‘Michael Moore in TrumpLand’ Isn’t About Donald Trump

Review: ‘Michael Moore in TrumpLand’ Isn’t About Donald Trump

The filmmaker in a still image from “Michael Moore in TrumpLand,” released in a surprise sneak preview Tuesday night in Manhattan. Credit Dog Eat Dog Films

If the news that the documentarian Michael Moore was releasing a surprise film called “Michael Moore in TrumpLand” had you expecting a rollicking, full-force attack on Donald J. Trump, prepare to be disappointed. Mr. Moore, one of filmmaking’s best-known provocateurs, seems to be decidedly uninterested in provoking anyone with this new offering, which had its hastily arranged premiere Tuesday night at the IFC Center in Greenwich Village. The film is not an attack on Mr. Trump, but instead a paean to his opponent in the presidential contest, Hillary Clinton.

Review: ‘Independence Day: Resurgence’

Review: ‘Independence Day: Resurgence’ Will Make You Wish Humanity Would Just Give Up

On July 2nd, they arrive. On July 3rd, they strike. On July 4th, we fight back. On June 24th, 2016, we…wish they had won.

In the summer of 1996, Roland Emmerich’s “Independence Day” reinvented the alien invasion genre for the blockbuster era, using newfangled digital technology to make a B-movie big enough to bring the whole world together. Its reputation may be overinflated by millennials who subsist on a steady diet of their own petrified kitsch, but Emmerich’s war of the worlds has nevertheless come to represent a type of full-bodied studio spectacle for which we all ought to be nostalgic. In fact, the self-described “master of disaster” seems really pissed at the people who aren’t. His lazy insult of a sequel — threatened since the day the first movie first cast its long shadow over America’s multiplexes — is ultimately nothing more than a giant middle finger to a generation of ungrateful moviegoers who didn’t appreciate how good they had it: “If you ingrates thought that was bad,” Emmerich cackles from behind the camera, “you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

Every generation thinks that things were better in their day, but — if alien invasion movies have taught us anything — it’s that some warning signs shouldn’t be ignored. When considered in respect to the original, “Independence Day: Resurgence” is an immaculate case study in how far blockbusters have fallen. Where “Independence Day” had a wide cast of charismatic actors, “Resurgence” plugs in their Costco brand generic counterparts. Where “Independence Day” exhibited the patience of classic studio filmmaking, crescendoing to the alien attack by wracking up the tension for more than an hour, “Resurgence” scrambles for its money shots as though it’s afraid that audiences might click away to something more interesting. Where “Independence Day” was written with the gusto of a game-changer and the scale of an extinction-level event, “Resurgence” unfolds with the cynical grace of a cash-grab and the stakes of a shareholders meeting.

The first movie showed the world something it had never seen before; this sequel shows the world something we hope to never see again. As satellite technician David Levinson (Jeff Goldblum, bless his heart) ominously intones before the aliens drop Singapore onto London: “What goes up must come down.”

Except, that’s not true, because one of the first things we learn in the movie (via the blunt force trauma of embarrassingly transparent exposition) is that gravity no longer applies in a world graced with alien technology. When the slimy invaders retreated back into space after the events of the previous film, they left behind the tools required for humans to rebuild their planet and create a defense base on the moon. But that knowledge has come at a cost: Those who survived close encounters with the extraterrestrials are plagued by the same terrifying nightmare, and all of their children have matured into adults with no discernible personalities whatsoever (that’s an observation, not a plot point).

While President Whitmore (Bill Pullman, delegating 95% of his performance to his beard) obsessively draws a symbol that looks like the power button of a laptop, his grown daughter Patricia (“It Follows” star Maika Monroe, controversially replacing Mae Whitman) stands behind him and looks conventionally attractive. We’re told that fight pilot Steven Hiller (Will Smith) died in a training mission between films (sure, why not), but don’t worry because his step-son, Dylan — a child in the first film, now an adult played by Jessie T. Usher — has replaced him in the cockpit.

“Independence Day: Resurgence”

A quick note about Dylan Hiller: In a movie featuring spaceships the size of the Atlantic Ocean, his truly staggering dullness might be the most unrealistic detail — the character displays less charm over the course of these two hours than Will Smith’s actual son packs into his average tweet. Say what you will about Big Willie’s recent career moves, but his absence leaves this movie with a cratering hole of charisma. Big movies need big personalities to power them, and watching Usher and Hemsworth try to carry a large chunk of this studio tentpole is like watching someone try to fuel a race car with two AA batteries. There’s been a lot of talk about how brands are the new celebrities, but “Resurgence” is gallingly dull proof that the star system was a galaxy worth saving.

We never learn who begat renegade pilot Jake Morrison (Liam Hemsworth), but we can only assume that his parents were an Abercrombie catalogue and an errant piece of plywood that Emmerich found on set.

Anyway, some ominous crap happens, all of which suggests that the two decades between the two “Independence Day” movies was a lot more interesting than what happens in this misbegotten sequel (there’s a strong “District 9” vibe to how human civilization — and one African tribe in particular — has engaged with the aliens who were left stranded on our planet, but the film brushes right over it). And then, 20 years to the day since the first wave arrived (what are the odds!), the invaders return with a vengeance.

When the carnage starts, it feels like the work of a guy who has destroyed the world so many times that he’s completely lost sight of how insane it would be to watch the apocalypse firsthand. Never in the history of cinema has global annihilation ever felt so weightless and routine — one established character dies in the background of a wide-shot during the first act, but Emmerich cuts away with such a hilariously pronounced degree of indifference that the moment bypasses “cold” and moves straight on to “rude.” Special effects have emptied filmmakers of their empathy, so inured to leveling Earth’s cities that they’ve forgotten what carnage really feels like. Dr. Manhattan may have evolved into a God, but he sure would have been a terrible director.

Only in its craziest, chintziest moments does “Resurgence” recapture the B-movie spark that made the original so much fun. Without spoiling the story’s only unpredictable digressions (this subplot is hatched very early on), it can be said that humans are confronted with a second extraterrestrial force in this film. And it. Is. Hilarious. A mysterious space MacGuffin that feels as though it was beamed directly from an episode of “Mystery Science Theater 3000,” this nameless white sphere exists for no other reason than to map a broader Independence Day Cinematic Universe.

But the corporate transparency of its purpose is completely eclipsed by the goofiness of its role in the plot, and the breathtakingly stupid dialogue it inspires. It’s also worth noting that the fate of the (newly rebuilt White House) results in a sight gag that’s worthy of Pixar. Twenty years and $200 million in the making, and that’s what we’re left with.

That, and a valuable lesson that you can read between the lines: Nostalgia is a powerful thing, but just because you ache for the past doesn’t mean that the present isn’t significantly worse.

Grade: D-
“Independence Day: Resurgence” is now playing in theaters across this doomed planet.

source: indiewire

Warcraft

Warcraft Is Ridiculous, But Paula Patton Is Not

Warcraft

The true horror of this film is that it features a roster of actors who shouldn’t have to resort to this sort of thing

Despite what you may have heard, Warcraft—a movie based on the staggeringly popular series of video games—is neither the worst movie ever made nor the greatest. Its director, Duncan Jones (Moon, Source Code), actually knows what he’s doing, and the story hangs together surprisingly well, considering that the movie’s official synopsis opens with “The peaceful realm of Azeroth stands on the brink of war as its civilization faces a fearsome race of invaders” and ends with “From opposing sides, two heroes are set on a collision course that will decide the fate of their family, their people, and their home.” You try making a movie out of that while keeping a straight face.
Still, there are a few things in Warcraft to enjoy, at least in a pointing-and-grunting sort of way: Women characters flounce around in abbreviated animal-skin outfits almost glammed up enough to look at home Roxy Music album cover. The Azerothians, if that’s what you call them, strut around in silly but not-wholly unattractive medieval-faire garb, while the heavily CGI-enhanced Orcs—those would be the invaders, the most memorable of whom is Toby Kebbell, as the principled warrior Durotan—are bulked-up in a repulsively fascinating way. They stomp around on their heavy, beefy feet, looking perpetually a bit forlorn and perplexed, thanks to the specific dental characteristic they all share: underbite fangs.
Still, the Orcs aren’t a wholly uncivilized people. Their big problem is that they’ve come under the rule of a despot, which is why they’re on the rampage in the first place. Left to their own devices, they have some intricate societal rules, and they’re affectionate toward their children. That doesn’t mean there isn’t room for improvement: They show a fondness for over-accessorizing that would make even Iris Apfel blanch. Fave style accents include multiple facial piercings, necklaces made of bones and animal teeth, and hippie braids threaded through beads. Apparently, they’ve never heard of Coco Chanel’s apocryphal style rule: “Look in the mirror before you leave the house and remove one accessory.” Or even just: “Elegance is refusal.”
Anyway, that kind of visual insanity—plus a few crazy battle sequences—are the things that make Warcraft almost worth watching, if you still find yourself at loose ends after you’ve given the dog a bath, organized 10 years’ worth of tax returns and completely moth-proofed your closet. The true horror of Warcraft is that it features a roster of actors who shouldn’t have to resort to this sort of thing. In China, the film made $45 million on its opening day, so anybody who gets a cut of international box office profits will be laughing all the way to the bank. Even so—what is Dominic Cooper, perfectly fine in pictures like The Duchess, An Education and The History Boys, doing shambling about in sub-King Arthur gear? Seeing Ben Foster playing a magickal Merlyn-Gandalf hybrid (who isn’t even, by the way, enough of either) is dispiriting. The Ethiopian-born actress Ruth Negga plays a regal queen here, and she escapes with her dignity intact. Negga is so superb in Jeff Nichols’ Civil Rights drama Loving, to be released later this year, that she may just win an Oscar—unscathed, she will leave Warcraft behind her.
But Paula Patton, as a half-human, half-Orc warrior woman Garona, deserves so much better. Patton has one of the biggest roles in Warcraft, and is, hands down, the chief reason to bother with it—she gives a real performance, dusted with subtleties that are pretty much wasted in this otherwise big, dumb, Jethro Bodine-scaled spectacle. Patton has been terrific in some underappreciated pictures, like the 2008 Outkast musical Idlewild (a modern classic that will someday get its due), and she’s given sturdy, appealing performances in movies like Brad Bird’s Mission: Impossible—Ghost Protocol and Tony Scott’s Déjà Vu. In Warcraft, she can barely deliver her lines—her prosthetic underfangs keep jabbing at her upper lip, giving her a slight lisp. By the end of Warcraft, she’s the only character who makes you wonder: What will she do next? For this, she deserves combat pay.


source: Time

'Conjuring 2' is a demonic delight

Review: 'Conjuring 2' is a demonic delight

Vera Farmiga stars as Lorraine Warren in 'The Conjuring 2

When there’s something strange in your neighborhood, who ya gonna call? Ed and Lorraine Warren, obviously.

Played again by Patrick Wilson and Vera Farmiga, the real-life 1970s ghostbusters head to the British Isles in the horror sequel The Conjuring 2 (*** out of four; rated R; in theaters Friday). And after a trip to the action-film genre with Furious 7, director James Wan returns to the franchise with a freakier follow-up featuring creepy kids, villains who’ll keep you up at night and camerawork that puts moviegoers in a state of impending dread.

The opening sequence revisits the infamous Amityville haunting in 1976, and after Lorraine encounters a demonic nun during a séance, she proclaims, “This is the closest to hell as I ever want to get.” Well, it gets worse for her and her spouse — a year later, and with Lorraine wanting to pull back from their paranormal activity, they’re called to London to investigate why young 11-year-old Janet Hodgson (Madison Wolfe) suddenly has the voice of a 72-year-old dead guy.

Wan ingeniously utilizes snippets of the children’s ditty This Old Man in the background as struggling single mom Peggy Hodgson (Frances O’Connor) and her young brood are driven mad by beds violently shaking at night, weird shadows coming from the pop-heartthrob posters of yesteryear (one of the girls really digs David Soul), toy fire trucks randomly rolling down the hallway and the beat-up chair that seems to have a mind of its own.

A good bit of dark humor is mined for laughs in these moments, and Wan infuses some sweetness to break up the mood as well. There are some overly hokey elements — Wilson strapping on a guitar to sing Elvis to some English children almost makes it seem like you’re watching Blue Hawaii instead of a Conjuring movie. And at two-plus hours, some of those lighter moments derail the tautness of the storytelling.

Wolfe gives a great and eerie performance as the haunted kid who's either possessed or pulling a hoax. It’s hard not to think of Linda Blair in The Exorcist when it comes to these kinds of roles, but Wolfe does the pea-soup brigade proud.

While Wilson is solid as the good-hearted Ed, Farmiga is Wan’s true standout — her Lorraine really gets put through the wringer as she deals with the constant presence of a terrifying supernatural force, and Farmiga sells every gasp.

Like other masters of horror, your Stephen Kings and John Carpenters, Wan wisely utilizes beloved things and turns them against his players. The aforementioned ghastly nun and a room full of crucifixes turning upside down attack characters’ faith and offer a visceral depiction of good vs. evil.

Also, similar to what he did with the doll Annabelle in 2013's first Conjuring (and the toy's 2014 spinoff movie), the filmmaker introduces an innocent-looking zoetrope, which then spawns the Crooked Man. If that sinister sister doesn’t give you the heebie-jeebies, this wicked stringbean with a ghoulish maw of sharp chompers will.

Wan leans into the real history of the 1977 Enfield poltergeist legend, too, though it’s not like he needs any extra inspiration for his fright fest — when it comes to horror, the man pulls no punches or screams.

source: usatoday