Tag: Sigourney Weaver

Ghostbusters II (1989, Ivan Reitman)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So it’s all doomed.

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

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

Ghostbusters (1984, Ivan Reitman)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anyway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aliens (1986, James Cameron)

Thirty-six years after its release, recreating the original Aliens (albeit on home media) experience is difficult. Not only has there been a direct sequel, there have been multiple reboot sequels, and the extended, “special edition” version has been readily available for nineteen years now. I’m not ready for an Aliens canon deep-dive, but when did a much later sequel, they did it with details from the special edition.

So it’s entirely possible to watch Aliens, the theatrical version—running a spry 137 minutes (the extended edition adds seventeen minutes)–in the context of what’s changed for the franchise since it was the traditional version of Aliens. Probably starting with thinking of Aliens as a franchise entry, not a sequel. I should also preface—I’ve seen Aliens a dozen times; I’ve seen the theatrical version thrice, including this time. “My” version is the special edition version.

And I was worried it’d be hard to watch Aliens without that perspective getting in the way.

Luckily, Aliens is not a vacillating memory, it’s a movie; once I stopped thinking about how the film works as a proto-old [man or woman] franchise—like Sigourney Weaver as a (mentally) more mature action hero, I was able to just let it play. Because Aliens is less about Weaver’s arc than I remembered. There’s one big missing character motivator in the theatrical version and it only changes the impact. Instead of Aliens leaning in on the motherhood allegory in the theatrical version, it’s about Weaver proving herself in an entirely different context than before. She’s still got a great arc with Carrie Henn, it’s just less the focus of the film. The focus is, of course, survival in extremely hostile, constantly worsening conditions.

Aliens starts with an Alien epilogue. Weaver gets in trouble for blowing up her spaceship; they fire her. She ends up back on Earth in a shitty apartment, hanging out with the cat (the only other returning character), working a crap (compared to her previous position) job, and smoking too many cigarettes. She can’t convince the Company stooges to investigate her story, though she’s got an ally in self-described “okay guy” Company man Paul Reiser. Writer and director Cameron and Weaver do a very quick job setting up Weaver’s character, post-resolution. They start the development arc once Weaver wakes up—almost sixty years after she expected—when it’s unclear she’s going to get scapegoated, which runs one character development arc under another, not letting the subtle one through until the plot requires it.

Then one day, Reiser shows up at Weaver’s door with a Marine lieutenant, William Hope. That planet no one believed Weaver about? They’ve lost contact with the colony. Reiser wants Weaver to come with him and Hope (and Hope’s Marines); just an observer, though. The Marines will have it. After some cajoling (and because otherwise it’s a very different movie), Weaver agrees and now Aliens proper is underway.

For most of the runtime, Aliens never looks, sounds, or feels like an Alien sequel. Not in terms of the filmmaking. If it weren’t for the three hyper sleep scenes, it wouldn’t at all. There’s the opening, where Weaver—asleep in her pod—gets rescued. Then there’s the Marines waking up from their hyper sleep, which goes from feeling vaguely Alien to being very much Aliens. And then there’s another hyper sleep sequence where Cameron ties it back to the original even more. Though, stylistically—even when he’s doing the Alien reference—he often adds something to it. Something more akin to a 2001 reference, actually. There are a number of 2001 homages in the first act, but also Cameron doing something of his own. Aliens is a very thoughtful, thorough film. A verisimilitude achievement, requiring a lot of subtleties to navigate the film’s constraints. Even if the budget had been bigger, for instance, there were technological limits as far as creating the omnipresent special effects; Aliens is a special effects bonanza. And it’s all from scratch.

The film occasionally will let Weaver’s observations determine a scene’s narrative distance. She’s seeing it new, the audience is seeing it new, also now the characters (the Marines) who are not seeing it new… they then get othered enough to become subjects. It’s one of Cameron’s neat narrative moves. He has a number of them, in addition to his neat directorial moves. The film’s chockfull of good moves.

Aliens proper is the story of the Marines mission. They wake up, they banter and bicker, they find out in a briefing it’s an Alien sequel, then it’s basically down to the planet and the film never takes a break until the denouement. Aliens’s biggest chunk of runtime has a present action of maybe twenty-four hours, and short segues between the contiguous scenes. The film introduces ten supporting characters at the same time and requires you track them for the next two hours. It’s rushed but they’re rushed too. Got to get down to the planet.

Once they’re on the planet and at the colony, the film changes gears again. Cameron’s done his take on Alien-style space travel, he’s done a back to Earth bit, but the colony’s something again. It’s a little bit of a Western, just one where they’re in high tech future rooms instead of an Old West town with a false front. And they’re on an alien world, which gives the characters no pause. With one exception—the space station in the first act—Cameron’s utterly devoid of wonderment when musing about the future and its strange new worlds. He never forces it to be grim and gritty though; it’s simply unimaginable it could be any other way.

There’s some more setup in the second act with Weaver, Reiser, and the Marines finding out what’s going on with the aliens. They’ve also got to pick up Henn—a little girl who survives for weeks, hiding from the monsters in the vents. Aliens is all about the vents. Henn’s character started the still strong entertainment trope of lone survivor kid showing up to give some necessary exposition—the not-always Feral Kid—but Cameron isn’t craven here. He never treats Henn as functional, because he never makes any bad moves in the script. It’s such a good script.

The Marines. There’s Hope as the lieutenant, but he’s new and doesn’t have any combat experience. One of the “funny” things about Aliens is realizing, even with third act twists, most of the problems are because Hope’s bad at his job. Al Matthews plays the sergeant. He’s more likable and memorable than good, but also he doesn’t have much he’s got to do. When he does have bigger moments, it’s usually to support someone else’s character development, like Michael Biehn. Biehn’s the corporal, he’s succinct not laconic, and kind of a Western hero. Biehn’s got the most interesting performance in the film because he’s the only one who defaults to trusting Weaver’s judgment. The movie’s often about the two of them problem-solving.

In between shooting at alien monsters with acid blood.

There are nine more Marines, but Bill Paxton and Jenette Goldstein are the most important ones. Paxton’s the wiseass who breaks under pressure and Goldstein’s the badass who doesn’t. Cameron’s got a really interesting approach with Paxton—he makes the other characters rein him in when he spirals and turns it into character development for all involved. It’s really effective.

Of the Marines, only Biehn and Hope really get arcs. Paxton’s panicking always plays out in active scenes. Goldstein gets a little more character work than most but it’s about thirty seconds worth. Aliens is an action movie, after all.

There aren’t any bad performances. Paxton gets the most tiring (but just imagine being under siege by aliens and stuck with him), but it’s never bad. Best performances are Weaver, Biehn, Reiser, Henn, and Lance Henriksen. Henriksen is the ship android who Weaver doesn’t trust because of the last movie. Cameron’s very obvious about their arc, which is the least of Weaver’s four character relationship arcs—Henn, Reiser, Biehn, then Henriksen–and makes sure every scene is excellent. The scenes are good showcases for Henriksen too.

The whole movie’s a showcase for Weaver. Going back and fighting the monsters from her nightmare strips her to the id. It’s a great performance in what’s really just an action hero part. Weaver and Cameron make it seem like more, but it’s the performance and the direction.

Lots of technical greats. James Horner’s music, Ray Lovejoy’s cutting, Peter Lamont’s production design, Emma Porteous’s costume design. Adrian Biddle’s photography is successful, competent, and good, but when Aliens betrays itself as a very grim, very gritty Flash Gordon serial, it’s usually because of Biddle’s lighting.

The special effects are usually outstanding. There’s one bad composite shot—though Cameron directs the heck out of it—and some of the alien planet exteriors look too soundstage (Biddle’s lights). Otherwise, the effects are stellar. Including the slimy aliens, which is the most important part. Stan Winston does a singular job with the aliens.

After the first act, Cameron’s direction tries to be more functional than flashy. It works. He asks a lot from the actors and they always deliver; it’s masterful action suspense.

Thanks to Cameron, Weaver, and everyone else, Aliens is a resounding success. Special edition or theatrical version, it’s always spectacular.

Copycat (1995, Jon Amiel)

It’s easy to pick out the “best” thing in Copycat because it’s almost entirely atrocious. Christopher Young’s highly derivative score is lovely—it’s a mix between John Williams and then Aliens whenever Sigourney Weaver is in thriller danger. Thanks to the score, Copycat makes some interesting swings, like emotive, romantic music during the most inappropriate sequences. Again, outside aping Ripley moments, it never fits the content, but it is definitely lovely.

Otherwise, the high point is J.E. Freeman’s performance as the grizzled police captain. He’s fine. They cut away from him too soon because he’s clearly knawing on the set. I really wanted to see him munch on his coffee mug, which always seems inevitable.

Besides those two elements, it’s just a matter of what’s not godawful and what’s just bad.

What’s impressive about Freeman is he’s the only acceptable performance. Everyone else is either incompetent or appalling. A lot of it is Amiel’s direction. He’s inept at composing the Panavision shots—it’s a special kind of bad to waste San Francisco like Amiel wastes it (the lighting is fine, thanks to László Kovács’s photography but wow, what a waste of Kovács)—but he’s even worse at directing actors. Whether Weaver, who’s got a risibly written part, soulful surfer tech bro cop Dermot Mulroney, or incel serial killer William McNamara, Amiel does an incapable job with all of them. Oh, I forgot Will Patton. Poor Will Patton.

Copycat is supposed to be about Weaver teaming up with San Francisco homicide inspector Holly Hunter, but second-billed Hunter deserves an “and” credit. She takes a back seat to Mulroney, McNamara, and even Patton as her erstwhile love interest. Patton’s a sexist, racist fellow detective—Hunter and Mulroney are partners—and until it turns out he’s dangerously unfit, he just ruins scenes. Not because he’s the worst actor in them; instead, he’s a purposeless boil on the film. He’s there, so they don’t have to do a whole trope, just a three-quarters trope.

Of the main cast, Hunter’s the least bad. She’s never good because it’s a terrible movie, but you’re never slack-jawed at the badness of her performance. Like Weaver. So much bad acting from Weaver.

The script, courtesy Ann Biderman and David Madsen, is worse than Amiel’s direction. Likewise, Jim Clark and Alan Heim’s editing is lousy.

Copycat’s so abominable I don’t even want to talk about Harry Connick Jr.’s cameo as a hillbilly serial killer, which starts worse than it finishes, but only because his bad performance is less bad than the many other bad performances. It’s a derivative, insipid motion picture, so obviously rotten the cast don’t even earn sympathy for their embarrassing participation.

Pretty music, though. Very pretty music.

Alien (1979, Ridley Scott), the director's cut

Ridley Scott’s director’s cut of Alien feels like vaguely engaged exercise more than any kind of devout restoration. Its less than artistic origins–Scott cut it together a combination, apparently, of fan service and studio marketing needs–actually help it quite a bit in the first act. Scott’s new cut rushes things, though it doesn’t really rush them anywhere. At the beginning, it’s kind of neat to see how he’s able to move things faster (so long as you’re generally familiar with the film and its plot), only once he runs out of story, Scott and the film stumble repeatedly.

This Alien maintains establishing shots and transition shots; Scott and new editor David Crowther hurry the actual scenes, cutting into performances. John Hurt is deemphasized, Ian Holm is more emphasized. Even though there might be more Sigourney Weaver, it takes her even longer to assume the lead role because with an increased presence for Holm, the dynamic changes. And Scott and Crowther don’t really adjust for it later, because they’re not cutting for performances, they’re cutting getting in new footage. In trying not to be sensational, Scott just makes it even worse. He doesn’t account for what his new pace is doing to how the film plays on its own, not as a special feature.

The collision of Holm and Weaver doesn’t pace well, for instance, but once its resolved, Alien: The Director’s Cut finds its footing once again. Sure, it loses it again and never quite recovers, but it loses it in the place where Alien just loses its footing, the third act. There are some “director’s cut” specific problems in the third act, which hurt the pacing and the overall experience because it’s clear when inserted footage is taped in–Crowther’s editing doesn’t match Terry Rawling’s at all, which is another big problem. It’s disjointed. In the first act, it’s kind of charming; after over an hour, it’s just tiresome.

Maybe the greatest disservice of Alien: The Director’s Cut is to the Jerry Goldsmith score. It feels more rushed than anything else. Goldsmith creates this sterile calm, a disappointing tranquility, and Scott and Crowther don’t have any time for it.

Scott should’ve just let the additional footage bloat Alien. The trims he makes elsewhere aggravate quickly before ultimately failing. At least bloated, the film would have some personality. Instead, it feels like Scott trying to turn Alien into more of a crowd-pleaser. But for a limited, familiar audience. He’s not trying to make a better film.

Luckily, the pieces are still strong. Holm, Weaver, Yaphet Kotto, Tom Skerritt, all great. Veronica Cartwright gets more to do and has less of a character as a result. Weaver experiences something similar; Scott hacks at her and Skerritt’s scenes just enough to weaken them both. Weaver’s performance deserves a lot more respect, frankly. It takes her too much for granted.

And somehow Kotto and Harry Dean Stanton lose their mojo in the new cut. Most of the content remains, but none of the personality. Again, Crowther’s using a dull hatchet on Rawling’s delicate scalpel cuts.

Alien, the director’s cut, isn’t so much a missed opportunity as a pointless endeavor. But it could have turned out a lot worse. Scott’s lack of ambition might be the saving grace.

The Cold Light of Day (2012, Mabrouk El Mechri)

The Cold Light of Day is not just any lame action thriller set in Europe with an American leading man (okay, Henry Cavill isn’t American, but he’s playing an American). It is a distinguished lame action thriller. Not only does it contain one of the worst car chases ever put on film (or digital video), it also features what has to be Sigourney Weaver’s worst performance. And if it’s not actually her worst, it’s her most inept. For whatever reason, she tries to chew the scenery. She fails, miserably. Painfully.

It’s not like director El Mechri is any good at directing actors either; lead Henry Cavill and his sidekick, played by Verónica Echegui, aren’t good either. But Weaver is excruciatingly bad. She gets worse as the film progresses too, which–combined with the terrible pace, lousy direction and bad script–just makes the film more and more unbearable.

By the second half, with most of the reveals out of the way–El Mechri saves a misguided cameo for the finish–Cavill and Echegui get a little better. They’ve hit bottom, but they’ve survived the film.

In addition to the bad script (from Scott Wiper and John Petro) and El Mechri’s bad direction, there’s also bad photography from Remi Adefarasin, bad editing from Valerio Bonelli and bad music from Lucas Vidal. Not even Bruce Willis and Caroline Goodall (miscast as Cavill’s parents) escape with any dignity.

The best thing about Cold is its six minute end credits. The “action” stops sooner.

0/4ⓏⒺⓇⓄ

CREDITS

Directed by Mabrouk El Mechri; written by Scott Wiper and John Petro; director of photography, Remi Adefarasin; edited by Valerio Bonelli; music by Lucas Vidal; production designer, Benjamín Fernández; produced by Marc D. Evans and Trevor Macy; released by Summit Entertainment.

Starring Henry Cavill (Will), Verónica Echegui (Lucia), Bruce Willis (Martin), Caroline Goodall (Laurie), Rafi Gavron (Josh), Emma Hamilton (Dara), Joseph Mawle (Gorman), Michael Budd (Esmael), Roschdy Zem (Zahir) and Sigourney Weaver (Jean Carrack).

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Chappie (2015, Neill Blomkamp)

South Africa produces the most macadamia nuts in the world, as well as the most electricity. However, according to Chappie, those achievements come with quite a cost. Every single native white South African–again, according to Chappie, is an amoral, dimwitted thug. The only people in the country doing good are foreigners, like Dev Patel, who creates robots for the Johannesburg police department in the film.

He works for a weapons manufacturer, run by very American Sigourney Weaver, and has interoffice squabbles with Hugh Jackman. Jackman, sporting a mullet, lots of religion and a military background, is one of the film’s bad guys. At least he doesn’t have subtitles for when he speaks English, like Brandon Auret; that device is one of director Blomkamp’s annoying eccentricities. As opposed to his incompetent ones, which are legion.

The near future Johannesburg, with its Robocop-quote spouting robot cops, runs on command line Linux and flip phones. It’s dirty, it’s grimy, it doesn’t matter that Weaver’s company has achieved the extraordinary in robots, even before Patel gives one sentience.

With that sentience comes the titular Chappie’s new family–criminals Ninja and Yo-Landi Visser. Ninja and Visser, in real life, are rock stars (performing as Die Antwoord). They have interesting videos. Blomkamp turns Chappie into a bad commercial for them; relying on Ninja for acting is a big mistake. Visser is a little better, but not much.

Chappie’s an atrocious two hours. Blomkamp’s filmmaking masterfully combines dumb ideas, incompetent execution and bad directing.

Working Girl (1988, Mike Nichols)

Towards the end of Working Girl, the film seems to jump around a bit with the timeline. It seems to jump ahead, but then it turns out it doesn’t. And it only seems to jump ahead because of how director Nichols and editor Sam O’Steen structure a couple transitions. It’s not a big thing, but it does cause the viewer to reseat him or herself; it’s sort of a false ending but not. It’s a tension reliever.

Kevin Wade’s script has a lot of obvious material, but it saves the most important revelation–one the film shockingly gets away with not revealing in the first act–until the last few moments. And it’s all paced out perfectly.

But Working Girl couldn’t possibly function without its principal cast members. In the lead, Melanie Griffith is phenomenal. She needs to be sympathetic, but Nichols and Griffith subtly tone down the sympathy she gets for being unappreciated. There’s an initial shock value to her situation and then, over the course of the film, they show that shock was just to get the viewer paying attention.

As her romantic interest, Harrison Ford is fantastic. His character is one of the film’s more complicated–as the evil harpy boss, Sigourney Weaver is similarly fantastic. Weaver’s able to appear likable even when she shouldn’t. Ford is able to be assured even when he shouldn’t.

Nichols, O’Steen and cinematographer Michael Ballhaus put together some truly great scenes here.

It’s rather great; Griffith and Ford are wonderful together.

3.5/4★★★½

CREDITS

Directed by Mike Nichols; written by Kevin Wade; director of photography, Michael Ballhaus; edited by Sam O’Steen; music by Rob Mounsey; production designer, Patrizia von Brandenstein; produced by Douglas Wick; released by 20th Century Fox.

Starring Melanie Griffith (Tess McGill), Harrison Ford (Jack Trainer), Sigourney Weaver (Katharine Parker), Alec Baldwin (Mick Dugan), Joan Cusack (Cyn), Philip Bosco (Oren Trask), Nora Dunn (Ginny), Oliver Platt (Lutz), James Lally (Turkel), Kevin Spacey (Bob Speck), Robert Easton (Armbrister) and Amy Aquino (Alice Baxter).

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Alien³ (1992, David Fincher)

Alien³ is a strange film. Some of its problems inevitably stem from its post-production issues, but there's also the question of intent. It's three films in one; first is a sequel to Aliens. That storyline takes about an hour. Then it's its own film for about forty-five minutes. Then it's the final film in a series for the last ten or so. Characters move between these phases, but not necessarily subplots and the filmmaking techniques even change.

Disjointed might be the politest description; incredibly messy also works. Gloriously messy might be the best, however, because Alien³ is glorious. Fincher does an outstanding job directing–and his composition techniques also signal changes in the film's phases–with wonderful Alex Thomson photography. But the Terry Rawlings editing really brings the whole thing together. It's a lush, dark, dank film.

All of the acting is great, especially Charles S. Dutton and Charles Dance. Sigourney Weaver is fantastic (of course, it wouldn't work at all if she wasn't). She and Dutton occasionally get some terrible, trailer-ready lines and they push through them. It's in the quieter moments Weaver really shines; it's simultaneously too obviously on her shoulders and just right.

The special effects are fine. The practical ones are outstanding and the production design is phenomenal.

Additional good supporting turns from Danny Webb, Ralph Brown, Brian Glover, Pete Postlethwaite. Paul McCann's good even if he inexplicably disappears (one of those post-production issues).

Great Elliot Goldenthal score.

In pieces, Alien³ is excellent. All together, it's still good.

Aliens (1986, James Cameron), the special edition

I always think of Aliens as a precisely choreographed ballet. Director Cameron moves his large cast–though it does winnow over time–around in these cramped sets and everyone has something to do; Cameron draws the viewer’s attention to one character, but the rest are in motion setting up the next moment in the scene.

Watching the film this time, I noticed how Cameron’s subtle introductions to each character later define them. Sure, there’s a handful of characters who don’t get much focus, but about nine do. It’s like a ballet on wires.

Cameron’s script is also able to keep up its urgency throughout. The titular aliens don’t even appear at the start of the second act; Cameron holds them off as long as possible, which later lets Aliens constantly break expectations. Cameron organically sets up and knocks down various possibilities for the film… all while following some definite horror genre standards.

Aliens is meticulous–Ray Lovejoy’s editing is truly astounding, whether he’s passing time with a fade or perfectly cutting the action scenes. Adrian Biddle’s photography’s excellent–as is the effects work–but Lovejoy’s editing is simply wow.

All of the principals are excellent. Obviously Sigourney Weaver, but Michael Biehn, Lance Henriksen and Paul Reiser are great too. Carrie Henn is fantastic in her difficult, understated scream princess role. I love how the script implies character relationships developing offscreen. It’s wonderful.

Cameron achieves a major success. Aliens is exhilarating. Like most great films, it gets better with every viewing.