Is 'Bright' really as bad as the critics say it is?

Will Smith has become a popular punching bag in the last ten years or so. There was that gargantuan trailer he used while shooting Men In Black 3 in New York, his semi-public flirtations with scientology, his pained efforts to try to turn his kids into celebrities of his stature.

It's almost overlooked at this point that he was once the biggest and most popular movie star in America, especially now that it seems he can do no right by critics or audiences.

His new film -- Bright -- is a big budget extravaganza and also a Netflix film, which already makes it an odd property. Critical reviews have been especially harsh on not just the film but the company that released it, suggesting that the streaming service is not ready for prime time and that this film proves it.

While I am not going to argue that Bright is great, or even good -- I will say it has a promising start and premise. It's a blend of the kind of mismatched cop dramas that its director David Ayer made his name on (he wrote Training Day and directed End of Watch) and the world of fantasy and special effects which he has dabbled in more recently (he also directed the woefully awful Suicide Squad).

Buried under the noise and dark hued palette of this movie is some attempts to introduce some social commentary on race and profiling which has potential. In this scenario Smith is the slightly bigoted veteran who is teamed up with an orc, played incredibly well and sympathetically by Joel Edgerton under so much make-up (which is very well done) he is totally unrecognizable save for his distinctly sincere voice.

I like that this movie presents the world of orcs, fairies and elves integrated into modern Los Angeles matter-of-factly and without a lot of explanation -- that's fine -- but unfortunately about halfway through it gives up on developing its characters and instead plunges headfirst into an increasingly convoluted series of action set pieces involving a wand and magical powers.


None of this is as infuriatingly bad as Suicide Squad -- there is at least some attempt to do basic storytelling here -- but I think part of what irks more discerning viewers is the fact that the substance of this movie feels like window dressing for the eventual bloodshed and mayhem.

It starts out with a little bit of a sense of fun but ends on a dreary note that seems to serve as a jumping off point for further Bright films instead of a satisfying arc.

It was interesting watching this movie in the context of having attended a screening of Hook earlier that day. That 1991 film was another expensive, critically panned movie that has been historically viewed as a misfire, but has many dedicated fans and I count myself among them.

Clearly, a lot of Hook doesn't work. It may be Spielberg's sweatiest film when it comes to sentimentality and it goes on way, way too long. But you can feel a sure hand guiding the narrative, it hits its themes well, it's funny, and when it ends it feels like a satisfying loop has been closed.

In other words, the movie does what it was intended to do. And clearly, for some people, Bright hits their sweet spot. I can even imagine a 13-year-old me really liking it, although I have never really been a passionate fan of the fantasy genre.

I definitely don't think it stands as a cinematic low point the way some critics are treating it. It certainly could have used a director with more vision and subtlety. A lot of the humor is low rent and the color palette is maddeningly dark and grey.

Still, I appreciate that Will Smith is trying to loosen up a little and have some fun again on screen. In movies like Suicide Squad he was being reined in and turned into a dour, monosyllabic tough guy, and one of the reasons audiences fell in love with him in the first place was his light touch and self deprecation.

Obviously, I think he deserves better material than this -- but this is disposable trash, not the bane of anyone's existence. And while some may think the cost of this trash is obscene, it wasn't your money that paid for it.

'Never Seen It' - Episode 27 - Making an 'Executive Decision'

What is Kurt Russell's star persona? What is the deal with Halle Berry's career? How do you solve a problem like Steven Seagal? My wife Elizabeth Rosado and I answer these questions and more in the latest episode of our 'Never Seen It' podcast.

In this episode (our 27!) we are talking about the 1996 action thriller Executive Decision, a pretty largely forgotten minor hit what feels like it comes from a much simpler time when it comes to terrorists hijacking planes.

Click on the YouTube link below to hear out latest musings and visit this separate site to listen to more of our previous episodes.    

'I Tonya' is a wonderfully entertaining burlesque of a biopic

Margot Robbie as Tonya Harding

It's probably a testament to how good I, Tonya is that when the narrative shifts to the infamous assault on ice skating icon Tonya Harding's rival Nancy Kerrigan it may be the least interesting part of the movie.

I, Tonya is not a particularly deep film. For instance, Allison Janney, who gives a knockout, hilarious, surefire Oscar nominated performance as Tonya's mother, is really just playing a one-note type rather than a fully fleshed out person, but when the note is played this beautifully, who am I to complain?

A movie about Tonya Harding could have been very, very bad and exploitative, but instead the filmmakers here make a concerted effort to totally humanize the stereotypically white trash, chain-smoking skater, so much so that audiences will likely leave the film totally re-evaluating their perceptions of her.

Still, wisely the movie is ultimately more interested in indicting the culture that created the Harding myth, rather than trying to litigate who did what and when.

The film, which is periodically broken up by direct-to-camera narration from Janney, Margot Robbie (in a breakthrough performance) as Harding and Sebastian Stan, as her justly maligned estranged husband Jeff Gillooly, offers various skewed, untrustworthy but amusing perspectives on the action -- which covers Harding's whirlwind rise and fall in a brisk two hours.

Even though calling out the 24-hour tabloid society we've become is nothing new, the movie's best moments tap into the pure absurdity of the obsession with the Harding story -- and when her story fades from the headlines only to be replaced by the O.J. Simpson saga, the film really justifies its existence.

What is revelatory are the performances in this film, which are fierce, funny and unpredictable. Only Janney could make a verbally and physically abusive mother a comic delight. She physically immerses herself in this role and although you never get a real sense of what makes her tick, she also never feels inauthentic, which is a real feat. In one late scene she almost seems to show glimmers of humanity -- and this moment is worth the price of admission.

Margot Robbie is a marvel. She looks nothing like Tonya Harding and labors a bit to capture the accent. But otherwise, Robbie gives such an open and emotional performance, in which every slight and wound can be felt, and which also shows some of of the caustic edge that made Harding great on ice and not so great off it.

Meanwhile, Stan, who is likely to be overshadowed in the awards season race to the showier Robbie and Janney, is actually a quiet marvel in this movie. His Gillooly is a violent, pathetic, none-too-bright man, but he is also weirdly watchable and even somehow a little sympathetic, emphasis on a little.

A film like Foxcatcher did a better job of portraying an obsession with a particularly peculiar sport than this film does. Tonya's skating is just a matter of fact, we never really understand why she loves it other than that it may be the one thing she's good at -- but this is not a film about sports or even competitive drive. It's a burlesque show, it's a circus -- and a wildly entertaining one.

How I learned to stop worrying and love 'The Last Jedi'

There will be some spoilers.

When The Force Awakens came out two years ago there were reasonable doubts that a good Star Wars movie could ever be made again in the aftermath of the prequels. Most diehard fans of the saga had a similar reaction to the prequels: initial embrace and then a rapid decline of appreciation. They did not wear well, to say the least.

So in 2015, The Force Awakens was the Star Wars film we needed -- it was funny, instantly likable and grounded in a way the original trilogy was. And although there would be detractors who cried 'derivative' -- it probably needed to be. 

It needed to clean the palette from the bad taste the prequels left and reassert the relevance of what has become the most profitable franchise in movie history.

Flash forward to today. With The Last Jedi we have the first major Star Wars film that is not steeped in too much reverence for its predecessors, in fact it is perhaps the first Star Wars film to display a certain degree of cynicism towards the sanctimonious Jedi and posturing Sith. This may be why its been met with a more skeptical reaction from many fans, despite some rapturous praise from critics.

I will admit it was the first Star Wars movie I didn't fall in love with immediately, but on second viewing it's emerged more and more in mind as a truly great entry in the series -- one bursting with ideas and promise that can be fulfilled in future films. There will be some who will continue to argue that this is a money grab, a vehicle to sell toys and that everything that needed to be said about Star Wars was said in the original 1977-1983 trilogy, but I am not one of these people.

The Last Jedi deepens the themes of that original trilogy which were fundamentally about the nature/virtues of heroism and the temptation/cost of villainy. This film is about the future -- but it also contains three separate plots that are variations on classic themes of what makes a leader, what it means to sacrifice for others and why love triumphs over hate. Is that hokey? Of course. But it's the earnestness of Star Wars that makes it great, and it's the simple elegance of its storytelling that has made it so special to children and the kid in all of us adults.

Mark Hamill as Luke Skywalker

It's not a perfect movie. Director Rian Johnson has packed this film with a lot of ideas and perhaps a side character too many. The character of Rose, for instance, feels a little superfluous and undercooked, the much maligned Finn plotline may have worked just as well without her. And I could have dealt with a few less porg shots. Johnson leaves it all on the floor, so much so that for the first time I genuinely don't know how this trilogy could or should wrap itself up.

In other words, J.J. Abrams really has his work cut out for him -- not only does he have to top this sprawling epic, but he has to bring the stories of Rey, Finn, Kylo and Poe to a fitting conclusion.

And The Last Jedi, to the chagrin of some grumps, really does blow up a lot of established concepts and premises that some previous films clung too. I actually love the choice to make Rey a 'nobody' unconnected to Solos or Skywalkers -- which I hope the next film adheres to. The exciting thing about 'the force' was that there was always this possibility that anyone could possess the gift (something the prequels obnoxiously threw cold water on).

I also love how this film, in no uncertain terms, really makes a compelling case for what the force is and why it's so powerful. Mark Hamill, who is a joy in this movie, gets some of the movie's best dialogue (unfortunately Rey's can be a little wooden from time to time) and in sequences that recall the best of The Empire Strikes Back, he underlines the stakes that make these movies feel like more than cartoon space battles.

Oscar Isaac is great in his b-plot, which also gives Carrie Fisher far more to do and culminates with a show stopping moment delivered by Laura Dern. And Benicio Del Toro turns up as a fascinating charlatan whose 'take no sides' philosophy poses an intriguing temptation for Finn. If you can't already tell, this is a movie bursting at the seams with content. What's funny is when I think about how I'd improve it, it requires adding more to the film, which is already too long.

Upon second viewing I came to realize that this was Star Wars finally breaking free of the constraints placed upon it. The first three will always shine best because they were wholly original and had no entrenched decades-long fan base to serve -- although one could argue the fan service already started to take hold in Return of the Jedi.

Some of the weakest parts of that film amount to some close loop exposition -- including Obi Wan's awkward explanation for why he misled Luke about his father and Yoda explaining to Luke that he has a sister. The first Star Wars film, A New Hope (if you must), was a standalone that didn't need a follow-up. So that meant The Empire Strikes Back could be anything it wanted to be.

Ironically, that film, which is now the Star Wars film against which all others will be measured -- was not a huge critical success when it first came out and commercially it has been the lowest box office performer of any canon Star Wars film. Still, it didn't have to resolve any plotlines, and was free to introduce new ones.

The prequels were marred by many things -- George Lucas's laziness and ego, horrific acting, an over-reliance on CGI -- but primarily they were really bad attempts at fan service. They tried to retcon explanations for everything we've already seen and in its labored efforts to set up dominos that have to fall eventually, they didn't bother to craft characters we cared about.

The Force Awakens managed to do that. And while that film carefully aimed not to offend, it did establish some worthy new characters with distinct personalities. Rey and Kylo Ren especially seemed like wholly different characters than we've seen in previous films, and so perhaps its unsurprising that they are the standouts of The Last Jedi.

And what more to say about The Last Jedi? It isn't interested in fan service. It's not interested in answering questions, it's about raising them. And just when you think it's getting too self-important, they throw in a little light humor to remind us all that we're not supposed to take this too seriously.

Some consider that trolling and I'm not saying every 'joke' lands -- but for a movie about regret, pain and loss -- it's pretty funny and lighthearted throughout, which is no small feat.

Maybe it makes perfect sense that the most successful brand in movies would also be the most harshly judged. I'm sort of fascinated by what this movie's detractors would have preferred. Many of these same people complained that The Force Awakens was too much of a retread, and now this film is too original? Should the answer be just no more Star Wars, period?

I try to judge movies in terms of whether they accomplished their intent. Star Wars movies are supposed to excite and delight, and this film largely did both. And I think with repeat viewings its reputation will truly grow -- I think it's one of the most interesting blockbusters of the year.

May the force and patience be with you.

'Never Seen It' - Episode 26 - Is 'Mission to Mars' lost in space?

Anyone who knows me or who regularly reads this blog knows I'm a huge Brian De Palma fan and defender, which usually go hand in hand. And yet, I had always avoided seeing his 2000 film Mission to Mars. Part of me knew by its reputation that it was supposed to represent a low point for the auteur, although I also knew it had its share of fans, particularly in Europe.

But being in a sci-fi mood in anticipation of The Last Jedi (although Star Wars really isn't sci-fi a all, more on that film later -- I'm, well, still processing) -- and wanting to revisit a lot of De Palma's work after the great documentary about his whole filmography came out... I thought this would be a great new entry for my podcast series with my wife Elizabeth Rosado.

And so here we are with another episode of 'Never Seen It'. Check out the YouTube link below to get our take on this spaee adventure movie.
 

Check out the links to all our previous 25 episodes here.

Or here... PREVIOUS 'NEVER SEEN IT' EPISODES:

Episode 1: Some King of Wonderful
Episode 2: XXX
Episode 3: Varsity Blues
Episode 4: Xanadu
Episode 5: An Affair to Remember
Episode 6: Blue Steel
Episode 7: Spy Kids
Episode 8: The Frisco Kid
Episode 9: Rising Sun
Episode 10: The Conjuring 2
Episode 11: Zootopia
Episode 12: Fear
Episode 13: The Cell
Episode 14: Nocturnal Animals
Episode 15: Kindergarten Cop
Episode 16: Clash of the Titans
Episode 17: Silence
Episode 18: King Kong (1976)
Episode 19: The NeverEnding Story
Episode 20: Striptease
Episode 21: The Craft
Episode 22: The Purge
Episode 23: Hostel
Episode 24: Short Circuit
Episode 25: Children of the Corn

Stay tuned for more!

The whimsical 'Shape of Water' is a sweet fable at a dark time

Despite its jarring moments of sex and violence -- director Guillermo Del Toro's The Shape of Water is a pretty straightforward, crowd-pleasing romantic movie. It reminded me of the kind of movies Tim Burton used to make -- it's beautifully shot, funny and whimsical as hell.

It benefits from having a stellar cast each doing what they do best -- Sally Hawkins is luminous and adorable as a lonely, mute custodian. Octavia Spencer supplies comic relief as her sidekick at work. Richard Jenkins is warm and lovable as her next door neighbor. And Michael Shannon steals every scene he's in as a both hilarious and horrifying bad guy. Basically, he's our generation's Christopher Walken -- as soon as he shows up he's a ham-chewing villain, and you love him for it.

Still, The Shape of Water is a bit of an outlier in a year peppered with more cynical fare. Even Lady Bird takes more risks in terms of alienating its audience from its heroes. Not so in The Shape of Water.

If you've seen the trailer, you've unfortunately seen many of the major beats of the film. That doesn't mean it's a bad film -- in fact its earnest romantic flair really won me over -- but I also won't be surprised if it is dismissed as too lightweight, especially when contrasted by weightier awards contenders like The Post, or even Get Out.

But taken simply on its own terms outside of the year end 'best of' context, it's a wonderful movie -- perhaps one of the better executions of Del Toro's singular vision.

It's a bit of a Beauty and the Beast tale, about Hawkins' character coming into contact with a mysterious creature (an amazing design coupled with a human performance by Doug Jones (not the newly elected senator)) which she eventually falls for.

There are some tense, action-y chase elements, some international intrigue, but it's basically a very souped up period love story about two outcasts finding each other. And quite frankly, if didn't have a few grisly and graphic bits, it'd probably be a fine viewing experience for a child.

Sincerity is not in vogue with most film critics these days, but this movie works in spite of the fact that it is, largely, fairly predictable. This is because even when the script feels familiar, the performances and the visuals feel lively and exciting enough to keep your interest sustained.

It also is very slyly woke. It's set amid the Cuban Missile Crisis era, and its heroes are a black woman, a gay man and a mute woman -- and yet you are never beat over the head with self-congratulatory liberalism. The story just unfolds with little fluff and next-to-no problematic messaging, which may be a result of a minority filmmaker at the helm -- or just a realization that sometimes smaller is better.

It's hard to believe that the same man who could make Pacific Rim could make something this small and intimate. In fact, it may just be his most completely satisfying film suggesting that this could be the best mode for him to make a movie.

'The Disaster Artist' pulls off risky high wire act with grace

James Franco in The Disaster Artist

There was every reason to believe the new dramedy The Disaster Artist wouldn't be good -- and not just because it's about (in part) the making of one of the most infamously bad movies ever made.

Its writer-director-star James Franco is widely viewed as a flaky dilettante, rather than a skilled satirist. He bore no resemblance whatsoever to the iconic star of The Room he is playing -- Tommy Wiseau. And the whole phenomenon of The Room itself is so niche it was hard to believe a film could be made that could really capture what makes it so special to its 'fans.'

And yet, miraculously, James Franco proves all his detractors and skeptics (I count myself among them) wrong with this wonderfully entertaining, hilarious and surprisingly moving portrait of a one-of-a-kind aspiring filmmaker and actor, and the people who get caught up in his mad inspiration to make a semi-autobiographical drama in the Tennessee Williams vein.

Franco completely transforms himself physically to both resemble and sound exactly like Wiseau, and after the initial shock of his appearance and woozy, incoherent delivery he settles into one of the most oddly charismatic performances of his career.

He is totally liberated here in a way that he never is in his more bland leading man roles or even some of the wacky comedies he's appeared in. Not unlike his revelatory work in Spring Breakers, I think Franco is an actor who is best when he can totally immerse himself. He's always struck me as an actor in search of a persona, and here the material is just the perfect fit for his sensibilities and range.

The movie works because it's not interested in being a parody or a greatest hits reel of legendary problems with the making of The Room. The film gives you plenty of that movie's lowlights in spot-on recreations, but the meat of the movie is Wiseau's relationship with Greg Sestaro (who starred in The Room as Mark and wrote the book on which this movie is based) and their totally earnest ambitions to make it in Hollywood.

And this where the movie becomes great as opposed to just merely good. It walks this very risky tightrope where you watch characters who are making fools of themselves, making bad decisions and who are overestimating their talent but you still feel for them and root for them in spite of it.

Franco doesn't allow Wiseau to become some sort of lovable Forrest Gump character -- and in some riveting scenes he really leans into his megalomaniacal tendencies -- but you also walk away from the film marveling at this man's hubris and his ability to adapt to what life throws at him.

The portrayal of Sestaro is less convincing. Dave Franco can't help but be a better actor and more proactive than Sestaro appears to have been. And I would have liked to have seen more of Sestaro's clear self-serving ambition (he took the role of Mark partly as a lark but also because it was a lead role in a movie) instead of his blind, selfless loyalty.

Still, whether you've seen The Room or not, this film really hits home how hard it is to make a movie and what a wild, hopeful and risky swing-for-the-fences experience it can be. And you have to admire their hustle even if the results are disastrous.

'Call Me By Your Name': Timothée Chalamet is breakout star of 2017

Every once in a while an actor seems to come out of nowhere with a string of standout performances in back-to-back films that establish them as a major screen presence that is here to stay.

A few years back Jessica Chastain had a year like that, and in 2017, it's unquestionably Timothée Chalamet who has announced himself as that new special actor to watch.

First, with the crowd-pleasing dramedy Lady Bird, he has a great supporting turn as a self-important musician who seduces the protagonist.

But it's in Call Me By Your Name that he has his great star turn. He singlehandedly makes the sprawling romantic film a must-see, and he deserves Best Actor consideration even though he's barely in his 20s.

Call Me By Your Name is a bit of a slow boil and it is hampered tremendously by its ubiquitous trailer which gives away much of the major plot points of the first half of the film. Not unlike Carol, this is a film about a tentative gay romance that takes quite a while to become actualized.

And yet, Chalamet brilliantly calibrates his character's sexual awakening in a believable, natural, yet-never-less-than riveting way. He never really has a big scene or Oscar moment, just several heartbreakingly honest line deliveries and physical moments that really keep the film afloat even when it lags.

Meanwhile, for the first time since his breakout performance in The Social Network back in 2010, a film has finally figured out how to utilize the uber handsome Armie Hammer. He's great as the object of Chalamet's affection, an older grad student studying under a brilliant Michael Schulberg as Chalamet's father, a hyper-intellectual archaeology professor.

They are living a fairly decadent life in 1983 Italy, and the movie revels in its gorgeous locales and the pale-skinned bodies of its protagonists. During its first hour or so, I worried the film was too literate and pretty for its own good, but Chalamet's off-beat performance and surprising frankness kept me intrigued.

In the second half of the film, its drama and romantic longing really take hold and what could be construed as a semi-conventional plot (albeit heightened by the fact that a gay romance is at the center of it) evolves into something considerably more interesting.

Director Luca Guadagnino has a beautiful eye and ear for time and place. And art house icon James Ivory, who has penned so many of this specific kind of austere dramas, at 89 years old (!), manages to believably convey a very intimate, complex relationship between essentially a boy and an older younger man, without it being too uncomfortable but with it being awkward enough to feel like more than a fantasy sequence.

It builds to probably a few climaxes too many -- and its languid pacing will likely alienate audiences conditioned to less internal conflict -- but the final stretch of the movie is just devastating and the final shot is one of the most lovely and arresting I've seen in quite some time.

My only hope is that Chalamet can sustain this run and mature into a great leading man and not go the way of so many promising young actors who cash in too quick and squander their talents.

'Falling Down' feels like a trailer for Trump's America

Falling Down is the second Michael Douglas movie that I've revisited this year that holds up far better than it should and speaks volumes about the current climate even if it never intended to.

In this 1993 movie and Disclosure, which came out in the following year, Douglas plays a privileged white man who casts himself as a victim and walks through the world with an unearned sense of entitlement.

In Disclosure, he played a high powered exec who learns about rape culture the hard way, when the tables get turned on him by a woman who has more agency than him.

In Falling Down, it's a more complex character and performance than it appears to be on the surface. While Joel Schumacher is a director who never makes anything subtle, he was on to something with this film, which on first viewing played like an over-the-top screed aimed at politically correct America, but now plays like the heralding of the Trump era several decades early.

As a great, recent LA Weekly piece made plain -- the Michael Douglas character is the villain of this film -- whether the audience knows it or not.

He curiously thinks of himself as above the fray -- although he is a violent, prejudiced abuser, who from the very beginning of the film thinks of himself as righteous and aggrieved. He snaps not because of some great slight but because he has to sit in traffic (his license plate pointedly reads 'D-Fens') with the rest of the rubes.

In the first of many meltdown scenes brilliantly acted by Douglas, he suggests a Korean grocer's prices should return back to 1965 standards, which immediately called the Voting Rights Act of that same year to mind. Its passage is likely when Douglas's character probably believes the country starting going downhill.

Just like alt-righters today he would never comfortably identify as a racist -- in fact during one crude scene opposite a more overtly proud fascist he balks at pure, unadulterated hatred and asserts his authentic patriotism, and yet he is just as profoundly sick a character, harassing his ex-wife who has a restraining order against him, and collecting weapon after weapon -- each one more deadly -- with every intense encounter.

Certainly, the movie invites audiences to like, even root for Douglas' character. He can be likable and quite funny at times, but he is contrasted with the far more decent Robert Duvall policeman character, who, while a cliche, makes the case for dogged professionalism over wounded white male pride.

When Douglas' character goes fully mad -- dressed in all black -- and stalking the streets of L.A. (the film was shot amid the 1992 riots), he's an intentionally ludicrous, subversive comic figure. Like a lot of blissfully ignorant Americans he doesn't want to be bothered with nuances, bureaucracy, hold-ups or problems. He wants what he wants when he wants it and is convinced that the only problem is all 'these people' -- usually black, brown or other -- in his way.

It's a chilling portrait of what happens when this particular brand of toxicity gets out of control -- it's no coincidence that a mass shooter was inspired by it. This can be dangerous material if it's not seen as the social satire it is.

Douglas' character, a domestic abuser without a job, living at home with his mother, who describes himself as "not economically viable" certainly fits the profile of the kind of mad men who are terrorizing this nation every day.

When he is told he's "sick" his kneejerk reaction is to call his surroundings "sick" -- it's the kind of shameless lack of personal responsibility that is the hallmark of the age we're living in. Meanwhile, Schumacher never made a better film, and its unnamed protagonist should give audiences chills for decades.

Frances McDormand is the best thing about 'Three Billboards'

Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri is a very good film, but not a great film. It seems to be unsure if wants to be plot-driven or a pure character study. There are some big laughs in the film, but just as many jarring, problematic shifts in tone. Frankly, I'm surprised that its rapturous reception because it's so deeply flawed.

I suppose a big reason it's been elevated is the central performance of Frances McDormand, an actress I've never seen give a bad performance, and here gets a long overdo opportunity to be front and center.

McDormand has been brilliant for years, with star turns in films like Blood Simple and Mississippi Burning, but for most mainstream moviegoers she didn't really 'arrive' until the 1996 Coen Brothers' classic Fargo.

It was an iconoclastic performance -- she memorably played a pregnant police officer who ties that whole movie's wild narrative together -- and it was decidedly not the kind of role that makes women movie stars.

Largely since then her meatiest parts have been in films by the Coen brothers (her husband is Joel Coen) and for the most part she has been relegated to supporting parts where she is always terrific but sadly underutilized.

In Three Billboards, there are a lot of striking character turns (I would argue a few too many), Sam Rockwell and Woody Harrelson in particular are standouts, but it feels, appropriately like the Frances McDormand show.

As the trailer (which is much more satisfying than the movie) demonstrates, McDormand comes in hot from the beginning of this narrative as a grieving mother trying to shame the police for failing to solve the case of her daughter's sexual assault and murder.

It's a very interesting hook for a movie but the execution frustrated me. As funny and lively as she is, the McDormand character is underwritten. We get a brief glimpse of her relationship with her daughter -- but not enough to fully grasp their bond. McDormand's character is so single-minded focused on revenge, that she seems to disregard all the facts and reality of her situation, and yet we are not meant to see her as delusional, but justified -- this is a movie that, at least on the surface, is oddly pro-violence. And in the last act there is a lot of business about teasing out someone who might be her daughter's killer that feels like something out of clunkier movie.

And yet, McDormand owns her role and her salty dialogue. She struts through this movie like the movie star she always should of been and deserves to be. And while nothing should be revolutionary about seeing a 60-year-old woman being the undeniable focal point of a major Oscar contender -- in which she is neither dying, wearing prosthetics or impersonating a famous figure -- in 2017 it is.

And while I don't think the film's cynical, crude tone and its asides on race always entirely work, it may just be a movie that speaks to the broken system psyche of America right now. I do love that amidst the recent outing of so many prominent sexually predatory men and the open looting of future generations by conservatives in Congress, that Frances McDormand could become the personification of our raging and righteous id.

'Never Seen It' - Episode 25 - Is 'Children of the Corn' cornball?

We're baaaack! In this episode of our ongoing 'Never Seen It' podcast my wife and co-host Elizabeth Rosado and I look at Children of the Corn, the original creepy kid movie that spawned a whole, not-all-that-beloved franchise of horror movies, that very people seem to have actually seen.

In particular, we drill down on the fact that most people, including us, seem to conflate this film with a totally different popular scary movie featuring killer children: Village of the Damned -- which itself spawned a John Carpenter remake in the '90s.

But this is another story, based on Stephen King short story. No bleached blondes with glowing eyes here. And is it even scary? Have a listen to the YouTube video embedded below and find out.


PREVIOUS 'NEVER SEEN IT' EPISODES:

Episode 1: Some King of Wonderful
Episode 2: XXX
Episode 3: Varsity Blues
Episode 4: Xanadu
Episode 5: An Affair to Remember
Episode 6: Blue Steel
Episode 7: Spy Kids
Episode 8: The Frisco Kid
Episode 9: Rising Sun
Episode 10: The Conjuring 2
Episode 11: Zootopia
Episode 12: Fear
Episode 13: The Cell
Episode 14: Nocturnal Animals
Episode 15: Kindergarten Cop
Episode 16: Clash of the Titans
Episode 17: Silence
Episode 18: King Kong (1976)
Episode 19: The NeverEnding Story
Episode 20: Striptease
Episode 21: The Craft
Episode 22: The Purge
Episode 23: Hostel
Episode 24: Short Circuit

Stay tuned for more!

'Lady Bird' is a crowd-pleasing charmer in the James L. Brooks vein

When I first went off to college, I remember being flummoxed by the fact that my mother seemed inconsolable. When she bawled and carried on, I thought: Who is this woman?

Not unlike the titular character of Lady Bird, I was under the distinct impression that my mother couldn't stand me, so this emotional display at the thought of my leaving made no sense to me.

Now as I've grown a little older, even though I don't have kids, I have a better handle on how much of a handful I was as an angsty teen and how much my mother's rage was just her way of showing love.

Actress Greta Gerwig, who wrote and directed this lovely little gem, is about the same age as me, and while her Sacramento upbringing (which somewhat inspired this film) probably couldn't be more different than mine, she does brilliantly capture many distinct qualities of a very specific moment in a young person's life.

One might argue its the peak of your obnoxiousness, you are both leaving your parents behind but also still wholly dependent on them -- but it's also the first time I started to get flashes of adult consciousness and clarity. It's when you start to figure out who you are and articulate those notions.

Gerwig has managed to channel all she's learned in her already prolific career to become an assured director in her own right, and she has assembled a stellar cast of great veteran characters actors alongside a terrific Saoirse Ronan, to tell a straight-forward, touching and very funny story in a purely crowd-pleasing fashion, without sacrificing her integrity.

Sure, there are a few moments that are a tad on the nose sentimental, a few lines feel more written than spoken -- but these are minor quibbles. The movie reminded me of the best of James L. Brooks -- think Broadcast News or Terms of Endearment -- movies that pack an emotional wallop while still tickling your funny bone and giving the characters space to breathe.

Shoo-in Oscar nominees

It's one of the few so-called prestige pictures to come out this year that I expect to become a big fat hit, if for no other reason it feels like a movie we need right now. Although it has a streak of melancholy that runs throughout it, this is a largely life-affirming movie.

It's not 'feel good' in the traditional sense, but not unlike Boyhood, the movie could be viewed as a paean to the messy beauty of life, and although Ronan and Laurie Metcalf as her mother are the center of this film, it wouldn't be half as good if the minor characters didn't stand out as vital as well.

I don't know how much of Lady Bird is truly based on Gerwig's life experience (it is set in the early 2000s when Gerwig would have been in about the same age as the lead), she has been cagey about how much of it is, but she certainly 'gets' something very honest about how goofy, casually selfish and occasionally quite sweet young people are at the age.

And she does this largely without too much gimmicky dialogue or contrived plot devices. It may not be ground-breaking filmmaking but it was a delight to watch from start to finish.