'Miles Ahead' showcases Don Cheadle's vitality as an actor

Miles Davis in Miles Ahead

Last night I got an early sneak peak at Don Cheadle's directorial debut -- his long awaited biopic of Miles Davis, entitled Miles Ahead.

I just want to say up front that I am an enormous Miles Davis fan and I couldn't -- and still can't -- think of an actor better suited to play him on the big screen.

Also, I must admit I didn't have any specific expectations for this film. I have long felt the biopic genre -- particularly the musical biopic --has become extremely boring and predictable.

So I guess, if I had a hope for Miles Ahead it was that it would break from some of the cliches of this type of film and maybe evoke the same cool improvisational power of Davis' music, which I imagined would be hard to portray effectively in a traditional narrative film.

For better or worse, Miles Ahead tries to do both with varying degrees of success. The film's script makes some choices -- like centering most of the narrative on arguably the darkest period of Davis' life, his self imposed, drug fueled exile in the late 1970s -- that will probably alienate hardcore fans. And it probably spends more time talking about Davis' genius than showing it.

Still, the biggest takeaway for me from this film was how under-appreciated and brilliant an actor Don Cheadle is. The movie itself is probably too hit-or-ccmiss to be much of a critical or commercial hit, but here is an actor who once again is showing off what a singular talent he is.

That he strongly resembles Davis is perhaps a given, but through a spot-on vocal performance and jaunty physicality, Cheadle brings him to life. Despite his status as a musical icon, Davis' mysterious, taciturn nature made him pretty inaccessible to the public while he was alive. With this film, Cheadle seeks to rip off the veneer and show a man who is both charming and irredeemably coarse.

He doesn't entirely succeed. Like far too many films about a dynamic real-life personality, Miles Ahead suffers for trying to do too much in too little time. Although Emayatzy Corinealdi is radiant as Davis' first wife Frances, we're never sure why she apparently became such a lifelong touchstone for the trumpeter. And the presence of Ewan McGregor, as a fictionalized Rolling Stone reporter, feels almost like studio counter-programming to assuage audiences who might otherwise be turned off by a predominately black movie.

When the focus is on the music itself, the movie occasionally soars, and Cheadle clearly has a great grasp of Davis' prolific output of albums. And Cheadle reportedly took trumpet lesson to play Davis' licks himself. If that is really him playing on screen and not a recording, his mimicry is uncanny.

For some reason, after his Academy Award nominated lead turn in Hotel Rwanda, Cheadle has been largely relegated to supporting roles for the last decade or so. Sure, he plays the lead role on Showtime's House of Lies, but far more people have seen him play second banana to Robert Downey, Jr. in two Iron Man films. And the trailers for Captain America: Civil War strongly implicate that he's getting killed off from the Marvel universe.

After a series of terrific performances in films like Devil in a Blue Dress, Traffic, Out of Sight, Bullworth and even the Ocean's movies, Cheadle deserves roles that could put him in the potential Oscar winner's circle again. This may not be the film to do it, but by giving him more to do, it's a step in the right direction.

Why I (probably) won't see 'Batman v. Superman' in theaters

Ben Affleck as Batman

My enduring affection and interest in the Batman is well-documented, and I adore Superman almost as much.

I do think there are interesting, new things that can be said and done with both characters, and yet I have long been skeptical that we need to see the two of them fighting each other for two hours.

Needless to say, my expectations weren't too high for the new film Batman v. Superman: Dawn of Justice, and now that the reviews are out, it appears that my worst fears were confirmed.

I have seen every Batman and Superman film to date, for better or worse, but my fatigue with the superhero genre in general and reticence to pay good money for a movie I know will be mediocre has made me question whether I'll ever see this one, even though its event status makes buying a ticket almost feel like a duty these days.

I think that is precisely what's problematic about the new film -- that it seems to serve no purpose other than to jumpstart yet another franchise, and while I understand that that's direction the industry appears to be going, the cynicism and calculated nature of these projects is becoming increasingly apparent and annoying.

It doesn't help that DC Comics has foolishly placed their faith in director Zack Snyder, a filmmaker who has shown some facility with big budget visuals but little else. I found 300 to be an overheated mess. I don't know anyone who liked Sucker Punch. I haven't heard many good things about Watchmen and while I thought Man of Steel has some moments of merit -- its efforts to turn the Caped Crusader into another brooding Dark Knight totally missed the charm and inherent humor of the character.

And yet, despite his very mixed track record, Snyder is not just helming this film but a standalone Wonder Woman movie and the next few installments of a series of Justice League films. Despite bad reviews and audience quibbles -- all of these films will likely be massive hits, because they all benefit from irresistible trailers and big budget hype machines, which make seeing the movies a rite of passage for anyone who wants to remain relevant in the pop culture conversation.

But as the films get increasingly forgettable and more fit for an assembly line rather than a cinema, fans of the characters may start to ask the question: What are we doing this for?

Superman and Batman are two of the most fascinating creations to come out of the world of comic books. And part of the reason they have both lasted thing long, and gone through so many iterations, is that they are so powerful and iconic that they can withstand a misstep or two.

But I fear that the path that Snyder and Co. are taking them now could be irrevocable. Especially when it comes to Superman. Batman fans can still cherish the very recent Christopher Nolan trilogy and the brilliant Tim Burton entries before that.

When it comes to Superman, Hollywood has not gotten him right since the days of Christopher Reeve. Even though special effects are leaps and bounds beyond what they were in his heyday, the more recent films have completely missed the magic and charm of his entries.

Reeve seemed to understand that Superman had a sense of humor, and he also appreciated the curiosity that Superman had about human nature, and his genuine love for humanity. Sure, it's sappy on a certain level. But his humbleness was endearing. Now, Superman seems smug and self consciously edgy. He glowers instead of glows.

All of this is reflective of the success of the Marvel films, which have also started to show their age as they aim for more pretentious significance. Their best entries have strong character development and stories, but they too have become more rote as they pay due diligence to both the comic book obsessed crowd and the studios which seek to make endless sequels.

Of course, my complaints mean nothing, and as long as there is money to be made there will be junk cluttering our theaters. I just hate to see Batman and Superman being mishandled. Instead, for now, I will sit back and enjoy this:

The guilty pleasure appeal of 'Taken'

I didn't fully appreciate Taken the first time I saw it. The action scenes had a certain ruthless efficiency, but the story -- absurd as it is -- took a while to get going and I found the more laughable aspects of the film too distracting to discount.

But after watching it again a few more times over the years, I have come to love the movie for what it is -- a pulpy, silly B-movie that is elevated tremendously by the presence of prestige actor Liam Neeson.

Today, the idea of Neeson as a butt-kicking (albeit over 60) action hero is just a fact of life, but people forget what a strange choice it was to cast him in a movie like this back in 2009. This was the guy from Schindler's List. He was the personification of classy productions. Hence that Seinfeld joke where George takes offense when Jerry muses that perhaps a car he believed belonged to Jon Voight, actually could have been the property of the Irish character actor.

Seeing Neeson spit out badass dialogue and karate chop vaguely ethnic baddies turned out to be a transgressive delight, a star was "reborn." Neeson has gone on to make more interesting action films -- The Grey, for instance, is an underrated gem. But for most fans he never has topped Taken and he probably never will.

The opening of this film is chock full of unintentional humor. Neeson's daughter appears to be in her mid-20s, but she is playing someone in their late teens who acts like they are about six or seven. For evidence, take a look at how she runs.

Neeson's overprotective father, who we see dispatching a would-be stabber of a pop star with relative ease in the first act, presumes the worst when his ditzy spawn seeks to take a trip to Paris with one of her besties. And in a sequence that is appalling simplistic, she and her friend fall into a trap to be kidnapped almost the instant they get off the plane.

They immediately befriend a handsome total stranger, lead him to their home and tells him where they are staying. Neeson's daughter's blonde friend announces her intention to sleep with the sleazeball, who apparently aides kidnappers for a living?

Before you can say "moron," the two women are abducted leading to the coolest phone call monologue of all time. You know the "particular set of skills" scene.

It was in this moment that Neeson established his new screen persona, taciturn, yet noble and believably imposing. Neeson's hulking height and deep baritone voice are employed to great effect as is his intelligence, which constantly keeps him one step ahead of his enemies.

The set-up turns out to be sensational because it -- in movie terms -- justifies all the carnage and mayhem that is to follow. This is one of those films that probably convinced far too many conservatives that torture works, but no bother -- even an unabashed liberal like myself can appreciate a good ass-whoopin' (and this film does not skimp in that department).

In that way it feels like a throwback to a not-so-kind or gentle time when action movies were short and simple. There isn't too much back story or complication, the only difference is Neeson isn't saddled with corny one liners. Still, it shares the same DNA with the best of Stallone and Schwarzenegger.

It's a guilty pleasure to be certain, but their is joy to be found in dumb fun.

My biggest pet peeves about American moviegoers right now: Part II

Earlier this week I penned a post about my pet peeves when it comes to how people consume and talk about movies today -- and guess what? I have more.

Yes, yours truly is in a bit of a funk these days and feels the need to vent his frustration. Apologies in advance. Here's the thing -- very little can diminish my love of going to the movies or discussing them, although these three issues have frequently pushed me to the brink:

Talking during the movie

I have gotten to the point where there are certain local movie theaters I have straight up boycotted after obnoxious audience members nearly ruined an entire film for me. At one particular cinema I saw Flight, where people in the crowd literally shouted at Denzel Washington (who plays an alcoholic in the film) to not drink booze at different points in the film.

Apparently the audience really was infuriated that the movie wasn't a 15-minute reel of Denzel looking and acting awesome all the time. Years later, at the same theater, loud chatters disrupted my viewing of the quiet thriller The Gift, and even after moving seats, the irritation didn't stop.

I get talking during a horror film on a certain level. I often mutter "Mmm mm" or "don't go in there" out of sheer nervousness, and it helps me be less scared. I also don't mind a loud "Ohhhh!" when there is particularly vicious kill in a bombastic action movie.

If you want to talk during a Fast & Furious film, be my guest, it's not about the dialogue anyway.

But in New York City, for some reason, there is an insanely high number of people who view movies in a theater the same way they would if they were on their couch at home. The larger dilemma is that in our DVR/pause-friendly/Netflix-dominant culture -- people have shorter attention spans and so if a movie requires more than just passing attention folks get restless. And when they get restless they start offering unsolicited commentary,

The only cure? Going to the movies ahead of the tweens but after the old folks, since both audiences are guilty of this unpardonable crime. Basically 5-6pm showings are my sweet spot, still get out with enough time for dinner.

Unrealistic expectations

I've written about this previously -- people hold films up to too high a standard now. It's fascinating how nostalgia turns movies that were once reviled, or at least dismissed, into classics and everything new is compared to them unfavorably.

People forget that the second and third Indiana Jones adventures were anything but critical darlings. But when the fourth film came out it was declared an abomination. Now I get that it was a disappointment in a lot of ways, but what did you expect from that movie?

The Force Awakens is another classic example of this phenomenon. Now this is a film that seemed to please everyone, but as time has marched on you hear more and more griping about this scene or that scene. There are actually fans boys flipping out over the fact that Princess Leia hugs Rey in a crucial scene instead of Chewbacca. But then again, Chewbacca is always getting snubbed.

I know people who seem to never like anything and yet they keep going to the movies, I guess because they enjoy hate-watching things.

George Clooney in Tomorrowland

I remember in college a friend of mine was frustrated because they expected Spike Lee's Do the Right Thing to tell them what they should think about racism. True story.

Yes, nowadays trailers can often be misleading. A lot of people flock to films that look terrific but turn out to be mediocre -- I get that. But people need to chill in general.

Citing box office as an indicator of quality

This has metastasized into one of the worst things to happen to the movies. Back in the day, audiences got a sense of whether a film was a hit by long lines and word of mouth, but no one knew specific grosses of the movies.

For some reason that became a part of our culture over the last 25 years, so much so that a movie's opening weekend holds more sway over the minds of many potential ticket buyers than reviews do. It's like how political advertising seems to determine who gets elected to public office, instead of a candidate's actual position on the issues.

I can't tell you how many times people have tried to defend terrible movies to me (including Tyler Perry's oeuvre) on the basis that they make a lot of money. Bad movies have always found an audience, so that is nothing new. An argument could be made that most movies aren't particularly good -- out of the hundreds released every year, probably 40 could be considered good to great.

And yet cash rules everything around me. And with each breathless report about another record breaking weekend for the latest superhero blockbuster I fear that my kind of moviegoer is moving out. Even more disappointing is that films are rarely given the breathing room to catch on and build an audience.

Take Tomorrowland, a very expensive and risky venture from Disney that will go down as a costly flop. It did decent at the box office, but never recovered from its disappointing opening weekend, which was covered exhaustively in the press. Was it a perfect movie? No. But it deserved a better fate than that.

So do the movies.

My biggest pet peeves about American moviegoers right now: Part I

I'll admit, I am what is referred to as a "movie person." I don't go to see everything. Every year I miss out on blockbusters (Deadpool for example) and awards fare (never saw The Danish Girl either). But I do keep up on the industry, and I go to the movies in some form or fashion probably like three times a month. I get it, I'm obsessed.

Being really into film has its pluses -- but it can also be a drag, especially when people sort of attach your persona to that one thing and sort of make that their entire concept of you.

As a "movie person" I've grown to loathe certain qualities in moviegoers both committed and casual, and since I'm very tired and cranky at the end of a long week I figured I'd rattle off some of my biggest pet peeves here:

People who dwell on the length of a movie

I will concede this, if a movie is bad its length can really get to you. I recently saw The Green Mile for the first time and I loathed it, and the fact that it was just over three hours long really compounded my dislike for it. What I have a problem with is people who outright shy away from a film simply because they know it's long or heard it was.

Some of the best films ever made are long -- The Godfather Part II, Malcolm X, JFK -- all of these films would have required two VHS tapes in my youth. But they never felt long because they were so good. Sure, a long movie may require some rearranging of your priorities that day, but a rewarding viewing experience is usually worth it.

Genre bias

I have heard this complaint from music fans too. It's really hard for me to stomach people who are ready and willing to dismiss an entire genre on principle. This happens most often, I find, with sci-fi, action and especially horror. Let me take these on one at a time.

When it comes to horror, it is almost ubiquitous with the phrase "I don't like scary movies." It's almost as if moviegoers are split into two camps those that do watch horror and those that don't. As someone who used to be terrified of not just trailers but even the box covers (back when video stores existed) of horror films I have some sympathy for people who either have had a traumatic experience with the genre or who are genuinely just easily frightened.

Still, there are degrees of horror films. There are plenty with no gore at all that are more fascinating from a psychological standpoint.

There are some truly brilliant scary movies (*cough* It Follows) that make statements about our society from a unique point of view. Also there is something thrilling about overcoming your fears in a cinema surrounded by friends.

The same thing goes for action. I think some people have an idea in their head of what an action movie is and it's stuck at circa 1986. There are still plenty of what I would all dumb action movies, and some of those are still quite enjoyable. But there are also action films that are wildly creative and artistically motivated, which should not be dismissed just because they including fight scenes and explosions.

When it comes to sci-fi, some of the same prejudices are at play. Some people have an idea in their head of what sci-fi is and it often has nothing to do with the real thing. There are so many subgenres and styles in sci-fi that I could find an entry point for almost anyone who has genuine curiosity and an open mind.

Inability to articulate dislike for a movie

We live in an age where there are no longer movies that don't have detractors. If Citizen Kane came out this weekend there would be people tweeting about how the ending was whack and blogging about how unconvincing the old age make-up on Orson Welles was. So it's commonplace for me at this point to encounter someone who feels obliged to tell me they hated a movie that I loved or liked.

I rarely go to see things and walk out angry. I read up on most films I pay good money to see to the point where I know it at least has the pedigree of something that I might enjoy. Sometimes films live up to or beyond my expectations, sometimes they're a huge letdown. But at the very least I feel like I can articulately explain why a movie did or didn't work for me.

Nowadays everyone is a critic, but very few people can delineate their taste into coherent thoughts or sentences. I don't just want to hear that a movie was bad or good. I want to hear if you think the film achieved what you think it set out to do. I want to know what you thought of the quality of the performances, the pacing, the overall look and design.

When I go to a film, call me cheesy, but I always think of the enormous number of craftsman, actors and other creative people who valiantly tried to make something good. Sure, there are occasionally movies that seem purely made out of a cynical need to make a quick buck, but even on those films I am sure someone was making an earnest effort to deliver quality.

So at the very least I try to look for what is interesting about a film, even when on the whole it is terrible, and that way I don't become so put off by the process. There are no flawless films, and you can quibble with any of them from a sociopolitical point of view if you nitpick enough.

But life is too short for that. And when something provides me with the opportunity to escape the doldrums of my own life -- albeit for two hours -- I am going to reward it with some measure of gratefulness.

To be continued...

'Cloverfield' take two, nearly ten years later: How does it hold up?

After seeing, and really enjoying, 10 Cloverfield Lane this past weekend I thought it was only natural to revisit its spiritual predecessor, the 2008 cult hit Cloverfield.

I remember liking it the first time I saw it, even though I found the opening stretch --which sets up the main characters and their personal dynamics during an extended party sequence -- a bit tedious.

On second viewing, this portion of the film, and much of the rest of it, holds up really well -- although the jaunty camerawork can be nauseating at times.

The conceit that everything we see is found footage is a stretch too, albeit an ingenious one.

That said, I think, as a film, I prefer 10 Cloverfield Lane. That film features superior acting, character development and arguably more assured storytelling, although that doesn't diminish what a feat this film is, especially for its director Matt Reeves.

Reeves has been a lowkey genius filmmaker, and he has a real facility with the camera that is awesome to behold. If you couple this film with Let Her In (his superior remake of the beloved Swedish horror film Let the Right One In) and his entry in the new Planet of the Apes franchise, you see a real auteur who knows how to stage action in a convincingly realistic way.

The most striking thing about the first Cloverfield film is the staging. Reeves not only made a comparatively low budget movie look like a pricey summer blockbuster, but he sets up the action at such a realistic pace and angle that you feel just as scared and disoriented as the characters on screen.

Cloverfield

The characters in Cloverfield try your patience at times. The 'hero,' Rob, is a pretty selfish guy whose single-minded quest to be reunited with a girl he likes is hard to stomach at times. And our cameraman 'Hud' is alternately annoying and endearing, which I think is supposed to be the point. But unlike 10 Cloverfield Lane, this is not a movie driven by character pers se; it's a brilliant visual experiment.

There has been some griping that the new film and this one don't really share much in common, but I disagree. They both have an appealing sense of mystery. There is no time spent on the 'why' which is usually the weakest element in any creature feature. Both movies keep the audience guessing and there really is no reprieve from the tension.

They also both attack a similar concept from very different directions. Cloverfield takes the perspective of panicked people on the run. While 10 Cloverfield Lane looks at people hunkered down, hoping to wait out the chaos. If there is a third film, and I imagine after the success of these two low budget films there will be, it could focus on the paramilitary people who strike back against the inexplicable creatures causing mayhem all over the country.

Yes, both films are more about style than substance -- even the name Cloverfield is meaningless. But this is still kinetic mainstream filmmaking of the highest order. And I'm excited to see where the shepherds of this franchise -- including J.J. Abrams -- take the series next.

'10 Cloverfield Lane' revels in the genius of John Goodman

10 Cloverfield Lane

The new thriller 10 Cloverfield Lane gets 2016 off to a good start, with smart, absorbing pacing and some real shocking, satisfying twists. It's a terrific film, which will hopefully find an audience at the box office.

But it also is a wonderful vehicle for John Goodman, one of our country's best and most underrated character actors.

After this film was over I found myself struggling to think of another actor who could play this role. He's one of the few performers who can be both creepy and cuddly, endearing and unnerving, at the same time.

The movie is not a direct sequel to the 2008 monster movie Cloverfield (which has grown on me over time), but it ties into it in some very cool and intriguing ways. It's essentially a character study that owes a lot to the 1990's Misery but also has a jarring tension all its own.

Basically, the lovely Mary Elizabeth Winstead has an accident and wakes up in the bunker of Goodman's character, who claims that the apocalypse has essentially taking place outside. There is a third person in this setting, which only adds to the drama of the situation and leads to shifting loyalties and some big narrative surprises.

Hopefully, audiences are hip to what this movie is doing. It not only plays with genre expectations but also provides room for real character development, especially for Goodman. He gives a truly Oscar worthy performance in this film, even though this kind of movie never gets love come awards time.

He has been so great for so long, particularly in Coen Brothers movies like Barton Fink, The Big Lebowski and Raising Arizona, that audiences might take him for granted. But he really has substantial skills and an authenticity that makes the implausible seem plausible.

I can't think of a film I've seen recently that makes better use of sound. Every creak of a door made me leap and the movie's eerie calm is so much scarier than soundtrack induced jump scares.

This film, like a handful of other recent horror-type movies, really learned its lesson from the best of the genre. Films like The Exorcist give you time to invest in the characters and steadily ratchet up the stakes. 10 Cloverfield Lane may alienate some audiences looking for non-stop antics, but for people looking for an intriguing and original time at the movies, it's a delight.

It's also quite funny -- which again is a tribute largely to Goodman's talents. I went in to the movie without preconceived notions and was wildly entertained from start to finish. What more could you hope for?