on its own, not the fourth entry in every issue in an anthology. Especially if there aren’t any recaps.

The first three stories are all fifties or sixties-era stories set in the very rural South. Not connected, of course, but fertile ground for horror comics. They just go on a little long. Every story runs eight pages; for the three horror stories, it feels like Corben’s trying the vamp a couple of pages away. The Greek chapter? He needs at least another couple pages, if not all six he’d get from cutting down the horror stories.

The first and third stories are the most successful, with both having a nephew robbing a rich aunt. The first, the aunt’s alive, and the would-be robber is bringing along his girlfriend to do the deed, his brother presumably around trying to do the same thing. They go out to the aunt’s house in the woods, and strange, horrible things happen with little explanation. Corben races to get to the murderous intent section but then drags the rest of the story.

Beautiful art, though.

The second story’s the least successful. Some kid follows his uncle into the swamp, where the uncle has a strange, horrible experience, then the nephew has a strange, horrible experience, and nothing gets explained at the end. Corben goes for haunting and doesn’t pull it off, making it one of his least successful stories… ever. Corben always pulls it off.

The third story’s the best, just because the setting’s excellent. This time the robber nephew–a different one, obviously; the first story’s robber nephew was a beatnik or at least adjacent, this robber nephew’s a greaser—this time, he’s robbing a corpse. He just can’t find his way around the graves, so he asks an old mourner lady for help and, damn, if he doesn’t want to rob her too. The graveyard’s phenomenal.

Then there’s the Greek epic chapter, with the hero starting his quest with some ominous foreshadowing. Or possibly a cliffhanger tragedy; it’s unfortunately hard to tell because Corben does a montage on the last page without establishing what’s changing. Other than the lighting.

So also not successful. But Corben does have the cyclops kicking ass, so it more than covers.

Corben was seventy-seven when this book originally came out, so he gets all sorts of passes, but still. I was expecting Grave to be great start to finish; I hope he gets his groove back next issue.

American Made (2017, Doug Liman)

While Tom Cruise is most of the show in American Made, it’s not a star vehicle. Star vehicle suggests it’s got somewhere to take him. Made exists because of Cruise’s likable performance, not the other way around. Thanks to that likability, he even gets away with an eighties TV “Louisiana” accent. The film also avoids putting an age on Cruise’s character—real-life person Barry Seal was thirty-nine when the movie starts, while Cruise (here in his mid-fifties) can play thirty-nine, mentioning it might get audience members doing math and distract from the fun.

Made’s just fun. Based on the true story of an airline pilot who went to run drugs and guns for the CIA and Pablo Escobar, the film’s a hand-held period piece action crime comedy. Most of the action’s in the first and second acts before Cruise becomes an Arkansas land baron. His CIA handler (an okay but bland Domhnall Gleeson) wants a spot to train the Contras in the U.S.; near Cruise’s private airstrip makes perfect sense since he’s bringing them into the country anyway.

The film avoids all the logistics of Cruise’s operation. If Made’s accurate, anyone with a plane can fly in and out of the U.S., avoiding detection by flying low—the plane photography in Made’s excellent and only occasionally obviously CGI—no filed flight plans, no FAA, no nothing. So who’s lying to us, “Wings” or Made?

Also, getting into the minutiae would cut down on the fun. Director Liman and star Cruise are sure Made is going to be a lot of fun, as Cruise gets favors from a certain Arkansas governor, hangs out with Ollie North and Manuel Noriega, all while avoiding Cruise and Wright’s kids to the point their names and number aren’t necessary. They start with one or two and end up with at least three, but it could be four. Wright’s okay when the movie’s got something for her to do, which isn’t often. Not even after her deadbeat little brother (an okay but bland Caleb Landry Jones) shows up and starts bringing about Cruise’s downfall because he’s a dumb redneck.

There are a lot of Confederate flags in Made and Cruise’s definitely a Johnny Reb, along with all his team of pilots, and the soundtrack’s almost entirely “Country Rock before they started wearing the hoods on stage” classics. We wouldn’t know if anyone was actively racist or bigoty because there aren’t anything but white people in the movie. Cruise has a cute scene with a Black kid at one point, and it’s like someone realized they needed to clarify.

Speaking of the other pilots… while William Mark McCullough is the only one to get any real scenes outside montage or long-shot, I swear one of them is John Glover, but he’s not credited anywhere. IMDb’s missing the character (they’re called “Snowbirds,” which sounds like a Bond villain’s all-female killer ski bunny squad, and there’s no “Snowbird #3,” who’d be Glover).

Anyway.

American Made’s well-produced, with always okay direction from Liman. César Charlone’s photography is occasionally too “DV,” particularly in the cockpit shots, but never bad. Editor Andrew Mondshein does a fine job with the innumerable entertaining montage sequences. Made’s fine and fun, with a delightful Cruise lead performance, but it’s entirely fluff.