Nobody (2021, Ilya Naishuller)

Wouldn’t it be funny if Bob Odenkirk were an action movie hero? Like a kick-ass one who doesn’t just use machine guns, but also does a lot of hand-to-hand fighting?

If you’re unfamiliar with Odenkirk, let’s just say it’s a “cast against type” situation to the extremis. Only it doesn’t matter because action movie special effects have gotten to the point they can turn anyone—quite easily—into an action movie hero.

Odenkirk is a Nobody, which is both a gimmick line and part of the eventual reveal. It takes an hour—into Nobody’s still very long ninety-seven minutes—to find out just how and why boring suburban dad Odenkirk is an old man action hero. The reveal’s not worth it, but if it had been worth it—especially after the plodding first act (Nobody’s relentlessly tedious)—it would’ve been a miracle given Derek Kolstad’s simultaneously lazy and bad script and director Naishuller’s startling mediocrity. There are some (many?) bad moments in Nobody’s direction, but there’s not a single good one. Never does Naishuller show any ingenuity, imagination, or… well, I’d love to find another i-word but it’s not surprise the film doesn’t have any insight… what would it have insight in? Certainly not any of the characters. Everyone’s either disposable, a stunt cast, or a disposable stunt cast.

Though it’s not not nice to see Christopher Lloyd able to kick it up a bit at eighty-three. And Michael Ironside is better than almost everyone else in the film with just two short scenes (he’s Odenkirk’s boss and father-in-law). But RZA’s not the stunt cast the film pretends, ditto Colin Salmon, though Salmon at least gets a real-ish scene. RZA’s just there for the pyrotechnics and smash cuts.

Evan Schiff and William Yeh’s cutting is incredibly even less imaginative than Naishuller’s direction; their lack of rhythm—along with Kolstad’s lousy writing—is what makes Nobody drag. Everyone’s trying to inflict personality on the picture only no one’s got any.

It’s most unfortunate for Odenkirk, who’s a game protagonist, but since the film’s so bad at turning him into an action hero, it’s never anything but the gimmick. Once it’s clear he can do the gimmick—and it’s clear really early on, sometime during the interminable first act—there’s nothing else to him.

Nobody gets a little energy out of big bad Aleksey Serebryakov—a karaoke-loving Russian mobster—at least until it’s clear Serebryakov isn’t any good. Is it his fault? Or is it Kolstad’s? Or Naishuller’s? Or maybe it’s just Nobody’s fault nobody is any good in Nobody.

The movie’s a middling “Saturday Night Live” sketch stretched out to almost 100 minutes.

It does have a good soundtrack—I mean, it opens with Nina Simone (and also a cute kitty cat), but then it turns out the Nina Simone (and the cute kitty cat) are just a ruse and they’ve got nothing to do with the content. But the soundtrack selections are a solid playlist. Editors Schiff and Yeh don’t cut things well to the songs, because of course they don’t, but at least during those sequences the music’s good. Otherwise, David Buckley’s score is the pits.

Nobody’s a badly written, badly directed, bland, bloody bore.

Doctor Who (2005) s04e09 – Forest of the Dead

During this episode I made two very unfortunate observations. First and more unfortunate but less damaging… Euros Lyn has really not been keeping up with the latest “Who” narrative devices. It just feels different. When it shouldn’t. It’s weird. But not too damaging to the episode overall. It’s a lot, it’s not a surprise Lyn couldn’t crack it.

The damaging thing is Alex Kingston, who’s the de facto companion this episode because Catherine Tate’s off doing the more important and potentially better subplot where writer Steven Moffat clearly has more ideas but instead we stick with guest star Kingston and her mysterious future history with David Tennant. Because she’s bad. At some point during her talking to someone, I flashed back to “ER” and Kingston’s forehead doing the same things and remembered realizing she’s not good and wasn’t good on “ER” and she’s not good on “Who.”

Doesn’t help Tennant’s being weird too. Given how much chemistry Tennant’s had with pretty much every female character since his first episode—like, he sexed up the Billie Piper stuff palpably, hell, even the Camille Coduri—but he’s got nothing for Kingston. It’s part of the serious Doctor thing he’s doing around her.

At some point they have to go to the core of a planet, sadly not to see the Devil, and then there are some other reveals and then there’s a big twist or whatever and a call back to the previous episode and finish. And blah.

Meanwhile Tate gets this poorly executed good idea for a short movie and at least gets to do some acting.

My indifference to Tennant these days is concerning. The romantic Doctor stuff is not successful. Not here, not last season, not for ages. They push too hard, like with the constant jokes about he and Tate not dating (nearly every episode).

For a big deal two-parter, Forest of the Dead is probably better than the previous episode—even with Kingston—just on the strengths of the Tate material. Though I don’t know, the end is pretty bad. It’s at best a shrug and definitely not on par with creepy stone angels.

Doctor Who (2005) s04e08 – Silence in the Library

Silence in the Library is writer Steven Moffat’s first episode since last season’s big deal killer stone angels episode starring movie star Carey Mulligan. No movie star guest star for Silence, rather “she made it in Hollywood on ‘ER’ and now she’s back in the UK” Alex Kingston. I mean… it was pre-streaming. It was prestige. Ish.

Also Colin Salmon. Colin Salmon’s a pretty solid guest star.

Salmon’s in the hook too.

The episode opens with psychiatrist Salmon checking on kid patient Eve Newton, who sees this giant library whenever she closes her eyes and now all of a sudden David Tennant and Catherine Tate appear, Newton screams (kid in danger, not a “Who” norm, got to take it up a notch), and cue titles.

When the show comes back, it’s back to normal—i.e. from Tennant and Tate’s perspective—and he’s brought her to the universe’s largest library. It’s a whole planet of books. Moffat’s sparing no expense with this one. Lots of big ideas.

Like dying people being trapped in their communicator devices—imagine if the predictive text on your phone was predictive voice and kept going when you died—and good old monsters like killer shadows who then inhabit space suits with skull faces.

The space suits come from Kingston and her team of interstellar archeologists—Tennant hates interstellar archeologists incidentally, which seems to surprise Kingston—who are at the library on an expedition for apparently shitty rich guy Steve Pemberton.

There’s a likable bunch of potential victims—Sarah Niles, Josh Dallas, Harry Peacock, O-T Fagbenle—plus Pemberton’s assistant, Talulah Riley, who isn’t smart but she’s hot and no one listens to her and Tate is nice to her because Tate seems to realize poorly written “stupid” characters are the worst.

Except not even Tate listens to Riley when it’s important and the results are tragic. Then things just race towards getting us to the “to be continued,” with Moffat taking the additional swing of having Kingston knowing Tennant from his future. And they seem to be intimate.

So apparently at some point in the future Tennant gets a libido and uses it on the female costar he’s had the least amount of chemistry with in his entire time on the show, which sort of draws attention to Tennant being nowhere near as fun in the role as he used to be.

His serious Doctor thing these days just comes off camp.

Anyway.

Big cliffhanger. But not really, of course. “Doctor Who” cliffhangers are pretty perfunctory at this point. Lots of “Doctor Who” is pretty perfunctory at this point.

Captives (1994, Angela Pope)

Nearly seventy percent of Captives is a fantastic romantic drama. Julia Ormond is a newly divorced dentist who starts working part-time at a minimum security prison, where she begins a liaison with inmate Tim Roth. Frank Deasy's script concentrates primarily on Ormond and her experiences–with occasions scenes for Roth amongst the inmates, but that first seventy minutes of the film is from Ormond's perspective.

Director Pope carefully, meticulously presents Ormond's story, from her experiences with her ex-husband, her friends, her family, herself. The romance with Roth is an otherworldly occurrence, much different from the noise and movement of Ormond's regular life. Most of their initial scenes–he's on a release program so he can attend college (the film establishes him as an okay guy real fast)–are in static environments. It's actually after that seventy minute mark, when Ormond disappears for a week of the present action and Roth becomes the protagonist, where Pope finally brings Roth into Ormond's motion-filled world.

It's a terrible scene too; they're arguing on a busy roadway. The acting's great, but the scene's bad, because after the seventy minute mark, when Captives all of a sudden becomes a thriller and no longer a quiet mediation on class and marriage and other such things, the movie falls apart.

Ormond's work here is indescribably fantastic. Roth's great and everything, but Ormond's performance is singular.

Pope's direction is solid; good supporting turns from Keith Allen and Colin Salmon.

Excellent photography from Remi Adefarasin.

Captives misfires, Ormond and Roth do not.

Punisher: War Zone (2008, Lexi Alexander)

Punisher: War Zone got a theatrical release (sorry for the passive voice, but pointing out Lionsgate released it in the theater sort of kills the emphasis). I’m not sure I have the vocabulary to describe the terrible script. Watching an early exchange between mobsters, I kept wondering if Italian American associations were aware of the film (I’m guessing they aren’t). The characters are so stereotypical, the portrayal so offensive… it’s incredible. But the mob being the movie’s big villains elucidates War Zone‘s biggest (narrative) idiocy–it’s just a hodgepodge of superhero movies. The movie rips off an opening scene from Frank Miller’s Batman: Year One comic book, but then cribs the entire approach from Batman Begins (where the hero doesn’t actually fight crime unrelated to the plot’s main villain). But there’s a Superman reference in the subway hideout and some other malarky I’m sure. The script’s idiotic.

So why watch Punisher: War Zone? The terrible opening credits don’t give any indication of it, but Michael Wandmacher’s score is good and Steve Gainer’s photography is fantastic. The photography seems to go for HDR (high dynamic range), which makes the Panavision frame wondrous at times. Lexi Alexander intercuts Manhattan skyscrapers with Montréal streets to poor effect–actually, Montréal’s a decent stand-in, physically, for New York, but Alexander’s movie New York is one of the most absurd I’ve ever seen. It’s like she’s not only never been there, she hasn’t even watched a movie set there. Alexander’s actually a decent director. She has an annoying Panavision habit of putting people, in cuts, on opposite sides of the frame, but by the end of the movie, she’s got it working. She’d direct great commercials or music videos, since she can’t impart any emotionality to her work. There isn’t a single subtle moment in War Zone, it’s just too stupid.

Some of the stupidest developments in the film are the inclusion of Wayne Knight as a sidekick and the revelation the Punisher dropped out of seminary. I don’t know why the latter got included, maybe so they could have a dumb scene with the Punisher at church, but it’s one of the stupider things in the film. Knight’s sidekick, who seemingly funds the Punisher’s war on selected criminals from a tiny apartment, is also something else. Knight–even with the goatee–isn’t bad. He’s got some dumb lines, but he isn’t bad.

Producer Gale Anne Hurd has made some big movies and some good movies. Presumably, while on set, she must have noticed Ray Stevenson couldn’t act. He’s atrocious as the lead. Punisher: War Zone has a future as a drinking game. Alexander barely gives him any lines, but he flubs every single one of them. Julie Benz (is she the Lionsgate version of 1990s Miramax Neve Campbell or something?) is awful. Colin Salmon, who’s usually good, gives a terrible performance. Talking about him, I forgot to mention the stupid last names. Everyone in the film has a super-ethnic last name, presumably to make it more authentic. Dash Mihok, in the movie’s supposedly comic role, is terrible. Alexander and the script don’t understand humor. They should have brought Rob Schneider or the guys who wrote Beverly Hills Ninja in to give it some oomph.

But talking about the actors brings me to the real reason to watch Punisher: War Zone. Dominic West. He’s not stretching any thespian muscles in his portrayal of a psycho (oh, another comic book movie reference, the Burton Batman), but he’s a joy to watch. Given the filmmakers were able to hire West to appear in this cinematic turd, it’s a testament to their jaw-dropping lack of intelligence they didn’t fire Stevenson and put West in the lead. If he can make this underwritten goober of a role work, imagine what he could have done as the Punisher.

As West’s cannibal sidekick, Doug Hutchinson is fine. He’s been acting for a long time, so Alexander’s ineptness at directing actors mustn’t have contaminated him.

Punisher: War Zone is watchable dreck. The movie looks good–Alexander’s action scenes concentrate too much on the gore instead of, well, any action–and West is a joy to watch. I wonder if anyone involved in the film has seen “The Wire,” but all evidence suggests not. And it’s definitely one of Lionsgate’s less appalling pictures.

Resident Evil (2002, Paul W.S. Anderson)

I have a mild affection for Paul W.S. Anderson–or, at least, I think he gets a bad rap. I’ve never been able to easy prove it before, but Resident Evil certainly helps my argument for Anderson’s effectiveness as a director. The film opens with a nine or so minute tease, establishing the situation, then goes into a disoriented and, we soon learn, amnesiac Milla Jovovich waking up in a big empty house and walking about in various states of half-dress. In these scenes–which are spooky–Anderson does a fantastic job; his composition is a nice (really, nice, nice is the word I’m using) mix of Carpenter and Kubrick. Just before the sequence ends (or, more accurately, further develops), he’s got this spooky shot of leaves twirling around. It’s beautifully done and when it turns out to be a helicopter landing, well, something about that ruse is quite good.

Unfortunately, Anderson made some bad decisions with actors. Not casting in all circumstances (all but one, really), but in forcing his mostly English cast to adopt “American” accents. Nothing really happens for the first half hour of Resident Evil, some teases at scariness and a little expository dialogue; even the first big action scene is lackluster, because it’s just churning. You can practically hear the movie spinning up… zombie movies do not have big casts and until Resident Evil gets itself manageable, it doesn’t really get going. During the twenty or so minutes, after the opening tease and before the ignition’s started, Michelle Rodriguez really manages to annoy beyond any reasonable conception of the term. She’s terrible. Awful. When, at the end of the film, her character is sympathetic, there’s the proof for Anderson as an effective action film director. I didn’t know if I could get through her “acting.” The scenes with her and Pasquale Aleardi, who has the excuse of not being a native English speaker for his terrible line-delivery, are among the more painful moments ever filmed. Also unfortunate is Colin Salmon, who fails when it comes to his American accent–fails terribly. Salmon’s usually good too and he’s an Anderson regular, so the misuse is surprising. James Purefoy is okay for most of the film, only losing the accent at the end, but I think he’s quiet for a lot of his scenes. Martin Crewes is another accent faker, but he’s good. Eric Mabius is fine, maybe even good in most of his scenes, but he’s got a silly haircut. The shock of Resident Evil is Milla Jovovich. At first, I thought her good performance was due to the amnesia… but then she kept going and being good, which was unbelievable.

Anderson’s template for Resident Evil isn’t so much any zombie movie, but instead Aliens; just imagine it towards the end when most of the cast are gone and the aliens are everywhere. There’s some really stupid stuff–it is a Paul W.S. Anderson movie after all–like the soldiers not going for head shots off the bat, none of the characters being introduced, so their names always come as a surprise–I don’t think Jovovich is ever clearly named in the film, which is kind of silly, since there’s some sort of Alice in Wonderland reference going on. The music’s annoying, but occasionally it works rather well.

When, towards the end, Anderson actually manages to wrap up his amnesia thing, his monster on the loose thing, two revelations and some other stuff–all while actually making the characters’ plight vibrate–it’s when Resident Evil works the best. Oddly, the predictable ending isn’t even annoying, instead it’s gratifying, because of the film’s self-confidence.

I’m actually not completely surprised by Resident Evil, as I figured it’d be watchable (as Anderson tends to be), but I’m at least seventy-percent surprised, since the whole thing hinges on Jovovich and she pulled it off.

Alien vs. Predator (2004, Paul W.S. Anderson), the director’s cut

Now, who exactly thought a film entitled Alien vs. Predator could be good? I mean… just from the title, it’s obvious there’s a fairly low potential for the film. As such, Alien vs. Predator is fine. It’s wholly watchable. It’s stupid and there are some enormous plot holes–not just in the established Alien or Predator canon, but in what the film itself has already established–but it’s called Alien vs. Predator. Any film with “vs.” in the title is automatically exempt from certain critical reasoning. Those plot holes in Alien vs. Predator shouldn’t bother anyone because the point of the film is not the understand it, rather to see it. I’ve seen Alien vs. Predator before (there was a review up on The Stop Button over a year ago, in the pre-archive) and when I was actually able to rent the monumental director’s cut (it adds eight minutes and I noticed maybe one new scene, but it isn’t like I had the film committed to memory).

In a few ways, Alien vs. Predator reminded me of Superman Returns, as I got to see some things I didn’t expect. Had any filmmaker of any merit made another Alien sequel or another Predator sequel, he or she would never have glazed on some of Alien vs. Predator’s enjoyable stupidity. No one with any artistic ability would ever have an Alien Queen chasing someone like a dinosaur out of Jurassic Park (or so visibly lift the opening to Jurassic Park for another über-mainstream film), but that lack of creativity is Paul W.S. Anderson’s strongest filmmaking virtue. Anderson makes a pseudo-scientific argument, which struck me as a goof on some film I can’t quite remember, some occasionally witty dialogue, a handful of lame characters (played, usually, by good actors), and let loose. The result was a film with some decent action (though the Alien and Predator fights could have been more dynamic) and some decent visuals. Anderson litters the film with references to the other Alien and Predator films, but he never really has any good money shots. It might be–this example being the only significant inconsistency I couldn’t let go–because the Predators are all short. They’re short and stocky and they don’t look right. They were designed to be lean and tall and Anderson doesn’t redesign the look in a way not to make them look like runts. Interestingly, the guy who played all the Predator roles was 7’1”, so Anderson did something wrong.

With the casting, however, Anderson did all right. Lance Henriksen is boring in his glorified cameo and Sanaa Latham is only acceptable when she’s got speaking actors to act off, but otherwise there’s some decent performances. Maybe I’m being a little rough on Latham, but she spends the last twenty minutes or so with no one to talk to and it messes up her performance, making Alien vs. Predator, for the first time, seem like something not even the actors could take seriously. Raoul Bova, Ewen Bremner, and Tommy Flanagan are all good, with Bremner and Flanagan even really acting in their scenes together.

I just realized how long this post is getting, but Alien vs. Predator is one of the more known films I’ve written up (I can always easily rant on a discussed topic). I’m unable to get over the negative response to this film. If you want a good movie, you don’t see one called Alien vs. Predator–nothing with a title like this one has any promise of being good. Unfortunately, I imagine the Alien vs. Predator movie the fans “wanted” would be even worse.

Match Point (2005, Woody Allen)

Woody gave an interview in “Entertainment Weekly” of all places and talked about how he’s gone through so many critical ups and downs, he’s not phased by Match Point‘s good press. It’s certainly his most commercial film in recent memory… probably since Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex … But Were Afraid to Ask. Really–it’s incredibly commercial. Thrillers are always commercial, even when they’re impeccably cast, written, directed, and scored. Match Point is really good, sure, but it’s not some amazing “return” for Allen.

I realized that–that Match Point and its praise, from people considered with box office potential–really early into the film, actually. Something about the pacing of the first act, maybe that it was set in London. It’s beautiful to see Allen do films in London, since he got to use some great actors–Ewen Bremner and Colin Salmon showed up for Alien vs. Predator reunion, for example. For all the great press Scarlett Johansson is getting, Jonathan Rhys-Meyers is better. But I read once, I think in a review of Curse of the Jade Scorpion, that Woody makes the most profound observations about the human condition when it wouldn’t seem like he was trying… when he was most comfortable. Obviously, there are some flaws in this theory (yes, Broadway Danny Rose is profound, but so are September and Interiors), but Match Point isn’t a comfortable Woody Allen. The narrator isn’t Woody or even a facet of him.

As good as Match Point turns out–it owes a lot to Ealing comedies, I won’t spoil anymore–it’s not a better made film than Melinda and Melinda, which had story problems, but was the best filmmaking Allen’s done since… well, not that long. Sweet and Lowdown was a beautifully made film.

Match Point‘s only a revelation to people who think Woody’s gone somewhere. He hasn’t… so it’s just another good Woody Allen movie.

There are twenty-five other good ones too.