'Birds of Prey' reminds me why I am not missing superhero movies

Birds of Prey (and the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) is a particularly frustrating sort of movie because it's almost really good, quite frequently in fact, but it also suffers from almost all of the same deficiencies that can often make superhero films forgettable at best and deadening at worst.

Say what you will about last year's Joker -- and I remain a defensive but ardent defender -- it was different than most so-called comic book movies. Now, many will argue that that film was unjustly lauded for its tonal change and aesthetic (and they may have a point) but I suspect that it was so refreshing for a lot of filmgoers and critics because it came on the heels of a little over a decade of these kinds of blockbusters, most of which don't hue too far from formula.

Joker was a film, at least in my estimation, that I couldn't predict from once scene to the next, which  to me is the hallmark of every good to excellent modern superhero movie. Birds of Prey pulls off that same dichotomy for a bit, invigorating slow, before collapsing back in on itself.

At its center is the committed and charismatic presence of Margot Robbie as Harley Quinn. Her debut at the character in Suicide Squad barely registered for me, I think in part because I despised that film so much that I couldn't get past the trees for the forest.

When she pops up here -- with a clumsy, convoluted plot device of her "breaking up with the Joker" to excuse his lack of a presence here -- it's jarring at first. She is leaning hard into an exaggerated Long Island-esque voice and she has Jim Carrey-esque gainly physicality which is disarming. But once you settle in with her and embrace the idea that she really playing the character as a cartoon, someone popping off the pages of a comic book, rather than a grounded human being -- it works.

In fact, the openly chunk of Harley Quinn reminded me a bit of Tim Burton's Batman films (with the notable exception of some unnecessary four letter words). It's campy without being too cynical, colorful without looking tacky.

And she's backed up by some incredibly lovable character actresses -- the always reliable Mary Elizabeth Winstead, the ageless and alluring Jurnee Smollett, and also ageless an alluring Rosie Perez (plus a child actress who isn't that great, although I appreciate that she's Asian, rounding out a pretty diverse cast). They each play badass pieces of the puzzle, and while the movie isn't subtle with it's rah rah feminism messaging, I didn't care because not only do I agree with it in principle and practice, but the movie is almost always fun about its fundamentals.

So far, so good right? That's where Ewan McGregor comes in. I like Ewan McGregor and he's a god actor -- but he's just not a villain. No matter how hard he tries -- and boy does he -- he is just one of those actors who can't be menacing, even when he tries. He seems unsure if he wants to play the bad guy here as a comic figure or a terrifying one. His character's trademark is literally cutting off peoples' faces -- and yet he feels like a completely inconsequential opponent. Literally, he admits that he's operating only because the Joker has allowed him to.

My point is movies like these sink or swim depending on the adversary. Why? Because the antagonist creates conflict and therefore gives us something to care about. And there's little to care about here. This film has too many subplots, too many characters (even though as I mentioned earlier, I quite like some of them) and too many fight scenes -- although the ones here are distinctly brutal and well choreographed.

This is a movie that doesn't have the patience and trust in its audience to slow things down just a little bit. I'm all for a fast paced movie, but this film has ADD. Somewhere around the halfway mark I lost thread and surrendered the film's knowing, winking asides. It's not as smug as the Deadpool films, but clearly this film wants to both be taken seriously and not be taken seriously.

When it was over I didn't regret watching it but I also felt like I couldn't in good conscience recommend it. Besides a halfway decent attempt to inject a girl power ethos into the proceedings, this is a movie about nothing that doesn't really go anywhere. I imagine had it been a bigger success it could have spawned more sequels and an expanded universe, but do we need it?

There's so much of this out there it's hard to get past the cynicism involved. At its best, Birds of Prey helps you put it out of your mind for a while, but then you find yourself wondering if the Joker or Batman will show up and want to slap yourself on the wrist for even imagining it.

As much I miss new movies right now. I am not sure I need more of these.

Watching 'Patton' through the prism of the Trump presidency

Donald Trump doesn't praise other people too often, but if you listen to his speeches and interviews he does seem to have an affinity for the late Gen. George S. Patton. In fact, he seems to have a bit of a hard on for anyone he deems a "great general" presumably for all the wrong reasons.

Even the phrase "great general" feels inappropriate since we're talking about one's ability to more effectively slaughter another country's soldiers. "Effective"general seems like a more apt description for deeply flawed men like Patton.

I have always figured Trump has little or no knowledge of Patton's actual exploits -- I assume if he were asked to name a single WWII battle he won or even where his troops fought during that conflict he couldn't tell you. However, he probably has some familiarity with the classic 1970 war film Patton, which was a huge hit right before Trump became a nationally known figure.

Francis Ford Coppola, who co-wrote the film, brilliantly devised a script that would satisfy both conservatives and liberals -- since the film both captures Patton's unbelievably reckless hubris and his undeniable tough guy charisma. In George C. Scott's sly, Oscar-winning performance -- you see that Patton (at least in the film's estimation) was a profound narcissist, convinced that his every action should be and would be historic.

In that way, Trump is his polar opposite -- he is purely obsessed with short term gain and gratification and seems to either not care or doesn't think about how history will judge him. Also, Patton was a well-read, sophisticated man -- he even spoke French -- and as well all know, Trump is no intellectual.

Trump and Patton

I highly doubt that Trump could or would follow the military strategy depicted in the film. For all I know, he's probably never made it past the legendary opening of the film, where Scott as Patton delivers a florid monologue in front of an enormous American flag.

What he is probably drawn to is the Patton who when his fort is attacked by an air raid, he runs outside and begins shooting at the planes himself ineffectually with a pistol. This is the same kind of illogical, performative masculinity that has also made Trump such a fan of Air Force One -- he truly believes that he could be or should be a 'man of action' where the symbolically 'tough' gesture matters more than the cause or the result.

Of course, as the film depicts, Patton's need for self-aggrandizing glory was his own undoing. This is a man who would put his own troops' lives in danger in order to upstage a military rival. This is a man who would slap and berate one of his own soldiers for showing a moment of cowardice. This was a man who had virtually no self control when speaking to the press and who had a thirst for blood and combat which appeared to be pathological.

Trump reminds me of people who watch Scarface but forget that he dies in a hail of bullets in the end. The Patton that lives in his mind is an incomparable badass who had swagger to spare.

Right now we are living with the reckoning of what happens when you have a president who is in no way a student of history, who can't recalibrate and learn from their mistakes. One can only hope that he has political career has a similar fate as Patton's military one -- ending with a whimper instead of a bang.

No more movies? Remakes I wouldn't mind seeing someday

I had a depressing moment today, I just got to thinking about how I so badly miss going to the movies and feel genuine anxiety if I ever will be able to again. I get it -- sitting next to a bunch of people in an enclosed space would be the WORST thing right now.

But, God knows, I miss it more than any activity I can't participate anymore besides being able to hug my friends.

Streaming services were already presenting the biggest threat to the movie theater industry since perhaps the advent of television, but now somehow this unexpected coronavirus has hastened what some might say is the inevitable.

This week brought yet another delay for Christopher Nolan's highly anticipated Tenet, and Wes Anderson's The French Dispatch is now being shelved "indefinitely." I know these films will see the light of day eventually, especially since there is too much money invested in these movies for the public to never see them -- but I fear they will never get the audience they deserve or be seen in the format they were meant to be seen in.

As an amateur movie blogger  I'm struggling to find material to even write about. There haven't been many new films worth talking about. So here I am, fantasizing again theoretical movies that don't exist. Clearly because so little in production right now there is going to be a huge glut of no new content. So, we know Hollywood loves a remake since there's often a guaranteed audience and it requires a little less creativity.

If I were a studio exec, here are ten movies I really enjoy that I'd love to see rebooted.

The Swimmer - This very unusual drama about an aging ladies man with a devastating secret who is going from pool to pool in his upscale, sunny California neighborhood would be THE perfect vehicle for George Clooney. It's one of Burt Lancaster's best roles and part of the enjoyment of this movie is its strange shifting tone. It starts of as a quirky character study but grows increasingly stranger and darker as it goes along. The original is very '60s but a modern telling could still work.

Cutter's Way - This cult classic from 1981 is sort of the last great 1970s neo noir. It has two fantastic leads in a laconic Jeff Bridges and a livewire John Heard (in a performance that would have made him a star if the movie had been a hit) and a murder mystery with some subtle political undertones that are still relevant today. I could see Ryan Gosling paired opposite Joaquin Phoenix in this one, a real actor's two-hander piece. Just don't change this movie's uncompromising ending.

Mommie Dearest - The original is a hilarious camp classic -- but it might be interesting to see a serious, high quality version of this salacious story. Perhaps this isn't possible since the source material is so inherently trashy -- but a truly scary and disturbing movie could be made about a batshit crazy Joan Crawford. A bit of an outside the box casting idea: Tilda Swinton as Crawford.

Leave Her to Heaven - A great technicolor noir that was way ahead of its time -- tells the story of a gorgeous but also certifiably nuts woman (played to perfection by Gene Tierney) who will stop at nothing to maintain the total devotion of the man she loves. This could be great comeback role for a Jennifer Lawrence and it would still work as a period movie set during the time of the original film's release in the 1940s.

The Big Heat - Another shockingly dark and brooding noir from Hollywood's golden age -- with a dose of body horror -- had Fritz Lang's cynical voice all over it. Today, it could be a David Cronenberg or Brian De Palma directorial tour de force. The Gloria Grahame role (as a gangster moll who gets disfigured) would be a perfect return to acting role for -- wait for it -- Lady Gaga, who showed so much promise in A Star As Born and who could be credible in a genre picture like this.

The Long Kiss Goodnight - This Geena Davis-Samuel L. Jackson 1996 action film has a decent, fond following. I myself am one of the few people who went to see it in theaters. Some of the speculation about its failure (including from screenwriter Shane Black) was that audiences may not have wanted to see a woman in an action lead. I think nearly 25 years later audiences could handle it -- and it would be a terrific vehicle for Charlize Theron and maybe Lakeith Stanfield in the Sam Jackson part.

Prince of the City - With America re-evaluating its relationship with policing, the time might be right for a revisit of Sidney Lumet's epic exploration of police corruption. The lead performance from Treat Williams was probably the highlight of his career and it could work for any young actor regardless of race - in fact putting an actor of color in the center might give the story an added layer of complexity.

The Landlord - This 1970 is surprisingly prescient on issues like gentrification and white privilege, and it turns out -- 50 years later -- that the themes this movie explores are still totally relevant today, if not more so. It doesn't have to be heavy handed -- in fact it could use the original's light touch. I'd love to see a Spike Lee remake of this film, since his own Do the Right Thing explored similar terrain.

Soylent Green - This wacky 1970s sci-fi film is oft-parodied because of Charlton Heston's characteristically mannered lead performance and its unforgettable twist ending but at its core the film accurately predicts the fallout of unchecked climate change and the continued degradation of the food industry. Any remake would have to play with folks expectations of the ending but otherwise there's a lot there to play with.

The Parallax View - One of my favorite paranoid 70s thrillers has a little bit of everything -- conspiracy theories, assassination plots, slow motion barfights -- in this Trump era of police state overreach a movie that seriously looks at corruption and chaos in the federal government would be a welcome and maybe even a cathartic reprieve for progressive filmgoers.

The best of Bruce Lee: Ranking the legend's five leading roles

I think like most people I knew Bruce Lee first by reputation before I'd actually ever seen one of his movies. I eventually discovered Enter the Dragon, perhaps on television, and instantly took to it. It's an incredibly entertaining, crowd-pleasing movie -- but more on that later.

I hadn't really done a full, huge deep dive on him though.

He became a source of great debate thanks to last year's Once Upon a Time in Hollywood. My contention then and now was that Lee has become such an icon like Elvis or Marliyn Monroe, that his persona can withstand a little gentle ribbing.

And as far as that film's portrayal of Lee as a bit of a cocky jerk, well if you could whoop the ass of virtually anyone in the world, wouldn't you be? But I digress. The incredible Criterion Collection has done all Lee fans and those who are Lee curious a favor by putting his five feature films in a single, souped up box set full of edifying extras.

I've recently watched them all, and while all have their merits and are enjoyable I thought I'd rank them anyway.

5. Game of Death - This is probably the most infamous Bruce Lee film for better or worse. It's remembered for the iconic yellow and black tracksuit (resurrected by Tarantino for the Kill Bill films) and its bravura final act which features Lee having back to back showdowns at various levels of a dojo, culminating with a classic fight against the towering Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. But in reality, the film is a pretty tasteless attempt to cash in on Lee after his death. It features a not particularly convincing double for Lee throughout, it's plot is pretty incomprehensible and it even features footage from Lee's own funeral! Still, it's never boring.

4. The Big Boss - Lee's first major role is the most exploitation-y of his efforts. It's plot is pretty bare bones and at least in the beginning he shares the hero duties with the considerably less charismatic James Tien (producers apparently decided on-set which one of them would emerge as the main protagonist). Still, once Lee takes center stage his charisma and sex appeal are unmistakable. He just needed a more compelling story to work with.

3. The Way of the Dragon - Probably the strangest entry in Lee's canon and the only one he directed himself. Tonally it's a bit jarring -- it starts as a bit of a meandering comedy (in which Lee gets to show some of his lighter range) but then morphs into a far more serious and even spiritual movie. It really comes alive when Chuck Norris shows up in the last act to fight Lee, and their final fight elevates everything that came before it.

2. Fist of Fury - This was the one that surprised me. I was not familiar with it-- it's a legit great revenge movie, with Lee going undercover in various disguises as part of an elaborate plan to defeat the crew that disrespected his family and dogo. Top notch fight scenes throughout and an emotional performance from Lee. The ending is surprisingly bleak -- this is my favorite of Lee's Chinese productions.

1. Enter the Dragon - A pop masterpiece. Lee gets his own James Bond movie here with the unforgettable John Saxon and Jim Kelly and his white and black sidekicks respectively. Lee got to show the most range in this film -- his martial arts philosophy, his sense of humor, his emotional fighting and more. It's one of those classic adventure films that is always engaging and has the pacing and set pieces of a modern action movie. It's all bittersweet because he died right before this film's release and ironically its the film that made him a legend and an international superstar.

'The Irishman' feud and the sad, lost decade of Mickey Rourke

I've made no secret about the fact that Mickey Rourke is one of my all-time favorite actors.

I always have to say this defensively, since his public persona has become so off-putting to so many people that it largely overshadows the good work he's done over the years as a performer.

And quite frankly his handful of great performances are often overshadowed by the easy paycheck, direct-to-DVD junk he largely makes, especially since it his triumphant Oscar-nominated comeback role in The Wrestler, back in 2008.

No disrespect to Sean Penn, who won the Best Actor trophy for Milk, but Rourke should have won that year for his heartbreaking work as a "broken down piece of meat" seeking redemption. I always wonder where his career might have gone had he received that industry validation. He certainly briefly capitalized on his return to the limelight.

He parlayed his eccentric, unorthodox presence into supporting roles in two blockbusters: Iron Man 2 and The Expendables. He was, I think unfairly, maligned for his work in the former and deemed somewhat out of place in the latter (where he delivers a moving monologue that seems to be from another movie entirely).

After that one-two punch he never had another real A-list role. He popped up in the forgettable Sin City sequel but for the most part he appeared in endless B-movie crime films and continued his unfortunate penchant for plastic surgery, rendering his already disfigured face even more ghastly.

As a true fan, I was always holding out hope for one more great Rourke performance -- a rumored biopic about an openly gay rugby star never came to be -- but it seems as though no great filmmaker since Darren Aronofsky is willing to take a chance on him.

Which leads me to the recent Rourke embarrassment --  his public insistence that he was snubbed for a role in The Irishman due to some long simmering feud with that acclaimed film's star Robert De Niro. Allegedly the two actors didn't get along during the shoot for the 1987 supernatural thriller Angel Heart. That doesn't surprise me, at the time Rourke was being hyped as something akin to the new De Niro and I am sure was feeling himself and meanwhile De Niro, who doesn't have a reputation for jocular warmth, probably resented the upstart.

De Niro and Rourke in Angel Heart

That being said, it seems ludicrous that over 30 years later he would be actively lobbying against Rourke getting a role in Scorsese's epic film. It's not even entirely clear what role Rourke could have played -- given his physical appearance at the moment. Scorsese has wisely stayed out of it, neither confirming or denying that Rourke was in contention.

Meanwhile, the 60-something former sex symbol is now publicly lobbing insults and physical threats at the nearly 80-year-old De Niro -- and to what end?

The Irishman is now forever a part of film history. It's all there on screen and it seems unlikely that it would have been improved upon by a Rourke cameo. Unfortunately, Rourke's career is full of near misses (he foolishly turned down lead roles in movies like The Untouchables) and unfortunate cuts (his small role in The Thin Red Line didn't survive the editing process).

He is a unique talent, a throwback to the raw emotional power of a Marlon Brando --but there just doesn't seem to be an appetite for his antics anymore. It's all really quite sad, because he may be remembered more as a 30 Rock punchline than the great actor he was and could continue to be.

Instead of protesting that he could have been in The Irishman I wish he were more actively seeking out roles in films of its caliber. If only for selfish reasons, I want to see one of my favorite actors shine in a part worthy of him just one more time.

'Staying Alive' and more of the saddest excuses for sequels

I recently revisited the 1983 disaster Staying Alive, a movie so bad it's a miracle anyone involved (including writer-director Sylvester Stallone and its star John Travolta) ever worked again. It's nominally supposed to be a sequel to the 1977 blockbuster Saturday Night Fever but it betrays almost everything that made the earlier film interesting and indelible.

Travolta gives perhaps one of the most unlikable performances of all time, exaggerating everything that was subtle in his earlier, Oscar-nominated portrayal of wannabe dancer Tony Manero. In this film, he's trying to make it on Broadway while also trying to romance two of his fellow dancers at the same time.

The threadbare plot has him constantly making plans with one or the other each night -- this character apparently can never sleep alone -- or strutting, sneering and staring at his own image in the mirror. It culminates with a jaw dropping and incomprehensible (not to mention wordless) Broadway show called "Satan's Alley" that just needs to be seen to be believed.

Besides essentially beat for beat providing the plot for the movie Showgirls -- it's an incredibly disappointing movie (although a fun bad movie watch with friends) and that got me thinking about terrible sequels. Not simply ones that got bad reviews or flopped or should have never been made in the first place (like say Weekend at Bernie's II) but movies that I have vivid memories of being let down by. These were sequels that could have been good, maybe even great. But instead they were cynical money grabs that more often than not betrayed what we loved about their predecessors.

To be honest, The Rise of Skywalker almost made this list. It's a movie that loses esteem the more I think about it. There are wonderful things in it and I don't think it's the failure so many Star Wars fans do, but you can't shake how clearly influenced it is by the backlash (from some people) against The Force Awakens and The Last Jedi. Even viewing it charitably you must concede its compromised and can't hold a candle to its predecessors.

Here are some more part twos and threes that left a bad taste in my mouth.

The Lost World & every other Jurassic Park film - Like a lot of people I saw The Lost World in theaters and had a blast with it, but when you revisit that film later you'll find that it's Spielberg really phoning it in. Jeff Goldblum is a delight and refreshing as a leading man, but there's little else to enjoy here. What was originally a smart sci-fi adventure has become a slasher film with dinosaurs, and it simply had no reason to exist. Each subsequent Jurassic Park film was even worse as it became harder and harder to explain why people keep financing theme parks with a history multiple people getting killed there. How this always yet another island full of genetically enhanced dinosaurs? This should have been one and done but people keep flocking to these for some reason.

The Austin Powers sequels - Here's another case of -- I loved it as a teenager -- but not sheesh. The first Austin Powers film still holds up as an original and funny concept and I initially thought the bigger and broader sequels were a hoot. But when I revisited them a year or so ago I was reminded of what smug, product placement-y endeavors they were. Gone (for the most part) were sly parodies of 60s culture and the Bond films, and instead we got far too many feces jokes, one note grotesque characters like Fat Bastard and an over-reliance on previously established gags and one liners. The overuse of Dr. Evil in particular is a bummer. He was my favorite part of that first film (and Myers played him relatively straight) but by the third film he was insufferable.

The Hangover II - I will never forget my theater experience with this movie. It was a hot summer day and I remember the air conditioning broke. The theater offered folks free tickets to another screening or you could stick it out and I remember being so eager to see the film that I decided to stick it out. Big mistake. A largely humorless (and unforgivably transphobic) affair -- The Hangover II (and The Hangover III too, really) is a great example of why comedy sequels rarely, if ever, are a good idea. It's not fun to sit through less funny versions of the same jokes or commit to watching characters make the same dumb mistakes a second time -- especially when the characters weren't exactly pleasant in the first place.

The Exorcist II

The Exorcist II - Check out the trailer for The Exorcist II -- it looks really cool. It looks like a more visually inventive and more surreal follow up to the classic 1973 horror film but then when you actually see the 1977 flop you're aghast. It's pretty mind-numblingly cheesy and terribly acted, there's nothing even a little spooky about it and it doesn't really add anything of note to the original movie. It reeks of studio meddling or something -- it simply doesn't make a lot of sense and relies far too much on special effects that are hokey and don't hold up. And it's creepy decision to go even further to sexualize Linda Blair's character is another misstep. Steer clear. A far better exploration of the original's religious themes can be found in the superior Exorcist III.

The Terminator franchise - Where to begin with this one -- after the iconic Terminator 2 this franchise has zigged and zagged all over the place, squandering what was once one of the most badass series in movies. I actually don't mind Terminator 3, it's pretty silly but at least the action is solid. But Terminator: Salvation is a bore -- when it didn't need to be. Terminator: Genysis is a confusing mess. And while I think Dark Fate made great use of an aging Arnold Schwarzenegger and Linda Hamilton, the plot they're placed in is largely just a retread of earlier, better films. I fear at this point there may be no salvaging this series. Perhaps there biggest mistake was relying so much on the presence of Schwarzenegger even after he'd clearly become to old to be a credible robotic killing machine, or maybe it's just that they've tied themselves in knots with the timeline they established. Either way I've been fooled too many times but this series and I won't be fooled again.

Live Free or Die Hard - Oh man did I hate this movie. I went in with high hopes -- having loved the original three Die Hard movies and I was appalled by this overblown junk. First off, after establishing John McClane (Bruce Willis) as a vulnerable and fallible hero in the first three films, he is somehow an impervious to pain superhero in this one (even though he's considerably older). The premise is far too elaborate and James Bondian for this franchise, they saddle Willis with annoying sidekick (a whiny Justin Long) and they won't even let him say his profane catchphrase at the end. I never even saw the fifth Die Hard, which is supposed to be even worse, because I could tell after this one the franchise was headed nowhere good.

The Matrix Revolutions - I know there a passionate defenders out there of The Matrix sequels and I will always admit, terrible CGI aside, The Matrix Reloaded has some truly fantastic action set pieces (I am thinking of the highway chase in particular with Morpheus fighting on top of a moving truck). But the third film was a dour, depressing mess. The series makes the massive misstep of stripping away the charisma of Keanu Reeves by covering up his eyes and sets far too much action in the drag, ugly home base of the heroes who must fight endless streams of cgi robotic jellyfish. It's the one thing a movie like this should never be -- a total bore.

US Marshalls - I actually saw this one in full for the first time recently. This cable staple always intrigued me since I am such a massive fan of 1993's The Fugitive and Tommy Lee Jone's Oscar-winning portrayal of the dogged lawman Sam Gerard. You can easily see how a film centered on him and his likable team going after another fugitive would be great, but for some filmmakers for some reason made decision to simply do a weak retread of the first film. Why not have Gerard going after a fugitive who was actually guilty this time? That would have been exciting!

Prometheus* - I know directly Ridley Scott took great pains to try to establish Prometheus as not being a sequel or whatever to Alien but c'mon -- I mean I'll give it an asterisk, but really who went to this movie not expecting it to be an exciting return to the universe he created in the original. And what a colossal disappointment it was. Sure, it looked great and had lots of atmosphere -- but it amounted to nothing. And then the BS ending, which basically revealed that yes, this as another Alien movie after all felt like a big fuck you to the audience. I went to the next Alien film too (whose name escapes me, it was that unmemorable) because I'm a sucker for a good trailer. Ughh!

'Copaganda' conundrum: 'Tango& Cash' vs. 'French Connection'

In the aftermath of the George Floyd-Breonna Taylor police murders there's been a bit of a reckoning with what activists call 'cop-a-ganda' -- or in other words films and television that contribute to a destructive over-romanticization of policing and police work. I must admit, I'm a little defensive on the subject, if for no other reason than so many movies I love focus on the trials and tribulations of cops.

I honestly don't think the filmmaker's intent -- necessarily -- is to glorify cops. It's just that the very nature of policework can raise the stakes -- they make for compelling heroes, anti-heroes and yes, villains.

In fact, I think TV is far more complicit in brainwashing the American public about the temperament and morals of police officers. Shows like the Law & Order franchise largely cast it cops as nearly flawless, making it easier to digest their actions week to week.

Films can be another beast -- for every Dirty Harry or Beverly Hills Cop there's a Training Day or Bad Lieutenant. In other words, when it comes to portraying people in blue there's often shades of gray, probably not enough but there is enough of a divergence that it's worth taking each film on its own terms.

Recently I watched two cop films -- one acclaimed (The French Connection), the other, infamously bad (Tango & Cash) and they both provided a case study in what Hollywood can get right and wrong about policing (not that anyone can ever achieve perfection).

The most charitable thing you can say about the Kurt Russell-Sylvester Stallone vehicle Tango & Cash is that it is a product of its time.

It's a blatant Lethal Weapon rip-off (another movie with some seriously problematic police tactics) that makes a painful effort to be a comedy but doesn't have a single legit laugh in it.

Meanwhile, it not just fetishizes police brutality but normalizes it -- there's a scene where Kurt Russell presses a chair to the throat of suspect that we're supposed to accept and support, which plays especially gruesome in the aftermath of Floyd's murder.

It's simply understood when you watch that film that anything Russell or Stallone do is justified because they're cops. There's no ambiguity or nuance, and if anything there's a contempt for the rule of law and due process for suspects -- it's pretty much mayhem.

On the other hand of the spectrum there's The French Connection, a far more complex movie than it might appear to be on first glance. It's hero Popeye Doyle, played to perfection by Gene Hackman, is definitely charismatic, but he is also racist, vicious and a little crazy. The film is complex enough for you to be riveted by his pursuit of a drug ring while still being revolted by his worldview. And the finale, which denies Doyle a heroic send-off, and in fact. does the opposite -- says about the filmmaker's ambivalence towards this character. Sure, he 'gets the job done' -- but at what cost?

Realistically, there's probably not going to be an erasure of cop-driven narratives anytime soon and so the least we can do, in the short term, is to aim more for the French Connection model. Cops and not a monolith, and neither are criminals -- and the more flawed both sides of the law are conceived the more interesting they become.

We can also no long present police brutality without context or blowback -- it just isn't realistic anymore and its downright irresponsible. I don't even want to see a cop shoot someone in a movie again unless it has some significance and meaning.

The rest of the old cops of robbers has to stay where it is, in the past.

John Lewis doc 'Good Trouble' is a great antidote to Trumpism

The new documentary on John Lewis -- Good Trouble -- doesn't do anything new or unusual in terms of form, but it arrives at a time when it is desperately needed. As I write this, the president of the United States, improbably Donald Trump, is actively crowing about attacks on 'our heritage' and defending the confederacy. Lewis stands as a stark contrast -- a genuine American hero -- the kind of person who actually deserves a statue. Those who know him may only know him for his brave stand for voting rights in Selma, Alabama, where he was nearly beaten to death for an American ideal -- but the entirety of his life is compelling.

Before he was even 20 years old he was reaching out to Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. (who would playfully call him 'the boy from Troy,' his hometown) and engaging in non-violent protest for civil rights. When Trump reached that age, he was proudly avoiding service in Vietnam and allegedly paying off someone who took the SATs for him.

Lewis' record is unimpeachable because he put his body where his mouth was -- risking his life on a regular basis and getting jailed dozens of times to achieve equality that was far from a forgone conclusion.

The film Good Trouble works best when it lets its remarkable archival footage speak for itself. Lewis, always a compelling presence -- is the emotional center -- but there are more treasures to be found here: training sessions for civil rights workers where they have to practice hearing epithets, coupled with the frank, racist sentiments of pro-segregation whites.

The abuse of these righteous protesters feels remarkably resonant in the aftermath of the police violence directed at demonstrations following the murder of George Floyd and the president's shameful dispersal of innocent, peaceful Americans so he could take a photo with an upside down Bible.

Early in the Trump presidency, because Lewis snubbed his inauguration, his good name and reputation were widely smeared by people who didn't deserve to even speak his name.

Too few people understand the courage and strength that nonviolence requires. Far from being depressing, its inspiring -- and Lewis' ultimate victory in getting the Voting Rights Act passed is a vindication of all his hard work. The fact that that law was eventually gutted by the Supreme Court, ought to motivate people too.

The film is not entirely a hagiography -- although it mostly is -- late in the film there's an intriguing interrogation of how Lewis won his seat, which involved some pretty ruthless politics on his part at the expense of his longtime friend and civil rights icon Julian Bond. The film doesn't dwell too long on this episode, but the takeaway is that Lewis was and is very much a politician then and now.

And yet, few politicians have also dedicated this much of their lives of doing the hard work of being an activist and an advocate for people who are marginalized. Trump and his acolytes thinks doing that work makes you a loser, but there's a reason there will be no films lionizing them, whereas Good Trouble will always be a testament to this Congressman's greatness.

My favorite film composer is gone, but his music will last forever

I woke up today to learn that my favorite film composer, the legendary Ennio Morricone, has died at 91. This man's music has meant so much to music -- and to me -- it's an incalculable loss.

I mean almost anyone on the planet can summon up the hook of his The Good, The Bad & The Ugly theme, usually without even ever seen the movie. Why? Because that twangy jangle has just become synonymous with westerns.

John Williams has more recognizable themes to be sure, but I feel like no film composer was quite as prolific as the Italian maestro. His legacy will surely be forever linked to the spaghetti western, and his unforgettable scores for director Sergio Leone, but quite a few of his other genre compositions are classics too.

It was probably his incredible music for The Untouchables that helped me discover him. The movie opens with his expressive and exciting style from the kinetic credits and never lets go. His work is the perfect compliment to Brian DePalma's popcorn flick.

Just recently I bought a fancy edition of his underrated, ominous score for The Thing on vinyl, music that was largely repurposed for Quentin Tarantino's The Hateful Eight, the film that finally delivered Morricone as absurdly overdue Oscar back in 2016.

I'm by no means an expert on music (haha or let's face it, movies for that matter) but it seems to me his signature style was this sort of hybrid between a soaring, romantic, almost old-fashioned melodramatic sound with a rock-influenced rhythm (often supplied by the guitar).

Once Upon a Time in the West

Now, the sound has become instantly recognizable for most cinephiles, but it was downright radical and revolutionary when most international audiences first heard it in Leone's A Fistful of Dollars. Leone, who could be a bit of a taciturn character, later dismissed his flashy score for that first 'dollars' film one of his worst, but clearly he was onto to something, because Morricone went on to compose for endless more entries in the genre, including one of my favorites - the howling revenge-themed tracks of Navajo Joe.

My personal favorite of his is the music he composed for one of my favorite films (and favorite western) Once Upon a Time in the West. Morricone, working close in collaboration with Leone, composed a specific score for each of his four major characters and seamlessly weaved them all together as the sprawling narrative unfolds. Leone reportedly paced several of his scenes in accordance with Leone's predetermined music, instead of the other way around, which is the tradition with this sort of thing.

His work elevates an already visually fantastic movie to feel epic in scope and scale. That's what Morricone scores do. They aren't moody or minimalist, they announce themselves and make movies more dynamically cinematic. I think of his music for Days of Heaven, a gorgeous period movie by Terrence Malick, prototypically low on dialogue. His opening music to that film is some of the most haunting film music I've ever heard, and it instantly puts you on the movie's emotional wavelength.

It's funny -- I am a huge movie soundtrack nerd. It's often the first section I go to when I go into a record store*. Morricone is such a brand -- such a unique talent -- that he is often the only composer to have his own section among the soundtracks (which are usually grouped together regardless of quality or composition). He demands that kind of respect.

And he'll be enjoying it for yeats and years long after he's gone, because his film work will last forever.

*When you could go into record stores, sigh.

Five reasons why Stanley Kubrick films hold up so well

Stanley Kubrick is one of top five favorite directors, which should probably come as a surprise to no one since he directed my favorite film -- The Shining. He's remarkable filmography is not too large, which makes it easier to digest the breadth of his work, especially his output from 1964 until the end of his life, where he made nothing but masterpieces (although i'd argue he'd also made a handful before).

Say what you will about Kubrick's work -- it's had staying power -- arguably far more than some of his contemporaries'. The reasons why may be obvious as i'm about to outline them here...

Still, there is something to be said for the fact that nearly every Kubrick movie is incredibly divisive when they first come out and then eventually they're embraced for being the great works they always were.

I will never forget the reception Eyes Wide Shut received back in 1999. I loved it when I first saw it in theaters and was dumbfounded when so many critics and filmgoers deemed it a misfire. Somehow, it's hung around and now it stands out as one of the very best, if not the best, film in a very strong year for cinema.

I've been revisiting a lot of Kubrick lately as I pour through Taschen's stellar Stanley Kubrick Archives book, which somehow made me realize the man was even more brilliant than I had previously thought. Here are five reasons why..

1) Kubrick movies are never boring. Even if you don't like A Clockwork Orange or Full Metal Jacket or Barry Lyndon -- they are very entertaining movies with lots of indelible imagery, costumes, movement and sound. There's something interesting happening in every frame of a Kubrick film. I'd argue only David Lynch and Wes Anderson rival him for the quality of the details they can use to fill a frame. And there's so much happening in a Kubrick movie, you almost have to see them more than once.

2) Kubrick movies are largely not dated. The occasional costume choice and hairstyle aside, Kubrick movies don't tend to look or feel old. 2001 in particular -- the effects in that film STILL rival many modern sci fi movies -- which is incredible since all of its effects were more or less practically achieved. There are next to no topical references and jokes (with Nicholson's Heeeeere's Johnny in The Shining being a glaring exception to the rule). And since there aren't these kinds of distractions, you can focus instead of what the film is about, which leads me to...

3) Kubrick films always focus on fascinating subject matter. Especially later in his career, Kubrick would take a very long, historically unprecedented (unless you count Terrence Malick's 20 year hiatus after Days of Heaven) between projects, he claimed, because he was searching for a story that excited him. For much of his career he largely adapted pre-existing material, which he put his own unique stamp on (suck it Stephen King). All of his films, even the genre ones, are rich with ambitious themes about the nature of man, the nature of relationships, the toll of war -- I could go and on. Part of the reason why The Shining has grown in stature after all these years is that it can be almost anything you want it to mean.

4) Every Kubrick movie contains a remarkable performance. In pretty much every Kubrick movie you have an actor or actress giving the performance of their career (think Ryan O'Neal or Malcolm McDowell) or a virtuoso at the peak of their powers (think Jack Nicholson and Peter Sellers). For a director who is often caricatured as cold and cruel to actors, he always got intense, committed performances from them. There is no such thing as a lazy performance in a Kubrick film. He simply wouldn't allow the banal to seep through.

5. Every Kubrick movie is visually stunning. This may be the most obvious one -- since, after all, film is a visual medium. But the fact is that a beautiful-looking movie will linger in your mind in a way that no generic-looking one will. It's striking how different all his films look and somehow they can be linked together rather seamlessly:


Most of his films -- especially the latter ones -- are instantly recognizable to cinephiles as Kubrick movie, and that is more of a compliment than anything else. And yet he put so much passion and thought into making each project sing and ultimately survive.

I have long maintained that Scorsese is my personal favorite filmmaker. And right now he is. I've only disliked two or three movies he's made -- ever -- and he's made 25! But Kubrick gives him a run for his money.