The Top 10 GUILTY PLEASURE Movies of the Decade

We have come to our final list of the decade. Previously we discussed our 10 BEST FILMS of the Decade list, as well as our 10 Most UNDERRATED FILMS of the Decade list. Finally, we give you the ultimate list of 10 GUILTY PLEASURES of the decade. These are films that fall into two categories - movies that the general public enjoys that snooty film critics seem to ignore OR just terrible movies in general that you personally like for any non-specific reason. Guilty Pleasure movies don't have to really be discussed. They don't have to really be defended. They're movies that will never win Oscars, but you love them just the same (maybe even more). So, for our last list of the decade - once again, Keith R. Beshwate and I have compiled for you....



(in no particular order....)






The Top 10 GUILTY PLEASURE Movies of the Decade





21 Jump Street Franchise (2012/2014)

Channing Tatum is perfectly fine as a dramatic actor. As an action star. As a sex-god dancer. But the man is a natural in comedic roles, and the 21 Jump Street franchise made that angle in his career possible. Phil Lord and Christopher Miller are responsible for many great films this decade (one of them being in the top 10 on this blog), but I think these films are among the funniest. These are my "they're on TV, watch them" movies of the decade.



MacGruber (2010)

SNL original movies usually fail hard - both at the box office and keeping up the laughs for an hour and a half film based on a three minute sketch. Blues Brothers did it. Wayne's World did it. And MacGruber really fucking did it. It shouldn't have worked. It's one of the stupidest movies ever made. And yet, I find myself on the floor in stitches every time I watch it. What should've been a complete disaster, turned into one of the funniest movies of the entire decade. Must turn brain off to enjoy.


Sing (2016)

There were so many great animated films this decade, but I think Sing is the one I enjoy the most. It's one of the more original animated films of the decade, but takes on a familiar form: ensemble cast competing for a grand prize that (not-so-spoiler) doesn't actually exist. Maybe it's the voices, the characters, the weight of the stakes (which I think are often missing from animated films), but Sing is about community, following one's dreams, and just good for goodness sake.


The Conjuring franchise (2013/2016)

Since the first Saw film, director James Wan has established himself as the best of the best of horror film directors in the last twenty years. But he really came into his own with The Conjuring films (no, I'm not talking about the Annabelle movies or The Nun). Both of these films (and especially number 2) are the reason people go see horror films in theaters. They're goddamn scary. And they know how to scare everyone. There's haunting images, long moments of silent tension, jump scares, fake outs, terrifying monsters, everything. The Conjuring films do horror right and there hasn't been one to do them better in decades.


It Follows (2014)

Someone other than me in this blog post doesn't like It Follows. That person is entitled to their opinion. But I can't think of a film that executes looming fear and horror in a more imaginative way than David Robert Mitchell's tale of promiscuity and loss of innocence. The "it" is always, always following, whether close-up or on the edges of the frame. It's just so intensely terrifying.


This Is The End (2013)

From the mid 2000s to the mid 2010s - the Apatow crew ran the comedy gambit. If there was a comedic film released within that time, chances are it was directed or produced by Apatow and Seth Rogen and crew. This is the End marked the end of that era. It got everyone together to play themselves during the actual apocalypse. If we don't get another film with all of these guys together again, This is the End is the perfect send off. Especially since there was legitimately nothing funnier all decade than the scene of James Franco arguing with Danny McBride about jerking off into his nudie mags.


Neighbors franchise (2014/2016)

Ditto the Channing Tatum comments for Zac Efron, whose insane frat-leader persona makes the Neighbors movies entertaining additions to the Apatow-like comedies of the decade. That's not to say Seth Rogen, Rose Byrne, Ike Barinholtz, and a stupidly-funny Dave Franco don't round out the cast well (along with so many other featured comedians), but Efron's the most engaging. Nicholas Stoller ushered in Forgetting Sarah Marshall the previous decade and outdid himself twice in the 2010s with the Neighbors movies (let's just forget Get Him to the Greek).


The Cabin in the Woods (2011)

On the surface, Cabin in the Woods looked like your average "cabin in the woods" horror movie. A bunch of kids go to a cabin, they're stock characters/stereotypes, they get killed off one by one, until our attractive lead kills the villain and survives. This version IS that movie - but with one hell of a clever twist. The above plot surmounts to about an hour of this film's runtime. The back hour is some of the most ingenious/hilarious/inventive horror comedy I've ever seen in a film in my lifetime. It's hard to market this film since it doesn't want to give away the ending, but if you haven't seen it yet - suffice it to say you will LOVE this movie. It's that brilliant.


Mr. Right (2015)

Have you seen this movie? Do you know about this movie? Do you like action movies? Do you like comedies? Do you enjoy Sam Rockwell (who doesn't?)? Tim Roth? Anna Kendrick? Don't let the regrettable "written by Max Landis" credit deter you from enjoying the hell out of this movie.


Mission: Impossible franchise - the last 3 (2011/2015/2018)

I know. How can I call the Mission: Impossible movies "guilty pleasure"? They're objectively great movies and each one only gets better than the previous entry. But too often they're relegated into "another one of those Tom Cruise movies". But it's so much more than that. They're exciting and entertaining. They capture action shots that are equal parts thrilling and visually stunning. And say what you want about Tom Cruise - the guy is in his late 50s and still doing 75% of his own insane stunts. I never want these movies to end as long as they can keep up the same quality as they've been over the past decade.  


HONORABLE MENTIONS: Don't Breathe, Kong: Skull Island, Drive, 10 Cloverfield Lane, Goosebumps, Every Nicolas Cage movie from 2010-2019

The 10 MOST UNDERRATED Movies of the Decade

You may have already taken a gander at our Top 10 Best Movies of the Decade list that was posted last week. This time around, we're going for movies that are just as good as the ten already listed, but sadly went mostly under the radar. These are films that perhaps slipped through the cracks of your watch list, but deserve your attention just the same. They're all great movies, just not as highly touted and recognizable as the ones on the 10 Best list. And, even if you have seen them, every single one of these films deserves a re-watch, if only to remind yourselves how great they truly are. So, without further adieu, Keith Beshwate and I give you...


(in no particular order...)



The 10 Most UNDERRATED Movies of the Decade




Edge of Tomorrow (2014)

Audiences have a weird relationship with Tom Cruise. If it's not another Mission: Impossible film, they generally write it off. After Cruise made the mediocre Oblivion, Edge of Tomorrow didn't really strike a chord either, with most people relegating it to a cross between a second-rate Tom Cruise film and a blatant Groundhog Day ripoff. However, despite its novelty, Edge of Tomorrow was shockingly enjoyable. It's one of those films that's almost too smart for its own good and has even better re-watch value than most sci-fi. Plus, we can thank it for fully establishing Emily Blunt as a new resident badass.


Obvious Child (2014)

Gillian Robespierre's Obvious Child made small waves upon release. But the film exits now as a lasting testament to women's agency and independence in a world where expectations attempt to force central character Donna (played only as Jenny Slate could) into an all-too-familiar "do the right thing" decision. It's Donna's confrontation and challenge of the norm that makes Obvious Child a beautiful message of empowerment.


The Nice Guys (2016)

Once every ten years, writer/director Shane Black writes and directs a clever noir-action-comedy film, usually with actors you wouldn't expect in the roles he writes. Kiss Kiss Bang Bang was the ferocious Robert Downey Jr. comeback (which, if you liked that movie - this movie is its smokin' hot cousin), and The Nice Guys gives us the unlikely duo of Russell Crowe and Ryan Gosling, two actors certainly not known for their comedy chops. Yet, with an intelligent script and whip-smart and witty dialogue, The Nice Guys is arguably the best comedy of the decade.


The Invitation (2015)

I wrote about Karyn Kusama's The Invitation for this very blog. Did you watch it? I gave it an A-. Not a good enough score? I'd probably give it an A now. In an age where a film's final reveal begs for immediate rewatch, The Invitation's tense draw and horrific third act make it an amazing tale of "confronting reality" (qtd. from the last time I told you to watch this movie).


Nightcrawler (2014)

Nightcrawler was underrated by pretty much everyone, it seems, in 2014 - failing to even produce an Oscar nomination for what is undoubtedly Jake Gyllenhaal's best and most haunting performance. In his directorial debut, Dan Gilroy explores the darker side of the media with this scathing indictment of capitalism and obsession. It's one of the most original and creepy thrillers in recent memory and it deserves more love than it has since gotten.


Take Shelter (2011)

There's rarely a role Michael Shannon can't make his own. As a character actor, he's phenomenal to watch (just look at his pedigree from the last decade). But the film that was his best of the decade is Take Shelter, one in which he plays more of an "everyman" but makes said man's fears and protection of family incredibly palpable. Jeff Nichols' film about a man's decent into supposed madness about an impending mega-storm is a must-watch meditation on faith, morality, and family.



Logan Lucky (2017)

Logan Lucky was such a quiet release, it almost flew under my radar. However, don't be fooled by what looks like a straight-to-cable knock off of smarter heist movies. Logan Lucky is a hilarious and incredibly sharp comedy. And despite its commercial failure, this hillbilly companion to Ocean's 11 holds up as one of the best of the decade. You'd be hard-pressed to find a cast with chemistry as perfect as this - and if you were ever on the fence about Adam Driver or Channing Tatum or even Daniel Craig... Logan Lucky will convince you to become a believer.


Fruitvale Station (2013)

Michael B. Jordan and Ryan Coogler are nearly household names by now. But before Black Panther and Creed, there was Fruitvale Station, the real-life story of the devastating New Year's Eve day of Oakland resident Oscar Grant, shot to death on a BART platform years before the prevalence of smartphone-captured police murders. Jordan and Coogler are now amongst the Hollywood elite, and this film is the reason why.


Dredd (2012)

Dredd failed because no one had faith in a semi-low budget remake of a terrible Sylvester Stallone/Rob Schnieder movie, obviously. But Dredd ended up being the biggest surprise of the entire decade as the film succeeds in almost every way Sly's failed - it's exciting, it's witty, it's visually stunning, it's absolutely batshit bonkers, and it's some of the most fun I've ever had watching a movie in a theater.


20th Century Women (2016)

I'm an absolute sucker for feature films by music video directors (see: Under the Skin, David Fincher, and most Spike Jonze, not so much Her), and I will follow Mike Mills down any road he paves. 20th Century Women is a well-acted, aesthetically endearing cross-generational powerhouse that takes coming-of-age tropes and spins them for all ages, with a great soundtrack/score to boot.


HONORABLE MENTIONS: The World's End, Mother!, Blade Runner 2049, Frank, Inside Llewyn Davis, Good Time

The 10 BEST Films of the Decade

The 2010s brought audiences some amazing and memorable films. It was no easy task going through each year's list of movies and narrowing it down to ten of the best. However, fellow film enthusiast Keith Beshwate and myself did the work for you, so you didn't have to do it yourself! Teamwork! In doing so, we have compiled an accurate and perfect list that flawlessly represents the best of what the last decade has had to offer. So, without any further adieu, we present to you...

(in no particular order)....


THE 10 BEST MOVIES OF THE DECADE




Moonlight (2016)

The bridge of Frank Ocean's "Super Rich Kids" repeats an all-too loaded claim: "Real love/I'm searching for a real love." It appears to be a plea not for the one, but for a one, some sort of real love that's "something rare" to find. This coda echoed in my head during my first viewing of Moonlight, Barry Jenkins' tri-chapter ode to coming-of-age in an age one doesn't belong. It's a breathtakingly ethereal approach to queer identity, toxic masculinity, and black survival, as central figure Chiron remains but an observer in his own world, absorbing its relationships and perennial truths. When Chiron transitions from viewer to actor, he falls in line with cultural and societal expectations; after a decade spent battling his demons, unassailable feelings lead him back to his one true friend and one-time lover. The viewer is left at the end of the film to understand that the true connection is felt, not spoken. Though frequently viewed through the prism of the Academy Awards debacle, Moonlight will outlive that footnote as a testament to growth and voice of a generation searching for, and hopefully finding, "real love".


Whiplash (2014)

Whiplash snuck into theaters with barely a whisper back in 2014. The trailers, if you recall, looked like it was trying to sell an intense drama about... drumming? It wasn't exactly on the average moviegoer's radar. Yet, once it started building buzz, a lack of desire to see it suddenly became an overwhelming need. How could a film about intense drumming really make this big of a cultural dent in the zeitgeist of American cinema? But it all made sense. Whiplash takes the simple story of a young man's desire to appease his drill-instructor of a music teacher by perfecting his musical skills, and uses it to illustrate the payoffs and dangers of artistic ambition, as well as a raw and brutal portrayal of the relationships between master and apprentice... teacher and student. The tension is high and continuously builds, until finally leading to one of the most satisfying conclusions in a film this decade. Backed by a magnetic breakout performance, JK Simmons, after being relegated to bit parts and supporting roles, is finally given his movie to shine. Not only that, he's the reason to watch this film.


Paddington 2 (2017)

"Too pure" is one of those past-decade phrases that should probably die. In all honesty, it should be reserved for only the most adorable pet photos and Paddington 2. As serviceably great a film as Paddington is, its sequel isn't bogged down by the TV-pilot-like setups of background and familiarization. The charm and wholesomeness of Paddington 2 are amped up by a much more interesting and engaging antagonist in Hugh Grant; it's a film that doesn't treat children like they're idiots or adults like they're the parents of idiots. The thoughtful-in-its-own-right plot is surrounded by plenty of engaging visuals and quips, along with the heart-melting emotional beats. It's THE feelgood film of the decade, no pessimists allowed.


Mad Max: Fury Road (2015)

I'm not entirely sure where Mad Max: Fury Road fits in with the OG Mad Max timeline, but suffice it to say Fury Road is the unlikely spinoff/reboot/sequel that was able to circumvent its reboot-ness and wound up as one of the most original and innovative movies of the decade. In an act of madness, director George Miller had the audacity to remake/boot his own franchise and use the post-apocalyptic setting to make way for a shockingly feminist badass feature film. Max may be the titual character, but he's certainly not the protagonist (seriously, he's got like 9 total lines of dialogue in the whole damn movie). No, this film belongs to Charlize Theron. All hail Furiosa as she stomps her boot heel into the teeth of the badland patriarchy (with one fuckin' arm, no less). It's no easy feat to take a franchise that, for decades, has been utterly driven by men, and turn it into a feminist rally cry against a literally male-dominated post-apocalyptic wasteland. What should've been another rinse-and-repeat reboot became an instant classic with actual depth and something culturally relevant to say. And, lest we not forget the fact that the entire movie is literally one long, continuous car chase. From the opening scene you're on the edge of your seat begging for a moment of levity in order to catch your breath that won't come until the roll of the credits. There's also a gimp tied to one of the cars named The Doof Warrior who spits flames from his electric guitar. So...


A Girl Walks Home Alone At Night (2014)

In a decade of genre mashups and blurred thematic lines, no film executes a more perfect landing than A Girl Walks Home Alone At Night. It's a ::takes a breath:: gothic-vampire-Iranian-giallo-spaghetti-western-romance-allegory (paired with an equally genre-non-specific and fucking great soundtrack). Set in "Bad City", writer-director Ana Lily Amirpour takes the viewer on an eerie exploration of how the definition of "bad" is no so black-and-white (see what I did there?) and the difficulty of breaking the pattern of evil (especially regarding the abusive men of the town). Beyond the modern-goth relationship and the modern edge of the Burqa-turned-vampire-cape, the film is most potent in its gorgeous scenery of a town emptied by its self-propelled despair. The film poses an eternal question: is the root of "badness" in the action or the person? It's one you'll have to answer on your own viewing.


Green Room (2016)

Great films resonate on a different level. They ask us to explore things within ourselves we haven't otherwise discovered. Great films make you feel something new. Something real. Something that reaches deep down into you and twists your stomach into knots because while you're watching something on a screen that's completely detached from your own reality - it feels like you're a part of it. That's what happens in Green Room. It takes the simple wrong-place-wrong-time set up and brutally crafts a realistic scenario that, terrifyingly, could easily happen to any of us. In this case it's a punk band who stumbles into the green room of their concert venue at the wrong time, and then subsequently find themselves being terrorized and picked off by a hoard of modern-day neo-Nazi white supremacists (something in 2019 you'd assume wouldn't still be a fucking issue) led shockingly by the great Patrick Stewart in a hauntingly understated performance. These characters, though, are real. Their terror and their fear is felt by the audience because they're not being chased by ghosts or masked killers. These are real villains who exist in our world. Who kill without purpose. And all it takes is a single misstep to put yourself within their sights. It's a brutal film that, on the surface, is a gory grindhouse exploitation film, but underneath it has bones of intelligence and nuance amidst the visceral (and quite literally shocking) violence. Sadly, it's one of Anton Yelchin's final films, but one that does the young man justice and only furthers to showcase what a talented actor he would've continued to be. 


Spiderman: Into The Spider-Verse (2018)

Spiderman: Into the Spider-Verse is, ostensibly, a niche take on a mega-franchise looking to add a few more bills to its coffers; instead, it delivers a captivating adventure for families and cinephiles alike. The film (which I hesitate to call animated, as that cheapens its impressiveness) is arguably the most visually stunning cinema of the decade. The scenery and transitions alone make the film worth a trip to the theater, but add to that a surprisingly intricate plot and heart-aching family dynamics and there is no question - it is ocular ecstasy. The notion of a multiverse, of alternate dimensions fill with alternate yous, is an appealing one, particularly when Miles is joined by a veritable gaggle of Spiderpersons™ uniting to right the present by correcting the mistakes of the past. While technically a part of the Marvel Universe, the movie is a take wholly and uniquely its own, free from the constraints of the expectations we have for Peter Parker. Spider-Verse is a reminder of what creativity can do to revive a seemingly never-ending slog of reboots, revamps, and reimaginings.


Inception (2010)

Christopher Nolan has, thankfully, by 2020, become a household name. Obviously, this is mostly chalked up to his superb Batman trilogy. But what he doesn't get enough credit for are his wholly original films that work equally to entertain as well as challenge the viewer. Inception is the movie in Nolan's 2010-2019 filmography that stands out most to me, but it could just as easily be replaced with Interstellar or Dunkirk on this list and the rationale would still be the same. Nolan is a visionary director who takes great pride in crafting innovative, intelligent and entertaining films. He's firmly cemented into the Hollywood ether his own recognizable style, but even more than that, he's able to craft entire worlds from scratch  - whether they're dream-worlds like in Inception or other planetary worlds like Interstellar. Inception doesn't just try to entertain by showcasing Nolan's skills of creating practical visual effects, but it also takes the time to subvert genre and give us something more cerebral. The mere concept of Inception had no right to be as good as it is, and honestly the sheer complexity of its story could've put the film into the category of "ambitious failure". Instead, it became a cultural phenomenon that audiences went back to see several times, if only to be able to contribute their own speculations and interpretations at the watercooler like it was a damn Star Wars movie. Inception is filmmaking at its best, but it's also enhanced by a cast that directors only dream of compiling together for a single movie (that also isn't produced by Marvel). Inception is one of the best of the decade because Christopher Nolan is the director of the decade.


Get Out (2017)

When I caught the 10:15 AM Friday showing of Get Out its opening weekend in 2017, I was the only one in the theater. For horror films, I like it this way; a private screening enhances what I know will be at the very least a thrilling time. I had no idea then I would go on to watch this film again (and many more agains), passionately argue its merit, include it as a text in my class, and write about it now. I just watched it again, and still, still, I'm finding new-to-me moments of racial commentary and plot perfection. I firmly believe that no film in the last decade uses its runtime more effectively than Get Out. It's expertly shot, well-acted, unpretentious, but most impressively, nearly every line and action is layered. Like the finest literature, Jordan Peele delivers a film that so thoughtfully addresses the problematic dichotomy of the conservative wolf and the liberal fox (X 1964) in the 21st century; modern-day enslavement steeped in simmering-beneath-the-surface racism disguised as casual ally-ship. At one point, our protagonist, Chris, is asked if he believes the African-American experience is better or worse in the modern-day, while staring at the sea of white faces before him, punctuated with a flippant "that's a tough one!" from the (white) patriarch of the home. That the question is asked with naive earnestness alerts both Chris and the audience to the reality of Peele's thesis: subconscious "othering" is as damaging as overt racism and exists more widespread than anyone (specifically "woke" whites) is willing to believe. Get Out is an intense thriller, a damning social commentary, an expertly timed comedy, and an excellent example of the harmony filmmakers should bring to story and theme.



Hereditary (2018)

Holy shit. It's what I said while walking out of the theater and it's what I've said after each subsequent viewing (what kind of demented monster has seen this movie more than once?!). There are other horror movies on this list, but they're able to function as other genres as well as horror. Hereditary is a straight up horror movie. Not just that. It's a fucking masterclass in horror filmmaking (ironically directed by a first-timer). What begins as the classic scary movie set-up manifests itself into a brilliant psychological horror film containing some of the most shocking and grisly moments (you know exactly which parts I'm talking about) ever put on film. Director Ari Aster deepens our fear not just with his unbearable tension and terrifying thrills, but by pairing them with dark aspects of real life - like a family experiencing crippling grief. This, along with a haunting and hypnotizing soundtrack, is the recipe for a perfect horror movie that has haunted me ever since I saw it (anyone else get PTSD when they hear someone do that tongue click noise?). Toni Collette deserves as much of the praise because all of this doesn't work without her chilling performance. She brings an ethos to the character that Aster uses to showcase true pain in his commentary on mental illness and the burdens passed down to us by our parents. His filmmaking instincts and Collette's powerhouse performance have given us not just one of the best movies of the 2010s, but one of the best movies of all time.


HONORABLE MENTIONS: Chef, Parasite, Birdman, Under the Skin, Three Billboards Outside Ebbing Missouri, First Reformed

Aquaman: Khal Me By Your Name

--Written as a Facebook rant allowed to be posted as a review by Guest Reviewer Jason Booth

So check it my people.

My wife and I snuck away to a movie theater and decided for some unfathomable reason to see Aquaman, and these are all the reasons that it was one of the dumbest movies I have ever seen.

First of all, let me just say that we considered a lot of other movies. Vice and Mary Poppins Returns and The Favourite and a couple of other solid choices streamed across our conversational reasoning earlier that afternoon.

Aquaman. 64% on RottenTomatoes. NPR says it's very dumb, but apparently that Game of Thrones' swashbuckler Jason Momoa has a lot of fun in the lead role or something. Sounds like a fun way to relax for a couple of hours, eh fellow new parent? Thor: Ragnarok was fun, right? We enjoyed that one, yes? The Little Mermaid as a live action movie where Ariel just kicks a lot more ass? Eh? Ehhh???

And so, after the hip new restaurant with the Mezcal Cocktails featuring an overwhelmingly confident use of the color mauve in the color scheme, we find ourselves firmly planted in the middle of the XD theater in our carefully pre-selected seats. The theater is only a fifth full, although the bag of sour candy that we've brought with us is bursting at the seams. All these years later and, while the security has improved somewhat, I could still sneak a fucking Shetland Pony into most major American movie houses and those teenage employees wouldn't even cock an under-tweezed brow.

The movie starts out with a skosh of promise. Khal Drogo is fighting some underwater submarine pirates, or, something like that. He doesn't know he's Water Boy yet... or like, he does, but he's pissed at underwater people because they killed his CGI mom, Nicole Kidman, who looks like she's 22 because I dunno. Who cares? It's an action flick! Anyway, it's not the worst thing ever yet. But then very quickly, Water Boy is brought back down to the surface because the water people have decided to wage war on the topsiders (that's us), and they do this by throwing all of our boats back onto our shores and beaches.

TSUNAMI ATTACK! Or... INTENSE LITTERING AND POLLUTION!

But STUPID! JOKES ON YOU SEA PEOPLE! Do they have any idea how many ships we'd lost in the ocean and you just gave it all back to us? Thanks for all the lost treasure you idiots.

Anyway, that was an aside. The movie just keeps getting worse. There is a giant Tron showdown where AquaFellow battles his younger pureblood brother and, don't worry, there is DEFINITELY a humongous Octopus drummer that plays at the battle because it's like a sporting event. You know, like in Ragnarok, but way less interesting and with no Jeff Goldblum to make things quirky-fun. Okay, so, underwater sea people can swim at the speed of fifteen Phelps, and yet, for some reason, they drive around in sea cars and ride on giant sharks and seahorses who literally can't swim faster than they can. There is this one scene where Wet Dude and his new sea princess girlfriend (Amber Heard), Discount Black Widow, are about to crash into a crater of underwater lava as they're escaping the Lost City, and, at the last second, they eject from their sea car (because duh, it's the LX and the LX totally comes with underwater ejection feature, thanks Subaru), and then, just as the car crashes into the lava, they just swim away. Because, oh yeah, they were able to swim this entire time and like, way faster than the car they were just in. This happens over and over again in this film. There are constant ledges and lava pits and things people can fall into, even though, as they show us time and time again, they can all just, ya know, swim away and stuff.

Patrick Wilson is the bad fish guy, which is weird because I thought he was Nite Owl, and Willem Dafoe is also there, and he's like, a secret mentor/good fish guy, but that's also strange because I thought he was the Green Goblin. So basically this is the movie where heroes from slightly better movies trade sides--which I believe is also a perfect example of just how complicated Maritime Law actually can be. Amber Heard is a crappy, red-headed ninja princess. Dolph Lundgren is in the movie and he just looks so tired. It doesn't matter how many Just For Men Red Beard Dye boxes they use on him--he is withering away under that ocean and I really think he should just go back into retirement now. Most of the movie is spent meeting relatively shitty looking Mer-people and various underwater creatures, as if George Lucas was just left alone for a summer to make the fourth prequel that he was never allowed to make, and then they just stole all the characters from some even shittier Gungan island colony that we never asked him to envision.

In the end, do you know why Aquaman wins? Well, it isn't JUST that marvelous hair that flows through the water like a never-ending L'Oreal commercial. You see, he goes on a quest to find a magical Trident--the most powerful trident because it was forged by, I dunno, someone important. Once again, we're talking discount Thor and 99 Cents Store Mjolnir here. Most of the storytelling felt lazier than my inability to look up how to insert an umlaut over that previous spelling of 'Mjolnir'.
Oceanic Hombre eventually finds his Disney spear and now Ursula Nite Owl better watch out! Big random war at the end between the bad mer-people and the good mer-people to decide if they'll go to war with the surface people and in the meantime, all these people on the surface are just standing around like, "What the hell happened to all of our boats? What is going on exactly?" Because no one ever went back to tell them that there was an underwater rager that would eventually decide the fate of humanity going down.

Whatevs.

 The Goodfish Golden Triton Boy beats evil Hard Candy Nite Owl Patrick Wilson on a big surface just out of the water (because he's weaker there or something). Oh also, there was a scene earlier in the film where they met Good Green Goblin to talk and he gave them a treasure chest and they all spoke in an air bubble because some mer-people wouldn't be able to visit a space like that without special suits--OH SHIT HERE ARE SOME ATLANTIC NAVY SEALS WITH SPECIAL SUITS!
That type of stuff fills a good amount of the movie. Water physics that don't quite work. Mer-people and regular people that seem to basically be able to go everywhere. Don't worry what your lungs do--there is a suit to fit your needs, I promise.

But don't worry, Water Dude still talks to whales with his forehead. That still happens.

CGI Nicole Kidman gets to go back to her New Zealand All Blacks Rugby Captain of a lighthouse keeper husband, who never gave up hope that his supernatural underwater wife would return to the broken home she left behind to visit her alcoholic, wharf-dive-bar of a child. And now Khal Drogo finally has his own khalasar, all these years later. Awwwwwwquaman.

Sea Minus

Vice: Cheyn Of Ghouls

--Written by Guest Reviewer Kyle Delaney

It's September 11th, 2001. The scene is the Presidential Emergency Operations Center, an apocalypse-proof bunker untold stories beneath the White House. Alarm sirens are blaring. The confused cross-talk is maddeningly cacophonous. Televisions are cycling through horrific scenes. The second plane has already slammed into the South Tower. No, now the South Tower has fallen. The room is full of ice chewing psychopaths in their own right who've figuratively, or perhaps literally, stabbed colleagues and friends to reach the heights of power they now occupy. One-by-one they're losing their shit over something called the Rules of Engagement before ultimately, inevitably, gladly turning toward and conceding their authority to a stoic sixty-year-old with the physical appearance of the Penguin and the gravelly snarl of Christian Bale's Batman who resolutely, almost pleasantly, decides it's chill to shoot down passenger jets full of innocent people in American airspace. This is the bloodless demeanor of a man who is doing 9/11 and knows he's doing 9/11 well.

It's also your formal introduction to the titular protagonist of Adam McKay's Vice, then-Vice President Dick Cheney (Christian Bale, who is looking cut and sexy as hell throughout the film). Over the next two-plus hours, as we navigate his multi-decade ascent from Midwestern chud hell-bent on setting the world record for DUIs accrued over one human lifespan into his more recognizable form as supreme architect and prime mover of disastrous policies during the worst presidency in American history, we become accustomed to watching him bowl over careerist bureaucrats for whom cabinet appointments, advisory gigs or elected office are but the natural culmination of a life's hard work and dedicated service. Each of them are eventually hamstrung in their quest for influence by some limitation or another: fear of responsibility, fear of failure, fear of being remembered by history as a war criminal. This is the vacuum into which Dick Cheney steps time and time again in a pursuit of power so classic and timeless it'd almost be charming were it not for the horrors it ultimately precipitates, images of which flash across the screen in a timely manner like fits of shared PTSD from our repressed national memory.

With Vice, McKay has essentially conjured Shakespeare's Macbeth, calibrated for a society that thinks reading Shakespeare is lame as shit (an acknowledgement that's made explicit when Dick and Lynne Cheney share a steamy Elizabethan dialogue during one of the many comedic breaks McKay employs to shake the narrative from the moldy spell of the modern biopic). The film is largely successful as political critique because it sticks to established fact and eschews the customary, rote partisan rhetoric of our cursed time in favor of grander themes, thus operating on a frequency many Americans will perceive as apolitical. McKay plays the hits, to be sure, but he doesn't take any cheap shots and, if anything, is unnecessarily gracious in his retelling of events. The players, known and notorious as they may be, are fairly rendered here. Sam Rockwell's portrayal of George W. Bush, especially, strays from popular convention, depicting not so much the big-eared hopeless buffoon of our popular imagination (or the film's trailer), but rather a failson fuckup whose daddy issues are leveraged against his judgement by a more bloodthirsty and profit-hungry inner circle. In the film's most impactful moment, he addresses the American people as Baghdad is carpet bombed. His leg shakes beneath his desk, presumably grasping the godlike capacity of his office and, unlike his Vice, shying from its implications.

For his part, Cheney arrives at his political awakening not by reading books or position papers, but instead by identifying with what can only be considered a 1970s variant strain of big dick energy exuded by then congressional representative Donald Rumsfeld (Steve Carell, who by film's end is truly unrecognizable beneath some stellar makeup work). In a subsequent scene deliberating the ethics of vaporizing poor brown rice farmers half a world away, he asks his mentor, "What, exactly, do we believe?" Rumsfeld responds by laughing in his damn face. The message is clear: the power is the point, who dies or why shall remain to be determined. The most telling scene in the film comes shortly thereafter when Cheney is upgraded to a windowless office in the bowels of Nixon's West Wing and is overcome by emotion immediately recognizable as the same one exhibited by every guy who ever clawed his way to a GED and then washed out of society before being issued a badge and a gun by his local municipal government at age thirty. It's his first taste of pride, and power, and authority. And all at once. A single sip is just not gonna suffice. The career trajectory of the 21st century's own Dr. Strangelove is henceforth cast.

Vice is McKay's second crack at litigating the weighty hellscape of the aughts, following on the heels of 2016's The Big Short - a solid and enjoyable flick about how some Wall Street dipshits deserve to profit off the immiseration of regular schumcks like you and I, while others do not. His latest effort to make a dishwater-ass-looking motherfucker like Dick Cheney a compelling figure features many of the same bells and whistles he employed to make default swaps and derivatives intelligible to people with 620 credit scores. Clever narrative techniques, tangential and oft-comical asides serving to 'splain the more technical plot points or character motivations. It's all here, and the results are pretty decidedly mixed. Where The Big Short introduced a steady stream of soliloquies and celebrity cameos intended to demystify complex financial instruments, the devices employed in Vice are less frequent, conducted more haphazardly, and are absent of any common motif. For every successful gag - such as the fake credits that roll before the fateful third act - there are one or two mini-lectures on some element of unitary executive theory that come across as unfocused and flat. Given how much simpler comedic undertakings - repeatedly trolling the liberal audience by having Cheney suffer something like 20 heart attacks over the movie's runtime, for instance - achieve the same disarming effect, it's difficult to say whether the hits are worth the misses in this regard.

Despite the unnecessary gimmicks, the at times overly expository narration, and the frenetic pacing that manages to muddle what should be a simple and direct extrapolation from the Bush and Cheney years to our cruel and unusual present, the writing is ultimately too good and the cast too talented not to win over the viewer. All reservations are eventually diffused, if only through attrition. And that's right when McKay yanks the lure. Feeling warm and fuzzy watching Cheney console his daughter after she confides to her parents that's she's gay? Think at his core the old bastard's actually an alright guy for sticking by her even as Bush pushed a constitutional amendment to ban same-sex marriage? Cool, because after that you get to watch him sell her out for maybe the most inconsequential gain in American electoral politics: a fucking WYOMING HOUSE SEAT! You then watch as Iraq unravels and descends into sectarian bloodshed and pointless violence. Cheney covers his ass by shitcanning his sensei as he cowers on the phone in an unmarked Pentagon storage closet. He almost dies from yet another heart scare. At his lowest point, he's lustily booed by a stadium full of Nationals fans. He's collecting L's at a breakneck pace and you've turned on him even before he confirms to Martha Radditz that yes, the wanton violence and torture and kidnapping and chaos unleashed on an undeserving and innocent people was worth it. You're booing him, yourself. You're throwing your popcorn. Fuck, this guy really sucks!!

Cheney then turns left from the interview chair, breaks the fourth wall, and in a style that's too Frank Underwood not to notice or be creeped out by, implicates the viewer for what has, until this, the closing moments of the film, indeed felt conspicuously absent: their complicity. Almost nothing in Vice conveys the kind of gnashing vitriol and desire for blind, broad-scale vengeance that was ubiquitous in the wake of September 11th. We've been allowed to forget, to convince ourselves it never happened or, even if it did, at least it wasn't us. That is until Cheney, in an invigorated growl that lands like a clean right hand on our outstretched chins, reminds us of the painful truth that we chose him (twice, actually!) It's jarring and terrifying. Yet, when he continues on about how easy it is to judge him now, how the evil people who want to do us harm are still out there, and how he doesn't regret for one second taking every step necessary to keep American families safe, you kind of start to lose him. The words, and even by this point, the conviction with which they're recited are as familiar as any psalm you've heard a hundred times or more. But you also know the score. And you wonder whether killing another million women and children will finally make us safe?

George HW Bush once said that 9/11 made Dick Cheney crazy, just pushed him off the deep end. And maybe it did. It would certainly be the most relatable and humanizing thing about him. For his many faults, Cheney is at least on the record, which is more than can be said for you or I or our uncles who, in 2005, definitely said we should just nuke Fallujah and Mosul, but denies it now. To borrow a phrase: Dick Cheney didn't change, the times did. We did. By electing in 2008 the one candidate who was too young to have been able to vote for the Iraq War, and 8 years later Cheney's conflict had definitely not expanded into Libya, and Syria, and Yemen. Vice reminds us what Americans are capable of when we come together as one nation, portraying something deeper and more damning than we expect at the box office window.

B

Tully: Visual Birth Control

--Written by Guest Reviewer Ashley Green

PAUSE!!!!!

THERE ARE SPOILERS IN THIS REVIEW!!!!!

HOWEVER!!!!!

THEY DO NOT NECESSARILY SPOIL THE MOVIE. IN FACT, I BELIEVE THEY ENHANCE THE MOVIE-GOING EXPERIENCE.

BUT!!!!!!!!!!!

IF YOU PREFER NOT TO SPOIL THE FILM FOR YOURSELF... JUST READ THE FIRST TWO PARAGRAPHS.   


I'm not a mom, but I thought I'd like to be one someday. After seeing Tully, that day... is... far, far, far away... beyond sight... if it even still exists.

Tully is not a feel-good movie. Tully will gut punch you with the realness of motherhood and then laugh at you because you were dumb enough to think it's all cute baby clothes and an occasional shitty diaper. Tully will make you feel bad for all the moms ever.

Marlo (m-fing Charlize Theron-- God bless everyone) is an overwhelmed, totally exhausted mother of three... well, two in the first twenty minutes of the movie. Her husband, Drew (Ron Livingston, who is aging decently if you were wondering), is an aloof and absent dude. Not a terrible guy, but definitely not in the top percentile of husbands or fathers. The two have been drained by life. The film opens with Marlo brushing (with an actual brush) the body of her son Jonah, a therapy technique she discovered, meant to help with his "quirkiness". This "quirkiness" is arguably Asperger's, but it's never confirmed in the film. Also, I'm not a doctor. But I'm like 85% sure it's Asperger's. I was raised by a childhood behavioral therapist. Not because I was in a facility or anything, that was just my aunt's job. Whatever. I'm pretty sure I'm right.

Marlo's day-to-day life is stressful. Even sitting in the audience, knowing what I was watching was just an effing movie, my anxiety was on par with hers. She is constantly going. Whether it's getting her kids from point A to point B, breaking down over Jonah's meltdowns, or listening to Jonah's principal telling her that he needs an aide or needs to leave the school. Marlo is consistently at a 10. Or rather, life around Marlo is consistently at a 10. And she's pregnant.

Even the time she tries to take for herself is sad. There's a scene with Marlo at a coffee shop, trying to order a decaf coffee and some asshole lady informs her that there are "trace amounts of caffeine, even in decaf", but Marlo doesn't care. Then, the asshole lady is outraged that Marlo ordered it anyway. THEN Marlo's ex, the totally hot Violet, bumps into her and is clearly horrified by what has become of Marlo. And Marlo is clearly horrified of what she's become as well. Side note, I AM LIVING FOR BISEXUAL CHARLIZE THERON.

After visiting her extremely wealthy brother (Mark Duplass) and his we're-better-than-you-guys-and-we-know-it family, we find out that Marlo and Drew weren't planning on having a third kid and Marlo's brother can see that she's not particularly overjoyed about it. So, he gives her the number of a "night nanny", a person to take care of the newborn overnight so she can actually get some sleep. He tells her that he'll pay for it, and that she needs to take care of herself. Marlo stares at him and I want to give all of the awards to the person who painted on those dark circles under her eyes.

CUT TO: the birth of her third child.

It's a quick montage of what some movies draw out. Her water breaks, she and Drew go to the hospital, she's in the designated birthing room, she's screaming because she's having a baby, etc. The thing is, throughout all of these quick scenes, Marlo doesn't say anything, and Drew really doesn't either. It feels like, to them, this is just another thing to get done. When we see Marlo after she's given birth, she's indifferent to the baby next to her and Drew has fallen asleep in the chair. She gets out of the hospital bed and walks toward the bathroom, her adult diaper the main focus of the shot. I could feel my own vagina sewing itself shut.

After countless nights of taking care of her newborn and dealing with her two very young children, Marlo caves. She's no longer above her hoity-toity brother's night nanny gift.

Enter Tully.

Tully (Mackenzie Davis who is so cute I want to SCREAM) is basically an overbearing hipster, but she's sweet and she's kind and she makes everything better. Marlo's life changes drastically. She's laughing again. She's having fun. She's playing with her kids and enjoying life and dressing up Tully in an old school diner waitress outfit and then letting Tully bang the shit out of her husband, but it's fine! Marlo's there too and she's giving direction! Everyone is happy! Tully's existence in Marlo's life is actually really beautiful to watch. Mackenzie Davis and Charlize Theron have such good chemistry that it's like seeing a genuine and real friendship unfold. While Davis' character isn't very dimensional, she pulls depths from Theron's and helps to create a fleshed out, whole version of Marlo.

Of course, whatever happiness we're given in this movie is quickly taken away because duh. Tully arrives one night riled and upset. She convinces Marlo to out with her and party. They spend the night in New York, driving through Marlo's old neighborhood, drinking, and attempting to drunkenly visit Marlo's ex, Violet. It's a whirlwind of drunk emotion centered on the life Marlo lived before getting married and having kids. After some sad and destructive moments between the two, it's revealed that Marlo's maiden name is, in fact... Tully.

We were Palahniuk'd, people! It's Tyler Durden all over again. Although it isn't very surprising, it doesn't feel cheap. It actually works for the movie. Without Tully, we wouldn't really know Marlo. We would have been stuck in a ceaseless, mundane insanity without ever getting to understand what is beneath Marlo's Postpartum depression and why her depression exists in the first place. What Tully brings to the table is an intimate and heartbreaking look into mental health. It enhances the moviegoing experience, which is why it's a spoiler, but not like a, you know, Avengers-spoiler.

This movie was good. It was really, really sad, but it was good. Charlize Theron is such an incredible actor and your heart will be all kinds of broken when you leave the theater. I think any and all types of moms will like watching it because it probably captures the loneliness of motherhood. I think anyone who wants to be a mom should watch it because we are all naïve and dumb and know nothing of motherhood. I think expectant mothers should maybe not watch it because if I had a kid in my gut and saw that life play out in front of me... needless to say, I'd be really stressed out.

B

What Happened After?: Volume 1

Guest contributor Ashley Green is here to give us a bit of insight into our favorite movie couples. Most of us assume that once the cameras stop rolling and the credits end, the two lovers live "happily ever after". However, Ashley is here to dispell the rumors and give out some much needed truth--



DANNY AND SANDY:

  

Apparently there are quite a few theories regarding Sandy and Danny and what became of them. After searching around the Internet and deciding that the theory of Sandy and Danny actually being dead throughout Grease was appealing, it's too easy. Almost as easy as throwing these two in a flying car and calling it quits.

WE LAST SEE DANNY AND SANDY:

In a 1949 Wayfarer Convertible, literally flying away from the school carnival, happily in love.

WHAT HAPPENED AFTER:

When that 1949 Dodge Wayfarer Convertible landed, it crashed violently into the real world. 
It turns out that after adopting a completely different personality in order to be loved by Danny, Sandy also adopted a bad hallucinogenic drug problem. Her new cigarette habit, while seemingly innocent, was in fact something much more sinister.

Sherms - as some kids call them - or cigarettes dipped in PCP - were her drug of choice. What appeared to be Sandy and Danny riding off into the sky in a 1949 Dodge Wayfarer was actually Sandy and Danny barricaded in the fun house, Danny in a fetal position while Sandy, brandishing a rusted pipe she tore from the wall, threatening to murder Danny if anyone got too close to their “new home”.

It took 14 hours for Sandy to come down from her PCP high. When she was finally lucid, she realized that she had beat Danny to death. Later, Sandy would realize that maybe it wasn’t entirely the PCP’s fault she killed Danny. Sandy had forsaken who she really was for some greaser dickhead and perhaps her subconscious was just not having it.

Sandy is currently in her 80s, living comfortably in a California mental institution, sometimes suffering from PCP flare-ups due to the excessive amount she ingested in the 50s.

She is the most feared resident.



JOHNNY AND BABY:

1963 was a terrible year for anyone who wasn’t a middle to upper class white person (specifically a man), but luckily, Frances “Baby” Houseman checked enough boxes to be able to take a trip to the Catskills with her wealthy family. It was there, in the heart of the southeast New York wilderness, that Baby’s soul found the one it loves (Jesus 6:9 or something). Johnny Castle, the sensitive bad boy with writhing hips and a mild anger problem, bumped and grinded his way into Baby’s heart.

The collision of Baby’s pubic bone with Johnny’s created a tear in space time, and from this rip in the Universe’s fabric, we were given the gift of True Love. That’s the only reason it exists, people.

WE LAST SEE JOHNNY AND BABY:

In the middle of an auditorium, swaying to "(I’ve Had) The Time of My Life", a 1987 hit playing in the early 60s.

WHAT HAPPENED AFTER:

It had only been three weeks at a strange resort in the Catskills where all of the rich Caucasians in the area came to dance and play cards, but Johnny and Baby knew their love was eternal. Baby, recognizing Johnny’s new unemployment and homelessness, begged her father to allow Johnny to stay in their guest house, just until he could get back on his feet. Her father may have been relieved to know that the dude banging his teenage daughter wasn’t responsible for the bastard fetus that a non-doctor attempted to extract from Penny Johnson (Johnny’s platonic BFF) resulting in her near death experience, but like, he wasn’t THAT relieved.

So after a hard no, Baby, now fully invested in her love for Johnny, declared that they would wed and her father would HAVE to accept Johnny then. They drove to the nearest courthouse that afternoon and left as Mr. and Mrs. Johnny and Baby.

Baby’s father never fully accepted Johnny, but whatever. Baby and Johnny were deeply, incredibly, unbelievably in love and they had the best sex to ever be had on planet Earth. Baby didn’t join the Peace Corps and didn’t go to college because she had Johnny and she had Johnny’s wiener and really, does anything else matter? So she worked at a lot of diners, and Johnny taught a lot of dance lessons, but they finally saved enough to open their own dance studio in New Jersey.  It was a mild success.

They had enough money to pay their bills and fill their fridge, and really, that was enough for them. Their love was pure and primal and everlasting. Also, banging almost 24/7.

Baby and Johnny were happy and they stayed happy well into their 50s. Eventually though, all good things must come to an end and Johnny died tragically of pancreatic cancer, leaving Baby drowning in grief that caused her to make a terrible plastic surgery choice that ultimately gave her the nose she always wanted, but stripped her of the face that everyone she knew recognized.

Baby, alone, friendless, and without a family, decided to finally pursue her dream of joining the Peace Corps.

She’s currently 72 years old and the best dancer in Uganda.





CARLOS AND NICOLE:

 

It’s early 2000s California where no bras, dirty hair, and baggy jeans are all the rage among the burn-out high school girls who embody white privilege. What a perfect time to be alive for Nicole Oakley. She stinks like stale booze and sweat and she hasn’t showered in a week. Nicole is a musky whirlwind of self-destruction and poor choices. Successful, smart, good looking athlete Carlos Nuñez, who busts his ass every day to attend the same prestigious high school that Nicole basically shits all over day in and day out, is immediately drawn to her BECAUSE DUH.

After a series of events which always end with Nicole pants less and crying and Carlos rescuing her, Nicole becomes aware that the world doesn’t revolve around her and the choices she makes affect the one person she cares about most: Carlos.

It’s around this time Nicole and Carlos take a shower together, and I only mention it because it’s such a relief as a viewer to see Nicole practicing some sort of hygiene. That being said, she remains greasy the remainder of the film.

I get being attracted to crazy. I’ve gone out of my way to get closer to crazy people. Ryan asked me to marry him knowing full well how nuts I am. I get being attracted to crazy. But Carlos takes it to a whole other level.



WE LAST SEE CARLOS AND NICOLE:

Driving along what appears to be the PCH, snuggling and smiling, Nicole greasy as ever and Carlos willfully ignorant to the chaos his future held.

WHAT HAPPENED AFTER:

Carlos graduates and Nicole gets her GED. Carlos enlists in the Navy, goes off to basic training, and Nicole loses her shit. She attempts to burn down her own house.

After being 51-50’d, Nicole is able to work out her emotions with a shrink and waits the remaining 8 weeks of Carlos’ basic training in the hospital.

After her eleventh visit (in a span of a week) to the naval base where Carlos had been stationed, Carlos insisted that Nicole regularly see someone about her issues. She agreed, and stabilized herself with a prescribed cocktail of lithium and diazepam. She then decided it would be best to focus on her photography while allowing Carlos to acclimate to his new role as a Navy pilot. This was a short lived idea.

Nicole quickly ditched her meds, went into a manic spiral, and was arrested outside of the naval base at 3 o’clock in the morning after attempting to break in.

Thanks to his charming personality and ability to make friends easily, Carlos had enough connections already to handle the situation and bail Nicole out of YET ANOTHER MESS. And, like all of her messes before, Nicole reeled Carlos in with tears and self-deprecation, guilting him into forgiving her and staying in the relationship.

Although Carlos seemed to be understanding of yet another Nicole breakdown, Nicole had become paranoid that Carlos would eventually leave her because of her psychotic behavior and poor hygiene. She had secretly poked holes in the condom they used that night during make up sex. Out of guilt and his sense of responsibility for Nicole, Carlos proposed to her after she announced her pregnancy.

Both in their mid thirties, Carlos and Nicole are recently separated parents of three.  Although they are currently living in different houses, Carlos often spends the night over at Nicole’s. He just can’t stop loving her beautiful craziness.

Nicole is pregnant with their fourth child.

Justice League: Learned Lessons And Bastardizing Batman

--Written by Guest Reviewer Matthew Martin-Hall

I’m tempted to simply give Justice League an A+ and say, “It was the best film I’ve seen since Pulp Fiction!” Since, in agreeing to do this review (read: begging a somewhat apathetically appreciative Ryan to let me do it.), Ryan said that if I come at you all with my typical “Batman can do no wrong”/must defend the superior DC Universe bravado, he’d have to go see it himself and provide a balance to my bias. A bias so strong that I actually and whole-heartedly defended the Batman V. Superman film, which predicates the much needed successful recovery of the entire franchise with this film. And I think it is such a recovery despite what that broken Rotten Tomatoes system you all worship like scripture, says. So, Ryan, stop reading right here and go see Justice League.

On that same note: if it’s at all quelling (in regards to the intensity of my aforementioned bias) I will say this directly; if for no other reason than to give those I may know the courage to continue this review, those whom are very aware of my religious belief in Batman’s infallibility, Batman was the Absolute. Worst. Part. Of. This. Film. This Batfleck/Snyder bastardization and perversion of a poorly executed homage to one of the most iconic renderings of the Dark Knight should retire their mantle and find a way to get someone else into it quick. This isn’t Miller’s Batman. This isn’t the cat herding leader (and three time destroyer) of the Justice League. This is another case of trying to be too much with much too little (see: Batman V. Superman).  

I digress.

Please take the time now to return your jaws to the upright and locked position and settle your eyes back into their sockets. Structurally, the film is sound. They hit all of the necessary beats whilst juggling all of the complex narratives and arcs (Only two of which have been told in solo films) rather elegantly, with only a few moderate and passable clunks. Clunks, might I add, that are hard to catch because so much of what’s going on onscreen is the 100% pure fruit juice of badassery (not from concentrate). I’ll admit, the reviews I'd heard coming into this film painted for me a dismal return to form in terms of this slow burn formula that has marred this franchise-- a franchise that tends to risk too much cinematically for it’s consistently lackluster return. If what this film gives us is indicative of the direction they’ve decided to take, DC truly has learned their lesson when it comes to lengthy and elaborate expositions and near surrealistic story structure (see: Suicide Squad and Batman V. Superman). This was comforting to witness. 

In Whedon’s name, we say thank you.

Now, one doesn’t cut a full hour out of a film and not make some strategic sacrifices. Suffice it to say some of the dialogue was a bit “on-the-nose”, but those lines came and went relatively unnoticeably. Jokes landed flush, breaking up the brooding darkness of the tone expertly, all typically being followed by moments of intense and well choreographed action. Each scene left me feeling satisfied as if this film were a plate of desired elements that satiated my cravings as both a filmmaker and consumer with every nicely proportioned bite.

The villain, Steppenwolf, was vague and cliché most of the time. This didn’t bother me much either as Steppenwolf is a pretty vague and cliché villain anyhow. The way I see it, if you didn’t have a problem with the villains in the original Independence Day, you shouldn’t have a problem with him. Let’s be honest here, this film is less about struggling against an overwhelming power and more about getting the band together. An easily explained villain allows this to be accomplished seamlessly without succumbing to the latter stated travesty of over-explaining things to the detriment of the film's flow. He didn’t bother me. I believed in the existential threat he provided that catalyzed the necessity and subsequent formation of The Justice League. I believed the Justice League (with a furious exception to Batman.). All boxes were checked. 

All-in-all, I was impressed with this film in the way that one is impressed with an Olympic gymnast whom recovers well on the balance beam. I also believe that this “judging on recovery” approach is the best lens through which we should view this film.  Batman V. Superman was a messy piece of cinematic risk that all but flattened this entire franchise's chance in the market. Batman V. Superman created the scope of justifiably dismal expectation that predicated this film. Honestly, it inspired me to have a drink beforehand and buy two more at the theater. But I had a moment with Justice League about half an hour in. See this well: 

My hand shaking with cautious optimism as I raise a second saison to my lips.

We’re on Themiscyra. Hippolyta and the Amazons confront our freshly revealed villain in an epic display of resistance and courage. At the very moment that Hippolyta releases a signal arrow, my eyes well up and I nearly shed a tear. My cautious optimism receded into a kind of faithful knowing. For the first time in this DC Universe, I was able to let go, lean in, and enjoy the film. I didn’t have to worry about the excuses I would surely have to make later to sorely misguided Marvel fans; nor did I have to concern myself with justifying the choices made by some fucker named Snyder. Though I’ve said so much already, I don’t think this one really needs my words. It stands on it’s own.  

What I wanted more of: A Batman I could care about that I could believe would lead The Justice League. Better dialogue choices (or no dialogue at all). The notorious flirtmance between Diana and Bruce. Commissioner Gordon. Aquaman and Amazonians (in their armor circa Patty Jenkins' Wonder Woman)… Yes, I honestly wanted more Aquaman. And Patty Jenkins.

What I wanted less of: A Batman I couldn’t care about nor believe could lead The Justice League. Batman using a fucking gun. Batman forgetting he’s a ninja and the greatest detective in the universe. Batman… If you’re going to fuck up Batman, make it quick. Some of us need to believe that his persona is salvageable from the mired depths of your grotesquely obvious lack of canonical knowledge concerning such a legendary hero. Affleck. Snyder. 


Finally, three things to note:

1. DO NOT EVER fucking give Batman a gun and have him say that his super power is “being rich”… EVER!
2. If you are going to clap and cheer for Lanterns, but not do the same for Wizards, y’all need to brush up on your comic knowledge. 
3. Stay after the credits. All my 70's Super Friends Cartoon loving friends are going to nerdgasm all over that theater. Yes, it is that good. 

B-