Black Adam (2022, Jaume Collet-Serra)

Black Adam opens with kid narration. At first, it seems like the narrator kid is Ancient Kahndaqi Jalon Christian, who’s sick and tired of living under a tyrannical king who has his people mining eternium for him. Eternium is not a “Masters of the Universe” thing; it’s more like the DC Universe version of vibranium. Except not really, because it doesn’t do anything. They set it up like it gives people superpowers, but… no.

But the narrator is not Christian because the flashback’s not in English. The present-day Kahndaqi people all speak English (and are apparently a Christian Middle Eastern nation-state in the DC Movie Universe—they’re Muslim in the comics, but the movie people don’t have the stones to make sympathetic Muslims).

Anyway. The narrator is Bodhi Sabongui. His mom is renegade university professor Sarah Shahi (dressed like a less objectified “Tomb Raider”); she’s trying to keep Intergang from getting all the Eternium. Including a magic crown, which we saw in the prologue. The evil king wants to be a demon lord and needs the crown, but then the people’s hero comes to stop him.

In the comics, Intergang was a criminal organization in Metropolis who gave Superman trouble. In Black Adam, they’re Blackwater, except they’re called Intergang. And they’re committing war crimes daily, but there’s no United Nations to send Jean-Claude Van Damme and whoever in the DC Universe. Instead, there’s the Justice Society, and they don’t give a shit about Intergang committing war crimes. They’re about maintaining the status quo, globally speaking.

So when Shahi resurrects Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson from his tomb to save her from a bunch of bad guys, Viola Davis calls Hawkman Aldis Hodge to go keep the West’s oil interests safe or whatever. The first act of Black Adam—besides the introduction to the superhero team, which is basically just an X-Men sequence (or Deadpool 1)—is a little like Terminator 2. Sabongui is going to teach Johnson it’s not okay to kill people. Except, not really, because Sabongui’s country is being occupied by a criminal organization who made speeder bikes because they really liked Tron. It’s a complicated situation and might need Johnson’s killer instincts, which Pierce Brosnan realizes, but no one listens to him despite him being a hundred years old with a magical gold helmet to tell him the future.

Now, I really hope Davis gets two million dollars a minute in these movies on the condition she films on her iPhone in the bathroom, but Brosnan’s hacking through this movie. He gets some energy when he’s opposite the other actors, including Hodge, who’s an intentional charisma vacuum (he’s playing the straight edge who gets in the Rock’s way), and especially Johnson. Still, Brosnan looks exasperated with all the superhero business.

So, interesting casting choice.

Quintessa Swindell and Noah Centineo play the young superheroes. Centineo is a legacy hero and a lovable, slightly dopey bro. Swindell has a way too intense origin recap, seemingly just so she can privilege-check Centineo. Black Adam’s got three credited screenwriters, but it feels like Many Hands contributed. Because despite that first act “young John Connor and his pet Terminator” setup, the second act’s mostly a superhero fight movie. Johnson’s dealing with the mercenaries while Hodge tries to stop him and let the mercenaries go back to killing civilians.

But there’s also the magical archeology subplot with Shahi and then the secrets of Johnson’s origin story.

The movie’s got a surprisingly effective plot structure. Director Collet-Serra front-loads the best action sequences, set to either pop songs or scene-appropriate selections; the rest of the action’s middling, occasionally a little better. Johnson turns on the charm a little earlier than he should—narratively speaking—but the movie needs it, and he obliges.

Oddly catchy score from Lorne Balfe; it’s not particularly good, but it earworms all right. The special effects and technicals are all competent, though there’s way too much going on in the third act without enough actual content. Characters have big, action-packed story arcs just to delay them from participating in the main plot. It’s weird. They also use a lot of slow and fast motion effects to distract from the finale’s limited scale.

Johnson’s the whole show and he’s much better than anyone else in the movie. His closest competition is Brosnan and Brosnan’s not close. Centineo and Swindell are likable, but in a TV show supporting cast sort of way (which is appropriate since they’re TV show supporting cast). But Shahi and Sabongui—occasional affability aside—aren’t good. And whatever Hodge is doing isn’t working.

With some very specific caveats, Black Adam’s far from a fail.

One Night in Miami… (2020, Regina King)

I fully expected One Night in Miami to end with a real-life picture of the film’s historical subjects. The film recounts—with fictional flourish—the night of February 25, 1964, when Muhammad Ali (then still Cassius Clay) defeated Sonny Liston to become the world heavyweight champion. He celebrated his win with Malcolm X, Jim Brown, and Sam Cooke. One of Miami’s subplots (or, at least, frequently referenced details) is Malcolm X being a camera geek. But director King never goes to the “real,” instead letting her cast carry the film to its devastating finish.

Kingsley Ben-Adir plays Malcolm X, Eli Goree plays Cassius Clay, Aldis Hodge plays Jim Brown, and Leslie Odom Jr. plays Sam Cooke. There’s a small supporting cast, basically Joaquina Kalukango as Betty X, and then Lance Reddick and Christian Magby as Ben-Adair’s Nation of Islam bodyguards; they’re kind of buzzkills for the evening.

The film’s based on screenwriter Kemp Powers’s stage play, though the film never feels stagy. King keeps it very open until the four men get into the room together, starting with prologues for each. The film opens with Goree winning a bout in England, which allows for Michael Imperioli and Lawrence Gilliard Jr. cameos in his corner. Goree’s Miami’s most singularly dynamic performance. It’s not his movie overall, but he’s always in the spotlight. He’s the champ, after all.

Odom’s prologue involves him modifying his show to play for the shitty white people at the Copacabana. Odom gets to do three “live” performances in the film, though he’s constantly teasing a jam session. His role is the film’s toughest.

Hodge’s prologue has him visiting a white family in his hometown, thinking things have changed since he’s now the star of the NFL. Not so much. Unlike Goree or Odom’s prologues, the film doesn’t give Hodge the opportunity for honest reaction, which sets him up for the film’s most important part. Hodge works his ass off in the part, and it seems like overkill at the beginning, but then it becomes clearer why he’s doing it as the film progresses.

Those prologues are all set at some time before the One Night, with the fight taking place eight months before; the Ben-Adir prologue leads right into the main action. He and Kalukango are (justifiably) freaking out about Ben-Adir’s plan to leave the Nation and start his own organization. He hopes he’ll be able to convince Goree to come along with him on this Miami trip.

One Night in Miami is finite historical fiction, but King and Powers entwine it with actual history’s expanse. Even if the audience may not, the filmmakers know what happens to the subjects and how their stories end. They’re focusing on a point before tragedy, but also one where Ben-Adir can see that tragedy in the distance well enough to describe it.

After a brief, fantastic Liston match—where King is able to give Goree an even better spotlight than before—the action moves to the motel room, where the film will spend the majority of the remaining runtime. King and Powers open it up a little, with a liquor store run, a parking lot conversation, a rooftop dialogue exchange, but really it’s about this room.

Only Ben-Adir knows the plan. Both Hodge and Odom expect more people, some booze, and a better setting. Goree’s got a basic idea of Ben-Adir’s constraints for the festivities, but not his intentions for the evening; (hopefully) no one who knows about Ben-Adir’s plans to leave the Nation is talking about it.

Ben-Adir’s plan quickly derails as he and Odom’s mutual needling turns serious. Ben-Adir doesn’t think Odom is taking his position as a Black singer seriously; Odom thinks Ben-Adir’s a killjoy. It gets more and more serious, with Goree trying to play peacemaker while Hodge waits until the fists fly to get involved.

The film’s great success with these scenes is getting the exposition in; Ben-Adir’s Malcolm X is a natural lecturer, giving Miami a lot of exposition dump leeway, but having Odom’s Cooke default to personal attacks brings in a lot of character and relationship backstory. All four men have existing history with one another, but it’s all implied, even when they talk about it. King and Powers only have one flashback, and they save it for something everyone needs to see, not hear about.

As the night goes on, people will pair off for private conversations. Hodge provides counsel to everyone at one point or another, with his conversation with Ben-Adir the most affecting. It’s when all Hodge’s character work pays off. Meanwhile, Odom and Goree have a different conversation—in many ways, Goree can synthesize Ben-Adir and Odom’s hopes and dreams, with Hodge being the experienced elder statesman.

So while Goree starts Miami and the whole film’s “about” him because he’s the champ, the conflict between Ben-Adir and Odom is the centerpiece, and then Hodge actually holds them all together.

The best acting overall is Ben-Adir or Hodge, though Goree’s the most impressive. Odom’s excellent, too; it’s just less his film than Ben-Adir or Goree’s. Hodge’s the fourth wheel, so when he proves himself so essential—Hodge’s performance as Brown, not just Brown’s part in the narrative—he’s spectacularly impressive.

King’s direction is phenomenal. Early in the film, she gets to show off the grandiosity of the era, especially with Goree’s boxing matches. But those scenes are still all very focused. When she scales down for the conversations, she widens the narrative distance to make room for all the actors. The Night is about Ben-Adir because he’s the only one who sees destiny waiting for him, but King makes sure the other actors still get to build their characters when Ben-Adir’s running the conversation. Thanks to King, Miami doesn’t just not feel stagy or like a stage adaptation; that origin is actually a surprise. The direction is so focused on the minutiae of the performances, not the dialogue deliveries. It’s not about who says what next; it’s about how hearing something or thinking something affects how someone reacts. It’s about the performances, specifically Ben-Adir and Hodge’s performances.

All the technicals are outstanding—Tami Reiker’s photography, Tariq Anwar’s editing, Barry Robison’s production design, Francine Jamison-Tanchuck’s costumes. And Powers’s script’s superlative.

One Night in Miami is a singular film about singular subjects. It’s an exceptional, profound motion picture.

The Invisible Man (2020, Leigh Whannell)

The Invisible Man is surprisingly okay. I mean, once you realize it’s just going to be lead Elisabeth Moss in constant terror of an invisible abusive partner lashing out at her and Moss is good at being terrified for long periods, it seems like a bit of a gimme, but until the middle of the movie… it could potentially be good even.

Unfortunately director (and writer) Whannell can’t figure out how to turn his actual invisible man into a good visual monster—the eventual set pieces are like video games where you’re in stealth mode and the biggest effects sequence ends the second act, which… I guess is good if it’s because Whannell’s got no confidence in his abilities to pull off a bigger set piece. Odds are it would’ve been disappointing.

The movie stops being scary once they “visualize” the invisible man, it stops being much good in the third act. The Invisible Man runs two hours. Even with ten minute end credits, Whannel has to pad a bunch of it out so there are multiple twists and reveals. Especially since there are no subplots and the whole “everyone thinks Moss is making it up” stuff only matters for a bit at the beginning of the second act and then it’s inconsequential because everything’s a long suspense sequence. Moss’s friends not believing her is just the longest expository section before the next suspense sequence, it’s not like Whannell’s actually got narrative ambitions.

The movie opens with Moss escaping abusive boyfriend Oliver Jackson-Cohen (who’s terrible). Moss’s sister, Harriet Dyer (not good and definitely the worst performance before Jackson-Cohen gets to shine), helps her but they’re not close enough Moss has told Dyer why she needs help.

Moss stays with family friend Aldis Hodge, who’s a cop we find out later–Invisible Man loves cops, at one point Moss tells Dyer she’s awesome because she’s like a cop, it’s a weird flex but Whannell’s dialogue is fairly vapid and Moss’s worst scenes are the expository ones so whatever. Hodge being a cop isn’t really going to be important. The movie pretends it’s important, up until the very end, but it’s not important at all.

Hodge isn’t good. He’s profoundly disappointing.

Storm Reid is his precocious teenage daughter. She’s pretty good. It’s not a good part and she’s eventually and inevitably reduced to potential slasher victim number four or whatever. But she’s pretty good. Especially compared to Hodge and Dyer.

After some relative calm and good news and putting her life back together stuff, we get to the invisible man antics. Only The Invisible Man is low budget and pragmatic about it so the antics are mundane, pseudo-inventive stuff. Pseudo because there’s CGI and it’s easy to get rid of any strings.

And because Whannell shoots everything in long shot and then has the action unfold in the long shot. Again, easy now thanks to CGI and relatively effective so long as Moss can stay terrified. And she can.

Before The Invisible Man and during the ineffective stylized opening titles, I wasn’t expecting much. By the hour mark, I was expecting at least something. With the blah third act and so many middling (at best) performances, it comes in definitely about not much but decidedly below at least something.

But still much better than expected regardless.