Sicario: Day of the Soldado Review – A Victory Lap For The Bad Guys


One of the most compelling things about Dennis Villeneuve’s Sicario is how effective it is at conveying the outsider status of Emily Blunt’s Kate Macer in the hypermasculine atmosphere of Matt Graver’s (Josh Brolin) anti-drug taskforce. The movie has gender at the forefront of its mind, with incredibly loaded imagery designed to evoke sexual domination and rape at multiple key points in the film. So, I was surprised to hear that we were leaving Emily Blunt’s character where she was the end of the last film; bullied, broken and intimidated by Benicio Del Toro’s enigmatic Alejandro and focusing on Alejandro himself as well as antagonist Matt Graver. It seems that my fears were well founded, as Sicario: Day of the Soldado is a macho affair that does very little to compliment the themes of the first movie. By the end of the film’s two hour runtime (it feels more like 3 hours, if I’m being honest) I was left wondering why this film exists at all. It’s a boring, superficial follow up to a fine movie that deserved a more worthy successor.

It would likely be as tedious for me to recap the finer points of the plot as it would be for you to read them. It is a standard modern political thriller, where every conversation is happening in either an office or a military base and every conversation is about intangible goals, details and locations in a way that it is almost impossible to pay attention to. Basically, Graver has been called in to exploit the fact that the unnamed US President is going to declare the Mexican drug cartels terrorists. For some reason, provoking a war between the various cartels will allow the CIA to capitalize on the ensuing anarchy. To do this, Graver calls in his main man Alejandro to stage the kidnapping of Isabel Reyes (Isabela Moner), daughter of an important Cartel leader.

What does successfully carry over from the first movie is the damning depiction of various arms of the United States government. The CIA of the Sicario movies – which is the most realistic version in cinema that I can think of – is comprised of cold pragmatists who even manage to perform ostensibly noble causes like combating the drug cartels and do them in the most disinterested and egoisitc way possible. There isn’t even a lone hero who swims against the tide, there is no Jack Bauer who fails to tow the line. This is a film about the same terrible people that we met in the first movie, with no fresh eyed outsider to slow them down.

This leads me to the film’s first big problem, which is that it has no real emotional center. The investment that came from taking Macer’s POV in the first movie isn’t replaced with anything worthwhile. There is an attempt made at around the one hour mark to elicit emotion when Alejandro and Reyes start going through their obligatory Logan arc and we see the more vulnerable Alejandro that we assumed had died with his cartel-victimized family. That being said, this simply doesn’t work like the filmmakers clearly wanted it to. Maybe it doesn’t quite click because Alejandro’s actions in the last film were so despicable that this movie couldn’t quite erase them or maybe it was because the film bludgeoned me with so much tediousness beforehand that I was numb to it but I found myself rolling my eyes at yet another story of a tough killer who has his emotional armor cracked by an aggressive yet vulnerable girl.

The film is as handsomely shot as its predecessor, though the sinister and thudding score of the previous movie is used with such abandon here that it starts to take on an almost comedic tone. The repetitious music makes the movie feel like an overlong sketch in the vein of Too Many Cooks, where the joke starts to be “just how much of the movie can we make punishingly dull and aggressively emotionless”. At one point two characters were flying in a helicopter together with the same foreboding music playing over the scene and I thought “This? This needs to be depressing and bleak as well”? One thing that the use of the same music in multiple scenes can do is invite comparisons between those scenes. We think of them together and compare the emotions and actions of one scene to the other. This is impossible, as the repetitious and simple score used this much creates on omnipresent mood that pervades over every inch of the movie. Imagine if 90% of The Avengers had the theme from the iconic panoramic shot of the team playing over it. That shot would probably be robbed of its iconic status because of it.

The technical filmmaking in general falls short of the original film. New director Stefano Sollima has little respect for narrative economy and there is an entire B-plot that concerns a wannabe Sicario named Miguel Hernandez (Elijah Rodriquez) that fails to meaningfully pay off. Similarly, the action is more prevalent than ever in this movie but it is all dull and boring. Tracking shot over the shoulder of a character, cut to that character firing an assault rifle and then cut to his targets falling over. Rinse and repeat, with none of the scenes having internal narratives or any sense of exciting escalation. The action doesn’t have to be exciting, mind you. It does, however, have to be memorable and useful to the overall film and unfortunately it’s just not. By the time we reach a completely useless and extended scene near the end – the details of which would be too spoilery for a general review – I was wondering if the filmmakers had any sense at all that their movie would actually be watched by an audience.

There is a certain type of person who will like Sicaro: Day of the Soldado. It has a macho uber-seriousness about it and it will likely kill with the “they don’t make movies for adults anymore” crowd but I just found it dull. I love the first movie and I wish they had furthered the narrative of that film more organically but Day of the Soldado doesn’t even work on its own terms. Let’s hope they figure out how to make the teased third movie work, because I’m not sure I can sit through another film as uninvolving and seemingly never-ending as this one.




The Incredibles 2 Review – Maybe Just Rewatch the First One Instead?

the-incredibles.jpgThe Incredibles 2 opens with a short introduction from multiple people involved in making of the movie. Director Brad Bird, as well as most of the main cast, assures us that they have taken their time with this film and that it will be well worth the 14 year wait since the first movie. This is a weird decision, as nobody in the theater needs to be sold on Pixar’s pedigree or the prospect of watching an Incredibles sequel. It is an even stranger thing to do when the product you have made is not particularly good, as is the case with The Incredibles 2.  Bird and Co. have made Incredibles 2: Incredibles Harder, a sequel in the repetitious and unnecessary mold of Die Hard 2. Unlike the second Die Hard film, that can’t use “we wanted to fast track this one to capitalize on the popularity of the first” as a justification for making an underwhelming retread of the first movie because, as Samuel L. Jackson told me just before the film started, it is a labour of love that has been worked on for 14 years.

The first Incredibles ends with each family member assuredly looking at one another as the Underminer (John Ratzenberger) emerges, each knowing exactly what to expect from the other. They strike a team pose while framed in a wide shot, visually conveying that they have learned to work together as a cohesive unit. This is a great ending because we see how far they have come from their frustrated squabbling and inability to get one the same page as one another early on in the film. Bafflingly, The Incredibles 2 begins by undercutting the exceptionally well realized character development that we saw in the first movie. Picking up immediately from where the last one left off, the family has instantly regressed from a functional unit back to the squabbling, perpetually frustrated individuals we met at the before they went to Syndrome’s Island.

This shift back to a familiar status quo is followed through on with tenacity, as the film has the same basic plot as the first movie. Elastigirl (Holly Hunter) and Mr. Incredible (Craig T. Nelson) have switched places but we are nevertheless watching one of them prioritize heroism over family while doing hero work for mysterious benefactors while the other is confined to domesticity in the interim. Violet (Sarah Vowell) is once again after the affections of her generic teen heartthrob love interest from the last movie (due to a strange contrivance she is even pursuing a date with him in this movie despite getting one at the end of the last film). Of course, there is also Dash (Huck Miner) who…wait, they didn’t actually give Dash anything to do this time.

It would be one thing to do the same movie again but the shame of it is that Bird is doing everything so much worse this time around. Bird dealt with Bob’s secret superhero time with an incredibly effective montage, which served to limit the amount of time that the family spent apart and kept things moving at a steady pace. The pacing in this film is so much worse, as Bird has just opted to make two concordant movies about Elastigirl’s superheroics and the rest of the family respectively and then shuffle them together in the edit. To add insult to injury, the Mr. Incredible half of the movie ends up being hugely inconsequential in the grand scheme of things.  The movie drops his obnoxious arc about being jealous of Elastigirl with no clear resolution, so the audience can’t help but wonder why the filmmakers spent so much time on it. At least, the Elastigirl stuff fairs better, with a number of well directed action scenes injecting some much-needed life into the proceedings.

Bottom line: Incredibles 2 is bottom shelf Pixar that does nothing to justify its existence. The plotting isn’t as tight, it’s not as much fun and it mostly feels like a now-or-never cash grab on the part of the filmmakers. I rewatched the first movie immediately before seeing this one and it holds up like nobody’s business. Just go watch that movie instead, you’ll almost certainly be glad you did.


Book Review – Fit At Mid Life: A Feminist Fitness Journey


I recently finished reading the excellent Fit At Mid-Life: A Feminist Fitness Journey by Samantha Brennan and Tracy Isaacs. Full disclosure, I had Samantha Brennan at a professor in a graduate seminar at Western University and, her class being one of the highlights of my university experience, my opinion on the book might be skewed slightly. That being said, one of the things I loved so much about Dr. Brennan’s class was the way that she seemed to make a conscious effort to buck some of academic philosophy’s most obnoxious trends. This class made an effort to pursue objective fact while at the same time not being presumptuous enough to think we can just fire up our armchairs and will ourselves beyond the vail of subjective experience. This trend is continued in the Fit at Mid Life, which talks data, trends and fact while telling the compelling story of two women on a personal journey to better themselves. I am happy to report that what works about Dr. Brennan’s classes also works in the book, which had me just as invested in whether or not Tracy would reach her goal of finishing an Olympic distance triathlon as I was in educating myself about the fitness facts.

Easily one of the most refreshing parts of reading this book was its emphasis on cultivating a new attitude towards fitness that’s all about function and health. For example, in one section of Fit at Mid-Life in which the authors put there philosopher’s hats on and go about defining fitness, mental health is not left out of the discussion. This inclusion may seem like a small thing but hearing people wise enough to include the other half of health in a fitness discussion read to me as nearly revelatory. This is just one of them many small delights of the book.

One other such delight was reading a discussion of health and fitness that didn’t try to reinvent the wheel. Fitness is interesting because as complex as it is, it is also simple. The never ending succession of people on the internet trying to tell you when/how/where/what to eat in ways that contradict the last thing you read by a seemingly equally qualified professional is unproductive and exhausting. You’ll find no claims like “make sure to only have sugar while standing on your head and juggling avocados, while also singing Shake it Off by Taylor Swift” in this book. Instead it approaches fitness discussion by sticking to what we know and know well, while busting some harmful myths about dieting and exercise in the process.

If I had one complaint, it would be that I wanted the philosopher’s hats to be put on a little bit more often and for slightly more lengthy durations. The fact that this doesn’t happen is by design and it’s not a flaw in the book by any means. I think I just crave a philosophical discussion of fitness and exercise that I can’t really seem to find anywhere right now. Still though, to demand that from Fit at Mid-Life would be to watch Tom Hooper’s Les Misérables and be mad that Hugh Jackman didn’t play Wolverine in it (I’m just kidding, you should never watch Tom Hooper’s Les Misérables). This book is about breaking down stereotypes about gender and age while also providing tangible, subjective stories that, on top of being compelling in their own right, ground the discussion in reality rather than pure theory.

The last thing I want to say about my experience reading the book is how much I enjoyed it despite the fact that it isn’t something many people would think of as being “for me”. I got more than a few quizzical remarks and questions about why I would read a book that seems specifically targeted at age and gender demographics that are very much not my own (male, 24). To that I say, reading books that aren’t “for you” is almost always educational and enjoyable in some way. At least, this holds true for me. There are obvious exceptions, such as movies or video games that populate their narratives with sexualized, two dimensional female characters. That’s the bad kind of “not for you” and women who avoid these stories are definitely not in the wrong. The good kind of “not for you”, however, can be transformative. This book gave me a lot of insight into what it’s like to be a woman in physical fitness spaces and this knowledge will almost surely affect how I conduct myself in these spaces in the future. I have certainly been guilty of presuming that older women in the gym are eagerly awaiting my instructions on how to properly lift weights. Hell, I bumped into at 70 year old woman in a Indigo store a couple of days ago and she was holding this book. I assumed she was hesitantly thinking about dipping a toe into the water of physical fitness but it turns out she was a marathon runner who could probably kick my ass in a great many physical activities.

Fit at Mid Life also gave me knowledge of what an active lifestyle looks like at age 50, which may not apply to me now but certainly will some day (unless scientist finally get off the couch and make putting human brains in robot bodies a reality). My assumption going into the book was that my body would slowly get slower, weaker and less effective every year after my 40th birthday. Research covered in the book that shows age isn’t the barrier to physical activity that many believe it to be was illuminating. I won’t go into the whole thing here but, suffice it to say, certain cultural preconceptions of what aging people can do end up creating a sort of feedback loop. “I know my body is going to get weaker so I’d better not run so much” is, as it turns out, something of a self fulfilling prophesy.

In a lot of ways, this book is appealing to me because of my attitude towards new and different perspectives. After all, Fit at Mid-Life is all about women doing things that aren’t deemed to be “for them” and, unlike my experience with picking up this book, this is actually an obstacle or at least a point of frustration for them. Still, I want to encourage anyone who would hesitate to read this book or any others like it because they don’t think of themselves as that book’s core demographic to check the book out anyway, as it might give you what this book gave me, a valuable new perspective and a thoroughly enjoyable reading experience.

Revisiting Superman (1978): The Perfect Superman Movie

See the source image

Superman is held in very high esteem amongst most comic book movie nerds. Snyderverse megafans aside, everyone seems to be able to respect that Richard Donner set up shop in a industry landscape that was a far cry from our modern one and made a film that perfectly presented the most iconic version of a beloved hero (speaking of our modern climate, what’s weirder: that Oscar nominee Josh Brolin just finished playing Thanos AND Cable in movies released a month apart from one another or that most people don’t even think of this as being strange?). Superman regularly turns up on “top five best comic book movie” lists, was recently the subject of a thorough examination on Moviebob’s popular Really That Good video essay series and is fondly remembered by everyone who hasn’t recently tweeted out #ReleaseTheSnyderCut. So, I am now left wondering why my recent revisitation of the film left me feeling disappointed.

For my relationship with this film, context matters a lot. I had put off watching it forever due to a then still sadly engrained bias against what I sometimes incorrectly perceived as “dated” special effects (honestly, Superman looks better than most of big budget movies made in the 90s) and partly because, as a younger person, I self consciously believed that I was somehow above an earnest, old movie about a big, blue boy scout. Flash forward to one neck snap later, when my then girlfriend and I were leaving Man of Steel. I vividly remember discussing the film for 3 hours afterwards, with interludes about what we even wanted from a Superman movie at all and what elements of the character we deemed fundamental. It was at this point that we viewed Superman and it arrived like Lois Lane, throwing away the kryptonite of gloom, bad editing and tornado induced suicide that was Man of Steel at the last second.

It was nice to watch a movie that didn’t seem as self conscious and embarrassed of its own source material as Man of Steel is. There are colours, smiles and many other staples of the funny books that Zack Snyder was all too happy to kick to the curb in his Nolan emulating, fun devoid reboot. Christopher Reeve’s Superman was (and is) the stuff of acting legend, with his performance being able to definitively answer the question of why nobody realizes Superman and Clark Kent are the same person. You could never believe that Reeve’s Clark was a superhero, even if you saw him lift a car with his own two hands. The way that he minimizes himself in crowd shots (a testament to the quality of the scene blocking as well as Reeve’s physical acting) has you almost forgetting he’s there in the same way that Lois always seems to. Incidentally, a brilliant choice by Margot Kidder and/or the filmmakers is to have Lois never really look directly at Clark. This inattention is a byproduct of Clark’s meekness as well as Lois’ ambition and tendency to multitask. All of this comes together really nicely in what is as perfect an early Lois/Clark dynamic as has ever been realized in any medium.

If you noticed that I was gushing in that paragraph, it is because there are certain elements of this movie you just can’t help but gush about. Donner’s perfect use of tone that distinguishes the various chapters of Superman’s life, the performances of literally every actor in the film, the unabashed commitment to the source material. It’s all so great. Why, then, was I left feeling so cold?

I guess it was because certain things just stick out in today’s political climate now in a way that they didn’t back in 2013. This is partly due to my increased political awareness and partly because institutions like the police, the presidency and the USA itself have had their flaws and failures exposed by the magnifying glass and microphone of social media. When Lois quips that Superman would have to put every elected official in America behind bars if he were truly committed to justice, Superman responds with “I’m sure you don’t believe that”. In 2013, this kind of claim was antidotal. It was a refreshing optimism that cured my disinfatuation with grim and gritty comic book movies. In 2018 however, it is just one frustrating way in which the conservatism inherent in so many superheroes manifests. Superman spends the movie catching criminals and gleefully handing them over to the Metropolis police department. He has faith – which he is never actually asked to justify – in the American political system as it currently functions (as distinguished by having faith in the principles that the system *should* be a product of, which would be far more permissible). He also manages to drop Lex Luthor off in prison at the end of the movie*. The problem with that ending of course being that using “gets dropped off at an American prison” as narrative shorthand for “justice is served” is naïve at best and propagandistic at worst. The police, the prison system and America as an institution are never examined, questioned or even paid that much attention to. Instead, these oppressive and deeply flawed systems functioning without any depicted flaws or any onscreen questioning is the baselines reality that Donner’s Superman lives in.

In a way, this does make Superman the definitive cinematic representation of the character of Superman. He, like many superheroes, fills us with happiness, optimism and hope when the world seems bleak. Superman is charming, funny and comforting in a way that conveys the warmth of his best stories. However, he, like many superheroes, is an adamant defender of the status quo who would rather unilaterally intervene in circumstances he doesn’t understand and offer a quick, easy “solution” that tempers any lingering worry that the world isn’t a simplistic fantasyland in which the right man punching the right guys often enough will fix anything or help anyone.

I still love Superman and I am happy to revisit it at new times in my life and have my reactions change as I do. The desire to hold on to the good feelings offered up by simple, uncritical pieces of art and media rarely have good consequences. The fact is that Richard Donner made the perfect Superman movie but, as I get older, the perfect Superman movie gets further and further away from my definition of the perfect movie full stop. I am just interested in continuing to see how my relationship with Superman and, well…Superman continues to grow and change in the coming years.

*This post assumes the truth of a number of controversial social positions for the sake of brevity. I would love to hammer out the details of why these systems shouldn’t be exalted and what exactly Superman should do instead but that is another post for another time


Death Wish Review: A Bad Movie For Bad People


Let’s just get this out of the way: Death Wish is a terrible movie. Eli Roth’s film wholly buys into toxic, hypermasculine ideals that would have felt retrograde 15 years ago. How retrograde is it? Well, Dr. Paul Kersey’s (Bruce Willis) primary flaw is established when a nameless character calls him a “pussy” at a soccer game and he doesn’t start a physical altercation over it. Instead, he keeps his cool and has a nice day with out with his family. Clearly, this is a flawed man who needs fixing. Of course, you know that Paul gets his chance to “man up” when his family is targeted in a home invasion and he fails to protect them. Now, in the words of his gun saleswoman, Bruce has to get “cocked, locked and ready to rock” and prove that he (and by extension the insecure dads in the audience who identify with him) is a real man and not the “pussy” that he is perceived as.

There are elements of Death Wish that gesture towards a satirical takedown of modern culture. Paul learns a comical amount about how to use firearms on Youtube, where he also sees “tactical furniture” advertised (tables, shelves, etc that allow you to hide a gun in them). The woman who sells Paul his first gun is much younger than him, unrealistically gorgeous and flirts with the now 62 year Bruce Willis. In a better movie, these things would be framed in such a way as to ultimately indict the relationship between American culture, masculinity and guns. As the film goes on, it becomes apparent that Roth has no interest in any such indictment. He’s just making a pandering masculine power fantasy at a time where nothing in the world is less appealing. Roth is sensible enough to try and cover his ass by putting in montages of media reactions to Paul’s vigilante activities, but any condemnation is just lip service. Everything works out for Paul, who gets his regressive masculine groove back without any kind of problems or punishment getting in his way.

Despite the repulsive themes of the movie, it could have still worked on a visceral level. Unfortunately, the action scenes are incredibly unengaging, and they mostly just consist of Bruce Willis pointing and firing his gun at various racial caricatures and cartoonish two-dimensional bad guys. Curiously one of the action scenes diverges from the others by veering into slapstick territory for no discernible reason. It’s as if Roth himself realized that he was making a dud and tried to shake things up any way that he could. The home invasion sequence, in which Paul’s family is attacked, contains the only bit of tension in the movie. Unfortunately, the tension comes from piggishly allowing the threat of sexual violence to loom over Paul’s daughter Jordan. Eli Roth, truly a man of class.

The film also fails on a dramatic level. Paul’s family isn’t really made up of characters so much as walking placeholders that talk about how much they love Paul and how great their long, long life is going to be. As such, it’s impossible to feel anything for them. They exist only to be harmed, which paradoxically make it impossible to be sad that they are harmed. Instead, the degree to which the film telegraphs the impending familial violence is tedious and you just end up hoping that it will hurry up and happen already.

Look, there’s enough wrong with Death Wish that I could go on for another thousand words. I could talk about racial issues in the movie (the film’s aesthetic could basically be described as Zimmerman-chic) or I could talk about how unpleasant it was to suffer through yet another zombie-esque Bruce Willis performance. Honestly though, this movie has wasted enough of my time and I won’t let it waste any more of yours. Just see Black Panther again instead, you’ll have a much better time.

Seeing Allred Review: A Fine Entry in the Superhero Genre

00-story-image-seeing-allredIt may not seem initially appealing to watch Seeing Allred (directed by Roberta Grossman and Sophie Sartain), which can’t help but come off as a self promoting commercial for its subject, crusading attorney Gloria Allred. This reaction is reasonable but also more than a little ironic, as a main theme of the film is pointing out how Allred is wrongfully scrutinized for being some hot shot, self promoting lawyer who has little empathy for the victims she represents. The Gloria Allred we spend time with in this movie is a legit feminist crusader who tangibly contributes to getting justice for victims of sexual assault and rape. Seeing Allred asks the audience why the kneejerk reaction to outspoken, powerful women is so often disdain. One might think, as the filmmakers clearly do, that this is a question that is especially pertinent in Donald Trump’s “United” States.

Don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of legitimate criticisms of Hillary Clinton. It would be incredibly hard to deny that fact. By the same token, it would be equally difficult to deny that there was a misogynistic element to the discourse surrounding the 2016 Presidential debate and Clinton’s candidacy in particular. I mean, how could there not be when the main Republican candidate and eventual President-Elect is a multiply accused rapist/sexual assaulter who proudly brags that he grabs women “by the pussy”. In terms of public perception, Allred and Clinton are very much cut from the same cloth. Allred is clearly ambitious and has a distinctive personal brand, as we see when she grabs a pink pant suit from a closet full of them near the beginning of the movie. These traits are frustratingly thrown in her face again and again by critics to undermine the legitimately important work she does as an advocate for the victims of Bill Cosby, Donald Trump and others.

As with any good feminist text, Seeing Allred interweaves the personal with the political. Allred discusses her survival of rape with candor and the film is used as a platform for the survivors that Allred represents. A great part of the movie is getting a chance to know the women behind the famous accusations of people like Harvey Weinstein and Bill Cosby. It’s telling that, even in the most widely publicized sexual assault cases, the public is often content not to know anything about the women involved. Seeing Allred rectifies this and (like Allred herself) puts the women in these much talked about stories front and center. This material can’t help but be emotional important, as the movie focuses on the way women in general are often perceived as dishonest and manipulative when they are in the spotlight and talking about women’s issues. Allred and the women that she represents come up against substantial scrutiny and watching them overcome that scrutiny fills you with the classic feminist cocktail of cynicism and hope that should be familiar to anyone who pays attention to gender relations in North America.

Allred has been so prolific that Grossman and Sartain can essentially track the progress of the American women’s rights movement through her career. It is compelling stuff and it is consistently interesting to see how much the discourse has evolved but at the same time, how much it really hasn’t. When the film takes the viewer back to Trump’s election, it perfectly captures the sense of total disappointment and the feeling of sheer unbelievability that came with incredulously staring at the television. Fortunately, Seeing Allred also gets the audience fired up to continue the fight and, as far as I’m concerned, that makes the film vital and necessary viewing in 2018.

The Cloverfield Paradox Review: Can We Just Pretend This One Didn’t Happen?

20180205-the-cloverfield-paradox-trailer-620x919-1.jpgThe Cloverfield Paradox
(directed by Julius Onah) starts out strong. After an emotional conversation with her husband, protagonist Hamilton (Gugu Mbatha-Raw) decides to go on a mission into space that might solve the world’s current energy crisis. The filmmakers effectively use the opening credits as an opportunity for a wordless montage that conveys the multi-year length of the mission and the frustration of the space station’s crew as they continue to fail to solve the problem. In a scene not long after the montage, Onah visually realizes Hamilton’s grief over the loss of her children in a clever way that had me thinking I was about to watch a solid sci-fi movie from a gifted visual storyteller. This initial assessment turned out to be very wrong. Julius Onah may have some directorial chops but The Cloverfield Paradox is far from a solid sci-fi movie. In fact, Paradox is the worst Cloverfield movie by a wide stretch and singlehandedly burns up a lot of the goodwill generated by the previous franchise entries.

The main gimmick of the film is that a particle accelerator used by the crew to solve the energy crisis ends up malfunctioning, resulting in multiple dimensions collapsing in on one another. This set up basically gives the filmmakers unlimited freedom to cook up whatever weird horrific imagery or tense action scene that they want (imagine what James Wan or any similarly imaginative horror directors would do with a premise like this one). The entire second act is basically comprised of the crew doing busy work and waiting to get affected by the interdimensional events. The first of these scenes is strong, with a crew member literally being stuck in the wall. It is effective body horror and I couldn’t help but squirm in my chair seeing the wires and pipes imbedded in her. The following sequences are mostly duds. There is some really goofy business with a severed arm and a couple beats that try to push similar body horror buttons to the first but they all fail. It is a really curious thing to watch the movie go this far off the rails so abruptly. Rarely has a movie shifted from making me squirm to making me unintentionally laugh with such seamlessness.

Strong characters could have saved this film but, except for Hamilton, the filmmakers have all but forgotten to flesh out the main cast. The theoretically interesting and diverse crew is full of good actors and I was eagerly waiting to get to know anything about them. Instead, we learn early on that the crew is comprised of a couple interchangeable astronauts, “the asshole” and “the funny one” and proceed to cease any further character development from there. Hamilton is a solid lead and I came away from the movie genuinely thinking that Mbatha-Raw could be a star if she gets better opportunities than this one in the future. She has an emotionally satisfying arc, which is almost frustrating. The filmmakers know how to do this stuff so why aren’t they doing it with anyone else? The sad fact is that even though Hamilton is a more three-dimensional character than any of her peers, she’s not compelling enough to salvage a whole movie filled with generic and forgettable fodder like the rest of the crew.

The film’s flaws are made more confounding by its profoundly poor use of time. There is a useless B-plot about Hamilton’s husband running around on Earth that takes up 15 minutes of screen time and contributes nothing at all to the plot. I’m serious, you could clip it all out and the movie would be the better for it. Of course, they can’t do that because this movie is supposed to be the secret origin of the extended Cloverfield cinematic universe (he said with a palpable exasperation in his voice) and the Earth stuff needs stay around to establish that the titular Cloverfield Paradox has indeed occurred and what its effects are. The movie ends up sacrificing the time that it should be spending on characterization to do a lot of stuff that ends up contributing exactly nothing to the narrative. It’s ironic because 10 Cloverfield Lane is a compelling example of how this model can work correctly. It is a perfectly functional movie that works just as well for Easter Egg hunting fans and newbies alike. By contrast, Paradox feels like the cinematic equivalent of the crew member in the wall, with the obvious reshoots and useless franchise connections incongruently and disturbingly jammed into it.

If the movie had leaned into some of the goofiness, it could have worked as low rent genre fair of the kind people used to stumble upon on Syfy while scrolling through cable channels. Unfortunately, it takes itself mostly seriously when the great Chris O’Dowd isn’t on screen and it doesn’t end up having the strength of character or craft to be worthwhile in any respect. When this movie was originally conceived, it was entitled The God Particle and had no relationship at all to Cloverfield. While it is unlikely that The God Particle would have been the next Alien before all the meddling, I can’t help but feel like it might have been a functional movie. I can’t say the same for The Cloverfield Paradox, I can just hope that the next installment in the franchise bears a stronger resemblance to the other two Cloverfield films.