Natalie Portman pulls off high-wire acting in 'Vox Lux'

There are two trailers circulating for writer-director Brady Corbet's provocative exploration of the intersection between fame and tragedy Vox Lux. One strangely makes it look like an inspirational crowdpleaser on the same wavelength as the current blockbuster A Star Is Born.

And another, quite effectively, evokes the strange melange of ominous threat and quirky satire which are more accurately reflected by the finished film.

Hopefully, more people will approach this movie seeking the latter experience rather than the former because if they don't they will be sorely disappointed. Vox Lux is an aggressively alienating film -- which is not to say I didn't really like it -- it may just be a masterpiece, but it has a lot of rough edges (it was apparently shot in just 22 days!) that certainly will turn some audiences and critics away.

What is undeniable about the movie is that it demonstrates what an accomplished performer Natalie Portman has become. She has quietly become one of the most exciting actors in movies, and has been on quite a role following her breathtaking work in Jackie and the under-rated Annihilation from earlier this year.

In Vox Lux -- which spoiler alert -- she doesn't appear in until about the halfway mark -- she plays an manic, contemptuous and complicated pop star while sporting an exaggerated Staten Island accent (some have criticized this, but I consider it akin to Pacino's Cuban accent in Scarface, it's meant to be theatrical).

The first half of film details her character's rise -- which was borne out of an incident of horrific violence, and in not remotely subtle terms the film argues that she has both been a victim and a manipulator of the circumstances which befall her.

There is an unsettling vibe throughout the film which can at times feel grounded and realistic and at other times there are scenes that are excruciatingly awkward or histrionic -- this is a very difficult movie to pin down or categorize, which is part of why I liked it so much.

The film seems to be ambiguous about pop stardom -- the songs that the lead character sings (all penned by Sia) are good but also opaque. Meanwhile, the movie's violence (and constant threat thereof) is frighteningly kinetic but also, perhaps, ultimately meaningless.

Corbet employs a detached voiceover narration, supplied by an unmistakable Willem Dafoe, which recalls Kubrick's Barry Lyndon -- it seems to be both mocking the character and explaining her true inner thoughts at the same time. And the finale -- which is an extended concert sequence raises more questions than answers about what unfurled previously.

There are all sorts of unusual touches -- like the film's entire credits play at the beginning like an old Hollywood production and one actor is asked to play two different major characters while everyone else simply 'ages.'

The film is dedicated to the late Jonathan Demme, which at first seems like an odd choice -- since his films were distinctly humanist and almost always very accessible. But he also always put an emphasis on emotion in his movies, and he wasn't afraid to go 'big.'

I'm not saying he is always entirely successful, but in Vox Lux, Corbet is clearly trying to be big, bold and inspire an intense reaction. There are too many exciting and virtuoso sequences in this film to dismiss it, and I imagine it will grow in my esteem after repeat viewings. But I will say Portman gives one of the most electric, eccentric performances I've seen all year, and that will certainly make this film stick with me for a long time.

'The Mule' is Clint Eastwood's most charming film in years

I have long been a fan of Clint Eastwood as a film director as an actor -- in the 2000s in particular he seemed to be on a particularly strong run, culminating with what was widely seen as his swan song (at least as a performer) 2008's unlikely blockbuster Gran Torino.

But 10 years later, the now 88-year-old Eastwood is still at it, long after his iconic Hollywood peers have retired or passed on. Say what you will about his off-screen commentary, but you gotta admire his tenacity and stamina.

I haven't liked much of his work since his infamous empty chair performance at the 2012 RNC. The films have become too simplistic, and while complexity was never his strong suit, his sometimes hokey and ham-fisted tendencies really had started to wear on me. Even his recent hits like Sully and American Sniper fell short for me.

I'm happy to report that The Mule, while not as compelling as his strongest works like Unforgiven and Million Dollar Baby, is an immensely charming, satisfying film. Who knows if he still has more movies in his tank, but if this is the last ride for Eastwood, its a good one.

Eastwood is looking more frail than ever, and he uses his age to great comic effect in this movie -- flummoxed by cell phones and political correctness. And this isn't just another grumpy old man performance -- Eastwood dances -- repeatedly -- in this movie, and romances sexy younger women and on the whole, gives a moving, committed and charismatic performance as an octogenarian who becomes a successful drug mule for some generic Latino cartel.

I found myself marveling at what an amazing career this man has had, and how at ease he is in his own skin at this point. He may be the best director of himself as an actor of anyone I can think of.

The movie surrounding him is a pretty sentimental affair. There are lots of good performers in supporting roles that are largely thankless, including Bradley Cooper as a DEA agent hot on Eastwood's tale, and Laurence Fishburne as his superior. Both actors have had meatier parts in past Eastwood films and I presume they're repaying the favor in what mostly amounts to a light comedy.

This is not pulse pounding action or a noose-tightening thriller -- it's mostly just a bemusing, ambling character study that comes to a conclusion that feels inevitable, but still resonates emotionally. Eastwood has a particularly heartbreaking scene towards the end where he unsubtly underlines the theme of the movie -- about making sure you take the time to spend with the ones you love.

Ultimately, Eastwood is playing someone not unlike himself -- someone who gives on f**ks and just wants to wring every ounce out of life that he can. And there are few sights I've seen in movies this year that is more infectious than watching him gleefully mingle with booty-shaking babes at a party at a drug kingpin's house.

Sure, there is the requisite cultural insensitivity that comes along with almost any Eastwood picture these days. And some of the familial drama just doesn't have the impact he wants it to. But this still is still an incredible feat for someone his age, with this many pictures behind him.

I think I'll always be an Eastwood fan, empty chair and all, and I'm grateful to this movie for reminding me why.

'Vice' can't live up to it's trailer, but it's an interesting mess

Vice had one of the great trailers of the year. It was minimalist, funny and intriguing. It had Christian Bale's remarkable transformation into Vice President Dick Cheney front and center and seemed to promise a raucous, rabble-rousing and unconventional biopic.

The actual film itself doesn't quite deliver on that trailer's promise. The movie is actually a bit of an overlong, disjointed mess -- veering wildly from broad comedy to conventional biopic with mixed results which explains the polarizing critical reception for the film as well.

The writer-director Adam McKay made his reputation on savagely funny comedies with Will Ferrell. They were films that played dumb but had darker, smarter jokes underneath. The Big Short, McKay's glib take on the financial crisis became his first bid for the awards circuit crowd. I had reservations about that movie too, and with Vice, it's clear McKay wants to stretch even more -- and the final result is a very interesting movie, with brilliant scenes with great insight and other moments that are startlingly heavy-handed and simplistic.

I learned things about Dick Cheney's background that I didn't already know watching the film but I am not sure I learned anything more about him that I didn't already know. There are moments where the film feels like a dressed up greatest hits (or really misses) of the first Bush administration: torture, WMD, Mission: Accomplished -- they are all here.

McKay does get that early-2000s era right -- the movie will bring back a lot of bad memories -- and the cast is game: Steve Carrell is funny and obnoxious as Rumsfeld, Amy Adams does a lot with little as Lynne Cheney and Sam Rockwell does the best Bush impression since Ferrell, although he's not in the movie much.

There are some really great comic set pieces -- like a preemptive end to the movie when McKay suggests Cheney's political career should have ended -- or a funny intimate scene between Cheney and his wife that is delivered in theatrical Shakespearean language. I almost wish the whole movie had gone for broke in that way.

At the very least the film wouldn't feel like a straightforward biopic, which despite a lot of bells and whistles this movie is.

Sure, it's got a Michael Moore-esque sense of liberal outrage that I am totally in sync with. When McKay, through title cards, lists the toll of the Iraq campaign -- your blood will boil all over again. And even though the film takes pains to humanize Cheney at points, it's thesis literally and figuratively is that he has no heart.

But why this film and why now? I did think the opening of the film -- which calls out the complacency of the American public and its willingness to indulge (vice, get it) to 'leaders' we don't really know much about, but who make us feel secure.

That was Cheney's great strength -- his gravelly, confident gravitas. A lot of people see Sarah Palin as a precursor to Trump -- but in some ways Cheney was. He was also compromised by business ties and kept his health records hidden, he too showed a frightening willingness to bend the law to meet his goals, and he too had a cold view on putting human lives at risk.

Still, I can't help but shake the feeling that Vice feels like a very good first draft of a movie. The Bale performance is interesting -- in that it reveals little more than Cheney's addiction to wielding power -- one of the revelations (for me) watching the movie was that the former VP once wanted to pursue the presidency himself but when polls showed he had no chance he settled for what he turned into the next best thing.

The talking point I always heard on Cheney was that he shunned the limelight and wanted to be the behind the scenes guy, but this film had me thinking he had no other choice. There is no doubt that he changed the way vice presidency and the presidency have been viewed ever since, and we'll grappling with is legacy for years to come. I'm fine with McKay's movie as the first pass, but it won't be the final word.

'Roma' cements Alfonso Cuaron's status as a master craftsman

Roma is one of those movies that sneaks up on you. It starts out slowly, with a meandering atmospheric aesthetic, which is gorgeous to look at but not necessarily plot driven. But as it unfolds it reveals itself to be one of the most powerful, devastating dramas of the year.

This is what Alfonso Cuaron does best -- craft films that feel epic with very intimate emotionality at its center.

Think Children of Men, which dealt with the fate of humanity but ultimately is a journey of just a handful of characters. Gravity only has two people at its core, but it is never anything less than riveting throughout.

In Roma, the film is really about one person, albeit someone who is overlooked and taken for granted by virtually everyone in her life -- a domestic worker named Cleo played by a remarkable first-time actor Yalitza Aparicio. Although she is an incredibly quiet, observant character -- her human drama becomes profound amid a backdrop of political unrest in 1970s Mexico and domestic unrest in the home where she works.

Apparently, the film is semi-autobiographical, which makes perfect sense, since the film feel's incredibly personal (there is even a very funny film within a film moment which recalls Gravity). And beyond the human story there are also some breathtaking visual sequences that rival David Lean in terms of composition and scale.

Cuaron is one of the few filmmakers today who can have his cake and eat it too when it comes to virtuoso camera-work and filmmaking (Ryan Coogler also falls in this category). He stages several seamless, realistic single take sequences which feel so immerse and visceral.

The effect is you feel like you're watching some lost great documentary from 45 years ago and was just unearthed today. It's an odd fit for Netflix, since the visual splendor of this nearly three hour, black and white drama so lends itself to the big screen, and yet with this film and The Coen Brothers' The Ballad of Buster Scruggs, the streaming service has really staked out a claim to be considered as major prestige player alongside all the other major, traditional studios.

As far as Cuaron goes, I feel like he has proven he can do everything -- a sexy road movie, a franchise kids picture, a post apocalyptic action film, a sci-fi drama and now a heartbreaking slice of life tale from an omniscient perspective.

It features two of the most harrowing scenes I've seen in a film all year -- with one in particular so upsetting it's hard to watch. And yet, it is also teeming with joy and energy that feels both genuine and believable.

Perhaps, it'll get a bigger audience than it ever would have through a normal release, by being made so widely available through Netflix. I still have mixed feels about what projects like this will have on the theater business, in which I am deeply invested.

But if this is the kind of work that may soon be consistently available on streaming services, perhaps I am willing to embrace a brave new world of cinema in our living rooms.

Emily Blunt is a real miracle in 'Mary Poppins Returns'

Mary Poppins Returns is an infectious, giddy bauble of a movie -- with an unapologetic, syrupy spirit of joy that seems totally incongruent with the dreary world we're currently living in -- and yet it totally works in spite of that. It's chock full of what feels like legit movie magic and it cements Emily Blunt's status as perhaps the most appealing star in mainstream cinema.

I recall liking the original Mary Poppins a lot -- as a child -- I haven't revisited it since, although many of its iconic songs like "Chim Chim Cheree" and "A Spoonful of Sugar" have never stopped being stuck in my head. The reboot's greatest flaw is that none of its enjoyable songs have the staying power, but it makes up for it in spades by introducing a Poppins for the ages.

Blunt is one of those actresses who just lights up a screen and elevates every project she is in. She was the MVP of Tom Cruise's Edge of Tomorrow, and this year her husband John Krasinksi's A Quiet Place. This film feels like a justly earned victory lap.

Her Poppins is haughty, a little vain and whip-smart. She comes on like gangbusters without doing much but cock an eyebrow and let a coy smile cross her lips. She plays Poppins like a bit of a diva, but one that you'd want to hang out with 24/7.

Three unbelievably adorable British kids are her perfect foils -- and Lin-Manuel Miranda effortlessly translates his own sunny Broadway persona to the silver screen.

A lot of credit should also go to director Rob Marshall, who has always been side-eyed by cinephiles ever since his similarly crowd pleasing Chicago took home Best Picture back in 2002. Whether that award was justified is beside the point now, he clearly knows how to mount these kinds of productions, and Mary Poppins Returns -- while relentless -- is endlessly charming and gorgeous to look at.

Like with all the best recent reboots (think Creed or Mad Max: Fury Road) the filmmakers here clearly adored the original Poppins film -- and that reverence is borne out in the light as air tone of the movie as well as its aesthetics --- which include classic 2-D drawn animation co-mingling with human actors.

It has some nice knowing cameos from iconic actors that acquit themselves very well despite being over the age of 90. And I'll admit to tearing up more than a time or two, especially during its insanely whimsical climax which -- spoiler alert -- includes much of the cast floating through the air holding balloons.

I imagine there is a whole swath of people out there who would find all this cloying and downright grotesque. This is after all the latest in an assembly of Disney products which are essentially packaging our nostalgia in shiny new packages.

Case in point, you or someone will you love will likely be shelling out $10 to $20 to watch the exact same movie they enjoyed 25 years earlier, only this time with even prettier animation.

And yet, there is a flip side to that coin, and I experienced it firsthand. I watched Mary Poppins Returns in perhaps the most perfect of circumstances -- in a packed house full of families and their children.

I was moved to see so many kids genuinely transported by this movie, and intrigued by its world building fantasy and its broader theme of injecting fun into life instead of giving into cynicism. Going to movies isn't treated with the same reverence it once was -- especially with the ease and breath of streaming content.

And sure, there are far more substantial films in the marketplace right now -- If Beale Street Could Talk, for instance, is more resonant with real-world concerns -- but Mary Poppins Returns is the perfect version of a very specific kind of movie, one designed to do nothing more than put a smile on your face.

I would say mission accomplished Miss. Poppins.

‘If Beale Street Could Talk’ feels like a black Malick movie

Of the three major Oscar contenders which cover race matters, Barry Jenkins’ acclaimed adaptation of If Beale Street Could Talk is the most elegiac and impenetrable.

Black Panther provides excitement and ultimately inspiration, while Spike Lee’s BlacKkKlansman is a pulpy polemic whose laughs uncomfortably stick in your throat.

In Jenkins film, for better or worse, he doubles down on the dreamy lyricism of his breakthrough (eventual) Best Picture Oscar winner Moonlight and the result is a film that feels more like a pastiche than a definitive story.

In many ways, it reminds me of the work of director Terrence Malick — like many of that director’s film the pace in languid and the main characters mostly passive. The film is beautifully shot with an impeccable score, and it’s punctuated by occasional fiery moments that can be deeply affecting.

Of course, like much of Malick’s work, it’s also not for everyone’s tastes.

I’ll admit that it took me a while to adjust to what Jenkins is doing here. The narrative jumps around, sometimes guided by a voiceover supplied by the luminous leading lady KiKi Layne, or accented by stunning archival photos that also evoke the 60s-70s era in which the film is set.

It works more once you come to look at it as a slice of one life that reflects a far grander portrait of a very specific kind of wasted black male life, of which the late author James Baldwin (on whose novel this film is based) wrote more effectively than possibly anyone ever.

I confess I have not read this particular Baldwin book, so I don’t know how the movie compares but I do know that they both deal with the thorny issue of a false rape allegation. It’s to this film’s credit that this plot is handled with grace and sensitivity.

As he demonstrated with Moonlight, Jenkins excels at portraying intimacy - not just sexuality — but those hushed, emotionally resonant conversations that take place at the bar or the dinner table or by a bedside — which can feel like the weight of the world rests on every word.

Where he may falter for some audiences is with some of his stylistic flourishes, which walk a fine line between being too precious and powerful. If Beale Street Could Talk is the type of movie people tend to say they admire more than they enjoy it. It is definitely a viewing experience that asks more of its audience than most, which’s makes its resonance as an awards season movie that much more impressive.

In other words, while the virtues of A Star is Born are self evident throughout, If Beale Street Could Talk will likely benefit from repeat viewings, in a quiet space and a full night's rest.

That being said, I'm glad it's competing with bigger, louder audience pleasers. Jenkins has earned the right to move at his own unique rhythm, and I can't wait to see what he does next.

'Can You Forgive Me?' is very flawed, with fantastic performances

Can You Forgive Me? is one of those movies where the trailer pretty much gives away the whole store. It's not a particularly high stakes albeit true story -- it's about a malcontent, struggling writer named Lee Israel who sells pretentious letters to pretentious people for a several hundred dollars a pop.

It all heads to what feels like an inevitable climax and while it is frequently entertaining -- I found myself asking more internal questions than I would have liked to. I wondered why so many people bought Israel's scam, and also wondered why she was such a bitter, emotionally stunted person.

With the exception of a mostly alluded to failed previous relationship, Can You Forgive Me? doesn't shed much light on that latter point, and I suppose that's fine. I am not entirely sure that the film has a definitive take on Israel's actions. I guess we're supposed to think that she was too talented for this boondoggle and if only she'd been more willing to share her own talent she wouldn't have had to sink so low.

But unfortunately the film does little to establish that Israel is this great talent, besides showing collectors and bookstore owners being in awe of her forgeries. I'm not sure how a film can convey someone is a great writer per se, but I do know this one misses the mark.

What is fantastic about it though is Melissa McCarthy, who gives a compelling and credible dramatic performance here which shows the range and depth I've always thought she was capable of, but has all too frequently buried in broad comedies.

She has become a most unconventional movie star since she broke through in Bridesmaids back in 2011. Quietly but steadily she's been one of the more bankable names in Hollywood.

But in Can You Forgive Me? she is clearly trying to do something more than her usual physical dynamism, and she deserves kudos for that.

Israel is not an especially likable character (the only thing she seems to love is her sick cat) and it's hard to make audiences care about a sullen, sad sack of a person -- but McCarthy is so funny, engaging and ultimately heartbreaking in the role, that she keeps your interest, even if the movie surrounding her has these glaring flaws.

She's also aided tremendously by the characteristically witty and charming Richard E. Grant as her vagabond, promiscuous sidekick turned co-conspirator. When they are on screen together, their chemistry is palpable and the movie comes alive.

I wish that the movie generated more suspense, but instead it feels inevitable that Israel will eventually be found out and so what's valuable about the movie is the pure performance moments delivered by McCarthy and Grant, which thankfully there are many.

I will say that every Oscar season there's usually at least one awards contender that is just sort of ho-hum for me. I don't hate them per se, but I also don't fundamentally see what all the fuss is about. Brooklyn from a few years back was one of those movies for me, and this is another.

That said, Grant and McCarthy seem almost assured to score Oscar nominations for their work here and if they get them, they'll be totally deserved.

Dreaming of a 'Black' Christmas: My meaningless Oscar wishlist

Michael  B. Jordan in Black Panther

The Oscar nominations are a little over a month away but the speculation and horserace drama is already picking up steam. This will likely be a more competitive year than usual. There doesn't appear to be any total locks in any of the categories, although nominations seem assured for films like A Star Is Born and Roma.

Some of the critics' circles have already named their nominees, including the influential Golden Globes.

And while the precursors have been all over the place -- for instance, the late breaking Mary Poppins Returns has suddenly emerged as a major awards player. I can't help but have my own personal favorites that I'm rooting for, in some cases, despite long odds.

Of course, all of this should come with the usual caveat that this all doesn't really matter. The Oscars become less relevant with each year, and yet, for cinephiles like me, they are kind of irresistible.

When the nominations are finally revealed, this is what I want to see the most...

Black Panther and Michael B. Jordan - After the Oscars' pathetic attempt to ghettoize Black Panther by putting in a new 'popular film' category fizzled, it's still hanging on strong -- earning major nominations and appearing on top 10 lists. At this point I'd be shocked if it wasn't nominated for Best Picture (it certainly could fill the slot that previous blockbusters like Mad Max: Fury Road or Avatar occupied), but no Marvel movie has ever gained acceptance to the big show -- so who knows. I think Ryan Coogler will likely be snubbed, which is absurd, since that movie was his vision.

But the nominee I most want to see is Michael B. Jordan for Best Supporting Actor. Until recently, he was seen as having a better than average shot at making the final five, but the competition has grown stiffer and now he feels like a longshot. I'm especially bitter about since it looks like the sole representation of African-Americans in this category may wind up being Mahershala Ali for the problematic Green Book.

BlacKkKlansman and Spike Lee - Spike Lee has never been nominated for Best Director. Just let that sink in for a minute. Sometimes the academy finally wakes out of their stupor to recognize a master who's been right there under their nose for years. It happened a couple years back with Wes Anderson and it seems poised to happen again with Lee's most critically and commercially lauded film in years. Not only are nominations for the film and his direction deserving, but it would also be a timely and politically charged choice that would reflect well on the academy.

All the stars of The Favourite - I've made no bones about the fact that I loved The Favourite, and the movie's greatest strength is its three flawless leading performances from Olivia Coleman, Emma Stone and Rachel Weisz. The producers are wisely splitting the ticket, campaigning for Coleman in lead with Stone and Weisz in supporting. I think it's quite possible that all three make the cut -- which would be fabulous. Even if none of them win, which is also quite possible, it would be very cool and gratifying to see that all these amazing performances were rightly recognized.

Ryan Gosling in First Man

Some love for Widows - For some reason, Widows has not only underperformed at the box office, but it's also failed to get love from the awards clique as well, which is hugely disappointing. I'm not sure what isn't connecting with the voters, but Viola Davis and Daniel Kaluuya at the very least should be the in the nomination conversation. If Viola is snubbed, it'll likely be an all-white Best Actress field, which is not a good look.

Some love for First Man - Damian Chazelle's space opera is one of these other inexplicably rejected, critically acclaimed films that seems to have been wholly rejected by audiences and the awards community. Granted, it's a quiet, slow boil of film about people who suppress their emotions -- but it still has a great pay-off and is a technical marvel, so it deserves to be a part of the Oscar conversation. Claire Foy looks like she will still make it in for Best Supporting Actress, but I don't expect Ryan Gosling's name to be called this time.

Ethan Hawke in First Reformed - Hawke's greatest performance ever seems to be hanging around, which is particularly impressive given what a small and intellectually dense movie First Reformed is, but he deserves the recognition because if you have seen the film you know what a powerful, unforgettable performance it is. All too often Best Actor gets hijacked by people playing dress up as a famous historical figure (think Gary Oldman) or someone excelling in a role that is obvious Oscar bait. Hawke in First Reformed is neither, just a brilliant character performance built from the ground up.

Toni Collette in Hereditary - With the exception of the occasional outlier like Get Out or The Silence of the Lambs, scary films usually gets no love from the academy, which is part of why the staying power of Toni Collette's go-for-broke performance in this psychologically harrowing horror movie. It's a competitive year for Best Actress, but the fifth slot does seem to be up for grabs, and although her movie came out earlier in the year, Collette has been scoring some nominations, could she be a surprise contender? I hope so!

Giving the 'Gremlins' franchise its proper due

The Gremlins movies are often overlooked when it comes to the pantheon of holiday movies and it's easy to see why. Despite earning decent reviews and being wildly successful (the first one in particular) at the box office they aren't exactly family friendly, even if they are clearly aimed at mischievous kids with a high tolerance for ickiness.

The cast has been made quite persuasively that the films are really a covert vehicle for a racist take on white flight but I like to think they are meant as a satire of privileged complacency in general.

The first film functions as a kind of anti-E.T., it starts with the introduction of the adorable, innocent Gizmo but after every rule regarding the gremlins is broken (getting them wet, feeding them after midnight) the movie turns into pretty much a full bore horror film, albeit a comical one.

It's a dark film that almost seems crafted to infuriate parents and titillate or terrify kids, depending on how strong their constitutions are.

I was definitely one of those kids who were terrified by the gremlins, especially when took on more vicious, reptilian form. I have a very vivid memory of being terrified for the ads for Gremlins 2: The New Batch, and begging my older brother to warn me if the trailer was about to show when we went to a movie so I could cover my eyes.

Now, I can see the appeal. While the first film plays things fairly straight and effectively, the second film functions as almost a parody of the first.

It's telling that it starts with a classic-style Warner Brothers cartoon starring Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck. Gremlins 2 is pretty much a cartoon -- a gross out one to be sure -- but it has all sort of in-jokes, it breaks the fourth wall and climaxes with a big musical number inspired by Busby Berkeley.

I've always been more partial to the first film's narrative purity, but there is something endearing about the devil-may-care quality of its follow-up which was so wittily spoofed by this classic Key and Peele sketch.

This one isn't a Christmas movie at all -- but the first one is all about the holidays.

It's not exactly culturally sensitive and I don't think it's particularly deep -- but it is visceral (the puppetry is tactile and impressive) and original. I've heard rumors over the years that there is interest in rebooting this property -- which should surprise no one, since virtually everything gets rebooted nowadays. The gremlins would likely be computer animated in any new iteration -- which will likely detract from their impact.

I just hope if the concept is every revisited that it will not lose these two films' anarchic spirit. More kids movies should make parents uncomfortable and keep them on their toes.

It's not over yet, but the most overlooked movies of 2018

I'm not ready to make my top 10 list -- I still need to see Vice, If Beale Street Could Talk, The Mule (an Eastwood comeback?) and apparently the new Mary Poppins film is the real deal, at least if these first top 10 critics' lists are to be believed.

Still, the year that was in cinema is starting to take shape, and I think it's fair to say it was a pretty above average one.

The blockbusters were better than usual -- and the prestige films were more accessible without losing their auteur's vision (think BlacKkKlansman) -- and yet, there were a lot of really terrific movies that never found an audience despite considerable critical acclaim.

There are always good to great movies that don't reap the financial whirlwind that they deserved. I am still shocked that Boogie Nights wasn't more of a hit (it ranked 79th among the films released in 1997, below the Macauley Culkin-less Home Alone 3 and Beverly Hills Ninja), especially since it's one of those movies that everyone seems to have eventually seen.

The same goes for Fight Club, a movie I like a lot less, but was ubiquitous when it came out back in 1999 although it grossed less than forgettable movies like Bicentennial Man and the late career Kevin Costner tearjerker Message in a Bottle.

I would put Steve McQueen's fantastic thriller Widows in that category. It's definitely underperformed at the box office, despite boasting a top notch cast and an exciting trailer. Perhaps its disappointing run is simply a symptom of racism and/or sexism (women of all shades are the center of the film) or maybe it is simply one of those terrific movies that fell victim to an overcrowded holiday
marketplace.

Still, I fully expect it to find its audience and become a cult classic over time. But even if it tops out at $40-$45 million domestic, it'll have still been seen by a lot more people than the other films I'm about to shout out...

Eighth Grade - It's been a real pleasant surprise to see this film emerge on some end-of-the-year critics' lists. I thought it was one of the most charming, assured coming-of-age films I'd ever seen when I first caught it back it back in July and I assumed it would be a big crossover success but it tapped out at just $13.5 million at the box office. Sure, it had no stars, but it had so much heart and good humor. Hopefully, people will take a second look at it now.

You Were Never Really Here - Joaquin Phoenix has a legitimate argument to make as the greatest actor of his generation. He certainly added to his impressive run of leading performances with his brooding, powerful work here in this dark drama about the underbelly of NYC high society and a would-be avenging angel out to set things right. This one might have just come out to early to capture the prestige crowd, but it's so taut and terrific it really deserved to have been a hit. But it only made $7.4 million.

First Reformed - Of all the films on this list, this one seems to have the most awards season heat, which is surprising since it is a uniquely intellectual film that is not for many peoples' tastes. I thought it was profound, and quite possibly director Paul Schrader's greatest masterpiece. The lead performance from Ethan Hawke (as a priest whose faith gets tested by the indifference of the clergy to the effects of climate change, among other things) is also a career best. Honestly, I'm not surprised the movie wasn't a 'hit' -- almost no Schrader movies are -- but $3.8 million seems way too low.

Sorry to Bother You - After being so well-received on the festival circuit and with its star -- Lakeith Stanfield -- really enjoying a moment culturally, I assumed Boots Riley's savage satire of corporate America would be a real breakthrough hit. I don't know anyone who saw it and didn't have a lot of fun with it (even if the last act struck some as too over the top -- but I loved it). And yet it has been totally overlooked in the awards conversation (it at least deserves an original screenplay nod) and it only made $17.5 million -- although against a $3 million budget it was at least profitable.

The Old Man & The Gun - All the pre-release hype about this movie centered around it being the potential acting swan song of legendary Hollywood icon Robert Redford, which I think is both a blessing and a curse. It does give what could have bene a lightweight romp more pathos but I also think it distracted from what a solid, character study it is. I think it'll likely fade in the background of more substantive 2018 films, but it ageism wasn't so prevalent, I think it'd made more than the $11.5 million if currently has.

Hereditary - This acclaimed horror film was probably the biggest 'hit' of this bunch -- but for a widely released horror title $44 million isn't a great number. This was one of those films that the critics loved and many audiences couldn't make heads or tails of. Horror audiences are historically fickle and perhaps this film's psychological bent and disturbing finale was too unpleasant for some people to stomach. But no one can deny the power of Toni Colette's lead performance and there are too many incredible sequences in this movie to discount it.

Mandy - In defense of this movie's performance -- a film like Mandy was never meant for mass consumption. It's so incredibly trippy and strange, with a narrative that doesn't necessarily makes sense but is visceral and compelling. If you get on the film's wavelength and appreciate Nicolas Cage's eccentricity than you will have a wild, exhilarating time with it -- but everyone else should probably steer clear -- and most audiences did, it only grossed $1.4 million.

Stay tuned for my top 10 list of 2018, which will likely feature some of these titles and will be unveiled sometime in the new year most likely. Until then, try to seek out some of these overlooked gems, I think they'll be worth your while.

'Creed II' is another knockout for Michael B. Jordan, Stallone

Sequels are always so risky. You almost always disappoint, and at worst, detract from the power of the original. But Creed II is one of those fantastic ones which builds off your affection and respect for the first movie, and spins such a captivating new yarn that you find yourself rooting for a third installment when you leave the theater. Honestly, I think if the fact that the movie was a sequel wasn't so front and center this installment would be the Oscar contender Ryan Coogler's 2015 movie was. It's that good.

Just like Rocky II put its hero through the paces of a challenging sophomore slump, this new movie (directed with grace and intensity by newcomer Steven Caple Jr.) is all about pain and redemption.

Sylvester Stallone co-wrote this one, but none of the grit, humor and authenticity of its predecessor is lost. Instead we get to enjoy what have become new friends maturing. For instance, Jordan's titular hero and Tessa Thompson's Bianca's relationship is beautifully fleshed out in this one.

Yes, it has the old fashioned convoluted premise of the Drago family (led by a terrifically stoic Dolph Lungren) seeking payback for the humiliation they suffered at the end of Rocky IV, but even there story is handled with sensitivity and nuance, so much so that there is real pathos and stakes in the big fight confrontations for them too.

Meanwhile, Stallone is just so in the pocket as Balboa. Here is an actor who has been able to master a single character for over 40 years. That shuffle, that cocked hat, and uncertain line delivery gets me every time. He's just as incredible and heartbreaking in this film as he was in Creed (and frequently has been in many of the previous Rocky movies) and can have me in tears with just a single reference to his dearly departed Adrian.

But this is the Michael B. Jordan show. Let there be no doubt, following his scene-stealing performance earlier this year in Black Panther, and this, he is the leading man of the year (sorry Bradley Cooper). He has this remarkable ability to be both hyper masculine and achingly vulnerable in just the right doses. He has so much chemistry with everyone on-screen from Thompson to Stallone to Phylicia Rashad as his long-suffering mother.

I have no idea if he's keen to track the growth of this character over several films as Stallone did very successfully (his final entry as Rocky in the ring, Rocky Balboa, is still surprisingly moving), but the prospect is exciting. Here is an unabashed African-American hero whose race is self-evident but also not a major force or feature in the narrative. Audiences simply root for him because he is so damn charismatic and heroic. I haven't seen something like this with a black actor since Denzel.

And while there are those who are keen to call this movie formulaic and sentimental, they are overlooking the fact that the formula really works and sentiment is genuine.

This hero's journey is not unlike the one Stallone goes on in Rocky II -- but Jordan's Creed is a very different character (he's far angrier than Rocky ever is, Thompson's Bianca is no Adrian (she actually encourages her husband to fight) and even Stallone's Rocky has changed -- he's a wise man -- not an intellectual -- but a student of human behavior who knows how to read a room and who has perspective for days.

I'm just so inspired to see a big mainstream drama do such great business and be appreciated for the great pop entertainment that it is. Just like Halloween from earlier this year, this is a great genre reboot that hits all the right notes without ever feeling hokey and predictable. That's no small feat. I loved this movie and if you are a fan of this type of movie -- you will too.

Why I can't get excited about 'Green Book'

There's one big Oscar movie this season that I am sort of dreading, perhaps unfairly, and it's the new movie Green Book.

It's getting rave reviews, and is appearing on virtually every Oscar shortlist out there, showing staying power in many major categories.

I like a lot of the comedic work of the director Peter Farrelly (he and his brother made Dumb and Dumber, Kingpin and There's Something About Mary), I love the lead actors Viggo Mortenson and Mahershala Ali -- but the film's trailers have left me with very mixed feelings.

While I am sure it's well made and well acted, it feels like the latest in a long line of well-intentioned movies out of Hollywood that seem to tell their audience "aren't you glad racism is over" or "man, isn't racism bad" through the lens of a white character observing the life of a black character, who in turn enriches them and makes them a better person.

Now, this is entirely unfair of me. I am literally basing all of my skepticism on a single ubiquitous trailer. Of course, it's totally possibly that Green Book is irrepressibly beautiful and charming story of a real-life interracial friendship that portrays a compelling Civil Rights era context. But, I do feel wary of films like this (and I include The Butler, a film made by a black director, Lee Daniels, in this category, too.) which seem to want to leave audiences with a feel-good attitude about race in America.

Great films about the era, like Ava DuVernay's Selma are unflinching about the stakes, the prescience and the real players in the events that took place. They don't require a white knight, white liberal hero to be an audience surrogate -- I'm looking at you The Help -- and so they are not weighed down by forced sentimentality or let anyone off the hook because of a little historical distance from the action.

I fear that Green Book is patting itself on the back for being a kind of reverse Driving Miss Daisy, where the black character appears to have higher status and more agency. But there's a reason that Mortenson is campaigning for Best Actor while Ali is relegating to supporting in this year's Oscar sweepstakes, because this is a movie about Mortenson's character.

Again, I need to see it. I need give it a chance to surprise me. Mortenson and Ali are such warm and lovely performers that I could see it winning me over despite my reservations. But I do want this to be the last film about the black experience from the perspective of a white person.

There have been films like this I have enjoyed in the past. I think Alan Parker's Mississippi Burning is a masterpiece even if it is about white FBI agents investigating the murder of predominately black civil rights workers.

I think the movie works because it is up front about the fact that it is about a fish out of water (Willem Dafoe) being forced to see bigotry up close and learning to embrace the hard-nosed rule breaking tactics of a veteran agent and southern native (played to perfection by Gene Hackman) to seek justice. It is not a feel-good movie per se (even if the bad guys are eventually arrested) and it doesn't turn its white protagonists into flawless superheroes.

That said, 30 years later, that film also stands as an example of when Hollywood was still too scared to tell stories about this country's dark racial past from the perspective of the people who were most affected by it -- African-Americans.

In 2018, we should be doing better, more nuanced things. Predominately black films have had enough commercial success (hell, the biggest movie of the year, and currently this decade is a nearly all-black superhero movie) that you can't argue anymore that audiences won't go to see movie like this without a white lead.

Why couldn't the Mortenson character be the supporting one and the film just be about Ali's pianist character? It's a question I ask myself every time I see ads for this film. And hopefully, I won't be still asking myself that when I eventually drag myself to see it.

‘The Favourite’ is a note perfect film, one of the year’s best

Prior to seeing The Favourite, I admired the films of director Yorgos Lanthimos more than I enjoyed them. They had a kind of cold Kubrickian intensity that was undeniably impressive. Yet there was also a smugness to the laughs and a jarring lack of heart. While devotees may consider his new film a bid for the mainstream, I consider it a maturation—and a masterpiece.

This is a film where I wouldn’t change a single line or alter any scene. It features a trio of peerless performances that rank among the year’s best from Emma Stone, Rachel Weisz and the scene-stealing Olivia Coleman. Nicolas Hoult also offers tremendous support to this bawdy and beautiful costume comedy.

The best corollary for this film is Stanley Kubricks’s epic Barry Lyndon. Both films are about conniving people trying to move above their station in life.

In this film, it’s Emma Stone — doing a very credible British accent — vying for the affections of a queen who is very in over her head (Coleman) while competing with her royal highness’ best friend, sometimes lover and long time manipulator (Weisz).

Their escalating feud provides the spine of this sumptuous romp, which feels utterly contemporary and never, ever predictable.

Lanthimos has not abandoned his fascination with human frailty and cruelty, nor has he lost his deadpan humor — which is here in abundance.

It turns out his sensibility is a perfect fit for the costume drama because he is able to revel in the absurdity of the character’s vanity and political machinations.

And without spoiling anything — I’ll say it ends with one of the most quietly devastating finales I’ve seen in quite some time. For all it’s funny moments, The Favourite has a stone cold seriousness in its center.

Black Panther remains the most entertaining film I’ve seen this year and its power as pop art has not diminished with time, but The Favourite certainly rivals it in terms of craftsmanship and storytelling — and they both benefit from a clear visionary serving as the director.

And I’d be remiss if I didn’t continue to sing the praises of the movie’s leading ladies. These are very challenging, emotional and physical performances at a time where many have rightfully called out a dearth of strong women’s roles. This film could and should stand as a testament to the what-should-be-obvious fact that women can be just as riveting on screen as any man, if not more.

I can’t say enough good things about this movie and it just made my top 10 list a little more overstuffed.

'The Ballad of Buster Scruggs': The Coens go 3 for 3 with westerns

Nothing in the Coen Brothers' early work would suggest that they were necessarily culturally or temperamentally suited to revitalize the western genre, but they have repeatedly demonstrated that they can both elevate and revere this type of film, which has been largely out of fashion for years.

Recently, there have been Tarantino's forays into westerns, but his films are more clearly homages (to spaghetti westerns primarily) than totally original visions. In No Country for Old Men, True Grit, and now The Ballad of Buster Scruggs, the Coens have made strong standalone visions of their own, violent and poignant in equal measure.

The difference is that No Country and True Grit were both adaptations, albeit flawless ones, of very popular source material. Buster Scruggs feels more personal, more like them. It's six stories in one -- all beautifully shot and expertly crafted -- with quirky casting and some of the other hallmarks of the Coen's oeuvre, but their jarring tonal shifts and ambiguous nature make this feel like an interesting new chapter in the Coens' history.

What's curious about the movie is it was released on Netflix, and this may be the rare film that works in that format. It's both episodic and sprawling, with a relaxed, lived in pacing that works for home viewing but might feel tedious in a theater. The film is never boring but it can be a little impenetrable at times, which of course, is also a hallmark of a lot of Coen movies.

The first chapter, from which the film gets its name, is a jarring black comedy -- featuring Tim Blake Nelson as a goofy, singing cowboy on the outside, but a brutal, sadistic sociopath on the inside. The violence is genuinely shocking and surreal in this first piece, but the film feels like the kind of ironic fable that the Coens have tackled in the past.

Part two is also more fun than fierce, with James Franco as a bank robber who's execution keeps getting unexpectedly postponed. It's in the third chapter where things start to get more mercurial and solemn. That story features Liam Neeson as a grizzled manager of a limbless performer. My favorite might be part four, which features a wonderful Tom Waits as a prospector who's just struck gold.

Part five has a great turn from The Big Sick's Zoe Kazan, and a brutally bleak ending. And the strangest of all is the final sequence, which I don't know if I fully understand but still has an intriguing resonance about it.

This is a lot of movie, and it's incredible that the Coens elicit as much affection for its characters as they do considering the fact that the film runs a little over two hours and tells six different stories (each introduced as if it were a section of a book).

I'm still processing the movie, but I think it's heartening that the Coens are still marching to their own drum making unique, idiosyncratic projects like these that reflect their sensibility. I was disappointed that their last big screen effort -- Hail Caesar! -- flopped. It was a pleasurable tribute to old Hollywood.

This film, a tribute to the western -- is anything but old fashioned -- but it does represent a kind of precise storytelling and cultural specificity that is in short supply these days (perhaps only Wes Anderson has a similarly front and center cinematic voice). It's definitely worth a look -- I found that it sticks with you in ways you wouldn't expect.

'Widows' deserves to be a word of mouth blockbuster

Widows, which opened this Friday, is the kind of movie I am always lamenting that they don't make anymore. It's a well-written, adult action drama that is chock full of terrific star turns and delicious plot twists (some of whim had the audience I was in audibly gasp).

It's the most commercial, mainstream movie director Steve McQueen has made to date, and he managed to do it without sacrificing his razor sharp style and ability to convey nuances of race and class.

This has been another banner year for films that grapple with race, and while Widows is also a first-rate heist picture, it has some smart, pointed things to say about political posturing, racial authenticity and even police brutality.

It's a sprawling movie -- with lots of colorful characters and backstories -- it reminded me of Heat to some degree, with its high melodrama mixing with artful action set pieces. It's hard to say whether it will be taken as seriously as more prestige fare come Oscar time, but I hope it is in the mix.

Certainly, Viola Davis deserves to be in the Best Actress conversation. This is unlike any other big screen role she's had. The movies had largely relegated her to playing a supportive role, and as dynamite as she's been in those parts, I always suspected there was more untapped resources in her repertoire.

In Widows, she gets to finally play the badass we all knew she was all along. And she's supported by a great team of female co-stars, including Michelle Rodriguez and newer faces Cynthia Erivo and Elizabeth Debecki, as the wives of hoods who are brutally killed leaving them all behind with their debt.

They quickly decide (perhaps too quickly) to pull off a heist planned by Davis' late husband (played with his usual gravitas by Liam Neeson) in order to get whole. And that's kind of just the beginning.

Movies like this are usually only as good as their villains and the film has plenty. There in the corrupt Mulligan family, led by a racist patriarch (a fantastic Robert Duvall) who has set up a political dynasty he hopes to be prolonged by his slick son (Colin Farrell, who's also good, but struggles mightily with his attempt at a Chicago accent).

And there's the Manning brothers, one a hoodlum trying to go straight in the criminal world (Brian Tyree Henry) and another who simply revels in his own ability to inflict pain (an ice cold Daniel Kaluuya).

All of these characters are given room to breathe. develop and show shades of gray. The pictures moves though, never feels a minute too long and has ruthlessly efficient dialogue that gets right to the point.

It should be a major hit -- that is of course if audiences can get over their bias against women-led action pictures. It's a real crowd pleaser with more than any intelligence and insight to avoid being a meaningless trifle.

Even if it doesn't open big at first, and the first indications are it won't, I think it could be a real word-of-mouth movie. Certainly, it's a must-see for fans of great genre movies. They're finally back with a vengeance this year.

'Boy Erased' is a movie red state America must see ASAP

Probably the most impressive thing about the emotionally pulverizing and beautifully performed new (likely Oscar favorite) film Boy Erased, is that it portrays the parents of a young gay teen forced to go to 'conversion therapy' with grace and empathy.

As impressive as Lucas Hedges is in the lead role, and he is, it's the remarkable work of Russell Crowe and Nicole Kidman as his parents that I think could be the most groundbreaking.

It would have been easy to paint these two devout Arkansas Christians as over-the-top caricatures, but they're not. They love their son but have a warped view of homosexuality that challenges their compassion and leads them to make unconscionable decisions.

Even the villain of the piece -- played by the film's writer-director -- actor Joel Edgerton is less a figure of pure menace, and more of an absurd charlatan, drunk on his own power (the film pointedly reveals that the dogma the young boys and girls are indoctrinated with is riddled with typos).

Perhaps, this is why their has been some criticism of the movies gay conversion scenes, which are frequently more sterile and even humorous than harrowing (although there are upsetting moments to be sure). But like with BlackkKlansman, I think Edgerton is rightly conveying the ignorance of these haters, not turning them into forceful foes but exposing them as the pathetic, scared men that they are.

Everything in this movie is handled with delicacy, realism and sensitivity. For instance, the Hedges' character's self actualization of his sexual identity is complicated and at times ugly. He enters therapy wanting to change, not necessarily fighting it.

The story unfolds in chilling fashion (it's based on the memoir of the protagonist Garrard Manley) and makes plain how toxic mixing religious fervor with hate can be, as well as how psychologically destructive shame can be.

Following his stellar work on and in The Gift, this films cements Edgerton's status as a major filmmaker. He never overplays a moment here, and doesn't shy away from letting emotional moments hit you in both subtle and sensational ways. There are scenes here that contain some of the best work Kidman and Crowe have ever done, so much so, that they're occasionally wavering Southern accents are barely a distraction.

It could have been a screed or a polemic, but it is neither. It does end with a chilling title card that reminds viewers that 36 states still permit facilities like the one the Hedges character is sent to, which means that there's state-sanctioned child abuse in at least 36 states.

However, because the story in no way judges Christianity or paints its subjects with too broad a brush, I think it could earn more mainstream acceptance. I kept thinking, this is a movie that demands to be seen by perhaps not virulent homophobes (who will likely not be moved in the slightest by it) but by those fence sitters, who are uncomfortable with LGBT culture and people, but are persuadable.

Of course, it is no one's responsibility to educate these people not to hate. They ought to seek out the knowledge on their own, as well as reach out to people in that community to develop a better understanding of them.

But it would be naive to understate how effective movies like this can be. It had me in tears thinking about my own relationship with my parents, and how hard it can be to break any private truth to them, no matter how significant.

It was just over 10 years ago that snickering jokes were being made left and right about Brokeback Mountain, and now this film arrives and thankfully mainstream culture has advanced enough that virulent homophobia is no longer openly tolerated by much of the public -- now, the challenge is excising the hate that exists privately in many peoples' hearts.

And I do believe, in some small way, Boy Erased -- which is one of the best movies I've seen this year -- will contribute to some peoples' growth.

'Little Murders' may be the best little-seen masterpiece of the '70s

Sometimes you see a movie from several years ago and think not only - how did this get made - but -how did they make something this ahead of its time? That's the feeling I had while watching satirist Jules Feiffer's 1971 masterpiece Little Murders.

The movie, which leveraged the goodwill and stardom engendered by Elliott Gould's breakout hit M*A*S*H from the year before to make something deeply subversive and, also just deep. There are traces of Wes Anderson and the Coens here, maybe even a little David Lynch. I can't imagine a time when Hollywood studios would wholeheartedly embrace a movie like this, but I am so glad they did.

Gould, who is normally cute and funny deliberately dials down the charisma. He’s hangdog and beaten down -- is bruised and bleeding throughout. He plays an emotionally stunted photographer who is targeted for a romance by a spirited woman (played beautifully by Marcia Rodd) who comically insists on 'moulding' him into the kind of man she wants him to be.

This includes forced visits with her eccentric family, which includes a creepy brother who may or may not be attracted to her, a homophobic father and a blithe mother who has lines like: “You’re a photographer so I thought you’d appreciate looking at these photos of Patsy’s dead brother Steven.”

People don’t talk like this anymore in movies. It's remarkably funny dialogue this is heightened to be sure, but never not interesting. Naturalism can be boring. In fact, when was the last time you actually remembered a line of dialogue from a movie you've seen? "Wakanda forever," is one of the only things that comes to mind for me.

One of the strengths of the new Star Is Born is that the script is memorable even if it is flawed.

From this movie--  ‘What I really want to do is direct films’ - is one of my favorite non sequitur punch lines ever. There's another line I love: “I hate families.” And it's not just the witty, surreal dialogue that makes this movie special, its the willingness to celebrate iconoclasts, which was something of a trademark for 1971 films -- with films like A Clockwork Orange, Harold & Maude and even The French Connection -- putting unorthodox, even crazy characters, front and center.

And while this movie, on it's surface appears to be a light, quirky romantic comedy -- there is a shocking, sudden, not fully explained burst of violence in the denouement that delivers a punch to the gut and changes the entire feeling of the film for the rest of its running time.

There are, of course, elements that date the film. The F gay slur thrown is thrown around casually with contempt, but it does feels authentic to the time. There are moments, some of them, where its evident that the film's origins were on the stage and not the screen.

But these are minor quibbles. This is a brilliant, hilarious movie that deserves to be rediscovered. It's hard to describe, and even harder to find (it's not on Netflix, Amazon or any of the other obvious platforms).

The '70s are full of hidden gems like this that are sadly buried from potential audiences -- movies like The Big Fix with Richard Dreyfuss, and Darker Than Amber, with another cool, unconventional leading man in Rod Taylor, that you have to really hunt for and can't get access to a quality version of them.

These movies must be resurrected -- nudge, nudge Criterion -- they speak to the paranoia, the existential crisis of the 1970s, a decade touched by economic uncertainty, political corruption and senseless violence. Sound familiar?

'Suspiria' remake is ambitious, unsetlling and I'm unsure if I like it

I am not necessarily opposed to remakes or reboots. However, I do believe if you are going to retread cinematic ground (especially when the film you're plundering is already a stone cold classic) you definitely need to justify why you're doing it, either by expanding or enhancing the effect of the original or by doing something very unique and surprising with the material.

Director Luca Guadagnino (of Call My By Your Name fame) definitely tries to do the latter. His version of Dario Argento's stylish 1977 horror film Suspiria is sprawling (nearly 3 hours long), more narratively complex and boasts top notch production values.

It also has the advantage of not one but two riveting Tilda Swinton performances to feast on, ironically the most compelling of which is under heavy prosthetic make-up as an elderly German man.

And yet, at least upon first viewing, I'm not sure his version entirely worked for me. I didn't go in with outsized expectations, but I did go in as a huge fan of the original film. That film's loose plot was never its selling point. The joy of the original was its propulsive pace and virtuoso style. It's gore was gorgeous, its color palette sublime.

Guadagnino goes in a totally different direction with mixed results. His pacing is slower, his film's look is drab and dreary. It's much more of a body horror film that a blood and guts chiller. He also tries valiantly to make a more structured plot and justification for the bizarre goings on in the film, and I think that is where it started to lose me.

The movie is about a mysterious dance company based in late '70s Berlin (the politics of which form a backdrop for the film and a subtext I don't fully comprehend). Pretty much from the get-go the audience is let in on the fact that it's run by a witches coven seeking a new sacrificial lamb, who dutifully arrives in the coquettish form of Dakota Johnson.

Johnson, for the most part, delivers the same not-as-shy-as-I-look performance she gave in the movie that made her a star, Fifty Shades of Grey, and I'm not sure I liked it. It's not that the 1977 Suspiria's lead (Jessica Harper, who gets a small but pivotal role in this remake) was particularly complex either, but this version would be well served by a lead with more character, especially as a contrast to the delightfully over the top witches.

She does give a very credible physical performance though, and the dance sequences here are often breathtaking, even sublime. This is part of what makes this movie so maddening.

There are moments where there is real existential dread, and others that are genuinely terrifying -- like a bravura centerpiece scene where a dancer's body is contorted horrifically against her will -- but then there are stretches that are either tedious or just plain silly, and since the movie has nary a sense of humor (save for a couple shots here and there), it can feel self-important to a fault.

And I am not sure what this film is trying to say. It's definitely not trying to be an audience pleasing thrill ride like the latest Halloween movie. But it's unclear to me what impact its supposed to have. Yes, it's tense and creepy and when it was over I felt like I'd been through the ringer, but the intent of the film felt murkier to me than Darren Aronofsky's much-maligned Mother!, which shares some DNA with this movie.

What I am left with was an undeniable sensory experience -- with some indelible sequences and images -- but also a sense that I've witnesses something shallow and gimmicky. For instance, the Swinton dual role amounts to little more than a stunt, it serves no narrative purpose. The film's gross out scenes, of which there are many, lack the elaborate grace of Argento's -- so they just make you vaguely nauseous, and then you move on.

There's also anachronistic music cues featuring Thom Yorke, and subplots galore that pile on top of each other but don't resonate when all is said and done.

And yet, I still may be willing to revise my opinion about this movie. It's too well-made to dismiss out of a hand as a purely bad film. It's just a maddening one.