'99 Homes' is the best movie you didn't see last year

Last night I finally got around to seeing 99 Homes, an acclaimed drama about the cutthroat housing market that was a late dark horse Oscar contender, but never gained the kind of traction that other recent films about our post-recession age.

I'm not entirely sure why that is. I suppose every year there are strong films like this that slip through the cracks during the late year rush of quality films, which come out in a smaller window of time every year.

It's unfortunate that 99 Homes was largely overlooked, because it features one of America's greatest actors -- Michael Shannon -- in one of his best roles. This is a guy who is really on a roll right now.

It's a powerful and emotional character study and it's unflinching in its portrayal of the real world consequences of the housing crisis.

In fact, I think in many ways it's superior to The Big Short, which was a solid hit and an Oscar darling, but a little hollow and smug in my opinion. I enjoyed that movie -- don't get me wrong -- but it left me with something of a bitter aftertaste.

I think one of my major quibbles with that film was that, like so many films about the financial crisis, the villains are largely faceless, nameless suits, which represent the nefarious "banks" and in its effort to create heroes to root for, the movie romanticized a bunch of wealthy white men who got wealthier because they were smart enough to predict the impending collapse.

Andrew Garfield and Michael Shannon in 99 Homes 

99 Homes forces us -- at least to some extent -- to identify with a real monster, Rick Carver, a self-made real estate maven played by Shannon. He gets to do some real scenery chewing here, in a role that deserved to break into last year's already crowded Best Supporting Actor race. I would have gladly swapped him in for Christian Bale, but I digress.

The Carver character is not some mustache-twirling villain though. Not unlike Denzel Washington in Training Day, he has a certain seductive appeal. Although his films don't always measure up to his talent,

Shannon is a remarkably charismatic and dynamic screen presence. He has this great, taciturn delivery which demands your attention and respect. You can't discount him, and at times, you kind of find yourself agreeing with him.

Shannon's character has been a victim too, and like so many people he decides to turn his pain into a quest for profit. Andrew Garfield, on the other hand, arguably has the trickier role, as a naive, recently evicted handyman who goes into business with Shannon's character to save his family home and gets corrupted in the process.

I've always liked Garfield, he has a sort of old fashioned earnest appeal that is charming to me. I thought he deserved an Oscar nod for his work in The Social Network, and I also felt his turns as Spider-Man got a bad wrap. He is sturdy and sincere here, but this is Shannon's film through and through.

It's not a feel-good film. This is a movie that doesn't shy away from showing the faces and anguish of people directly effected by predatory real estate brokers, which The Big Short largely sidestepped. It may not be fun to watch, but it feels real.

Beyoncé's 'Lemonade' has me rethinking her acting ability

Beyonce in Lemonade

Even the most hardcore Beyoncé fans (and I count myself among them) would concede that her career as a film actress to date has been less than stellar. She mostly smiled her way through unremarkable, cardboard cutout roles in profitable, but forgettable movies like Austin Powers in Goldmember and The Pink Panther.

Then, in her first major, serious role -- 2006's Dreamgirls -- she was blown off the screen by Jennifer Hudson, although that former American Idol hasn't really capitalized on her success in the film with a strong follow-up role.

She got some decent notices for her performance as Etta James in the little seen Cadillac Records, but it didn't really rise above the level of dress-up acting. It's not entirely her fault. She can never really fully disappear into a role.

Even singers who had success on the big screen -- I'm thinking Cher -- never really fully shed their star persona, and when it comes to a performer as distinct looking and sounding as Beyoncé, it's nearly impossible for them to not be seen as themselves.

That said, I don't think celebrities have to necessarily play heightened versions of themselves, although I did get a real kick out of LeBron James playing the best black friend role in Trainwreck.

After watching Beyoncé's riveting performances in Lemonade, her game-changing visual album which is probably consuming your Twitter and Instagram feeds as you read this with memes and shout outs, I have come to revise my thinking about her screen acting potential.

Her maddeningly vague sit-down interviews aside, this is a woman of real substance. And in an era where, sadly, many of out best black American actresses have retreated to television because the movie business has decided to shun them and/or not provide them with adequate opportunities, there is a real gulf in movies for African-American female representation.

In the short films of Lemonade, Beyoncé plays a full range of emotions -- despair, anger, love, pride, regret, lust, swag. It's all there and it's so magnetic you can't take your eyes off her. I couldn't help thinking with that the right part and a truly gifted director she could be a phenomenal presence in a feature film.

A few years ago, prior to his infamous RNC speech next to an empty chair, actor-director Clint Eastwood had apparently signed on to direct Beyonce in yet another reboot of the showbiz classic A Star Is Born. Although I wasn't excited by the material -- since it was already done to perfection back in 1954 -- I was curious what kind of performance Eastwood could get out the famously guarded pop diva.

Sadly, that movie never came to fruition, and I've not heard of any new movie projects for Beyonce on the horizon. A rumored biopic about Saartjie Baartman isn't happening. But certainly in a marketplace crowded with superhero films, she could play a larger than life icon.

I hope if she does ever get another chance to try her hand at acting, she'll get a part that really utilizes the fierce and aggressive side of her persona, instead of turning her into yet another thankless female sidepiece for the hero.

'Munich' may be the least Spielbergian Spielberg movie ever

Eric Bana and Geoffrey Rush in Munich

When I first saw Munich 11 years ago I was struck then by how unlike most other Steven Spielberg movies it was. It was to be sure as impeccably crafted as the director's best work, but it lacked the elements he is most often criticized for -- a penchant for sappy sentimentality and happy endings.

Munich, which explores Israel's covert attempts to exact retribution for the terrorist kidnapping and murder of members of their 1972 Olympic team, may be the bleakest, darkest film he's ever made -- including Schindler's List.

It is certainly the most morally ambiguous movie he's ever made and the fact that it ends with sort of a whimper instead of a bang may account for its rather mediocre performance at the box office, although it did earn Best Picture and Best Director Oscar nods.

It's an overlong film, with long, quiet contemplative stretches that require more patience than the usual corkscrew Spielberg thriller. And one decision late in the film -- to juxtapose an intimate sex scene with an orgy of violence -- may go down as one of the director's oddest choices. But still, I think Munich holds up as a largely a rewarding viewing experience.

In some ways it shouldn't be. Eric Bana gives a nice, capable performance in the lead, but he is not a particularly dynamic presence so (unlike Tom Hanks in Bridge of Spies) he's not much of an audience surrogate.

The rest of the cast (save for a breakout Daniel Craig in a small, but pivotal role) largely disappear into their roles of soft spoken foot soldiers.

The labyrinthine plot also keeps you guessing -- is Bana's team of assassin's being manipulated by good or evil forces, and in a mission as inherently brutal and illegal as this (they operate off the grid, killing men they are told helped plot the terrorist attack), is anyone operating on the level?

Yet despite the confusion and occasional slow pace, the film works. Part of this is thanks to Spielberg's incredible attention to detail. This is one of the best period '70s films I've ever seen. The costuming is one thing, but this movie gets everything from license plates to movie posters next to a marquee spot on.

You get a visceral feeling for time and place from the very beginning that immerses you in a world of clandestine paranoia. The film's highly literate script also continues to raise questions about the motivations and efficacy of the 'heroes' mission. It's the rare film on a politically-charged subject which doesn't take sides and doesn't suffer for it.

Spielberg's films are often violent, but few of them have the sting this one does. You feel almost every death in this film, particularly the killing of a female assassin later in the film which is handled more graphically than one might expect in a film from this director.

I felt Munich was trying to get at something akin to the futility of not just the Israeli-Palestinian conflict but war itself. Bana's character's world is shattered by the end of the film and he can't even be sure if what he did was for the greater good or not. Hopelessness is hard note to end a film on, which is why Munich is such a tricky balancing act.

It may not be Spielberg's best films, but it is certainly one of his most interesting.

Long live Prince: Saying my peace about 'Purple Rain'

Prince in Purple Rain

Virtually everyone who knows me knows that I am an enormous Prince fan -- and it was very touching for me that in the hours after his shocking and sudden death was announced on Thursday that a number of friends and family members reached out to me to express their grief and offer their condolences. I always felt a special kinship with my fellow diminutive Gemini.

The last member of my personal big three of musical inspirations -- Michael Jackson, David Bowie and Prince -- is gone, and I'm still reeling and grappling with it. Jackson lived such a tragic life, I was almost relieved in a way when he died -- I didn't think seeing him at say 70 would have been a pretty picture.

With Bowie, he'd had serious health problems, so while I was heartbroken to hear of his passing, it wasn't totally unexpected. To lose Prince this way, however, at just 57, feels unfair. He seemed so perpetually youthful and exuberant, and although I'd heard rumors that he was rejecting medical procedures he needed because of his religious beliefs (he'd become a devout Jehovah's Witness), I dismissed them because he just looked so good.

Now that the news has sunk in -- the press and fans are doing their inevitable deep dive into his career.

And the one project that unsurprisingly has taken center stage is the 1984 album and film Purple Rain. Prince of course has many other hits and critical masterpieces in his catalogue, but this one represents the apex of his commercial popularity, and so it's fitting that it sticks out in many people's minds.

It also happens to be one of the greatest, if not the greatest album of all time -- so I can't quibble with the nostalgia surrounding it.

But what about the film? Over thirty years since its release (when it became a box office smash, and briefly turned Prince into an unlikely leading man) a consensus has formed that the musical performances are great, but the backstage drama -- not so much.

I wholeheartedly disagree, and not just because I am such an unabashed Prince fan. The entire movie works for me as both a time capsule of a period but also as a dark, emotional character study about a creative child born out of a culture of abuse. Although Prince's later cinematic forays would all fall short, this one feels fully realized and yes, the musical performances are some of the best ever captured on film.

The movie is undeniably dated in some ways. It has a misogynist streak that is pretty unforgivable and one particular moment of domestic violence is never addressed sufficiently. Still, it features a wonderful comic performance from Morris Day as Prince's foil (his "what's the password?" routine is one my favorite movie moments) and a credibly nuanced one from the Purple One himself.

In the first chunk of the film, Prince largely plays off of his soft spoken, mysterious persona. He poses, he struts, he treats his stunning love interest Apollonia with a degree of condescension. But as the film starts to show you more layers of his desperately sad domestic life -- and brooding father played brilliantly by Clarence Williams III -- a more complex portrayal appears.

Particularly in his scenes with Williams III, Prince does some terrific acting, and when one understands that even some of their dialogue is lifted directly from the singer's real life it starts to feel less hokey and more haunting.

Because of his one-of-a-kind looks and delivery, it's doubtful to me that Prince could have ever disappeared into other dramatic roles, although he could have made a delightful character in one of Tim Burton's early fantasies. Still, in this film he does a riveting job of playing himself both on and off stage.

It's easy to look at a movie from 1984 and giggle at the makeup and outfits, but the backstage drama of musicians struggling to get their sound appreciated and their careers off the ground is timeless, as is the Minneapolis atmosphere the movie evokes.

The next time you watch Purple Rain, come for the concert scenes, but stay for some of the more subtle, quieter moments, and I don't think you'll be disappointed.

Long live Prince.

Flashback 1996: My top 10 favorite films from 20 years ago

The year 1996 wasn't exactly a stellar one for the movies.

The Best Picture winner to emerge from the year's crop of films, in my opinion, is an overrated bore (The English Patient) and the year's biggest blockbusters, with some exceptions I'll get to later, seem hopelessly dated now (Twister, Independence Day and Jerry Maguire, to name a few).

Still, I enjoy doing these flashback posts -- partially because I love to revisit the past, they're a challenge, and they help me work through writer's block when I feel like I've been slacking in the blog post department.

So here we are in the year of 1996 -- when it was still a quaint idea to portray the White House being blown to bits, and a whole disaster movie craze was in full swing.

It was also a year where prestige films dominated the awards season, signalling a divide between critical and audience taste that has persisted to this day. Here are the ten films from that year that I liked best.

10) The Nutty Professor - Before Eddie Murphy went to the prosthetic well way too many times, there was this comeback film, which reminded audiences just how great he could be. Sure, the film has a few too many coarse fart jokes and the special effects are dodgy at best. But Murphy is brilliant, playing multiple roles with sincerity and expert comic timing. The film is also surprisingly tender, showing shades of what Murphy can do with more emotionally fulfilling material.

Bill Murray in Kingpin

9) Lone Star - In this lowkey drama director John Sayles does what he does best -- play with genre expectations by presenting a more sophisticated and nuanced story about characters that feel grounded in the real world. His film is not just about a small town sheriff's attempt to solve the murder of one of his predecessors, but an exploration of Texas culture, and the people who often are marginalized within it.

8) Primal Fear - The so-called twist ending has become a played out phenomenon, but this legal thriller has a doozy that sill holds up. Richard Gere is great as a cocky defense attorney who thinks he's one step ahead of everyone, including his client: a shy, altar boy (Edward Norton in an Oscar nominated performance) who has been accused of killing a bishop. What it lacks in plausibility it makes up for in sheer watch-ability.

7) Kingpin - The Farrelly brothers have fallen off in a huge way since their commercial dominance with There's Something About Mary. This bowling farce wasn't as big of a hit, but it's just as funny. Woody Harrelson (who had a great year) plays the grizzled vet who takes an Amish bumpkin (Randy Quaid) under his wing. But the showstopper here is Bill Murray in a rare villainous role that he plays with raucous relish. His hairpiece alone deserves an Academy Award.

6) Waiting for Guffman - This was the film that helped make Christopher Guest a household name and his largely improvised films a mini phenomenon. I still remember the first time I saw it -- and it was in the best way. I was flipping channels on cable and for a few minutes mistook it for a real documentary! It's that good. Its parody of all small town theater production is genius as is Guest's performance as the earnest and effeminate director Corky St. Clair.

5) The People vs. Larry Flynt - Although it could, justly, be criticized for romanticizing the life and legacy of porn magnate Larry Flynt, this is still a powerful film about the need to protect and utilize free speech. It's a funny and illuminating biopic, with a truly revelatory performance from Woody Harrelson as the titular publisher himself. The movie is a great tribute to iconoclasts and provocateurs, and features solid supporting turns from Edward Norton (who was having a breakthrough year) and yes, rocker Courtney Love.

4) Bottle Rocket - Wes Anderson's debut lacks the ornate stylings of his later work -- but that is part of its charm. Some of his trademarks are there, brisk camerawork, a whimsical sense of humor and a delusional but lovable lead character played by Owen Wilson (in a star making performance). The movie is an homage to anyone who has ever dreamed of pulling off a heist (I consider myself one of them) and it's a hilariously funny little character study to boot.

3) Mission Impossible - The first Ethan Hunt adventure has its fair share of detractors, but I loved it then and I still appreciate it now. This is partly because I am an enormous fan of its director -- Brian De Palma -- who concocts several unforgettable signature set pieces, like the legendary Langley vault heist which had a suspended Tom Cruise catching a bead of his own sweat. The subsequent films might have topped this one in terms of stunts, but none have replicated that scene's white-knuckle tension.

2) Swingers - A wonderful little gem, which unfortunately inspired a lot of douchey behavior from men who missed the point of this movie and tried to emulate Vince Vaughn's cocky womanizer for a lifetime. He's fantastic in this, but it's Jon Favreau's film through-and-through and I'd be lying if his nice, dumped-guy-who-gets-the-girl trajectory didn't serve as inspiration for me during my more awkward years. Male driven romantic comedies rarely get male insecurity right  -- this one did, which is why it's still a cult favorite.

1) Fargo - The Coen brothers have so many masterpieces it's hard to single out a particular one as their best, but this film could easily be described as their least polarizing. It combines all the elements of their best work -- a sardonic sense of humor, grisly violence and a perfect ear for a particular time and place. Boasting peerless performances from Frances McDormand, William H. Macy and Steve Buscemi, this crime film should have been the Best Picture winner. But as per usual, the best film was robbed.

Watching Mel Gibson movies in 2016 is a weird experience

Gimme Back My Son!

I used to like Mel Gibson. I wasn't a die hard fan (I always thought Braveheart was overrated for instance), but I appreciated him, particularly in the Lethal Weapon and Mad Max movies. I remember being puzzled by why he was such a heartthrob, although as I've gotten older I have come around to recognize his good looks. And like most people, I was stunned when he was revealed to be a virulent racist and anti-Semite.

Today, he is more or less a pariah in Hollywood and some of his old hits -- like What Women Want -- look highly ironic now after we've all heard his erratic, scary and occasionally funny voicemail rants and shaky subsequent public appearances.

In modern movie history, I can't think of a bigger fall from grace. Gibson was one of the industry's A-list icons, and recently I watched two films from his peak period -- 1997's Conspiracy Theory and 1996's Ransom -- and it was a surreal experience to say the least.

First of all, both films are very distinct examples of the two most prominent parts of Gibson's star persona. He is unhinged in both -- but in some films, like the first Lethal Weapon movie, he plays someone who actually may be crazy and then in other films, like The Patriot, he is more stoic and earnest. 

Curiously, the concept of righteous vengeance is a thread that runs through many of his films. I remember seeing an interview with him prior to his mid-2000s descent where he claimed to get the approval of his priest before each role he took on. I don't know if that's true, but there does seem to be a latent conservative streak in much of his work.

Mugshot Mel

Conspiracy Theory is a huge mess of a movie. Gibson certainly isn't slacking here but his series of ticks and quirks are far more annoying than convincing. We are to believe Gibson is a socially awkward, obsessive taxi driver who has inadvertently stumbled into a huge secret conspiracy. 

Because Gibson appears so committed to playing the character as legitimately crazy, the forced romance he has with co-star Julia Roberts is totally awkward and problematic. The movie itself is overheated and occasionally incomprehensible. 

Viewed with 20/20 hindsight, what was supposed to be an oddball, character role for him now looks like a riff on his real life meltdowns. In 1997, the idea of Gibson being nuts was quaint, now it's a commonly held belief.

Ransom is tamer and more watchable by comparison. Although there are elements of it that are hopelessly dated. For instance, why does Gibson's character get to make nothing but unilateral decisions about his kidnapped sons future without consulting his wife (played by '90s staple Rene Russo) at all.

Also, the movie's big hook -- that Gibson's character, a wealthy airline magnate, decides to call his son's kidnapper's bluff by not paying their ransom -- while watchable and intriguing never stops feeling convoluted and venal. Just who does this guy think he is? The character routinely puts his wife and his son in danger but we're supposed to root for him simply because he's Mel. That kind of worked twenty years ago, but it doesn't click now, especially when you remember that this is the guy who once made a Holocaust joke the first time he ever met Winona Ryder.

Still, I am a big believer in separating art from artist -- hence my ability to appreciate the creative work of Bill Cosby, Roman Polanski and others, while having contempt for them as human beings --and I will continue to try to apply the same logic to Gibson. That said, I wish that with Ransom they hadn't played it so safe, and allowed for the possibility that his character really was just greedy and perhaps he was truly torn abut parting with money to save his son.

Instead, we're to believe he is just adept at outsmarting the crooks, which is possible but not totally credible. The guy does have a presence though, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't get a kick out of a lot of his roles over the years.

I don't know that any one performance will redeem at this point, but he is fascinating to look back on as something akin to a cinematic artifact.

The power of Poitier: Revisiting the icon's underrated roles

Poitier in No Way Out

This weekend, the Museum of the Moving Image began a retrospective on the career of Sidney Poitier, one of the last living icons of Hollywood's classic era.

I covered this event for work and attended the opening day, taking in two underrated Poitier classics -- his 1950 debut, No Way Out, and his 1972 directorial debut, the western Buck and the Preacher.

Both films stand the test of time and are a reminder to audiences who are either ignorant of Poitier's work or inclined to reduce it to more racially apologetic parts in films like Guess Who's Coming to Dinner that this man was a unique talent whose impact on cinema was nothing short of revolutionary.

Poitier arrived on movie screens in the 1950s and '60s when the predominant images of African-Americans were either the "mammy" or the "coon" -- in other words we were either subservient of there to provide degrading comic relief. Poitier never played either type of role, and as his career matured he became known for playing elegant and brave black figures of authority.

My only regret about his career is that he ended it far too soon. He retired from acting for almost a decade in the late 1970s and then appeared in films only sporadically after that, so younger audiences missed out on what he was truly capable of and he never provided fans with the full bloom of his earlier talent.

That said, there is a lot of interesting material to revisit if you dig deep enough. Of his most celebrated roles, In The Heat of the Night resonates best for me, while other hits like To Sir with Love or Guess Who's Coming to Dinner are well-acted, but suffer from dated cultural commentary.

His first major film -- which I hadn't seen until today -- No Way Out, is a shockingly blunt film by any standard. Just hearing the N-word tossed around so freely and with outright disdain in a movie from 1950 is shocking in and of itself. We're just used to hearing that word now with the safe distance of historical perspective or even irony, but in 1950 that word had a lot more impact.

The film is also not a feel-good story in any way. Poitier plays a young doctor assigned to carrying for a pair of crooks (one played by Richard Widmark) who have been wounded during a robbery attempt. When one dies in his care, the other (Widmark) rails against Poiter's character, faulting for purely racist reasons.

And while the film has some old fashioned elements and clearly wears its 'racism is wrong' attitude on its sleeve, I was struck by how uninterested the movie was in providing a comforting resolution. Widmark's character does not evolve and embrace equality. And while Poitier's character achieves a measure of vindication, you also sense he will continue to suffer unfair indignities long after the credits stop rolling.

His revisionist western Buck and the Preacher is even more of a breath of fresh air. The film was one of the first (and still one of the only) films to deal honestly with the role of blacks in the American west. In this film Poitier plays a wagonmaster who helps transport freed slaves to safe harbor, which naturally has him running afoul of racist mercenaries. It also has him crossing paths with a brilliant Harry Belafonte, who plays a wannabe evangelist.

This is no mere buddy film though, although the chemistry between Poitier and Belafonte is terrific. The film deals with the tenuous relationship between newly freed African-Americans and Native American populations, while exploring the challenges this community faced trying to carve out a slice of the country for themselves amid entrenched racism.

Although in some ways blaxploitation was a direct reaction to Poitier's earlier fairly sexless roles, this is probably the closest Poitier ever came to playing a badass hero (his name is Buck after all) and the part fits him well. He has the gravitas and charisma to play both the action scenes and drama with equal flair, and the movie has an emotional power that sneaks up on you.

This film was reportedly Poitier's personal favorite of his own and after seeing it on the big screen its easy to see why. It features breakout performances from black Hollywood royalty like Ruby Dee, and it also was the rare film at that time told totally from an African-American perspective.

It, like so much of Poitier's work, is ripe for rediscovery and appreciation.

'Rogue One' trailer gives fans many reasons to be excited

Felicity Jones in Rogue One

The first teaser trailer for the new Star Wars film Rogue One has arrived -- and boy is it a doozy. It's probably blowing up the entire Internet as I write this and inspiring a cacophony of fanboy reaction both reasonable and absurd.

Sure, I am inclined to love almost everything Star Wars related at first glance (I haven't delved deep into the comic books or animated series, though) and look, the prequel trailers looked great too. So cautious optimism all around.

That said, I don't see how anyone couldn't be excited to see this story -- which should answer a lot of questions raised by Episode IV, a.k.a. A New Hope.

First off two apologies. Yes, this is my second Star Wars-related post in a row; sorry I am a nerd about this series, this and Bond. I can't help it. And I apologize to those who are profoundly confused by the timeline of these films. Blame George Lucas, not me.

Basically, as a nod to the serials from his youth, Lucas thought it would be cool to set up his original 1977 film as a fourth episode in what we were to presume was an ongoing series. He can pretend now that it was all part of a grand plan but there were no guarantees back then that Star Wars was going to become a global phenomenon. After parts V and VI, Lucas went back and made his godawful "prequel" trilogy, or episodes I-III, and then last year after 32 years of waiting, we got The Force Awakens, which picked up where we left off after Episode VI.

Rogue One is almost like the biggest budget sidebar of all time. It explains a crucial plot point that is alluded to in A New Hope, that some brave rebel pilots stole plans to the Death Star which Luke Skywalker and company would go on to obliterate. In this new film, Felicity Jones appears to be the leader of that squadron of heroes.

Whoever thought of this concept is brilliant, because it gives Star Wars fans an opportunity to revisit the world they know and love best -- the atmosphere of the originals. My only quibble is a small one: I thought it'd be cool if they actually intentionally made the film look more retro stylistically, so it would blend more seamlessly into the events of the original 1977 film.

Here are some of the many cool things about the teaser that immediately had me applauding:

The iconography is on point! - The uniforms! The walkers! So many easily identifiable artifacts that take me right back to the original trilogy. Sure, just like in The Force Awakens, a lot of this is blatant service to the fans. But when it's done this well, who can complain?

Women in charge! - Felicity Jones by far gets the most screen time of any of the characters in this new film, suggesting that she will be the driving force behind the narrative. Coming on the heels of The Force Awakens, which featured the breakout lead performance of Daisy Ridley as Rey, this is the second straight Star Wars film to really rely on a strong female protagonist.

Mon Mothma! - Speaking of strong women -- that has to be Mon Mothma giving Jones her assignment in this film. A bit character in Return of the Jedi, her backstory is a total mystery. She presents with great gravity the news that "many Bothans died" to provide the information on the second Death Star, but then she disappears, never heard from again. She has always been a curiosity to fans, and now it appears she will finally be fleshed out.

Forest Whitaker! - He has always struck me as one of these actors who has been consistently better than the material he's been given. But not only does he look and sound great in this trailer, he seems to have the potential to be another exciting new type of character we haven't quite seen before. You get enough of him to be drawn in but not too much that you feel overwhelmed.

Just a taste! - Whoever has been cutting the trailers for these new Star Wars films is a genius. They have been able to reveal so much without spoiling the films at all. I remember my only concern after watching The Force Awakens trailer was the movie seemed too deadly serious -- and boy, was I wrong -- but I also didn't feel like I had already experienced the movie's highlights when I watched the trailer, it still felt fresh and unexpected when I sat down and watched it.

Although it's made by another filmmaker, Rogue One seems to share that same DNA, which is jsut fine by me.

 

Hey 'Star Wars,' don't leave Lando Calrissian behind!

Billy Dee Williams as Lando Calrissian

Yesterday my Star Wars: The Force Awakens blu ray arrived and while I was reveling in the disc's satisfying special features a nagging thing about the movie and the planned future installments of this series was resurrected for me.

Where's Lando Calrissian? The character (played by the super suave Billy Dee Williams in The Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi) is not just a fan favorite, but I would argue he's also one of the coolest and most complex characters from the beloved original trilogy.

And yet, for some reason, he seems to be marginalized in all the modern Star Wars lore, and I can't figure out why. Even at the NYC-based exhibit on the costumes of Star Wars -- he was absent -- not even his iconic cape.

What gives? Did Billy Dee Williams do something to offend the suits at LucasFilm. I want answers.

I loved The Force Awakens. I thought it was a masterpiece totally on par with the original trilogy. And while I was sad (SPOILER ALERT) that the original trio of Luke, Leia and Han weren't really united in the literal sense, at the very least the film provided answers to who they are now and where they were after nearly 30 years. Lando was not just an afterthought, he wasn't even mentioned.

He's still got it

I found this beyond odd. Calrissian was elevated to the rank of general in Return of the Jedi, had fully integrated himself within the rebel alliance and was pretty much solely responsible for destroying the Death Star (although the Ewoks certainly deserve some credit for getting those pesky shields down).

Yes, I am in full Star Wars geek mode here, so for those who could care less I apologize. Probably as the sole predominant black character in the original Star Wars universe I've always had a personal attachment to Lando, but I also found his arc -- from opportunistic rogue to genuine hero -- intriguing.

The Force Awakens suggests to some degree that Han Solo eventually reverted to his old ways -- smuggling. I am curious, is Lando back at gambling or did he try his hand at running another metropolis like Cloud City? I don't buy the premise that there simply wasn't room for him in the narrative of The Force Awakens; as much as I liked her performance and the character the function of Lupita Nyong'o's Maz Kanata could have clearly been filled by Calrissian.

Now that the cast of Episode VIII (still untitled) has been announced, there was still no Williams in sight. This has led some to speculate that his appearance in the next installment will be a surprise cameo. But a few seconds of screen time in not sufficient for such an important character in the Star Wars universe.

What's more, at 78 years old, Williams can't wait around forever to reprise his most famous role. He has made it clear, repeatedly, that he would love to play the character again. And, just like Harrison Ford brought some well-earned gravitas and complexity to Solo in The Force Awakens, I think an aging Williams could show a wiser, more sophisticated Calrissian than we've seen previously.

Also, (SPOILER ALERT) with the tragic death of Solo in The Force Awakens, the Calrissian character has every reason to have some skin in the game going forward. While their friendship was fraught with tension -- and yes betrayal -- that the characters were close again by the end of the original trilogy, and Calrissian could provide some real pathos in any attempts to exact revenge on Solo's killers.

At this point, I am not optimistic about whether Williams will be used at all going forward. But at the very least I hope he is prominently featured in the upcoming young Han Solo movie. I want to see how he lost the Millennium Falcon in a card game, I want to see what Solo really meant when he said "we go way back Lando and me."

I don't want to be deprived on this man's story, and especially since Disney seems hellbent on exploring every nook and cranny of this universe (I mean a standalone Boba Fett story, really?) that the persistent snubbing of Lando Calrissian just confounds me.

NEW FEATURE: The debut of the 'Never Seen It' podcast

For the longest time I've fantasized about hosting my own movie-themed podcast. And DIY couple that we are, my fiancee Elizabeth Rosado and I decided to take matters into our own hands by creating one (albeit in a janky, totally unprofessional way).

Basically, I came up with the concept of us each watching a movie separate from each other that neither of us had ever seen in its entirety.

Then for the podcast we will discuss our impressions of the film to each other for the first time and hopefully, for your entertainment.

Liz and I can really get deep on movies, so we figured these podcasts would definitely, at the very least, feature lively conversations.

For our inaugural episode we went with the 1987 cult classic romance Some Kind of Wonderful. The movie had come up during a movie podcast that I listen to religiously now -- "How Did This Get Made?" -- and the references to it intrigued me.

It was a movie I was definitely aware of or perhaps caught a few seconds of while flipping channels from time to time. But I'd never sat at watched it and neither had Liz, until now.

Check out the recording below to find out what we thought of it and just to listen to our first attempt at a podcast.

I don't normally ask for feedback -- but I would love to know what people think. If they ended up listening to the whole thing and whether they'd want to hear more. So check it out and stay tuned, because if people are into it, there will likely be more "Never Seen It" episodes in the near future: