"Good Luck, Have Fun, Don't Die" - Leo Grande

One night at the Norms diner in Los Angeles, a stranger clad in plastic and wiring (Sam Rockwell) staggers in claiming to be from the future and ready to detonate the bomb attached if he isn't obeyed: he is here to recruit the various diners for a mission to save the future, by destroying an AI which ruins their future, and their present, but hasn't figured out the right combination yet. A ragtag group of pressganged "volunteers" accompany the stranger on an evening voyage of madness... and possibly to save the future...

(Photo Credit: KCCI)
A slice of much needed gonzo madness, bright, bonkers and a definite return to form for Gore Verbinski (who keeps a tight hand on the reins to stop it from spiralling too far even as the nonsense and layers pile up), certainly his best since "Mouse Hunt". The film certainly owes a big debt to "Everything, Everywhere, All At Once" (I believe that Hollywood would never have released or even considered this were it not for that film doing gangbusters and making all of the money), and captures that same madcap energy. The opening, however, is pure Verbinski, namely "Mouse Hunt" (his best until this one): lots of cleverly synchronised, visually striking shots of spinning things in the diner, swooping parallels to the journey ahead; and it doesn't really let up after that. Verbinski's been doing this for years and I like it, plus I always appreciate a "Sorcerer" style series of vignettes to tell us about the people on this journey. It hops straight in and doesn't waste too much time with exposition, knowing that you're just along for the ride, throwing out "Groundhog Day" as shorthand for proceedings so you know what you're in for; and I respect that. The cast bounce along wonderfully, and I appreciate that the makers have gone for the least obvious names: Rockwell is phenomenal as always, Haley Lu Richardson makes a wonderful impact and indeed nearly steals the show as a princess in combat boots who "creeps out" the stranger; Zazie Beetz and Michael Pena as married teachers are fun, and Juno Temple (giving off Kristen Wiig energy) appears as a single mother, and is excellent. It's genuinely funny, and the gonzo energy keeps it buouyant and enjoyable as it clocks at over two hours. It flags a tad in the final act confrontation, but does have Rockwell doing what everybody wanted to do to The Catalyst in "Mass Effect 3" so earns back so much good will from that. Whilst it takes a lot of satirical swings, most of them land, and are in service to its excellent script by Matthew Robinson (who wrote the delightful "Dora and the Lost City of Gold").
It's exciting, bonkers, different, fresh and original. And thus it's not doing well.

"Argylle" - Review

Elly Conway (Bryce Dallas Howard) is the author of the bestselling spy fiction series "Argylle", where a globe-trotting secret agent (Henry Cavill) captures evil but-surprisingly-easy-to-seduce dames, punches villains and wishes to spend time with his boyfriend (Jon Cena). But when taking a train ride to see her mother (Catherine O'Hara), she is approached by a droll and dishevelled man namd Adrian (Sam Rockwell, ALWAYS welcome, and often the saving grace of anything) who claims that he is here to save her, for she knows too much and an evil agency is on her trail. But all with Elly Conway may not quite be as it seems...

I am absolutely delighted to report that "Argylle" is in the running for the worst movie of the year already, and I do not long for whatever its competition may be. It is the sort of movie which makes you question why its director was ever popular to begin with, and retroactively start to re-evaluate work of theirs you previously thought was good.
I'm going to get this out of the way quickly, because his big face is all over the marketing of this movie: Mr Henry Cavill is in this movie for about 8 minutes, right at the start, and right at the end, peppered throughout like a spice for weirdos who think his portrayal of Superman was good; and he is ironically emblamatic of one of the movie's myriad of problems.
This is one of those movies where I want to dissect it on a table, to cut it open and figure out just what went wrong, but also where its beating heart lies. I've just exited this movie and cannot tell you what this movie is about.

The 2.5 (!) hour runtime already should ring alarm bells, clarion calls of self-indulgent smugness not seen since Joss Whedon was allowed to make "Age of Ultron" or Matthew Vaughn committed "Kingsman: The Golden Circle". Its first hour is spent telling us that none of this matters, because after all what is real and what is not? Henry Cavill blends into the fight scenes as hallucinations of our main character, only he may be real only he may be not, only he may be her sub consciousness or Elly herself (a reveal later almost made me fucking walk). Just calm the fuck down, these add and enhance nothing, you're literally telling me not to care about any of this. Its comedy and attempted rapport of the ever-wonderful, trying his best Rockwell and Bryce Dallas Howard is aiming for "Romancing the Stone" but leans more into "Fellating the Vaughn", smugness and snide sneering contempt for tone and sensibilities permeating every single scene. The jokes land flat on their face, and its cartoonish attempts at "over the top fight scenes" are a far cry from the legitimately stunning church set-piece in "Kingsman": a smoky sequence set to Leona Lewis (why? Not in general, though that too, but when the rest of the movie has been using entirely disco music for every single action scene up until this point, often playing them in their entirety. Honestly, "And we Run" by Xzibit and his backing band Within Temptation would have made as much, if not more sense in the scene, but I digress as usual) and a limp, flaccid cartoonish ice ballet on oil in a pale imitation of the works of "The Transporter" of all things just become anemic shadows of movies I would rather be watching. There is no tension, there is no drama, there are greater stakes in a number from "Oklahoma!". Here there is a black hole of excitement and vision. Here there is no God.
There is only "wackiness". This isn't even "Kingsman", this is "The Golden Circle", and woe betide anyone who remembers that film.

Vaughn and co tell everybody to play it with their tongues beyond their cheeks and instead slathering the scenery with the saliva of people who hate the very concept of cinema. The script has the audacity (in between 7, I counted, separate exposition dumps) to have a character complain about tone and how it shifts. Not even the villain (Bryan Cranston, trying his best) plays it straight, except for when he wants to, only not really. When the remainder of the twists join an already overloaded script, it becomes something akin to "Glass" filtered through a half-remembered "Perfect Blue" or, Remar help you, "Hypnotic", but with a sensibility best described as "more is more". Ironically this all falls completely flat. Even the thing Vaughn is normally good at: crafting candy coloured mayhem, is absent here. I remember the teleportation murders in "X-Men: First Class" (RIP Oliver Platt, wasted in every movie you do), and of course I remember the church sequence in "Kingsman" (despite Lynard Fucking Skynard: every small-town boomer's favourite band that the kids just "don't get"), I even remember the great diner sequence in "Layer Cake". But here? There's one on a train clearly aiming for "Bullet Train" and "John Wick" vibes, with the addition of aforementioned jump-scare Cavill; and the DIRE physics defying ice skating on oil with a CGI Dallas Howard; but they are not going to be remembered, and are in service of nothing. It makes a lot of hay about its Bond movie pastiche at the start, trying to tie it into the script's "real world" implications later on, like "The Manchurian Candidate" (which I believe it references. Golden rule, Matt: never name drop a better movie than yours in your film) but instead just come across as tacked on: it's not a case of mismatched tones (that's for the rest of the script) but instead quite the opposite problem: they're the same tone. There's no volume button, the broad comedy of the Cavill sequences is not differentiated from the Dallas Howard sequences. Hell, the entire thing could have been saved by having one of them play it straight. It wants us to believe Cavill is parodying his "James Bond-esque charm" and Sam Rockwell is playing his "action movie persona", but I've not had those things. I do, in fact, want a played-straight Sam Rockwell action movie in the vein of "Nobody" or hell, just "Confessions of a Dangerous Mind" again but not a mentally ill person. I do, in fact, want a movie where Cavill and "Jackson Hammond 4-Time Nominee" Dua Lipa play Bond and the Bond Girl, but instead have to put up with them smirking at joke only Vaughn finds funny.

In another world, this would have been funny.
That world requires an editor, and a script superviser. And a merciless set of scissors. Only 9 year olds could find the appeal in this, but funnily enough it would never work for them because it's too slow, boring, convoluted and messy, and full of half-written in jokes with no punchline, to work.
Was "Kingsman" ever good? I'll have to rewatch it.
Fuck me I picked the wrong month to not drink alcohol.

"See How They Run" - Review

The year is 1953, and Agatha Christie's "The Mousetrap" is celebrating its 100th performance with a bang: sleazy blacklisted Hollywood director Leo Koepernick (Adrien Brody) is here to make a film adaptation. But Koepernick, disliked by just about everybody involved with the play and making a fool of himself at the party, puts a spanner in the works when he ends up murdered backstage. Assigned to the case are the world weary cynical Inspector Stoppard (Sam Rockwell) and an eager, excitable and rather keen Constable Stalker (Saoirse Ronan). Together they have a struggle on their hands: not only must they contend with each other and their mismatched personalities, but also who solved this murder!

This is a delightful, droll and exceedingly British afternoon romp.Knowing and nudging without being smug or insincere about it, it comes across like a love letter to murder mysteries. Its use of "The Mousetrap" is both a creative setpiece and period detail; and adds to the meta-textual playfulness of it all. Opening with a film noir narration by a suitably sleazy and deliciously oily Adrien Brody talking about how he hates murder mysteries and "whodunnits", like all good ones it gives a clever viewer the killer in the first few minutes and then justifies why with it was indeed that person you thought little of.
The supporting cast are strong, from a campy David Oyelowo to a prickly Ruth Wilson and Reece Shearsmith, to an always welcome Tim Key as the chief of police and national treasure Shirley Henderson immediately elevating proceedings for a cameo as Agatha Christie. Rockwell is always wonderful, and here plays his droll best, and is wonderfully counterbalanced by an all too eager and rather amusing Ronan. The transitions and audience-knowing interweaving of the plot and its mechanics never get grating, and make for a bouncy ride.