Tag: Michelle Yeoh

Everything Everywhere All at Once (2022, Daniel Kwan and Daniel Scheinert)

Quite appropriately, Everything Everywhere All at Once is all the things. At once. And more. The film’s a relatively simply told multiverse comic book action-comedy-family-drama-romance-horror story with time to do a traditional hero arc, then deconstruct it. The film gives stars Michelle Yeoh, Stephanie Hsu, and Ke Huy Quan constantly changing roles as we meet various versions of them from across the multiverse. Everything takes it one step further, turning the momentum of meeting alternate versions of the same character (so alternate versions of the same performer but not the same performance) into a main story arc.

Everything employs an interesting structure—three identified parts, with the first part ending on a cliffhanger and the third part more an epilogue. But there’s a three-act structure to the parts. So the stakes are entirely different in the second part than the first, even though the overall threat is the same—the multiverse is in danger, and only Yeoh can save it.

Directors Kwan and Scheinert toggle through various styles in the film. Too many to count—while there’s an infinite number of Yeohs out there, the film only really asks the viewer to remember ten. Maybe not even ten. There’s an action movie Yeoh, there’s a family drama Yeoh, there’s an absurd romantic drama Yeoh, there’s a Wong Kar-wai movie Yeoh, and then a handful of sight gag universe Yeohs. In all these other universes, Yeoh’s somehow spectacular. There’s one thing she does better than anyone else.

But Yeoh Prime’s one thing she’s better than anyone else at is being a failure. No matter what she tries, it eventually doesn’t work out. The film’s present action in the Prime universe is about Yeoh and husband Quan in trouble with the IRS—specifically relentless auditor Jamie Lee Curtis—at the same time, Yeoh has to take in her father, James Hong. Yeoh and Quan left China as rebellious young adults and came to the United States and opened a laundromat, where they never made enough money, but also never too little they gave up on it. Also, it’s Chinese New Year. Also, Hsu, as their daughter, wants to introduce girlfriend Tallie Medel to grandpa Hong as her girlfriend, and Yeoh’s not sure it’s the right time for Hsu to be herself.

As Yeoh starts universe-hopping, she’s going to see how her life changed and how it didn’t, which exposes her to insights. What’s so wild—I mean, it’s already wild, it’s a Hong Kong cinema homage kung fu family drama absurdist comedy—but what’s also so wild is how the second part is then all about Yeoh taking agency and learning from those other lives. Everything is about the story’s protagonist taking an active role in how their story progresses.

The first part has Yeoh and Quan together most of the time, with Yeoh’s relationship with Hsu providing a lot of narrative turmoil but not affecting the action. The second part flips that situation, partnering Yeoh and Hsu most of the time, but Quan’s consequentially bound to the narrative. It’s delicate and detailed, with the directors changing aspect ratios and cameras (or at least good filters) between the various different movies Yeoh finds herself in. Because it’s always a movie, and she’s just watching her life go by.

Even as Yeoh Prime begins to realize her potential, one of her splinter arcs involves the “good guys” trying to keep her in a passive role. Or at least subordinate, even as she’s discovering she can break free from all constraint. Yeoh’s got a beautiful story arc, which she performs flawlessly. After all the big comparisons between universes in the first half, the film gets more subtle in the second. By the finale, it’s practically gentle, with almost indistinguishable–but still very distinct—differences between the universes.

The film’s a technical marvel throughout, with cinematographer Larkin Seiple and editor Paul Rogers doing superlative work (in addition to outstanding work from costumes designer Shirley Kurata and production designer Jason Kisvarday). But there’s something even more special about the finale: Seiple and Rogers are no longer trying to wow with the audiovisual but lower the intensity so the performances take center stage. It’s subtle, breathtaking work.

Phenomenal performances from Yeoh, Hsu, and Quan. Curtis is great too—ditto Hong—but they’re orbiting the stars, not doing these inconceivably gigantic character arcs. Quan gets a little less to do than Yeoh and Hsu, but his presence itself is enough to inform some of Yeoh’s arc. The scenes where she and Hsu really get to act opposite each other are mesmerizing.

Everything about Everything comes together—the shifts in pacing, the sometimes over-the-top sight gags or references, not to mention Quan. While he doesn’t get the central character relationship, he does get the peripheral one, but he also gets to do a variety of other versions of the character. There’s his sexy WKW guy, there’s the action hero, there’s the concerned dad. Yeoh and Hsu give these momentous performances, but those arcs are part of the plot. Quan gets to do these different characters, and the oomph is in his performance, not the narrative momentum.

That said, it’s obviously Yeoh’s showcase.

The film’s a significant accomplishment for cast and crew. Everything’s an exhilarating, emotionally enthralling experience.

Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings (2021, Destin Daniel Cretton)

The third act of Shang-Chi makes it real obvious what’s been wrong with the movie the whole time–it doesn’t matter if Simu Liu is onscreen. The third act has a bunch of different characters fighting a bunch of different bad guys, and Liu disappears for a few minutes to do the whole “how’s the hero going to get inspired from the edge of death” bit and… the movie doesn’t need him. Because even though Liu’s Shang-Chi, the star, he’s never the interesting character in a scene.

The film starts with Tony Leung Chiu-wai (who apparently spoke English this whole time, which is devastating because he finally “comes” to America, and it’s this movie). He’s a near-immortal warlord who wants to capture a mythic village so he can see dragons or something. It’s an Alexander wept moment, don’t ask questions. Leung gives a captivating performance in an absolutely crap part. He went nine hundred and seventy-five years without ever doing any character development, and now he’s rushing to get some in.

Anyway. Still the opening. Leung meets Fala Chen in the village, and they have a wuxia fight. Or at least as close as Shang-Chi gets to a wuxia fight. Director Cretton at least tries with this fight. None of the other fight scenes in Shang-Chi have any real… what’s the word. Effort. The other fights don’t have a style goal. Or at least they don’t have a visible style goal. If Cretton was actually going for something, it’d be worse because he, cinematographer Bill Pope, and the three editors (Elísabet Ronaldsdóttir, Nat Sanders, and Harry Yoon) never achieve it. Or even make it clear they’ve got actual ambitions other than getting to the next scene.

Leung and Chen fall in love, and throughout the film—via flashbacks—we learn he gave up a life of international crime bossing for her, settled down, had a couple kids who grow up to be Liu and Meng’er Zhang. Chen dies under mysterious circumstances, but only to the audience; it’s just the flashback doesn’t want to tell us yet. Because Dave Callaham and Cretton’s script is tediously manipulative. There aren’t any surprises in Shang-Chi, which just makes it all the more amazing it’s able to get to so many compelling moments thanks to the cast and, I don’t know, a competent production’s momentum. And it’s a low competent. Like, Disney did not pony up for real effects money on Shang-Chi. The composites are so bad it’s almost a Warner Bros. superhero movie. Almost.

In the present, Liu’s a San Francisco valet parker who spends all his time hanging out with best friend, Awkwafina. They’re just friends. It’s never explained why they’re just friends, possibly because Liu, Awkwafina, and Zhang are weirdly asexual, but they basically lead this amusing sitcom life. Just with fast cars. What’s weird about the Liu and Awkwafina stuff is the actors can obviously do comedy—Awkwafina from this movie and, you know, Liu from “Kim’s”—but Cretton doesn’t know how to do it. Or more, he doesn’t try to do it. It’s the aforementioned lack of effort kicking in again. Instead of it actually being funny, it’s a too-brief nod at funny.

Really quickly, Liu has to fight some bad guys on a bus, which ends up forecasting Cretton’s inability to do action sequences, and then he and Awkwafina are off to Macau to meet up with previously unrevealed sister Zhang.

They then meet up with dad Leung, who reveals he’s going to go get all the dinosaurs from Isla Sorna. Sorry, wait, I’m thinking Lost World: Jurassic Park but Cretton cribs a scene from there, so I got confused. Leung wants to invade the village and rescue the soul of dead wife Chen from the shitty villagers who wouldn’t let them live there because he’s a warlord.

Even though Awkwafina’s already the comic relief, they need more, so Ben Kingsley comes back from Iron Man 3 (more specifically, the superior Marvel short, All Hail the King), and occasional smiles occur during the subsequent action. Up until they get to the secret village, where Michelle Yeoh enters the movie, and all of a sudden, it’s interesting. Because even though Leung’s mesmerizing, it’s a lousy part. Yeoh’s part isn’t good, but it’s not a terribly underwritten villain part. She’s the cool aunt. She’s basically the hero of the last third of the runtime.

Eventually, Liu will be critical in saving the world from dragons or whatever, but he doesn’t have to act while doing it. Most of the time, he’s just a part-CGI model in extreme long shot.

There’s no one who doesn’t take over the scenes with Liu. Awkwafina from go, then Zhang, then Leung, then Yeoh, but also the supporting actors in scenes, like bit player Ronny Chieng. There’s an astounding lack of direction from Cretton when it comes to his actors. All of them muscle through—I mean, relatively, like Zhang’s likable but not particularly good and Awkwafina is one-note—just not Liu. He’s so unimportant in his own movie it can lose him, and it doesn’t matter, which makes the hero’s quest finale all the more lackluster.

Shang-Chi’s never bad—it’s incredibly safe—but it feels like it’s never bad because Cretton and company figured out a way to produce the film without any stakes. Certainly not for Cretton. Or Liu.

For a specific viewer, Leung will more than make it worth it. Even when he becomes CGI. Or more, he doesn’t become CGI for long enough for it to hurt him. Ditto Yeoh, actually, whose big action sequence ends up being as a too-small CGI model. Then there’s Kingsley; his return is fun but underwritten because Cretton and Callaham are dreadful at comedy.

Also, since the flashbacks to Chen’s story go on for so long—it’s third act before we get the whole story and the movie completely, and very intentionally wimps out on the implications—even though Chen’s okay, she just reminds if they’d gotten Maggie Cheung for the part… I mean, then you’d have a movie worth Tony Leung Chiu-wai. But no. Because it’s a rote and joyless outing, albeit an aridly competent one.

Gunpowder Milkshake (2021, Navot Papushado)

Gunpowder Milkshake is a moody, neon, sometimes minimalist mix of neo-noir and spaghetti Western. Director Papushado approaches the film’s budgetary constraints with creativity and ingenuity, focusing tightly on lead Karen Gillan and her dangerous presence. The film bookends with noir narration from Gillan, which creates a dreamscape for the runtime. A highly stylized dreamscape, full of lengthy, determined action sequences and occasionally pat but effective enough character moments.

Gillan’s an assassin who works for Paul Giamatti, who’s also been her guardian for the last fifteen years since mom Lena Headey walked out on her. We get the walk-out in a first act flashback–Gunpowder has an actual first act, which is somewhat unnecessary given the eventual plot but also a nice touch. Papushado and co-writer Ehud Lavski do the work. They give Gillan the time for character development, leveraging her inability to essay affect as a cold-blooded killer-type thing.

All of Gunpowder takes place over a day or so, starting with the narrated prologue with Gillan on a hit gone wrong. Then we get the flashback to Headey, who–given the determined world-building effort– could just be a cameo at this point, then Giamatti and the next big job. The main plot starts when Gillan’s got to make up for the screwup and take out an accountant, Samuel Anderson, who up and took a bunch of money from Giamatti’s WASP gang, “The Firm.”

Only it turns out Anderson’s got a kidnapped daughter (Chloe Coleman), and how can Gillan not help him rescue her; the stolen money’s just to get her back. And it seems like just as long as Gillan can recover the money, everything’s going to be okay with Giamatti… except it turns out she killed rival gangster Ralph Ineson’s favorite son in the opening. Lots of details coming real fast, adding up as the film progresses; Papushado and Lavski’s pacing keeps Gillan running in front of a plot boulder, which gains more and more momentum throughout. Especially once things start going wrong and it turns out being a great assassin doesn’t mean you have the best planning skills. Because Gunpowder’s actually all about working together.

First, Gillan has to work with Coleman to escape multiple sets of bad guys. Gillan improves her collaborating approach between escapes, the plot forcing character development, even if Gillan’s stone-faced to it. Sure, it’s about ornate, intricate ultra-violence and an eight-year-old, but Papushado does keep Coleman away from the action. Just not the preparation for it. And they skip over the resulting corpses entirely. Papushado’s first couple action sequences are nothing compared to the third, which raises the bar for the rest of them. Gunpowder’s action scenes—at their best, and there are at least two bests—are all about the characters’ experiences in them, like little gory, tragic poems. They’re dreadful more than exhilarating; they captivate and horrify.

But since Coleman’s a kid and never turns into a junior assassin (got to save something for the sequel, though it might work better as a trilogy), Gillan’s going to need some friends. Because it’s all about finding your family. And we learn Gillan and Headey had a family—Carla Gugino, Angela Bassett, Michelle Yeoh—and Headey screwed it all up and then stuck Gillan with Giamatti instead of the three ladies. They run a library of weapons. It’s a literal library, with the weapons in books with appropriately related titles. It’s a little too intentional and nonsensical but stylish and allows for an age-inappropriate Narnia reference.

Gunpowder’s never insincere. It’s sometimes less earnest than it could be, but it’s never craven. Papushado and his crew put in too much work for it to be craven. So it gets a lot of leeway. Especially when seemingly disappointing bad guy lieutenant Adam Nagaitis turns out to be good, actually. Not like a good guy but a good actor. Gunpowder rewards; trust in it, and it does pay off. Sometimes incredibly unpleasantly. It’s reservedly gory but often very tough.

Acting-wise… Headey, Coleman, and Gugino are the standouts. Bassett’s awesome, but it’s the toughest badass part, so there’s not much she actually gets to do. Yeoh’s good. Giamatti’s good. In the lead, Gillan’s effective. It’s a good part for her as it doesn’t require expressiveness; Gillan’s timing starts decent, improves throughout, following the character arc trajectory. It works out. Mainly because the costars are good and Papushado knows how to direct her.

Gunpowder Milkshake’s got its problems—there’s a lot of story and limited locations, so it occasionally meanders—but it’s an excellent, thoughtful action picture. Michael Seresin’s photography, Nicolas De Toth’s editing, David Scheunemann’s production design, Louise Frogley’s costumes, and Haim Frank Ilfman’s music–all outstanding.

Star Trek: Discovery (2017) s02e05 – Saints of Imperfection

They really did forgot Saru was dying last episode, didn’t they? Like, he’s a-okay for his first scene here, which is seemingly moments after the end of last episode. See, Tilly (Mary Wiseman) has been sucked into the fungus dimension and Sonequa Martin-Green is really sad so she has a voiceover about duty. It’s so poorly written, you’d think Alan B. McElroy was writing the episode, but no. It’s Kristen Breyer, who—and the following is a friend’s observation—thinks she’s writing “Call the Midwife.”

The episode’s also really poorly directed (by David Barrett) but whatever.

So the Discovery goes on a super dangerous mission halfway into the fungus universe to rescue Wiseman. Meanwhile Wiseman has promised fungus in human form Bahia Watson she’ll help the fungal life forms with some predator out to get them.

What else. Oh, right. Shazad Latif, with his long hair and full beard and an all-black Section 31 outfit (Section 31 is the Starfleet CIA). He’s back. But he doesn’t have anything to do after a scene with Martin-Green, who was more affected by holochatting with him than meeting him again in person. Can you hear me, Clem Fandango?

Along with Latif, Michelle Yeoh’s back, scenery chewing as the Mirror Universe emperor turned regular universe super-spy. She’s vaguely amusing. More than when she played the role straight. Also from Section 31 is boss Alan Van Sprang, who’s got a clean-shaved head and a scruffy beard to show he’s mysterious and damaged. He’s old buddies with Anson Mount but they grew apart when Van Sprang started running assassinations, I guess.

The episode goes on and on and on. The third act is full of lengthy, poorly written monologues from poorly directed actors, when they all have four or seven minutes before they all die. The monologues seemingly take much longer. I’d time it but I never want to see the episode again.

At least the Klingons don’t show up again.

Also—they’re just delaying the arrival of Spock some more. It’s just another filler episode. So bad.

Sunshine (2007, Danny Boyle)

Sunshine appears to be an amalgam of Alien, 2001 and Event Horizon (at least, if Event Horizon‘s previews adequately communicate the film’s content, not having seen it). There are Alien references abound, a handful of 2001 ones, and no Event Horizon ones I’m aware of… I imagine they’d try to hide those as well as possible. It also owes more than a little to Solaris–both versions. And for the majority of Sunshine, it’s a frequent disappointment. Danny Boyle and Alex Garland–after 28 Days Later–doing sci-fi doesn’t make much sense, especially since the resulting Sunshine is a standard science fiction movie, as opposed to Days doing something different, both in terms of story and technology.

So, during that first forty-five minutes when bad things happen and characters develop and the story moves along towards the inevitable final question… I got a little bored. Boyle’s finest contribution to the film, I thought during those minutes, was his ability to cast, direct and shoot actors. Cillian Murphy and Rose Byrne are, obviously, excellent and there was never any question as to whether or not they would be excellent. But Chris Evans also turns in a really great performance, as does Cliff Curtis. It’s the best Cliff Curtis in eight years or so. So Boyle casts well, big deal. No, it’s what a good performance he gets out of Michelle Yeoh and even Troy Garity. Yeoh’s got a couple really good scenes and Garity’s sturdy throughout.

But, one must remember, all Alien did was tell a science fiction in “scary movie” language and Sunshine‘s no different. The moment my fiancée jumped space ship was when “Freddy Kruger” showed up. The monster, the bad guy, the whatever–Sunshine needed to have one because, besides some really good acting moments and a couple really nice dilemma in space scenes, the film was nothing new. Until the hero moments, which, of course, signal the beginning of the third act, I kept wishing Murphy, Bryne and Evans would reunite for some other movie. I always forget–even when I’m comparing Boyle’s success at directing actors in this film to Trainspotting–I always forget Boyle’s visual ability, through shot, sound and editing. Trainspotting‘s full of it, but didn’t think those abilities would translate. And I was wrong.

I have never seen a movie–with so many mediocre plot points and set-pieces–ascend as quickly as Sunshine. One moment it’s a disappointment, the next it’s middling, then it’s getting up there, and, finally, it’s pure wonderment at the possibilities of the film medium. It’s not a long period of sustained enchantment, but it’s a really good three or five minutes. Boyle does things in those last minutes nearer the level of 2001 than most of his fellows. Of course, they didn’t have Cillian Murphy, so it’s probably not a far comparison, which is why I didn’t name them.

I don’t know if I was expecting–from the plot description–the Apollo 13 of fictionalized space adventure (after the trailer, I knew I was getting something more comparable to Days). But it wouldn’t work as anything but Danny Boyle and Alex Garland remaking Event Horizon, because otherwise… it would have probably been The Core in space.

Looking at the response, I realize, even thought Murphy suffers a lot of complements, I did not emphasize enough how good Byrne and Evans are in this film. It’s not even Byrne’s best performance of the year, which is unfortunate since that performance is in 28 Weeks Later (just because the character has more to do). But Evans is an unexpected talent.

4/4★★★★

CREDITS

Directed by Danny Boyle; written by Alex Garland; director of photography, Alwin Küchler; edited by Chris Gill; music by John Murphy and Underworld; production designer, Mark Tildesley; produced by Andrew Macdonald; released by Fox Searchlight Pictures.

Starring Rose Byrne (Cassie), Cliff Curtis (Searle), Chris Evans (Mace), Troy Garity (Harvey), Cillian Murphy (Capa), Sanada Hiroyuki (Kaneda), Mark Strong (Pinbacker), Benedict Wong (Trey) and Michelle Yeoh (Corazon).

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