'Lion' is a mostly lovely story with some unfortunate lame parts

Lion was the movie from last year's Oscar season that I was really dragging my feet to see, although I am not entirely sure why.

I had nothing against the actors per se, I guess maybe I felt like the subject matter -- involving an estranged Indian man seeking a reunion with his long lost family -- potentially too cornball and faux inspiring.

But the reviews were pretty great -- particularly for Nicole Kidman and Dev Patel (who were both nominated for Academy Awards) -- and I heard another good things from people whose opinions I respect that I wanted to check it out, and so I eventually did.

The first half is engrossing, riveting and consistently surprising. It benefits immensely from one of those most enchanting and luminous child performances I've seen in recent years -- from the then 8-year-old Sunny Pawar as the hero Saroo Brierley. Not only is Pawar incredibly adorable, but he has great, natural instincts on camera, he almost doesn't appear to be acting, so much as existing.

The film is wisely told from his perspective, which can be bewildering and overwhelming. Without spoiling too much, i'll say that under particularly harrowing circumstances he is separated from his family and plunged into potentially perilous and uncharted territory.

Pawar and Patel

This all leads to his eventual adoption by an Australian couple (Kidman is the mother), in a twist that might feel far-fetched if this were not based on a true story.

Kidman gives a warm, moving performance, that coupled with her terrific work on HBO's Big Little Lies, suggests she is entering a strong comeback phase of her late career.

So far, so good. Lion -- for the time being -- avoids becoming a white savior movie, even if the story does involve a white couple taking in an abandoned Indian child.

It's in the film's second half where it lost me a little. To some extent, this isn't entirely the film's fault. The narrative thrust of the second half is telegraphed almost from the start -- this will be about the now grown-up Saroo trying to re-connect with his past.

This portion of the movie is definitely a coming out for Patel as a sex symbol, but he is saddled with a caustic, underdeveloped romantic subplot opposite Rooney Mara (an actress I normally like) that neuters the movie's momentum. Was she there to give white audiences someone to relate to? I'm not sure, but it feels like the movie's focus is pulled in her direction far too much when it's Saroo that we should be and have been invested in.

Their arguments and heart-to-hearts are when the movie starts to feel too conventional and self-important, and it's disappointing because the movie has more than enough powerful elements to hold our interest without them.

At a certain point, you want Saroo to stop moping and get on with his journey of self-discovery. Once Patel finally embarks abroad the film starts to resonate emotionally again, but it takes far too much time to get him there, and far too many shots of him staring intently at a computer screen.

Still, I understand the appeal of this movie and why it won so many accolades. It's an amazing, touching story -- and it's about a culture that is far too often marginalized at the movies, so I definitely applaud it for that.

I do, however, look forward to a period where films centered around Southeast Asian characters aren't necessarily centered around escaping poverty and/or bondage. The upcoming The Big Sick, starring Kumail Nanjiani promises to be such a film. That doesn't mean Lion isn't a worthy film, it's just not a wildly groundbreaking one.

Although that last shot and title cards did get me choked up. I'm such a softie.

Is 'Full Metal Jacket' the greatest war film of all time?

Last night I had the pleasure of watching Stanley Kubrick's 1987 masterpiece Full Metal Jacket (which is commemorating its 30th anniversary) on the big screen with a special, surprise guest appearance from its star Matthew Modine.

It was a real treat to see this remarkable Vietnam film the way it was intended to be viewed, and I couldn't help but ponder about its place in the war genre pantheon.

Although Kubrick didn't make many films, man's inhumanity to man was the closest he came to a consistent theme, and it was the topic of war that he returned to more than any other.

His first war film, the acclaimed Kirk Douglas WWI film Paths of Glory has an almost mournful tone. It's very sympathetic to the men in uniform and skeptical about the traditions and standards imposed on them by the mostly old and hardened men who command them.

He eventually followed that film up with 1964's Dr. Strangelove, which is purely about the madness of war. Sure, it's a comedy, but it also is infused with a certain righteous anger at the stupidity with which we wage war.

Full Metal Jacket may be the best fusing of those two conceits, enhanced with much more visceral violence and kinetic mise en scène. It's bravura first half (although Modine argued passionately that film is actually in thirds) is dominated by the unforgettable performance of R. Lee Ermey, a former real life drill sergeant who puts his recruits (including Modine and young Vincent D'Onofrio) through hell and systematically dehumanizes them.

Stanley Kubrick on the set of Full Metal Jacket

These sequences are striking because of their relentlessness, humor and almost stark simplicity.

When I try to choose my favorite war film, my first choice would usually be Apocalyspse Now. That film's mystery and gorgeous cinematography have always been irresistible to me. It's more of a pastiche than a straight forward statement about war though.

Which is why I might have to concede that Full Metal Jacket is the more completely coherent vision. Even what appear to be throwaway moments of this film are laced with meaning. Every line of dialogue seems to service a purpose.

And when the film is over there is no doubt that Kubrick left everything he wanted to on screen.

When the narrative shifts to Vietnam, you get a fully-rounded look at the US infantryman's experience. It's not as soaringly emotional as Oliver Stone's Platoon, a movie I do admire, but it's almost more matter-of-fact and documentarian.

Modine is a likable, cool presence as the hero, but he also plays things close to the vest and just when you think he is the moral center of the story, he and the narrative surprise you. Kubrick was deeply cynical about war and his film concludes that no one walks away from it unscathed or unsullied.

And yet, the film is an enjoyable one.Yes, it's more of a gallows humor variety -- but Full Metal Jacket also captures what can be thrilling about war and how real comradery can form between the most unlikely of people.

Like all Kubrick films, I appreciate it more and more every time I see it, and it occupies a unique place in his filmography as the second to last film he'd ever make. His final film, Eyes Wide Shut, arrived nine years later after much hoopla, some initial disappointment, and eventually critical re-appraisal.

Full Metal Jacket now feels like one of the best approximations of what an anti-war cinematic statement can be -- its honest, ironic, and bleak -- in the best way, and it doesn't have to compromise at earlier 20th century films did, nor does it hero worship as some of the war films the preceded and followed it did.

As someone who unequivocally views war as evil and only necessary under the most extreme circumstances, this is a movie that hits my sweet spot, and conveys more than any other movie I can think of why war is not the answer.

'The Bad Batch' is bound to infuriate, but may become a cult classic

In the languid, dystopian new movie The Bad Batch, Suki Waterhouse -- the model-turned-actress - sports a pair of tight shorts with a prominently placed wink and a smile on the back. Watching the movie, I was struck by the ambivalence of that image.

Is this movie supposed to be funny? Is it supposed to be profound? Is it supposed to be about anything?

It's certainly terrific looking, with a killer soundtrack and a striking aesthetic that conjures a more chilled out Mad Max world of cannibals and scroungers.

After an intriguing opening, the movie settles into more of a mood piece and if the groaning, sighing and seat-shifting audience members who sat around me are any indication, it's not an audience-pleaser.

Still, The Bad Batch has a sensational quality too it. At times its dreamy, slow pace tried my patience, but its audacity impressed me too and it provides further evidence that Keanu Reeves (who is essentially the villain here, albeit a fairly non-threatening one) is in the middle of a truly impressive career revival, following great turns in the John Wick movies and The Neon Demon.

The movie's flaws are easy to pick apart -- it's overlong, it lacks a sense of danger or narrative drive, its dialogue can land like a thud and while Waterhouse is stunning she doesn't have a lot of the gravitas needed to truly be able to carry a lot of her scenes, which are often totally wordless.

Jason Momoa, of Game of Thrones fame, is a striking physical presence throughout, although he is saddled with one of the all time worst Cuban accents I've ever heard, and that conceit nearly torpedoes his performance.

I was never really bored by the movie, and I was fascinated by the world up on the screen. Director Ana Lily Amirpour is definitely up to something here and it felt like a movie that might grow in my esteem without the initial expectation of higher stakes and action.

And while I usually roll my eyes when people make the case that a film works better under the influence, this may be one of the rare examples where it's true. It certainly feels as if the film emerged from a dream, instead of coherent plot construction.

The Bad Batch is a hard film to recommend without caveats, but it does feel like an original, though undeniably indulgent, vision, and so I don't regret seeing it for a second. And I will say that the more I think about it, the more it grows on me.

Why Daniel Day-Lewis' early retirement is horrible news

Reportedly, three-time Oscar winner Daniel Day-Lewis is planning to retire from acting per his representatives, with an upcoming reunion with his There Will Be Blood director Paul Thomas Anderson being his last screen appearance.

Day-Lewis is only 60 years old, which means as a male actor he has at least 25 more years of solid parts if he wants them.

He doesn't make a lot of films to begin with, for instance he hasn't appeared in a film since winning an unprecedented third Best Actor award for 2012's Lincoln. That is the stature that this formidable talent has achieved.

He has been able to pick the projects he wants, when he wants, and his tastefulness has paid off.

He has rarely made a bad film. And even when he has had a misstep (I didn't see Nine, like a lot of people, and the reviews suggested I didn't miss much) it's been papered over by his stellar track record.

In more recent years, thanks to collaborations with high profile directors like Martin Scorsese and Steven Spielberg, he's even become more commercially viable in middle age. His name connotes a certain adult quality. He is infamously committed to realism and exhaustively researches his roles, so it makes sense that for him film acting has been more demanding than I would imagine its been for say, Mark Wahlberg, and perhaps he's simply burnt out after reinventing himself over and over again.

Daniel Day-Lewis in There Will Be Blood

Still, like so many hardcore movie fans, I am heartbroken over this news. I hate to think of the great Day-Lewis performances we will never see, and it feels like a cheat.

While we are forced to endure oversaturated actors who should seriously consider working less and being more selective with their scripts (here's looking at you Johnny Depp), this true unicorn of a movie star is departing the stage far too soon in my opinion.

I'm still someone who laments the early retirement of actors like Gene Hackman and Sean Connery (although, gratefully, Jack Nicholson is coming back), but this somehow feels like a bigger blow.

Now, years ago Day-Lewis seemed to have checked out of acting for good when he took up cobbling and hermit-like lifestyle in Europe, so perhaps his 'retirement' will be of the Jay-Z/Steven Soderbergh variety, just a mere blip on his filmography.

Unlike so many other iconic actors -- we know so little about Day-Lewis the man -- his genius is to submerge himself so deeply in character that you don't think of the actor playing him. What is Day-Lewis' persona? What are his acting tics? He is a star -- sort of -- but he is more famous for being incredibly committed and talented, than for delivering a signature style on camera.

And now his finale will take on even greater significance. Any P.T. Anderson film would be an event for me regardless of the star, but the premise that this film -- tentatively titled Phantom Thread -- will be his swan song, lends it even more potential power.

There really is no one acting today who holds a candle to Day-Lewis, and if he really is stepping aside there will be a huge shadow in his wake.

Shyamalan's comeback 'Split' is both partially good and stupid

Split is a curious conundrum. It has been widely seen as something of a commercial and critical comeback for director M. Night Shyamalan, although even some of his worst movies have made hefty profits. And like Get Out, it's a low budget, non-gory fright film that became a big word-of-mouth success.

But the film itself is definitely a mixed bag. It has all the hallmarks that make Shyamalan films watchable but also eyeroll-worthy. It's gorgeous-looking but it's also packed with indulgent pregnant pauses that stretch plausibility. It has a terrific central performance from James McAvoy (who I've been underwhelmed by up 'til now) but it also suffers from a script bogged down in psychobabble.

And like every Shyamalan film I've seen -- it's desperate to deliver a knock-out blow of a twist in its final frames. Although, without spoiling it, I'd argue that this one is more laughable than surprising.

Ever since he burst onto the Hollywood A-list with his character-driven ghost story The Sixth Sense, Shymalan has been trying to recapture its magic, often with diminishing results.

Even films that packed some power like Unbreakable and Signs, didn't hold up quite so well when their premises were held up to scrutiny, and the director's self-conscious self-importance oozed out of every frame.

Clearly, he's become a popular punching bag for movie snobs like me, and the fact is that the guy knows how to shoot a movie and stage an effective suspense sequence.

And in this film he is aided tremendously by McAvoy who gives a bravura performance as a man possessed by several wildly different split personalities, holding three teenage girls captive against their will.

Where the film errs is in its great pains to justify its existence. The film, for the most part, avoids going into the darkest territory it could, even a heavy handed flashback subplot involving molestation is handled in chaste, broad strokes. The movie also seems to spend a lot of precious time dwelling on whether the model-esque captive girls will or will not be nude.

Not that I need gore or excessive violence to be scared, but the stakes never feel as high as they should, in part because the nominal lead of the three captive girls (breakout star of the much better film The Witch, Anya-Taylor Joy) never seems as troubled as she should be by anything that is taking place.

I don't know if it's an inability to write credible, fully-rounded women or a character written to serve a plot as opposed to a plot meant to serve a character, but from almost the beginning of the film up to the end, you want to scream at Joy's character for her poor decision making skills.

Meanwhile, Shylamalan loves to layer in those convenient turns in the story which happen to hasten a character's escape or lead to their inevitable downfall. All in all, it doesn't keep the movie from being entertaining but it also prevents it from being smart.

I know this is a terrible pun. But I will have to give this movie a split decision.

'Never Seen It' - Episode 17- Shh! It's Martin Scorsese's 'Silence'

Last year, Martin Scorsese's decades-in-the-making passion project -- Silence -- his third in a trilogy of heady faith-themed films (including The Last Temptation of Christ and Kundun), landed with a thud at the box office, but was largely well received by critics.

As a hardcore Scorsese devotee I was intrigued by this project and drawn in by its intense-looking trailer, but I never got around to catching it while it was in theaters.

Hence it may just be the perfect subject for a new episode of the best movie podcast around (slight exaggeration) -- "Never Seen It" -- in which my wife and I watch a movie separately (which is hard to do with our similar schedules and shared living space) and come together and discuss for the first time on tape.

Was Silence unfairly overlooked during Oscar season? Or was it the long bore that some people complained it was? The answer may fall somewhere in between.

Check out the podcast below to hear what we thought:


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

Stay tuned for more!

'It Comes at Night' may be too dark for some audiences

It Comes at Night is the kind of movie that will inevitably disappoint mainstream movie audiences. It's terrific, creepy trailer and strong critical reviews has some viewers primed for a sleeper summer hit, but I'm afraid few will find the movie as scary as they'd hoped.

Instead, they may find a highly stylized movie that is more bleak than anything else, devoid of much humor and one which seems torn between a more traditional supernatural affair and an intense psychological drama.

There is quite a lot I liked about this movie (the director's follow up to his interesting debut Krisha). Joel Edgerton is once again a compelling leading man. I enjoyed how the film provides little context for its setting and circumstances. It's also impeccably shot and edited. And yet, it felt a little more like an exercise in genre filmmaking than a fully thought out concept.

We are given the impression early on that some sort of highly contagious, perhaps airborne virus has wiped out a lot of the population. Sometimes the movie hints that it turns humans into monsters, but in reality it appears that it's just a very grisly, fast-moving killer.

A mixed race family, of which Edgerton is the patriarch, has their less-than-idyllic, isolated life intruded upon by a mysterious stranger, and then tensions continue to ratchet up.

Kelvin Harrison, Jr., a charismatic young actor playing Edgerton's teen son, is haunted by visions that are undeniably spooky but eventually they grow numbing as they appear to all be hallucinations. And therein lies my problem with this movie. It seems to be trying to give the people what they want in terms of existential dread and jump scares, while at the same time crafting a more artistic, interior film.

There are legitimate questions I have about the premise -- why some behavior is strictly adhered to sometimes, but not other times. I don't mind being plunged into an atmosphere where everything isn't spelled out for me, but I like a world with rules and some measure of clarity.

Director Trey Edward Schults' previous film Krisha was a more effective attempt at genre busting. It is essentially a meandering character study, a day in the life of an unraveling alcoholic. His use of unknown actors is spot-on, and the film has a realism and immediacy that's striking.

While It Comes at Night is effective and engaging, it doesn't feel quite as thematically sound or as structurally cohesive. It's a solid mood piece, with a nice, cruel ending, but I don't know if it will haunt viewers and much as it does the characters on screen.

Which means it probably comes up short once you think about it in the light of day.

'Deliverance' is a masterpiece about the fragile male psyche

While I am a big believer in the value of the Bechdel test, and almost exclusively view modern movies through that lens, there are occasionally films that are exclusively about maleness that have an undeniable power and resonance.

The 1972 classic Deliverance is one of those films.

Women are barely on screen and don't really factor into the world of the film in any meaningful way. And it's relatively straightforward narrative of four friends who get far more than they bargained for during a canoeing adventure in backwood country, could be easily misconstrued as an effective bit of pulp.

But this film, and the 1970 novel on which its based, are much more interested in the interpersonal dynamics of the four lead characters than the occasionally grisly and squirm-inducing machinations of the plot.

Each character comes to represent a distinct trait -- Ned Beatty is weak, Burt Reynolds is strong, Ronnie Cox is principled and that leaves the ostensible lead of the film -- Jon Voight -- as the most ambiguous of the group. By the end he might be best described as haunted, as the film in many ways is about his loss of innocence.

In the novel, his character has a preoccupation that borders on homoerotic with the character played by Reynolds. And in a way, although his screen-time is limited in the second half of the movie, this is Reynolds' film. He gives a truly fantastic, Oscar-worthy performance, that has been sadly overshadowed by some of his sillier yet successful later movies.

His character represents a certain macho ideal -- an ethos which success that manhood is defined by a man's ability to conquer and dominate -- either his fears or other people. What makes the film compelling is that at times it's unclear whether the audience should agree or disagree with Reynolds' approach. It's ambiguous.

Certainly, Cox's more humane and morally sound protagonist should earn our loyalty and respect, and yet Reynolds' charisma (not unlike the Denzel Washington character in Training Day) finds you persuaded to embrace some dubious thinking.

I've always joked that when more than two or three men get together it's a gang, and the film plays with this concept. How men can sometimes reinforce bad behavior or at the very least goad their peers into acting against their will in order to assert their masculinity.

Adding a layer to this film is its most infamous aspect -- the shocking visceral inclusion of male-on-male rape -- not just as a subject matter, but as a pivotal plot point. Even though the source material was a best-selling book, it's incredible to me that a movie this vivid and harrowing was a tremendous commercial success. It's hard to believe a film this uncompromising would ever be greenlit today.

The fear of the sexual assault by someone of the same sex is played for laughs more often than not in films, but it's clearly a taboo that has remained potent in the minds of men for years. The movie handles it in a searing, unforgettable way.

But its the actors who make this material matter. Beatty is almost childlike in his helplessness at times. There is something symbiotic and telling about how he both resents and reveres the Reynolds character. Cox is the moral center and so it speaks volumes that he is the one who meets the harshest fate. And the tension between the Reynolds and Voight characters is really worth investigating.

Are they jealous of each other, attracted to each other? Why do they go on these adventures together, what are they trying to prove.

And what are men always hoping to prove to themselves and others? That they are men. Whatever that means.

Caan Film Festival: An appreciation for an underrated actor

When people talk about the male acting giants of 1970s cinema, you normally hear names like Al Pacino, Robert DeNiro, Jack Nicholson, Dustin Hoffman, Gene Hackman and Robert Redford, but rarely do you hear the name James Caan.

Partially this is a problem of his own making. At the height of his career drug abuse and poor choices (he turned down leads in The French Connection, Apocalypse Now, Blade Runner, Superman and Close Encounters, just to name a few) sidetracked what should have been a dominant run as a leading man.

Today, he is probably still best known for his most iconic role, as the bombastic and temperamental Sonny Corleone in The Godfather, and perhaps by a younger generation of viewers as the cantankerous father of Will Ferrell's titular character in Elf.

A recent retrospective at the Museum of the Moving Image in Queens, NY took great pains to rectify the oversight of Caan, showing some of his best movies -- most from his reign as an A-list star in the 1970s. Last night I had the pleasure of watching one of his best performances (and films), the 1974 James Toback-penned drama The Gambler.

In the film, Caan plays an erudite professor who moonlights as an addictive gambler. The film is a fascinating character study -- you really are placed within the world of a man who is in the midst of a dark descent, and Caan never tries to make his character more sympathetic or soft.

Unlike a lot his acting peers of this era, Caan almost always played hyper-masculine, uncompromising characters, which shouldn't work but somehow does because of this honesty and intensity of his performances. It's part of what made his Sonny Corleone so striking, even though he enjoys far less screen time than Pacino's Michael Corleone.

James Caan in Thief

Sonny Corleone is an abusive, racist, ignorant and crude man -- but he has a good heart. That just comes across. He has a sense of humor, that comes across too. And he has the kind of sex appeal that you have to acknowledge, even if its begrudgingly.

In a way, Caan could never escape that role, even though he wasn't even Italian. And unfortunately, it's not even his greatest role -- that would be Michael Mann's Thief, which came nine years later. That film probably best exemplifies Caan's star appeal -- it's terse, efficient and thoroughly badass.

For Caan newbies, these are -- for my money -- the must see films.

Brian's Song (1971) - This TV movie, about the ill-fated Chicago Bears running back Brian Piccolo could have been just saccharine silliness, but Caan makes Piccolo such a warm and affable hero that you can't help but be moved when his life takes a tragic turn. Long hailed as men's favorite weepie, the movie works because of his believable work alongside Billy Dee Williams.

The Godfather (1972) - Caan also tested for Michael Corleone, but he would have been all wrong as a shy and quiet character who eventually develops his inner demon. Caan's Sonny is hot wired and ready for action from the very beginning. He's the movie's raging id -- his assault of the wife beating Carlo is an amazing case study in macabre audience wish fulfillment.

The Gambler (1974) - One of Caan's most intense and revelatory performances. He plays a totally reckless and hard man, he cuts and impressive figure even if it's a vicious one. I have never seen a film deal so effectively with this kind of addiction (with drugs and alcohol its easier to externalize, but with gambling its more internal). Caan should have been Oscar-nominated for this underrated treasure. And the ending shot is unforgettable.

Freebie and the Bean (1974) - An early prototype for the blockbuster mismatched buddy cop action movie, starring Caan as the loose cannon and Alan Arkin as his slightly more buttoned up partner. A raucous and proudly politically incorrect movie, full of car chases, elaborate crashes and cuss words. What makes it work is the unlikely chemistry between Caan and Arkin, who often improvised their dialogue throughout. Apparently, Stanley Kubrick was a big fan of this movie.

Rollerball (1975) - Caan was always a magnificent physical actor and he was uniquely authentic is action movie roles at a time when most star relied on easily spotted stunt men. This bizarre but entertaining sci-fi film -- which is set in a dystopian future where the whole world is captivated by an uber violent speed-skating version of rugby -- is a great vehicle to see Caan strut his stuff as a beefcake tough guy. I've never seen the remake but I can only assume it pales in comparison.

Thief (1981) - As I've said before this is the greatest part James Caan ever played. His character Frank feels like perhaps his most personal -- he's a desperate man, eager to make himself respectable with a normal family life. The real life Caan was fighting to reassert his dominance as a movie star in a period where his films had begun to over-perform and his reputation had suffered. The film unfortunately didn't prove to the comeback he needed, but it has since grown to be embraced as a classic.

Misery (1990) - That comeback finally came nine years later with his role opposite Kathy Bates in this critically acclaimed hit horror film. Ironically, Caan -- who spent a career passing on great roles -- got this part after much Hollywood's A-list turned it down. They figured that because his character (an author who's been crippled by a car accident and becomes captive by his number one fan) would be too passive, but they were wrong. Caan's athleticism and dry humor are used to devastating effect here and his clever underplaying works beautifully alongside Bates' broader work.

Bottle Rocket (1996) - In the last twenty years, Caan has moved into more supporting roles and the best of the early ones was a bit part in Wes Anderson's new film. His character, the avuncular and mysterious veteran criminal Mr. Henry feels like an homage to his performances as the consummate macho ideal in movies like Thief. He is relaxed, funny and smart -- something the real life Caan is supposed to be as well.

'Wonder Woman' is here to save us from summer movie doldrums

Wonder Woman may be one of the first mega-budget superhero movies to benefit from low expectations.

Although I am an enormous fan of the character, and felt that she deserved a big screen vehicle of her own, the project has languished for decades after fits and starts.

Making matters worse, after the critical and commercial success of Christopher Nolan's Dark Knight trilogy, DC Comics inexplicably decided to hand over the creative reigns of all their major characters (and by extension franchises) to the polarizing director of Sucker Punch.

The first major production of this era -- Man of Steel -- hasn't aged well. Batman vs. Superman was a disjointed mess. And Suicide Squad looked like what I imagine a Four Loko tastes like, with just as much substance. So there was every reason to think Wonder Woman would be another brooding disaster.

Instead, the producers hired a female director, lightened the mood and the color palette, and have wound up crafting a delightful (if a bit overlong) summer movie which feels resonant and is actually quite funny once it gets going.

Yes, it's an origin story -- and the clunky opening (where the characters' from Wonder Woman's homeland all speak is vaguely Eastern European-sounding accents) had me worried that this was going to be another paint-by-numbers genre movie.

But once Wonder Woman is transplanted to modern early 20th century America, the movie becomes almost a full blown romantic comedy, pairing our hero alongside a plucky spy (played with immense charm and grace by the underrated Chris Pine).

It was in this middle section that I came to fall for Gal Gadot. I had previously thought she was all wrong for the part.

She had not impressed me in the Fast & Furious movies where she seemed more like a beautiful accessory rather than a fully-fledged person. And her puny frame just didn't feel right for an Amazonian warrior.

But once the movie lets her tap into her comic skills and allows the proto-feminist character to show a welcome bit of righteous indignation in the face of misogyny, her performance and star power come alive. Now, after watching this film, I can't imagine anyone else playing this part.

In a way, she reminds me of Christopher Reeve as Superman. A lot of actresses would look silly acrobatically flying through the air and strutting in slo-mo, but she just convinces you that this fictional person is really plausible by the sheer force of her earnestness and sincerity.

And she is aided mightily by Pine, who here does what he also does in the Star Trek films, show a vulnerable and self-deprecating style of masculinity that is simply missing from movies nowadays. It's unfortunate that his first name saddles him with getting confused with the other hunky Chris's -- Pratt, Hemsworth and Evans -- because I actually think he is the most interesting actor of the bunch.

In its prolonged, CGI-heavy third act, this film does succumb to some of the pitfalls of previous superhero films. The villains aren't that strong and the stakes don't feel high enough, but Gadot and company have earned enough good will in the proceeding two hours that I will forgive this movie's many shortcomings.

If nothing else, the movie has value for its subtle commentary on how we perceive gender roles and how that hasn't really changed all that much in over 60 years. After heading into a summer full of disappointing options at the movies, I think that's something worth standing up and cheering for.