After I saw the press preview of Passengers earlier this week I spent some time talking about it with some fellow critics I know. Specifically, we talked about how it compared to some of the other big sci-fi films of the year. Some names that came up in the discussion were Rogue One, Star Trek Beyond, and Arrival. However, it didn’t really feel fair to compare Passengers to any of these other films (or any of them to each other); even though they’re all science fiction films, each of them is a completely different kind of film. Passengers exemplifies the large amount of internal variety in “science-fiction” works. 
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Jim Preston (Chris Pratt) is a passenger aboard the starship Avalon, a colony ship on a 120 year journey to the planet Homestead II. The vessel is a sleeper ship- before its departure from Earth, all of the crew and the 5000 colonists were placed into suspended animation. They are all scheduled to wake up approximately four months before the final approach to the colony. However, about 30 years into the journey the ship encounters a debris field which damages several key systems, causing Jim’s cryo-pod to fail. Unable to reenter cryo-sleep and faced with the prospect of spending the remaining 90 years of the trip with no one except the ship’s AI bartender for company, he slowly gives into despair. That is, until he has an idea: waking up someone else. 

Much like Arrival, Passengers falls into what I call “human science fiction”- that is, works of sci-fi that are actually about human drama. Although it takes place aboard a starship and has robots and other trappings of science fiction, it’s not about any of those things. Rather, it’s actually a romantic drama; the focus is not on technology or space travel or any other typical sci-fi aspect but on the relationship between Jim and the woman he wakes up, Aurora (Jennifer Lawrence). Fortunately, Passengers has in abundance the most important of all elements of the romantic drama: chemistry between the two leads. Pratt and Lawrence play off each other very well, which is vital since they’re the only people aboard the Avalon save for the robot bartender (played by Michael Sheen). While a film with so few actors could have easily gotten boring, both of them manage to keep the film entertaining and enjoyable for the whole of its run time. 

And although the sci-fi aspects of the film are mostly simple background scenery for the most part, the art design of the movie is incredible. The sets which make up the Avalon are beautiful, equal parts clean sleek lines and art-deco styling. In terms of quality and attention to detail I’d say they were comparable to Roger Christian and H.R. Giger’s work on the original Alien, albeit in entirely different styles. Even if you’re not a huge fan of romantic dramas, the film’s style should keep any sci-fi fan happy. If this film doesn’t get the Oscar for Best Production Design I’ll eat one of my many hats. 

All in all, Passengers is stylistically a science-fiction film and a romantic drama in terms of plot. Whether you’re a fan of either genre, there is something for you to like here. It's not a typical romance movie, but I think you'll like it if you give it a shot.

Grade: A-

​Try as I might, I cannot be completely objective in reviewing this film. I was born and raised an hour outside of Boston, this is my home. On April 15th, 2013, I was a junior in high school and had just finished touring Northeastern. I was with my best friend and his parents, along with a couple other close friends. It was about 2:45pm when we decided to head toward the finish line to watch the tail end of the Marathon. As we walked from Huntington Ave. toward Boylston St., I noticed a woman walking toward us who was crying while talking on the phone. Not an atypical sight. But as we got to the Prudential, I saw more and more people walking towards us, crying harder and talking more frantically. Now pretty certain that something bad had happened, my friends and I tried to check news sites on our phones to see what was going on. Every server was jammed. After a few failed attempts at online research, we asked someone what was upsetting everyone. “Something blew up at the Marathon finish line. Some kind of bomb. It’s horrible down there.” We stopped in our tracks. I didn’t understand how something like that could happen here, or why it would happen here. Once the immediate shock wore off, we turned back around and, per the orders of the Boston Police Department, found a safe location to shelter-in-place. For the remainder of the afternoon, we stayed in the UNO on Huntington Ave with dozens of people trying to get in contact with their loved ones. We sat in a booth toward the back of the restaurant, where a television on the wall played CNN’s coverage of the bombing. I have never been, and hope to never be again, so simultaneously scared and confused. Though fortunately I was not as directly affected by the Boston Marathon bombings as some were, it was still a terrifying event for me. Perhaps it was my being in the city at the time, or the fact that I’ve spent my entire life living in Massachusetts, but I felt a loss that day. When I heard of Mark Wahlberg’s plans to make a film about this day, I was instantly skeptical. Commercializing a tragedy so soon after it happened seemed incredibly inappropriate. Even after seeing the movie, I’m still not sure that now was the time to make this film. That being said, Patriots Day is an emotional, powerful, and intense film that pays tribute to the victims of the bombing and the members of law enforcement who brought the bombers to justice. 

Mark Wahlberg and director Peter Berg team up yet again to make Patriots Day. The pair previously worked on Lone Survivor and this year’s Deepwater Horizon. If Berg’s filmography proves anything, it’s that he can make halfway decent films about tragic and intense real-life events. Patriots Day follows that very schema. As a director, Berg’s strong suit appears to be depicting the chaos of a tragedy. The techniques he uses in this film are nearly identical to those he used in Deepwater Horizon: shaky cam, intense sound effects, gratuitous gore. Not to say those methods aren’t effective: they’re just simple, expected, and adherent to Berg’s formulaic approach to filmmaking. A major aspect of the film that deviates from Berg’s formula is Wahlberg’s character. Instead of playing the real-life hero of the story, Wahlberg plays a fictional composite character, Tommy Saunders, whose story is the combination of that of several Boston police officers who sprung into action on the 2013 Marathon Monday. Saunders is somehow integral to every stage of the investigation, making Wahlberg seem like the hero of the story. I understand wanting to represent the Boston Police Department as a whole without crowding the narrative, but the use of Saunders makes one officer seem chiefly responsible for bringing the Tsarnaevs to justice. Finding who was responsible for the Boston Marathon bombing was undeniably a team effort executed by the Boston Police Department, the FBI, and the Watertown Police Department. Each part of this whole could’ve been better represented in the film. 

A positive feature of the film is the use of real surveillance footage from the investigation to supplement the narrative about the Tsarnaevs. The two bombers were so well cast that the real footage was used seamlessly. Had I not seen the video before, I likely wouldn’t have known that it wasn’t filmed specifically for the movie. What was problematic about the Tsarnaevs as characters, though, was the sheer volume of dialogue and screen time they were given. The scenes in which they’re shown try to give the viewer a peek into the inner workings of their minds and into the relationship between these two brothers. This is tricky, however, because how much do we really know about these people? Secondhand stories and testimonies from Dzhokhar’s trial can only fuel speculation. I understand the need to flesh out the characters for the sake of making an interesting movie, but they are given a bit more of a spotlight than they should have. 

The most moving part of the film is the final few minutes, which includes clips of interviews with the real members of law enforcement and the real survivors of the 2013 Boston Marathon bombing. These moments show the impact that this tragedy had on real individuals, as well as the City of Boston as a whole. Accuracy should be the main concern in doing a story like this justice, and although some of the sequences were surely dramatized to meet Hollywood expectations, Patriots Day is a fine film that showcases the triumph of those who survived, the bravery of those who helped them, and the resilience of the human spirit. 

Grade: B

In the past I’ve written about what I call the “Big Three” animation studios: Disney, Pixar, and Studio Ghibli. At least in terms of feature films, these three companies dominate the market both commercially and in terms of quality. The various other animation companies either can’t quite match the Big Three in terms of filmmaking skill (such as Blue Sky) or can match it but whose films still remain niche (such as Laika). Illumination Entertainment’s movies tend to fall closer to the former category- many a person over the age of 10 has grown to hate their omnipresent Minions characters. However, their films have been improving somewhat recently, as demonstrated by this year’s The Secret Life of Pets and Sing. 
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In a world of anthropomorphic, talking animals, Buster Moon (Matthew McConaughey) is an eternally optimistic koala who owns a small theatre. Unfortunately, his last few shows have not been very successful and the theatre is in danger of being shut down for lack of funds. Luckily, inspiration has struck him with an idea for a new show: a singing competition. After his secretary (Garth Jennings) accidentally lists $100,000 as prize money rather than the $1,000 he actually has, the whole animal city shows up to audition. The eventual cast for the show includes a domestic housewife pig named Rosita (Reese Witherspoon), an English-accented gorilla named Johnny (Taron Edgarton), the punk-rocker porcupine Ash (Scarlett Johansson), the Frank Sinatra-singing mouse Mike (Seth McFarlane), Rosita’s German-accented pig dancing partner Gunter (Nick Kroll), and an elephant with severe stage fright named Meena (Tori Kelly). But can this group overcome their various personal problems so that the show can go on?

There are two primary things to note about Sing. First: it’s a pretty gimmicky movie. Second: for such a gimmicky movie it’s actually pretty entertaining. For the first point, this entire film is basically if the characters in Zootopia went on American Idol, an analogy completed by the fact that nearly all the film’s musical numbers are covers of Top 40 pop songs from the last five years or so. All of them except for the Sinatra songs by McFarlane, and the occasional classic rock song peppered here and there. The pessimistic part of my brain revolts against the very concept of this movie as a cynical cash grab, and I'm sure that this movie will make an absurd amount of money, not just from itself but also through sales of its soundtrack.

However, I will also admit that Sing is far more entertaining than any movie about singing animals from a B-grade animation studio has any right to be. Regardless of your (or my own) opinion regarding the selections of songs in the movie, all of the voice actors perform them very well. McFarlane was already a known quantity from his time singing Sinatra on Family Guy, but the others prove their own singing chops as well. The film as a whole tough, like most of Illumination’s releases, does still suffer from lower quality compared to films of the Big Three. The fact that this comes out the same year as Zootopia shows how much more effort Disney puts invests in characterization and world-building in a world about talking animals. Zootopia felt like a fully-fleshed out world with complex, interesting characters inhabiting it, while Sing is solely a platform for a karaoke musical with talking animals. 

But like I said, at the end of the day Sing is surprisingly entertaining, all things considered. It’s certainly not for everyone, and don’t go into expecting another Zootopia. But if over the holidays you have some small kids who want to go to a movie, you could do worse than seeing Sing. Just be aware they’ll be begging you to buy the soundtrack afterwards. 

Grade: B-

In his new feature La La Land, Damien Chazelle manages a dual affair between the music from his last film, Whiplash, and classic musical films like The Young Girls of Rochefort, putting them into the roaring improvisations that Sebastian the jazz pianist (Ryan Gosling) can’t contain when told to play from a holiday set list and the studio lots lost in time that Mia the actress (Emma Stone) gazes at from her work across the street (streetlamps roll past painted backdrops of French sunsets while she taps out coffee orders on a giant iPad). Of course, Mia’s dream when she came to Los Angeles wasn’t to be a barista and Sebastian’s wasn’t to play the Christmas classics, so we’re taken through their persistent attempts at making it big to see whether or not Chazelle will end up giving them all they ever wanted.
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His script was originally about a younger pair of aspiring stars settling into LA for the first time, with planning set on casting Miles Teller and Emma Watson. After both dropped out for scheduling and money conflicts, Stone and Gosling were brought in and the characters were aged up significantly to fit the new leads. While a seemingly simple change, this older pairing allows the focus of the story to move from two starry-eyed newcomers’ dreams to examining the type of resilient people who are able to work for years while being denied at every turn, helped along solely by their all-consuming passion. The way these aspects of Mia and Sebastian come out is similar to how Michael Mann handles Jamie Foxx’s Max in Collateral, seemingly on the verge of a breakthrough with saving up money as a cab driver to start his own luxury limo company until Tom Cruise asks him how long he’s been at it. The way his simple reply of “twelve years” can fill our imagination with an endless cycle of night shifts in pursuit of a fading dream is akin to when Mia talks about her six years looking for a role to no avail or when Sebastian’s sister berates him for hanging onto his collections of instruments and records in his run-down apartment in hopes of them eventually filling his jazz club. Naturally, those shared years of failure eventually draw them together, and from here, Chazelle’s liberal reimagining of his inspirations’ love stories combined with the abilities of Stone and Gosling to blend Mia and Sebastian’s lives together without losing their individual personalities define much of the movie’s charm. This marks the pair’s third film acting together as a couple, and by now they have it down to a science, skirting just far enough from the edge of cheesiness to make their kisses and conflicts seem believable without sacrificing the loveable Hollywood schmaltz from those bygone pictures the movie constantly draws from.

As a side effect of how well executed and naturally engaging the duo’s relationship is, the musical aspect of the film occasionally feels like it belongs in another, more theatrical story. There are only six songs with singing spaced throughout the film’s two hours, and the first two come within the opening ten minutes. These are also the weakest of the bunch, placed nearly back to back with little room for the story to give them context as well as visually being overblown set pieces that are easy to feel lost in when compared to the simplicity of the later numbers. Those songs, aside from an exuberant concert Sebastian performs with his musician classmate Keith’s (John Legend) pop-jazz band, act as extensions of Mia and Sebastian’s lives together and are much more intimate, with the duo tap dancing beside a skyline view or singing side by side on a piano bench, but the feeling that each act more as momentary diversions from the main story than scenes with any impact remains until the final two numbers. 

I wouldn’t want to spoil the second-to-last song beyond saying it’s the first that’s both a great musical and story scene, while the finale, playing out in a much more visually expansive style than Whiplash’s intense drummer-conductor faceoff, creates the movie’s most personal moment by using every previous piece of the story in a style that justifies all of their inclusions. While the unevenness of some of those pieces drags the focus out past Mia and Sebastian and so away from the chief strength of the film, the overarching lightness of the story means the movie never becomes unpleasant. Going in knowing as little as possible about the exact events can definitely help you appreciate their conclusion more (I haven’t revealed anything too important here, and if you avoid the trailers like I managed to, you should be alright), and getting to experience the classic-film chemistry of the two leads along with the finely crafted music and choreography allows La La Land to be enjoyed as a journey about managing dreams and emotions as easily as for its sensory pleasures.

Grade: A-

It’s still sometimes hard for me to believe that I now live in a world where there will be a new Star Wars film coming out every year for the foreseeable future. If you had said that to even the most die-hard fan even just a few years ago they never would have believed you. And yet, here we are. It’s been one year since the release of The Force Awakens, and I still stand by everything I said in that review. In particular, I said that 
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“I kept waiting for something new, something different to happen, something I didn’t expect. And that moment never came.”

Well, that moment has finally come. Rogue One: A Star Wars story is a very different movie from what we have come to expect from the franchise, and that is precisely why its great.

It has been nearly twenty years since the fall of the Galactic Republic, and Imperial banners now fly across the galaxy. The New Order affects everyone’s lives- some enormously, some only a little. One person whose life has been irreparably altered by the Empire is Jyn Erso (Felicity Jones), who has lived as an outlaw ever since her mother was killed and her father (Mads Mikkelsen) was abducted by Stormtroopers when she was a child. While serving timing in an Imperial prison she is unexpectedly rescued by members of the Rebel Alliance. They have discovered that the Empire is building some sort of superweapon, and they need her help in order to gather information on it. She is brought into a team that eventually includes Rebel intelligence officer Cassian Andor (Diego Luna), his droid K-2SO (voiced by Alan Tudyk), blind warrior Chirrut Îmwe (Donnie Yen) assassin Baze Malbus (Jiang Wen) and Imperial defector Bodhi Rook (Riz Ahmed). But standing in their way is the project lead on the superweapon, a ruthless Imperial officer named Orson Krennic (Ben Mendelsohn). This superweapon, of course, is the Death Star.

​The single defining feature about Rogue One is how different it is from the other entries in the franchise- it is by far the least Star Wars-y Star Wars movie. Rogue One doesn’t feel like an epic space opera adventure like the other ones do- rather, it feels more like a war film. The tone is significantly darker than is typical of Star Wars. This applies both in the sense that it includes a good deal more physical violence than one would expect from the series as well as some darker themes- there is less idealism here and more gritty reality, as it were. 

Going along with this, unlike the rest of the franchise, Rogue One is not a story about heroes. This is partly because the characters of Rogue One are not heroes: they are rebels, outlaws, and soldiers. There are no Jedi, larger-than-life personalities, no Chosen Ones. But even more than that, it’s not even really a story about people per se. What’s important is not who the individual characters are but what they do, just like war movies which place more emphasis on the mission than the soldiers who carry out the mission. If the other Star Wars films show the epic stories of heroes who will be remembered for ages to come, Rogue One is the story of the ordinary soldiers who made the heroes’ quests possible.

And in my opinion, this is a fantastic change of pace for the franchise that works incredibly well. The Force Awakens felt far too similar to past iterations of the series, but even beyond that all the movies have followed more-or-less the same epic space opera format. Just like the Marvel franchise has expanded when it released Guardians of the Galaxy and Doctor Strange, Rogue One has shown that there is room enough in its franchise more a variety of films, and in some ways seems almost tailor-made to address criticisms of The Force Awakens. Although, this film was always going to feel more unique since this is a story that the franchise has never told before. 

But even beyond the simple different-ness factor, Rogue One simply works as a darker, grittier version of Star Wars. The characters felt much more relatable and human than the nearly-superhuman heroes of the other films. The tone fits very well the setting during the height of the Empire and the incredibly dangerous mission the characters undertake. The technical aspects of the film are all excellent as well. All of the actors perform excellently, though again this is not a film which focuses on characters. Alan Tudyk and Donnie Yen's characters both have a tendency to steal the show during their scenes, the former because his deadpan personality is the only source of comic relief in the film and the latter due the chance to show off his superb martial arts skills. The cinematography is gorgeous, and it contributes to the film’s tone with a darker and more subdued color pallet. 

All in all, Rogue One: A Star Wars Story is an excellent, albeit very different, entry in my beloved, ever-expanding franchise. Although your response to the film will likely depend on whether or not you like the new tone and style of the film compared to the others, I urge you to go into the film with an open mind. Not all stories, even Star Wars stories, are about heroes, and that’s okay. 

Grade: A

2016 film has been quite the year to uncover the multifaceted female psyche. Krisha, Elle, Kate Plays Christine, Toni Erdmann, and now the stellar Jackie explore the unearthed sexuality and trauma that female characters are often forgotten of possessing. Particularly in the case of Jackie, it’s almost criminally forgotten that there were two passengers in the backseat of the presidential limousine the day of John F. Kennedy’s assassination, one whose brains spilled out on the lap of the other. Though director Pablo Larraín (No, The Club, Neruda) doesn’t refrain from showing the horrors of that reality, his focus lies more on the overlooked, quivering trauma that Jacqueline Kennedy endured on her own.

Jackie is structured around an interview the former First Lady gave to famous American journalist Theodore H. White (Billy Crudup) eight days after the assassination. Draped in all white at the family’s secluded Hyannis estate, Mrs. Kennedy (Natalie Portman) takes long drags of her cigarette in between riveting recounts of her relationship with the White House. “Oh, and I’ve never smoked a cigarette,” she says as she lights one up looking White in the eyes, and the film’s humor emanates in these moments where she reminds White that she truly controls what’s written. Her tales begin with the assassination day itself, the real pièce de résistance in White’s eyes, as she was flung onto the Air Force One with the blood of her soulmate still stained on her pink Chanel suit.

Maybe my language is a bit dramatic when referencing these assassination day details, but that dramatic storytelling is where Larraín’s expert vision takes Jackie to transcendental heights. The Kennedy family has always been associated with Greek myth, the Iliad-like carnage and ceremony, the family curse, and even Jackie referring to her husband’s term as a Camelot- the mythologizing of a family made their deaths feel less like aberrations than like fulfillments. Much like Danny Boyle did in last year’s Steve Jobs, Larraín washes away Mrs. Kennedy’s preconceptions by presenting a harrowing tale of a woman whose love was publicly shot right next to her. Cinematographer Stéphane Fontaine’s camera draws attention to her facial responses, her nervous yet graceful Tour of the White House presence, and her more intimate moments where she’s left with nothing to think about but the “pop” sound of her husband’s death. There’s a particularly moving scene where she tries on all her previously worn, now famous dresses in a frenzy while the Camelot soundtrack blares from another room, and she looks in the mirror with a longing at what once was.

A scene like that wouldn’t work without a magnificent performance by Portman. She masters both the hysteria and poise that ran through Mrs. Kennedy’s mind for that nightmare week of her life. I wouldn’t be surprised if Portman slid into the Oscars for Best Actress once again, and it’s even more amusing that her Best Actress wins would both be for characters who themselves are strenuously performing (this and Black Swan). And Portman’s performance wouldn’t stun if it weren’t for the greatest aspect of Jackie, the thunderous Mica Levi score. Levi’s work was most prominently featured in 2013’s Under the Skin, an atmospheric, visually arresting abstraction that can be reduced to “weird horror movie,” so her experience with eerie soundscapes being introduced to a biopic on America’s most elusive first lady is so perfectly fit. 

Even though I brought up the Steve Jobs connection to this year’s Jackie, the comparison between the two I’ve seen in many publications still feels inappropriate. Steve Jobs crafted Jobs into a human by the use of those around him: his ex-wife, his daughter, Wozniak, and his assistant Joanna Hoffman. Jackie, on the other hand, is singularly about Jackie, and nothing or no one else. It’s on purpose that the title doesn’t include her last name, much like the other aforementioned 2016 female psyche-exploring films. Jackie Kennedy will be remembered as one of the most admired women of the 20th century for how she attached moral uplift to one of the most ugly events in American history; through her interview with White and the grand funeral procession she managed that stretched from the White House to the Cathedral of St. Matthew the Apostle. Jackie aims to capture her in exclusively these moments, and what shines past the spotlight is a woman, so keenly aware of her place in history, responding to grief like any other woman would.

Grade: A

​Nine Lives, Shut In and Miss Sloane: these three films are the only ones on EuropaCorp’s release slate for 2016. You have undoubtedly heard of Nine Lives. It’s that film where Kevin Spacey plays a businessman turned into a cat by Christopher Walken, and it is horrendously bad. Shut In was released a month ago and might already be out of theatres, so I wouldn’t be surprised if that film wasn’t on your radar (unless you’re a Stranger Things fanatic, as Jonathan Byers plays a major role in the film). But Miss Sloane is the film that you should see, but probably haven’t heard of, despite its standing as an early Oscar contender. 

Jessica Chastain plays Elizabeth Sloane, a ruthless Washington, D.C. lobbyist whose tactics are ethically ambiguous. Miss Sloane is approached by the gun lobby to help squelch a gun control bill. When she refuses to help them and actually joins the pro-gun control lobby, Miss Sloane finds her reputation under attack by her new-found enemies. The topical subject matter in the film makes Miss Sloane a powerful, timely story that could easily be happening behind the scenes in D.C. right now. The film progresses at breakneck speeds, keeping the sometimes dry political topics exciting. Though it includes some sex and drugs, Miss Sloane does not rely on that to keep it engaging, which tends to be a fault of some lesser films of a similar genre. Using explicit content to liven up an otherwise boring film is cheap and insincere. This film avoids that by injecting the narrative with genuine passion, spearheaded by Chastain’s intense lead performance. 

A House of Cards-esque political thriller, Miss Sloane is as fast-paced and relentless as its titular character. Chastain delivers a powerhouse portrayal of a seemingly heartless and ambitious-to-a-fault lobbyist. As a strong female protagonist, Chastain exudes power and independence, sticking to her convictions regardless of professional consequences. Though Miss Sloane is fighting in favor of gun control, which can be construed as the “correct” side in the context of the film, the film details the depth behind her reasoning for supporting this cause. It explores the dichotomy between fighting for the sake of the cause, or fighting for the sake of the fight. If you support an ethical cause for unethical reasons and in unethical ways, does that make you the good guy or the bad guy? These difficult topics are touched upon in the film, but are left open-ended to allow the audience to decide for themselves.  

Miss Sloane is driven by an anti-hero, who is certainly more anti- than hero. However, it is refreshing to see a compelling female lead who carries the film without relying on a romantic subplot to add substance. In addition, it was a welcome change to have a film featuring politicians that didn’t also include massive explosions, offensive racism, and horrible acting (*cough cough* London Has Fallen). The film is a quality look into the corruption in Washington D.C. and highlights the gray areas that can sometimes be overlooked. With legitimate Oscar buzz around Jessica Chastain’s fabulous lead performance, Miss Sloane is a well-rounded drama that just might pull EuropaCorp out of the gutter. 

Grade: B