'Get Out' is really as great as you hear it is and then some

I am so thrilled that I got to see Get Out when I did. It is truly a masterpiece and movie of the moment. However, I was worried, because it's starting to get so much hype (surely the 'it's not that great' blogs are on the way) that I felt like I'd be underwhelmed. I was predisposed to like it, since I am an enormous fan of its director Jordan Peele's work on the hit Comedy Central sketch series Key & Peele, but what he has crafted here is genre work at its finest, and a project that will easily rank among my top 10 favorite films of this year. This is a movie that will give a lot of people a lot to talk about -- and that is a wonderful thing. It's many things: a hilarious social commentary, a deeply profound meditation on race, and a creepy horror film. But most importantly, it's original.

Sure, Peele himself would concede that he has drawn inspiration from other heady horror films like The Stepford Wives and Rosemary's Baby. But I have never seen a film tackle the subject of race quite like this.

Keep in mind, it's never preachy, and it doesn't provide simplistic bad guys and good guys. What it does do, unlike perhaps any fictional film I've seen, is approximate the paranoia many African-Americans feel when thrust into predominately white, condescending spaces (a feeling I know all too well). And it also makes a smart, nuanced point about how racism is not just motivated by fear but also in some cases envy.

There are people of all races who may not wish to enjoy the full black experience -- but who would love to enjoy what they at least perceive to be its inherent gifts and appeal.

Jordan Peele

Because Get Out takes the time to set up its characters and allows the dread to slowly creep into the proceedings, you get on board more easily with its patently absurd premise, and the story continues to throw curveballs at you right up to its final frames. This movie not only made me reflect on moments from my own personal dating life, but the death of Trayvon Martin, too.

The cast is uniformly excellent, and hopefully its leading man -- Daniel Kaluuya -- will become a star because of his incredible work here. And Lil Rel Howery is howlingly funny in the comic relief role. But most of this film's critical acclaim is being justifiably heaped on Peele, because this is so clearly his singularly sophisticated vision.

As the film's writer and director -- he lends it a genuine gut-busting humor, but also razor sharp smarts. I have no idea how long he sat on this idea and developed it, but there were strands of the plot I was still piecing together after I left the theater and I found myself nodding in approval (this one will probably be even more rewarding after repeat viewings).

He has a terrific eye -- as anyone who's watched the well-crafted sketches of Key & Peele can tell you -- and he also has a comic's adroit sense of timing. There isn't a scene or snippet of dialogue wasted. And the movie's big reveal is so deftly handled and fascinating -- I always say a great movie can often seem like a great book -- and this was one I didn't want to end.

There's so much to unpack and yet I was never less than thoroughly entertained. And the movie is a reminder of what genre movies can be. I've heard some critics favorably compare this to the work of John Carpenter, and I think that's spot on (George A. Romero deserves a shout out too). Horror films, I have always argued, have the potential to speak truths by tapping into our greatest fears and anxieties in a purely visceral way. Sometimes watching a great horror film can almost feel like a religious experience in that way.

Take my favorite film, The Shining, for instance. On the surface, it's a fairly trippy haunted house story, but there is a lot more for the taking if you want it. In Get Out, there is high and low satire, truly well earned jump scares, and some gorgeous cinematography and music.

But the reason I think it's catching on -- in addition to rave reviews, a wonderful trailer and likely solid word of mouth -- is that it feels vital and timely for this post-Trump world. People of color are feeling 'nervous' to say the least. It's a disquieting time and Get Out both captures that emotion and provides catharsis for it.

I can't recommend this film more highly -- it's the thinking person's scary movie a lot of us have been waiting for. And it exemplifies why people like me love cinema.

'La La Land' vs. 'Moonlight': Why the Oscars don't really matter

There is very little enthusiasm for the Oscars this year. According to a recent poll, something like 60 percent of the country can't name a single one of the Best Picture nominees. It's not that the movies aren't terrific, most of them are. And a few, like La La Land and Hidden Figures, have become big breakout hits.

This year there isn't the tension of #OscarsSoWhite in the air, or a host like Chris Rock who can make hay out of it. Instead we have the fairly middle-of-the road Jimmy Kimmel. And there are very few races which have real suspense about the results, except for maybe Best Picture, but I'll get to that in a moment.

It may be in part because of Trump. He has so consumed the news cycle and kept the populace on edge, that the Oscars seem like a quaint and unimportant distraction right now. But I also think -- not unlike the Miss America pageant -- they have come to mean less than they used to.

It's not the argument that the movies reflect critical snobbery and not audiences' faves, after all, big blockbusters like The Revenant, Mad Max: Fury Road and Gravity have competed for top awards in recent years. I think viewers are just getting hipper to how inherently flawed the whole process is.

People win awards because they're due or because of the narrative behind their nomination. Edgy or interesting work and films either don't get recognized at all or almost always lose to the safer, more self-congratulatory movies.

Yes, sometimes an Oscar win can mean a lot more exposure and commercial success, especially for smaller films, but the way that many people consume movies now (on demand and streaming), most viewers will likely wait to catch award winners in the comfort of their own homes, if they haven't already bothered to see them in theaters.

Even the old school career bump that actors and actresses get from winning an Oscar doesn't appear to exist anymore. For every Lupita Nyong'o, there are a lot of Jennifer Hudsons and Moniques.

Now, I recognize the irony of me making this argument -- for the past several years I have breathlessly anticipated the nominees and weighed in on the potential results with my friend Brian Wezowicz. I am an unapologetic movie nerd, an obsessive consumer of this stuff. I like to root for the films I love and the performances that moved me. But the fact is, not unlike with the sports teams I root for, the people I want to win rarely do and when they don't it feels like more of a shrug than a sneer. If I'd had my way Bill Murray and Sylvester Stallone would have won acting Oscars by now, but it isn't up to me, and it never will be.

Speaking of Bill Murray, he used to do this amazing bit when he was a cast-member on Saturday Night Live (and would frequently resurrect it when he'd come back to host) where he would sardonically give his Oscar picks for each year. Besides calling the Supporting races irrelevant, he would always use comical arguments that had nothing to do with quality to reach his conclusions. And one year, he refashioned the race to feature nothing but former and current Not Ready for Prime-Time Players.

Bill Murray's Oscar predictions 

I have been thinking about the bit a lot as I've been reading a lot about the backlash to La La Land and grumblings that Moonlight -- a film I thought was far superior, and many critics agree -- should upset it, but probably won't. At the end of the day I think La La Land will triumph, and probably for reasons that have little to do with which film is 'better.'

It's inherently absurd to compare movies like this in the first place -- one is an expertly crafted, frothy, throwback musical and the other is heartbreaking, and fiercely urgent coming of age film. It's not like awards should only go to films that are deep. And there have been plenty of examples of films that lost that have gone on to greater glory (Pulp Fiction or Citizen Kane for example), and of course many classics never even get considered. Guess who never won an Oscar for directing? Alfred Hitchcock, Robert Altman or Stanley Kubrick.

La La Land is the kind of movie that wins Oscars. For better or worse. It has big, likable stars. It's a gorgeous production. It's romantic about Hollywood. And it's a lot of fun. Like most movies like this, if you dig a little deeper, you can find things to quibble about -- although I am not in the camp that believes that the film is suggesting that only a white man can "save" jazz, just like I don't think Back to the Future was seriously trying to suggest that a white man taught Chuck Berry everything he knows.

I honestly think the movie is just a victim of our current culture of in-the-moment re-evaluation. It peaked early, earned nearly universal praise, so naturally people would start to take potshots at it and trash it. It'll still win -- it's record tying nominations proves it has plenty of support -- but it may not stand the test of time, since now it's becoming a movie you have to defend liking.

Moonlight, on the other hand, has gratefully not endured any revisionist criticism. Unfortunately, though, despite all its acclaim, it has not caught on commercially. I have never met someone who's seen it and not liked it immensely, and I sincerely hope it achieves cult classic status. I sincerely believe it will hold up and will be oft-cited as a landmark.

Would an Oscar help it achieve that? Maybe. But even if it doesn't pull off an upset on Sunday, its fans won't be any less passionate about it.

I am still going to watch the Oscars, because I'm old school and I'm sucker for moving and/or politically charged speeches. But no matter what happens on the show, Moonlight will still be the Best Picture of the year.

Why don't they make controversial movies anymore?

There are "controversial" movies today but usually the scandals are generated by the off-screen rhetoric or antics of the star or director (or in the case of last year's The Birth of a Nation, both). There are what I consider to be faux controversies, like the backlash against La La Land as supposedly a "white savior film," which I'll address in a future post. But rarely nowadays does a film itself intend to provoke a strong response from an audience. Even films like Fifty Shades of Grey which are marketed in such a way to prepare audiences for a 'shock,' are destined to fall short because they are unapologetically safe and commercial.

Last night I got to revisit Stanley Kubrick's genuinely controversial black comic masterpiece A Clockwork Orange and I came away with several thoughts -- besides the fact that the movie still holds up as a deeply cynical look at our society's culture of violence, and by extension its anemic inability to address it -- the film also exposes the limits of modern movie making, which is more interested in established properties and franchises, than inspiring debate and an emotional response.

It's impossible not to feel something while you're watching A Clockwork Orange, during it and afterwords. For some viewers, it's revulsion. Even Kubrick himself felt a certain ambiguity about his kinetic mix of violence, sexuality and humor, so much so that he agreed to keep it out of theaters in his adopted home of the U.K. for decades.

Malcolm McDowell in A Clockwork Orange

He made several audacious choices -- chief among them to make the lead character of Alex (played in a career-defining, inexcusably Oscar snubbed performance by Malcolm McDowell) likable and funny, despite the fact that he is a sexual predator, a criminal and a truly sociopathic character with only an affinity for the music of Beethoven to humanize him.

The film's detachment from its brutality lends it both its power and potential to offend, but at least it's a movie with some profound ideas in it, and it's not predictable, unless you've read the book on which its based (which it is fairly consistent with). Part of the reason that, like all of Kubrick's best work, it's still so watchable and timeless, is that its themes are still worth being explored. In fact, some elements of the movie resonate even more now than they probably did when the film first came out back in 1971.

Now, look at this year's Best Picture offerings. Most of the films are quite worthy and wonderful, Moonlight, especially, felt like a wholly original and time capsule worthy film. But none of the others are taking the risk of alienating the audience that comes to see them.

Just over 30 years ago, a movie as unconventional as David Lynch's Blue Velvet was at least able to sneak into the Best Director race (although the Best Picture race was pretty tame). This year, not only were there very few films that I would describe as timely, there were almost none that I would call provocative (save for the great, gruesome Green Room).

When the major studios began tightening their belts and shuttering more and more of their independent output, some speculated that this would be the result. Not only are 'prestige' films getting pushed further and further down the calendar, but they are calculated in much the same way blockbusters are -- hence the ability to predict next year's most likely Oscar films now.

Ironically, the best place to find truly invigorating, thought-provoking work has increasingly become the documentary genre, where a movie like I Am Not Your Negro or 13th can say more with found footage than any soaring score over a scripted scene ever could.

Flashback 2007: My top 10 favorite movies from 10 years ago

I remember thinking that 2007 was a particularly strong year for movies, particularly darker-themed, brooding thrillers that tested the boundaries of audience sympathy for their "heroes," even though the year's biggest hits were still big sequels and kid-friendly fare.

I remember being especially pleased by the triumph of the Coen Brothers' No Country for Old Men at the following year's Oscars. The film and its directors were definitely deserving -- but it wasn't the type of film that typically takes home Hollywood's biggest prize.

It was, for all intents and purposes, an existentialist neo-western (it turns out 2007 was a good year for that genre) with an ending which defied expectations for the kinds of third act shoot out which typify the crime genre.

10) 3:10 to Yuma - The rare remake, that in my opinion, surpasses the original. I was late to this one, was always surprised by how well received it was critically until I finally saw it and realized it was one of the more solid, efficient and well-acted attempts at a traditional western in years. Notoriously grumpy actors Christian Bale and Russell Crowe make an unlikely good team, but the real standout here is Ben Foster, who shows early signs of the genius he'd display later in Hell or High Water.

9) The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford - Everyone is gushing over Casey Affleck's performance in Manchester By the Sea, but for my money his most affecting work may be in this little-seen, gorgeous-looking revisionist western, which focuses on an unlikable, self-involved side character who asserts himself into history by stabbing a would-be confidant in the back. The film's mouthful of a title probably doomed it, but it has stood the test of time for a reason.

8) Once - I've been pretty vocal about my distaste for most overtly romantic movies. I have nothing against romance of course, but as a genre they tend to lack in real tension or suspense. But this beautiful little Irish musical rises above cliches with a strong streak of authenticity (the stars were in love at the time) and some truly exhilarating performances (both actors were also singer-songwriters). Even if the true life story didn't work out so well, it's a very rewarding viewing experience.

Don Cheadle in Ocean's Thirteen

7) Ocean's Thirteen - I have always been an enormous fan and defender of this trilogy, particularly the much maligned Ocean's Twelve. And for those who were put off by that, admittedly more indulgent entry, this finale was a great return to form for George Clooney and company. They return to what they do best -- knocking off Vegas casinos -- and Al Pacino is a game adversary as a Steve Wynn type egomaniac. However, the real scene-stealer in the movie may be Don Cheadle in his wacko Evil Knievel jumpsuit.

6) Grindhouse - I was stunned then and now that Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez's double-header homage to the trash cinema of their youth bombed with audiences. Both of their installments are incredibly funny, shocking and audacious. Perhaps film-goers weren't sure what to make of films that at times dared to be intentionally amateurish. Although Death Proof has some of Tarantino's more annoying tics, it contains a truly great Kurt Russell performance and one of the best car chases of all time. And Rodriguez's underrated Planet Terror is a far better zombie movie homage than The Walking Dead is.

5) American Gangster - One of my favorite all-time Denzel Washington performances anchors this epic biopic about Harlem drug kingpin Frank Lucas. His is a study of cool, and much more intense than his previous more villainous role in Training Day. His opposition is led by a disheveled Russell Crowe as a crusading narcotics cop. Their clash generates real sparks, as does this well-scored and shot period picture. This film is so good, Jay-Z made one of his best albums because he was inspired by it.

4) Michael Clayton - This is perhaps the last great legal thriller of the past several years, and it stands out because not a word or scene is wasted. Here, George Clooney leads an impeccable cast -- including Tom Wilkinson and Tilda Swinton in a terrific Oscar-winning performance, in a whip smart movie that is part character study, part commentary on corporate malfeasance. Clooney in particular stretches here as an actor in new and exciting ways, in what may be his best role to date, and the haunting final shot, fixed on his stoic face, is unforgettable.

Michael Clayton's last shot

3) Zodiac - Director David Fincher's ambitious recounting of the exhaustive media and police hunt for the infamous Zodiac killer in the late 60s and 70s is one the decade's great crime films. Its genuinely scary and labyrinthine plot keeps springing surprises on you. The performances are excellent across the board -- especially Mark Ruffalo as an exasperated cop -- and the atmosphere is note perfect. This is the perfect meeting of a filmmaker and material, and the film had me obsessively reading on the subject matter that inspired it for weeks after I saw it.

2) No Country for Old Men - The iconic Coen brothers finally won their first, well-deserved, Best Director Oscar for this grisly, existentialist film about a nobody (played by Josh Brolin) whose fateful decision to take some cash abandoned at a crime scene sets off a wild series of events and makes him a target for one of the most terrifying villains in film history -- a bowl cut wearing Javier Bardem. Like all Coen brothers films, it's deeply, darkly funny and has lots of culture-based, observational humor. But this Cormac McCarthy adaptation is also very serious and a mournful look at how our society has embraced chaos over chivalry. Tommy Lee Jones is genius in this movie, and deserved Oscar recognition.

1) There Will Be Blood - One of the towering films of the decade, and one of the best performances of all time -- Daniel Day-Lewis' profound, larger than life take on the fictional oil baron Daniel Plainview. Besides introducing the "I drink your milkshake" meme, this movie is a total middle finger to conventional movie making. The "hero" is relentlessly malicious, even mad, the story focuses on early 20th century oil prospecting and has a bleak, violent ending -- and yet its incredibly entertaining, incisive and smart. This movie about the dark heart of America has even more resonance today and will be a film worth studying in the years to come.

'Never Seen It' - Episode 13 - Getting trapped in 'The Cell'

Remember the serial killer genre? It had a real heyday in 1990s and early 2000s.

I think it, for the lack of a better phrase, died a slow death in part because they found an audience during a relatively peaceful time in American life, so we could invent fantastical killers to be way of. In the post-9/11 era, where real life terrorists and mass shooters are an unavoidable fact of life, these gory thrillers feel like they would rarely, if ever, fly now.

The Cell, a 2000 vehicle for Jennifer Lopez and Vince Vaughn, represents, to my mind, the beginning of the end of a certain kind of R-rated thriller aimed at adults.

My wife Liz and I had both never seen it -- in my case because I presumed it wasn't any good -- and so we've selected it for the most recent episode of our podcast, "Never Seen It," which is in the YouTube below:


Again, for the "Never Seen It" virgins these are our first impressions after having watched the movie separately for the first time. If you liked what you heard, check out takes on other genre films like Fear, Rising Sun, and Spy Kids.

'John Wick: Chapter Two' is action catharsis for Trump era trauma

If you liked the first John Wick -- and I definitely did -- its sequel is bigger, bloodier and even more audacious than its predecessor.

It may be one of the most violent movies I've ever seen, and it helped me get out a lot of aggression I've been feeling since -- oh, well -- November.

Just like the first film, it's patently absurd. And yet it contains so much gritty, gruesome and most importantly, practical, action (it was directed by a veteran stunt man, and it shows), I found it pretty damn irresistible.

It also expands on the world established by the original John Wick, a shadowy society of assassins who check in and out of high-end international hotels known as the Continental, where the patrons are treated like high rollers and killing on the premises is strictly forbidden.

The films' running joke is that Wick is like the LeBron James of this game -- everyone knows him and respects his prodigious skills. Like any haunted action movie hero, he desperately wants to stop doing what he does best -- kill -- but circumstances keep dragging him back into the fight.

Keanu Reeves is uniquely suited to this role, easily his best since The Matrix. Even though he is in his early 50s now, he is still an impressive actor physically, and the minimalist dialogue his character delivers is perfect for his laconic range as an actor. He gets a lot of grief -- and he should never attempt an accent ever again -- but Reeves has been a solid star for years, and a totally credible action hero to boot.

In John Wick: Chapter Two he is really put through an incredible workout and in this age where slow motion CGI acrobatics have replaced bare fisted brutality, it was refreshing to see a genre film anchored by real stunts and authentic action.

Reeves as Wick

Ironically, prior to see this sequel -- which I watched with a packed, raucous and vocal crowd -- a trailer for the new Fast & Furious film came on. Now, don't get me wrong, barring terrible reviews -- I will most likely see that movie too. But I was disappointed to see how much that series has veered into more and more insane pyrotechnics. This one has a submarine in it.

John Wick: Chapter Two's pleasures are more old fashioned. The plot, as threadbare as it is, is your straightforward revenge epic, with a few exciting fresh twists baked in. Besides the upped cameo quotient (Common and Laurence Fishburne have supporting turns in this one), the movie makes no bones about the fact that it's bucking for a subsequent installment.

And I can't wait for more of the guns blazing and fast cars smashing. I have long been a sucker for a good, trashy, mindless action film. It's one of things that America does best. And right now, with much less than half the country suggesting we've regained something we never lost, it's nice to have visceral, cinematic proof of that.

If you would have told me ten years ago that a 50-something Keanu Reeves and 60-something Liam Neeson would be the premier action stars of the last decade, I would tell you that you were insane. But then again, who would have thought a 70-something reality star with no government experience would be elected president?

'Elle' is a glorious vindication of Paul Verhoeven's career

Elle

Director Paul Verhoeven has a reputation for making tawdry and salacious thrillers -- over-the-top, masculine, sexually graphic and violent -- but he never gets enough credit for how subversive and funny his work is, or how elegant and exciting.

His 2016 film Elle -- in which Isabelle Huppert gives a remarkable lead performance, one of the year's best -- feels like both a culmination of all his previous work and something quite refreshing at the same time. And it stands as proof that at 78, Verhoeven has more energy and ingenuity than many filmmakers half his age. The movie is part black comedy, part terrifying horror film -- it walks a dangerous balance between macabre fantasy and utterly plausible reality; it really is a fascinating marvel to behold.

Without spoiling too much, I will say that the film is about an aging (but still stunning) French video game impresario who is the victim of an assault, that either changes her or, depending on your point of view, brings some long dormant emotions out of her.

The movie keeps throwing you for a loop. It works as a thriller, but also at other times like a mystery. It is bitingly funny, thanks to Huppert's acidic delivery, and her game supporting cast. It has the requisite clever, subtle social commentary that all Verhoven's best films have (this time he mocks gamer culture as he did commercial advertising in Robocop and Starship Troopers), but he may never have directed a better performance in his career, than the fearless one Huppert gives here.

Viola Davis still gave perhaps my favorite female performance of the year in Fences. And I thought Natalie Portman's work in Jackie was a game-changer. But I put Huppert's work here right up there with them.

At 63, she throws herself in this very physically demanding and emotionally complex role and although she dominates almost every frame, she leaves you wanting more.

For Verhoeven, whose trademark has almost always been excess, this may be the most restrained movie he's ever made -- and yet it is plenty violent, visceral and audacious.

Of course, many of Verhoeven's American blockbusters, like Total Recall and Basic Instinct for instance, have been reappraised as the classics they deserve to be -- but the director will perhaps never live down the indignity of Showgirls.

However, I have read a compelling case arguing that while that infamous dud is indeed poorly acted and written, it's not badly directed -- and Verhoeven may have been standing outside the material and commenting on it in his own sly way while presenting the film as if it were entirely earnest.

Even if that is a charitable read, only great directors fail that miserably. And even genius directors have at least one huge folly on their resume.

Elle, however, will be remembered as a highlight.