Reviews

"Blockbuster" appeared promising thanks to a fun premise and a solid group of comedic actors. It's so disappointing then that this turned out to be one of the most forgettable sitcoms I can ever remember watching. By episode 7, I audibly groaned seeing it remain on my "continue watching" section, but by that point I was committed to getting it over with.

I don't think too deeply about sitcoms; they just need likeable characters, whacky situations, and regular laughs. Blockbuster is hard to pin down. It doesn't NOT have those things, but just that none of those turned out to be particularly memorable. The characters and situations seem very rote and by the book, and therefore forced. For instance, the will they/won't they romance of the two leads seemed like it was included because it's a common sitcom trope, and not because the chemistry of the actors necessitated that dynamic.

The greatest sin is that the laughs simply aren't as plentiful as they should be. I found myself chuckling the most often at the specific pop culture/movie jokes that are afforded by the premise. There didn't seem to be truly well-constructed jokes that are universally appealing though, and things were probably funnier than they really should've been just because the actors are naturally funny people.

So this show is a weird experience overall. There's nothing explicitly bad about it, but also nothing particularly good to remember it by. Unlike the store chain it was named after, this Blockbuster will not remain in my heart and mind long after it's gone.

I'm among the many who felt that Marvel has largely been on the decline in their Post-Endgame glut of content. I hemmed and hawed about my commitment to the brand as I continued to turn up for everything they put out regardless. Now that Ant-Man 3 has released as the official kickoff to Marvel's Phase 5, I'm finally ready to cut the cord, as the lack of quality in their recent content has reached a new nadir.

Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania is a soulless product, and its value rests solely in being a set-up for what Marvel will be doing in the future. The first 10 minutes or so were actually promising, starting with the good natured fun and humor of the previous Ant-Man movies, and setting up potentially interesting (though also out of left field?) character conflict. Once our cast is thrown into the Quantum Realm however (thanks to the daddy of all Deus Ex Machinas), there is little to grasp onto to enjoy the remaining runtime.

The writing is atrocious, from its structure, to dialogue, plot contrivances, and even signature Marvel humor. The potentially interesting character conflict it sets up in the beginning is thrown to the wayside to make way for endless plot and exposition, as it's made clear that the priority is setting up what Marvel has in store in the future, rather than focusing on the characters in the current movie. A couple of lines are thrown out here and there to try to round out the paper-thin attempts at theme and character development, but they amount to nothing. Ultimately, there wasn't a single thing that did not ring hollow to my ears, and even a cast as effortlessly charming and talented as Ant-Man's could do little to convince me otherwise.

The other component of the one-two punch that made the film so joyless to me is the physical setting of the movie. I was amazed (not in a good way) that Marvel had the confidence to set 95% of the movie in an entirely CGI realm, without providing any sense of physical reality for us to grasp onto. This is especially intriguing given that this is an Ant-Man movie, and the characters' size-altering powers are only interesting in comparison to other physical objects that the viewer can inherently understand. I also found the Quantum Realm to be, for lack of a better word, ugly. To clarify, I don't mean the route they decided to take with creature and environment design, which some could find kind of gross. The entirety of everything just amounts to something I found aesthetically unpleasant. I would never revisit this movie as something just to look at.

There are a few redeeming factors. Jonathan Majors' performance as Kang was excellent, managing to lend a sense of gravitas to the happenings of the movie in spite of my total lack of investment. I also will never be able to hate dumb action and comic book goofiness, and at least some of the jokes are fairly funny. To be clear though, those standards should be the bare minimum for a film of this nature, and that is the only bar that is cleared here.

When Scorsese made his "superhero movies are only theme park rides" comments that set the internet ablaze years ago, I was part of the camp that thought they have so much more to offer than what he was willing to see. His analogy has never been more apt than with Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania, however, and it's a ride that I think I'll remember more for making me want to throw up than for wanting to go on it again.

Dune has been my most anticipated film of maybe... ever? My excitement initially stemmed from the announcement of Denis Villeneuve, one of the best living directors with a proven track record in sci-fi (Blade Runner 2049, Arrival), helming what I knew to be widely considered the greatest and most influential sci-fi novel of all time. As that excitement grew, I delved into the novel and became completely engrossed by the universe that author Frank Herbert had created more than 50 years ago. I also came to see why it has been deemed "unadaptable" for so long.

But how did the great Denis fare in doing just that? As far as I'm concerned, a greater screen version than what he accomplished here is not possible, with the only exception being a longer cut of this film. This adaptation of Dune is everything I pictured in my head while reading the novel and so much more. This is one of the most visually stunning films I've ever seen. Every single frame is a sumptuous feast for the eyes, and Villneuve achieves a staggering sense of scale across the worlds we visit.

I've seen some complaints about the visual design, mainly that certain elements look "dull" or not imaginative enough. I think that the art team here struck the perfect balance between completely otherworldly without being alien for alien's sake. The practicalities of life on Arrakis are very important to the story, and a deeper look at the lore reveals why certain technological advancements that would seem obvious aren't present. On the other hand, I felt a sense of eerie unfamiliarity as a result of the design throughout. There is a lot here that bears little semblance to our own world, with even certain branches of humanity being so far removed from what we recognize today that they end up being more alien than human.

In addition to the design, the cast is immaculate as well. Every single actor manages to perfectly embody their character while still bringing parts of themselves into the role, and they all bring a powerful performance. Now that I think about it, this applies to every element of Dune, from Hans Zimmer's score to Villeneuve's direction, and every part of the production design.

The only criticism I can levy against Dune, which I do not even really consider a criticism, is where the movie cuts off. Cutting the novel into two parts is absolutely the necessity that Villeneuve said it was, in order to capture the richness of the text. Still, I am surprised that this movie didn't take more creative liberty to embellish the story at parts to fit a typical three act movie structure better. Thus, the height of this part's drama and stakes occurs about halfway through the movie. Following this, the action does not feel as climactic, and the movie does not try to create a sense that it is. If anything, what this "criticism" amounts to is that Dune is too faithful to the novel.

Dune was never going to be able to capture the richness of the original text. No version, save for a very long prestige series, would be capable of exploring the immense intricacies of the themes, cultures, politics, history, and characterizations that are detailed in the novel. Being familiar with the novel though, I think Villenueve fully succeeds in communicating the key elements of those facets, and most importantly, the spirit of what made Dune so special.

Dune is one half of an incomplete masterpiece, one that completely blew me away. I implore you to see this movie in theaters! If Warner Bros ends up feeling that this didn't make enough money to justify making part two, it will be a true cinematic tragedy.

Thanks to a little thing known as the global pandemic, the release of Marvel's "Black Widow" was greatly delayed, meaning it's been two years since we've had a Marvel movie in theaters. For over a decade now, that kind of gap in MCU movies was unheard of (we really are spoiled aren't we?), and while the good folks at Marvel been tiding us over with a plethora of mini-series over on Disney+, fans have been chomping at the bit for the silver screen experience once again.

Obviously, Black Widow was not designed to shoulder the expectations of Marvel's big return to the movies, and I think fans would be right to keep that in mind. Nonetheless, this is a great blockbuster and standalone outing for the MCU's first female superhero - one who's been long overdue to headline a movie of her own.

Black Widow follows the titular hero after the events of the MCU's "Civil War." Already in a precarious situation, Natasha's life gets further complictaed when her distant past gets unexpectedly thrust back into her life.

Black Widow was somehow more serious than I expected and more funny than I expected simultaneously. As far as Marvel movies go, this is most comparable to "Captain America: The Winter Soldier" in its tone and style. That's fitting, given that the spy thriller genre fits the character like a glove. Still, I think viewers' mileage with the plot may vary. This is due mainly to the villains, whom I found to kind of be duds that could have had greater potential. Additionally, while not an issue per se, the plotting is not overly complex or full of the twists that you might expect given the genre.

Where the movie really shines is in the family dynamic that it creates for Natasha. The supporting cast that comprises this odd little unit is fantastic. Florence Pugh in particular, whose other work I have never seen before, was especially endearing and a real standout. The relationships were the best part of the movie for me. They are funny and emotional all at once, and are used to great effect to explore Natasha's past and what makes her tick. Almost since her introduction to these movies 10 years ago, the character has been talking about doing what she does to atone for the mistakes of her past, and we finally get that fleshed out in a way that makes her character arc more substantive.

Coming as a surprise to very few, Marvel yet again nails the action. It's full of great set pieces and visceral hand-to-hand combat. One complaint I do have is that our heroes walk away from a couple of situations more easily than they should have, given that they are regular, non-superpowered humans in this universe; this noticeably lowered the tension for me by the end.

All in all, I give "Black Widow" a 7.5 - it's a flawed but highly entertaining blockbuster that doesn't change the fabric of the MCU, but does finally flesh out one of its more prominent figures.

I began watching Netflix's, "The Queen's Gambit" more due to the overwhelmingly positive reception it's garnered than an inherent interest in its premise. This limited series of a young chess prodigy, Beth Harmon, who rises in the world of chess whilst simultaneously descending further into self-destructive behaviors was certainly enjoyable. But when I compared my experience with it to all the praise it received, I felt as though everyone else was playing film criticism chess while I was playing checkers.

This series is committed to a form of dramatic realism that eschews some of the dramatic conventions that I think modern day viewers are used to. There isn't much in the way of shocking revelations, shady characters with murky intentions, or big emotional outbursts. This is a show that follows a main character and supporting characters who mostly present themselves as coldly analytical as the game that they play at such a high level. For the first few episodes, I found this to be a refreshing change of pace compared to most modern shows which try to deliver at least one gut punch and/or cliffhanger per episode. As the show continued though, I found myself befuddled by the lack of escalation in the story, especially in the face of plot points that should realistically spark more drama. The story as a whole felt far too padded out, with too much time committed to things that either weren't very important to the plot or didn't have a very satisfying emotional payoff.

This doesn't inherently stop the show from being enjoyable however. On the contrary, "The Queen's Gambit" is a fun show to watch, from its glossy recreation of the 1960's and its ensemble cast, to its endlessly inventive cinematography and editing to keep watching the game of chess interesting for 7 hours. Most importantly of all, Anya Taylor-Joy owns the role of a prodigy who never quite doubts her abilities but remains sensitive, and even in her worst moments it's impossible not to root for her.

While Taylor-Joy is certainly a marvel, I didn't find the story around her to be quite up to her level. There's an archetypal kind of sports movie/show: one where the surface level plot of the sport drives the story along, but underneath that it's really about the character's inner journey. Beth's inner journey in this show ends on a satisfying note, but I did not find the journey along the way as profound as it could have been, and my experience was that much of the time spent in this show was very much just about chess itself.

My final score is 7.5 for a fun, breezy, well-acted, aesthetically pleasing, and ultimately emotionally satisfying show that didn't pack quite the punch I was wanting and could have told its story in less time.

After more than a year of delays, "Wonder Woman 1984" has finally released to... as much fanfare as can be generated from watching at home on a streaming platform. This follow-up to the 2017 hit first movie is drastically different, mostly in tone, but to some extent in quality at well. With a fairly messy screenplay and some other negative elements, but with strong thematic resonance and anchored by performances by Gal Gadot and Pedro Pascal, I found "Wonder Woman 1984" to be an enjoyable watch, even as it missed the bar set by its predecessor.

Much of this movie's tone and the subsequent quality based on how you view said tone, is due to the 1980's setting. This movie follows what other recent "80's nostalgia" projects have done that I've noticed, in that it attempts to capture not only what it was like to live in the 80's, but it also does its best to seem like a movie that was made in the 80's. Thus, we are greeted with an opening act that is overtly cheesy, which was quite jarring at first, but I found fits this world well. If cheesiness isn't acceptable to you in your modern comic book movies, you won't gel with this movie. Even if you do gel with it, as I did, some of the cheese is clearly used as a crutch to ignore some of the logical implications of the story beats, but it's overall quite fun.

Preference for tone aside, one thing about this movie that is inexcusable is the visual effects. For some unknown reason, they are just straight up bad, and watching Wonder Woman in action never feels completely satisfying because the physics just look off and you're acutely aware of the green screen's presence. The other aspect that I think is objectively poor, rather than being a result of the kitschy tone, is the pacing of the story, which suffers a severe lull in its second act before ratcheting it up for the finale.

Despite its multitude of flaws, I felt every emotional beat that this movie was trying to hit. In part, this is because the assembled cast is just impossible not to like. Gal Gadot remains perfectly cast for this character, her chemistry with Chris Pine continues to be off the charts, and the newcomers - Pedro Pascal in particular - turn in very fun performances. The story itself, despite suffering in its structure, delivered a message that I think worked well in the context of the story, and is very timely for the world we live in today.

So, "Wonder Woman 1984" worked for me, but in a way that I understand is much more subjective than many movies. Its flaws both in story and filmmaking are numerous and apparent, but if you care about these characters and let yourself go along for the ride, you just might feel the wonder.

I'll make this short. "Dark" is a perfect series. If you're looking for your next binge watch, look no further. I'm not even entirely sure how to review it, because I want to allude to what happens in the show as little as possible, because this German sci-fi/mystery/suspense/romance/drama/thriller is the greatest television experience I've had since "Breaking Bad."

During my time watching this series and in the weeks since finishing it, I've sunk countless hours into the internet to further explore theories, easter eggs, and character studies, as well as topics that the show heavily explores, such as religion, mythology, philosophy, and metaphysics. I'm aware that saying so isn't automatically the hallmark of a good show. Rather, it's because the show delivered such a thought-provoking, emotionally resonant, and satisfying narrative that I've wanted to do everything in my power to stay connected to it, and to arm myself with more knowledge to appreciate the show further when I inevitably rewatch it soon.

Every facet of this show, from the casting to the production design, music, cinematography, intricate plotting, and the emotions that everything elicits, is immaculate. As I gear up to delve into this series again, I genuinely hope you'll give it a watch as well.

Look, it's obvious that KFC isn't going to get by on the quality of its food alone, so Colonel Sanders used the last vestiges of his power to create what is, in no exaggeration, the crowning achievement that cinema has been building up to for over 100 years. Contained within this 16 minute masterpiece is the sweeping romance of "Titanic," the suspense of "The Silence of the Lambs," and the action of "Die Hard," all distilled into their purest forms. I laughed, I cried, I was moved. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go get a bucket of finger lickin' good Kentucky Fried Chicken.



No but I really did laugh A LOT.

The Farewell, directed by Lulu Wang, is a beautifully touching film that touches on many thought-provoking themes such as culture, family, and death. With profound meaning and beautiful performances, I found this to be the most moving cinematic experience I've had recently.

When a Chinese Grandmother is given a terminal cancer diagnosis, her granddaughter living in America, Billi (played brilliantly by Awkwafina), is shocked to find that her family intends to keep the diagnosis a secret from her precious "Nai Nai.". As they stage a fake wedding back home in China so that the family can say their goodbyes to the family matriarch, Billi struggles to maintain this lie for her Grandmother, as she does not fully understand it the way the rest of her family does.

I don't know who else this would be true for, but speaking for myself as an American, I found this premise to be so intriguing that it was almost alien. How could you keep someone from knowing they're dying? The film does its work early on though for viewers like me to understand the cultural viewpoint that creates this decision, rather than to let me callously judge a perspective I don't understand. Throughout the story as well, you gain a deeper understanding of their reasoning through their cultural lens.

Through Billi, it's this tension of different cultural perspectives that forms the heart of the story, both personally for her, and thematically. The family and what they are going through represent a microcosm of the immigrant experience in general, and understanding how to belong to two different worlds.

While this theme was strong and important, the aspect I enjoyed most about this film is how natural everything feels. Not once throughout my viewing did I feel like I was watching movie characters, but just real people. This is a testament to screenplay and acting alike. I felt like a fly on the wall, witnessing a real family have honest conversations with honest feelings. The naturalism also makes this quite a funny movie, despite the dark subject matter. Far from the doom and gloom of their most private moments, the family lives life to the fullest with Nai Nai, and I was regularly joyful and laughing as they sang karaoke, played drinking games, and had silly arguments with each other.

If I have any criticism of this movie, it's only that the naturalist touches sometimes go a little too far and lead to some odd cinematic flourishes, such as a shot that lingers on something too long, or some dialogue that seems a little too pointless. Others might find that the story never quite ramps up the way one might expect, which might be frustrating for some. For myself though, that last point was never salient, as the performances carried that poignancy on their shoulders, not needing the plot to artificially escalate.

I highly recommend this movie to anyone who wants to witness a thing of beauty.

Asinine. If I had to use one word to describe "Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker," it would be that, and it pains me to write that about any Star Wars movie, a franchise that I was once so passionate about. The final film in the so-called Skywalker Saga is the greatest casualty of Disney's clear lack of vision while helming the franchise, and its wound shows the most prominently.

Left scrambling to pick up the pieces after its predecessor, "The Last Jedi," already blew a Star-Destroyer sized hole in the direction the sequel trilogy was trying to head towards, "The Rise of Skywalker" cannot even conceal the hail mary's it throws at the wall, trying desperately to have something stick.

This of course occurs literally from the start of the opening crawl, as it is announced that Emperor Palpatine has returned without so much as a throwaway line as to how that was even possible. This was an offense I was willingly ready to forgive as soon as the movie started to take off. Eventually however, I just got so so tired of contrivance after contrivance being shoved down my throat, with a musical swell meant to convince me that these were great moments despite making no sense.

Which brings me back to the word asinine. The success of this movie as a story hinges on your ability to turn off your brain; I don't mean suspension of disbelief either, I mean actively making sure you don't think about the banal plot points they present with any semblance of logic. The plot is effectively just a series of video game fetch quests in order to reach the final boss, with macguffins and conveniences thrown in wherever the story deems it necessary so that it can keep chugging along, or maybe even just to throw in a twist.

Nothing in this story is character driven. I would maybe go so far as to argue that the characters we've spent the last 2 movies getting to know don't even really matter, with the exception of Kylo Ren. They don't inform any of what happens or what we learn about them, instead, we only see a plot that happens to them. This is possibly the worst aspect of the movie to me, as these characters were once the saving grace of these movies that were either too derivative or too divisive.

It all builds up to a whole lot of nothing. I felt nothing as I watched the finale of what was supposed to be an entire epic. It was void of logic, void of emotion, and void of connection to anything or anyone on the screen. Thus, the Star Wars Saga, once the greatest and most influential blockbuster franchise of all time, ends with a whimper instead of a bang. How Disney bungled one of their greatest cash cows so spectacularly is beyond me. What I do know is that from this particular corner of the galaxy, I'm going to stay far, far away.

When The Last Jedi first came out I, like many, had... opinions on it. Despite any initial thoughts I had however, I decided to hold off on cementing them until the conclusion of the trilogy, since it is only a piece of a whole after all. Now, having recently seen "The Rise of Skywalker" and the end of this saga, I can confirm that... Disney, and Rian Johnson to a lesser extent, botched it.

On its own, "The Last Jedi" actually has some pretty interesting ideas. The expansion of the Force and the recontextualization of some of the events of the previous films to challenge our preconceived notions are both interesting ideas that were worth exploring to prevent this series from getting stale. Some of the twists that defy what the genre typically does were exciting. The problem with these things is the film they're happening in, the middle portion of a story whose bookends are not interested in the same ideas.

This battle between directors is the greatest disservice to both "The Last Jedi," and the sequel trilogy as a whole. Johnson all but disregards the plot threads that Abrams had set up in "The Force Awakens," wrapping up the lingering questions that movie left in a neat little bow. The problem with this is that he really doesn't set up all that much of his own for the next movie to go off of.

Thematically, this isn't a terrible thing. "The Last Jedi" sets up some questions, and it answers them. This is how stories are supposed to operate. For the literal plot though, there still needs to be an engine to keep things running if you know the story isn't over, and this movie simply doesn't provide that. It's not conducive to long-term storytelling at all, which is why I think the ideas it explores would've fit better in a standalone movie.

That's probably the most unique thing I have to say about this movie that's been discussed to death. My other opinions about it can be found anywhere you look about this movie. Rose and the whole Canto Bight subplot? Obviously terrible. The political correctness is too heavy handed. On the positive side, this is the most visually interesting Star Wars has been. I found the action to be strong and exciting. Just look literally anywhere on the internet if you want to hear about these topics in-depth.

"The Last Jedi" is probably bound to always be divisive. Now, in light of the completed trilogy, its legacy to me is that of the franchise's biggest monkey wrench.

A new empire rose. A young man fell to the Dark Side. A Stormtrooper rebelled. The Force awakened in a young hero. Lightsabers ignited. An old Jedi Master removed his hood.

In 2015, these images were enthralling to see. A sweet summer child I was back then, and visions danced through my head of what wonders the new generation of Star Wars would bring us next.

Alas, I am writing this from 2020. I am a man now. A man who has witnessed the horrors that this new generation of Star Wars actually wrought. It's genuinely hard for me to revisit "The Force Awakens" now, for the express purpose that I actually really enjoy it. It's certainly the strongest movie of the sequel trilogy. There's a certain irony to this, as it is brazenly and unabashedly the same movie as "Star Wars: A New Hope" with a new coat of paint.

Back in 2015, this was somehow its strongest suit and its greatest flaw simultaneously. It was just so exhilarating to be back in this universe, and for the forefront of the universe to once again be its wild adventures and scrappy underdog sensibilities. It was fun to see a new cast of likable characters come together and learn about the universe as they learned about themselves.

The beat-for-beat aping of a previous story in the same franchise was excusable at the time, because director JJ Abrams sprinkled in just enough seeds of intrigue to promise us that the direction would start to veer into its own unique story. Now that the promise has turned up empty, the derivativeness certainly doesn't do itself any favors anymore.

So how is one meant to judge something that's only part of a whole? How is one meant to view an enjoyable movie when that movie only tells part of the story, and the rest of the story doesn't live up? I don't know the answers to these questions. I just know I'll be watching the original trilogy instead.

I'm a Martin Scorcese fan as much as the next film lover. Having made at least 1 of the best films of the decade for each decade since the 70's, the director and his oeuvre are legendary. That's why when I finally sat down to watch "Goodfellas," a film that many consider to be in the upper echelons of his work, I was surprised at how underwhelmed I ultimately felt.

Now, being underwhelmed does not equate to thinking this is a bad movie. The craft of this film is undeniable. Each setting is lavishly and painstakingly created to transport us into the many different time periods the story covers, the ensemble cast is impeccable, the dialogue is always lively and engaging, and the camera work is timeless. Everything comes together perfectly to portray mafioso life as sleek, stylish, and sexy, as well as cold-blooded, two-faced, and horrific all at once.

Where the movie falters for me is in a lack of tension, a flaw of both screenplay and directing alike. All the above-mentioned descriptors can be captured in the first scene alone. Crazy mafia activity ensues, and enthralls us for what is going to come next. But then, at least in my experience, nothing comes next. It's scene after scene that can capture a facet of gangster life: how unhinged a character is, the irony of the lives being lived, etc. But it never ramps up to something greater, either in action or drama.

Take the main protagonist, Henry Hill, for example. In the first scene, he utters his iconic line, "As far back as I can remember, I always wanted to be a gangster." So he does just that. He becomes a gangster with ease, rises through the ranks, gets married, experiences some hardships, some betrayals, standard gangster stuff. The movie portrays this all as matter-of-factly as I just did.

There's no character arc to speak of here. He never really changes or even struggles internally. The only things that change are the situations he is involved in. But with all the conflict being of a strictly external nature, even where the set-up is begging for some internal conflict, it never truly hit the dramatic boiling point I thought it should have. To be honest, it never even really got close.

That was my experience with "Goodfellas": all flash and no substance. I can't be too harsh on it, because again, it's about as perfect of a portrayal of the gangster life as there is. For myself however, if I want that experience to include actual drama and tension, I'll be revisiting "The Godfather" instead. If I want Scorcese's unique flavoring of the genre, I'll pick "The Departed" any day of the week.

I'm a huge fan of franchise films the likes of Star Wars and the Avengers. But for all those films' spectacle and grand storytelling and larger than life characters, sometimes it takes a smaller, quieter film to remind you what the true power of cinema is. It takes a film like "The Peanut Butter Falcon."

"The Peanut Butter Falcon" is a very humanistic tale of Zak and Tyler, two young men whose lives intersect by chance. Zak, who has Down Syndrome, dreams of escaping his life in a nursing home and becoming a professional wrestler like his hero, the Salt Water Redneck. Tyler is troubled, and left trying to find his place in the world after the death of his hero - his brother. Both characters are well-fleshed out, making the bonds of brotherhood that they form over the course of the movie genuine and moving.

The tale is familiar, archetypal even, but it does a couple things to set itself apart. The first is the deep south setting. It's grimy, lived-in, and unique, and is host to a whole cast of new supporting characters, each more memorable than the last. The other is Zak's Down Syndrome, which is not a portrayal by an actor, but something his actor actually has. I thought the portrayal of it was excellent. It is not played for laughs, which would be horrible, but neither is it a tool that the film manipulates us with to earn our sympathy. Zak is a funny, endearing character simply because that's who he is, and the moments in which he is told and treated like he is a real person - rather than the awful things people have said to him his whole life - are some of the most affecting in the whole film.

In short, "The Peanut Butter Falcon" is an excellent film of a touching human story. It blends its humor and heart mostly seamlessly, creating a moving, genuine film that was one of my favorite cinema experiences this year.

Wow! "Spider-Man: Far From Home" far exceeded my expectations, in part because it exceeded "Spider-Man: Homecoming." Admittedly, I had some difficulty getting on board with that movie, mainly because it felt as if it lacked the weight of consequences, which is a very non-traditional approach for the Spider-Man character. "Far From Home" is a sequel that changes this, managing to up the stakes in every way, and delivering a classic Spidey story in the process.

After the events of "Avengers: Endgame," Peter Parker is left dealing with the loss of his mentor, Tony Stark, and trying to figure it out on his own in a radically changed world. He's ready to temporarily put all of that side, however, and just enjoy his school trip to Europe. Of course, things don't work out in his favor, as trouble manages to find him even across the pond.

I found that both the physical and metaphorical idea of being "far from home" did wonders for Peter's character and for the story. Where he feels trapped in the shadow of Iron Man in his first solo outing, here Peter actively wrestles with that legacy, and the end result is that it feels like he comes into his own as a man and as a hero. The movie overall is about as thematically deep as your typical MCU outing - which is to say, not very - but the character work is really solid, and a marked improvement over the first film.

The other clear improvement in this sequel are the action sequences. Jon Watts has clearly gained more confidence in his abilities since "Homecoming." The action sequences are frenetic, and they somehow manage to be simultaneously very busy but also easy to follow. In addition, the nature of the abilities of newcomer Quentin Beck (played by Jake Gyllenhaal) leads to some real visual spectacle that was a treat to watch.

In addition to those improvements, every other aspect that worked about "Homecoming" is amplified. The entire cast has great chemistry together. They create a very fun atmosphere throughout, but it's Peter's and MJ's relationship in particular that becomes a bigger focus. Tom Holland and Zendaya have excellent chemistry together, but also bring an awkward authenticity that feels genuinely adolescent, and as such, is easy to get behind.

Overall, "Spider-Man: Far From Home," is a perfect popcorn flick. Having improved on every element of its predecessor, this is a great cinematic outing for the web-head that promises a bright future ahead.

"Ralph Breaks the Internet" truly surprised me. I was resistant to watching it during its theatrical run, despite being a big fan of its predecessor and knowing the pedigree of Walt Disney Animation. The marketing for this movie, which focused heavily on its new internet elements gave me more "Emoji Movie" vibes than classic Disney. "Look, we have Twitter references! Snapchat! Oh, and Star Wars and Disney princesses!" While I'm sure this strategy successfully got the butts of a lot of kids in theaters, it kept the butt of this cynical-but-otherwise-Disney-loving adult, firmly out. So, when I gave "Ralph Breaks the Internet" a watch recently, I was pleasantly surprised to find it contained all the consistent world-building, charming characters, and genuine heart of the original.

The sequel finds Ralph, and his best friend Vanellope living a charmed but otherwise stagnant life after the events of the first movie. While this stagnancy doesn't bother Ralph in the slightest, Vanellope (in true Disney princess fashion), makes it clear she wants more, and it's this tension that forms the root of the struggle of the story, including causing the catalyst that sends them on their journey to the internet.

I found myself as charmed by the movie's handling of the physical manifestation of the internet as I did by the original's handling of the lives of video game characters. (Side note: although the focus isn't nearly as high on video games as the original, there are still some fun elements there, such as musings on the grooming habits of a certain "Street Fighter" character.) The internet is a living world here, and the filmmakers clearly thought about all the ways they could have its well-known quirks inhabit themselves in the form of characters. Standouts for me were the pop-up street salesmen that aggressively touted their click-bait articles, and the search-engine worm character whose auto-fill was "a tad aggressive."

More than the handling of the world though, what I found truly surprising and compelling about this movie were its themes and the way it handled them. "Wreck-It Ralph" was a movie about identity and self-acceptance. "Ralph Breaks the Internet," far from being the cheap cash grab I thought it would be, actually continues those themes in ways I didn't expect, ways that I even think might even be new and challenging for kids.

Overall, "Ralph Breaks the Internet" was a much more worthy successor to the original film than I anticipated. If you're looking for a fun, humorous, imaginative movie that you can turn your brain off for, it provides all the necessary thrills. But it rarely loses sight of the characters and the heart that make these particular thrills so special.

"Superstore" is one of NBC's current sitcom shows, and it seems to borrow fairly heavily from another NBC smash hit, "The Office." Similar to "The Office," it is a workplace comedy, although the setting here is a big-box retail store a la Wal-Mart. The show uses its setting to pretty great effect, showing the terrible reality of working retail in hilarious ways. Some of the quickest laughs it gets are cutaway shots of customers doing ridiculous things within the store.

In addition to a somewhat similar premise, "Superstore" apes a number of character archetypes from "The Office," such as the incompetent manager, ultra-serious second in command, and two leads who have a "will they/won't they dynamic" going on. The rest of the cast is littered with secondary characters who are mostly defined by their eccentricities. Fortunately, all of them are fleshed out and different enough that they stand on their own merit, and they provide for some great laughs. One of my favorite consistent gags is how severely they can get off topic when discussing a situation as a group.

"Superstore" sets itself apart from "The Office" in a couple different ways. The first is that it's pretty woke, featuring a lot of diversity and tackling some social issues. To be fair, this seems to be par for the course for modern TV shows, and it's nothing too thought-provoking, but it does it well enough. Pretty consistent themes include corporate greed and consumer culture.

The other way is a little more troubling to me, and admittedly, more subjective. As I continued to watch the show though, I found it to feel less and less refreshing, which I determined was because the show is actually a little mean-spirited. It's normal for characters in comedy shows to make fun of each other and be rude, but the degree to which they do it in this show is relentless, including about very serious personal issues some characters go through. The kicker is that the redemptive human moments are very few and far between.

This isn't inherently bad; after all, shows like "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia" and "Seinfeld" are built off this premise. The difference, however, is that they make it clear with everything they do that these are unscrupulous people, and expect you to care about the characters in different ways. "Superstore" wants you to be genuinely invested in the romances and issues of its characters, but it was significantly harder for me to be when hardly anybody on screen displayed real empathy.

Thus, Superstore is a mixed bag for me. It is an easy recommendation for some great laughs. Beyond the humor though, it unknowingly seems to be going for two clashing tones, so it can't achieve either. While very funny, it lacks the heart to truly make it one of the greats.

"Spider-Man: Homecoming" occupies an interesting spot in the movie landscape. It's the 16th movie in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, the grand experiment of interconnected movies involving Marvel's different superheroes. Unlike his heroic counterparts, however, whose only modern blockbuster films have existed within this universe, this is the web-slinger's third different big-screen iteration in recent memory. Although a solid entry in the MCU, it's when I try to reconcile it with the Spider-Man movies that have come before, such as the Sam Raimi directed "Spider-Man" films or the more recent "Into the Spider-Verse," that "Homecoming" starts to falter a bit more.

Most of what works for "Homecoming" is that it adheres pretty closely to the proven Marvel formula for success. The focus is on its characters and tone. The characters are instantly likable and relatable. They ground us to the setting, which, in this case, features daily high school life as prominently as it does superheroics. This is a superhero movie in the vein of John Hughes. These aspects are bolstered by a great sense of humor throughout. Fortunately (in the sense that this is a more recent trend in Marvel movies), there is a great antagonist for our hero to go up against, and the whole conflict is accentuated really well by some genuinely surprising twists. Surprisingly, the action does not feel up to snuff for the kind of stuff Marvel usually churns out, with the climactic third-act showdown in particular feeling pretty muddled and unchoreogrpahed. As a film, there is nothing particularly outstanding about the shots and direction in general.

The best thing this film offers is a fresh perspective in relation to the rest of the universe. This is not a film about a billionaire genius, legendary super-soldier, or literal alien god, but rather more relatable, "everyman" characters who are making sense of living in a world occupied by those titans. This works especially well for our hero and villain, with Peter Parker desperately wanting to live up to this monumental legacy, while Adrian Toomes rises up in villainy because he feels the threat that such beings pose to regular folks like himself.

This perspective also proves to be a double-edged sword however, and the film's fatal flaw, at least if you are looking at the spirit of the "Spider-Man" character. It almost feels as if the film goes too small. Gone is the cinematic grandiosity that had become commonplace with Spider-Man films, no shots where we follow Spider-Man swinging through the streets of New York. Similarly, Peter Parker being an "aww shucks" type of character whose main motivation is to become an Avenger feels like a reduction of the three-dimensionality that usually makes his character so special. That arc is explored and resolved in a satisfying way. My point is that it feels like an inconsequential story for a character whose very origin involved learning that his choices have life or death consequences.

For these reasons, "Spider-Man: Homecoming" walks a strange line. It's a better Marvel movie than it is a "Spider-Man" one. With its sequel, "Far From Home," due to release in just a few days, and a likely continued and prosperous series beyond that, I can only hope that this iteration of the character can learn to walk that line a little more evenly.

Like many, I was nervous about Toy Story 4. The first 3 "Toy Story" movies formed not only a perfect trilogy, arguably, but also a conclusive and satisfying ending to the journey we'd experienced with those toys. Why then, add another story to that full circle narrative, and risk adding a blemish to a perfect series? Pixar's answer to that with "Toy Story 4" is to go where very few stories, let alone Hollywood movies go, and ask the question of "who are you after your purpose has been fulfilled?" By doing so, "Toy Story 4" is a wonderful and beautiful addition to the series that stands both as a standalone adventure as well as a great epilogue to everything that came before, and shows that the greater the risk, the greater the reward.

The deepening of the themes of the Toy Story series help legitimize the existence of this entry, but as a movie itself, "Toy Story 4" also happens to be every bit the fun, warm, and superbly crafted film that each of its predecessors were. The adventure is another fun romp in the lives of toys. The movie is frequently hilarious, and the humor is actually much darker in some places than I was expecting (a plus for adults and things that kids probably won't catch). Pixar's grasp of characters is on full display, with every new addition to the cast not only being likeable, but also instantly relatable and easy to understand. My only gripe with the film is that it feels like the old cast of supporting characters don't really get their time in the sun here. It's understandable when looking at the plot, but unfortunately it lessens the weight the ending should have just a little bit. Despite that, the movie is heartwarming and touching the way every great Pixar movie is.

The final standout for me that I haven't mentioned yet is the animation, which is incredible. I happened to catch the first "Toy Story" on TV just before I headed to the theater for this one, and the way the animation has evolved in the past 24 years is STAGGERING! This movie is pretty much photorealistic, and Pixar uses a number of setpieces that involve both weather and lighting to put their mastery on full display, with stunning results.

Definitely give "Toy Story 4" a watch. If you're nervous because these films hold such a special place in your heart, like I was, I think you'll find that the love you have for them will allow you to love this final entry as well.

Game of Thrones was on track for years to become the greatest TV show of all time. Then season 8, its finale, happened. The writing of season 8 of Game of Thrones is an absolute travesty, not only for what it is on its own, but because it destroys everything that came before. I hear people complain about the series finale of "Seinfeld." Whatever a person's opinion on that series' ending is, it doesn't change the other 95% of the show, because it's filled with hilarious, stand-alone slice of life episodes.

Game of Thrones on the other hand is a narrative show that was always building towards its end. For myself, the trite, cliche, poorly thought out and poorly executed character and narrative moments destroy any rewatchability the show may have had. This is more than an unsatisfying ending the likes of "Seinfeld." Season 8 effectively betrays everything Game of Thrones had been about: compelling characters with realistic human behavior, whose actions had real consequences in a world that felt real, with a deep lore, history, and political landscape. The plot was so riveting precisely because it was moved along by characters whose motivations and actions were every bit as real, unpredictable, and flawed as actual people.

It's a shame then, both for the viewers and for the amazing production crew and cast, that a show defined by that has an ending defined by caricatures who merely exist and do whatever the plot requires of them in order to give itself an ending. In all honesty, that it had to end this way actually feels more like a slap in the face.

I decided to watch Netflix's original series, "The Dragon Prince" for two reasons. The first is that it is an alternative to the grimdark sensibilities of most epic fantasy properties in the wake of "Game of Thrones." This is a world where heroes can actually be noble, and magic can be something awe-inspiring. The second, and more important reason, is that one of its co-creators, Aaron Ehasz, was the head writer on the show, "Avatar: The Last Airbender," considered by many to be the benchmark for epic, all-ages fantasy series. Thus, the question for myself, and I'm sure many other adults watching this show, is "does Dragon Prince live up to Avatar?"

The quick answer after 2 seasons is that while it's promising, it has yet to reach the heights that "Avatar" did. This is not a criticism exactly, as it's (hopefully) only just beginning its story. Even looking back on "Avatar," its first season was only but a glimmer of the greatness it would achieve, as it had to build up to the highs that seasons 2 and 3 gave audiences. "Dragon Prince" would appear to be following in those footsteps. The biggest issue with the show so far is its pacing, with the end of season 1 hardly feeling like it contained a climax at all. Fortunately, this is not a huge issue thanks to Netflix's bingeable platform allowing one to go straight into season 2, but it would still be nice for each season's narrative structure to feel as satisfying as I think they probably meant it to. It would also be nice if the seasons themselves were longer than the mere 9 episodes they're given.

Pacing issues aside, "The Dragon Prince" is a worthy successor to some of the best elements of "Avatar" and it has Ehasz's fingerprints all over it, in ways both big and small. The lore is deep and rich, though not so deep as to be intimidating. Inclusivity is a given, such as the badass army commander who just so happens to be a deaf woman. There is a pervasive sense of fun and humor throughout the whole show, but it also tackles serious, complex, even philosophical topics, and it weaves these 2 tones seamlessly. There's an established magic system that consistently follows its own logic and also serves to reflect the psychology and emotional state of the characters. Above all else, the show is built on the backs of likeable, well-rounded, three-dimensional characters and their relationships with each other.

"The Dragon Prince" is worth giving a shot, especially if you are a fan of "Avatar: The Last Airbender." There are elements of the intangible ways each show is crafted where I find "Avatar" to be superior, but I chose not to comment on that in this comparative review, as it's hard to tell if that's nostalgia speaking. The main takeaway should be that, as of the time of this review, "Dragon Prince" has built a very solid foundation for success for itself, and I'll excitedly be watching for it to hopefully live up to that success.

I'm not sure if there's anything I can say about this movie that hasn't already been said. That does nothing to change the fact that this is a movie that I haven't been able to get out of the back of my head since I first watched it months ago, nor does having seen it 4 times since then lessen my giddy excitement at the prospect of watching it again and again. But what exactly makes it such a compelling film?

For starters, this film, more so than any other in existence, truly achieves being a comic book brought to life. "Spider-Verse" uses a unique and wholly original blend of 2D and 3D animation that is expressive and artistic, yet actually feels more organic and human than more photorealistic animation. It is a difficult style to describe, but there are many a video on YouTube that go into what exactly it is you're watching, and just how insane the process to achieve it was. Other artistic flourishes, such as Benday Dots, panels, narration boxes, and even intentional miscoloring to replicate printing errors of old comic books, truly capitalize on the best of that medium to give character and narrative nuances that regular film simply can't deliver. The resulting hybrid of mediums is beautiful to behold.

Continuing with the "comic book brought to life" theme, the plot equally reflects the insanity that the best of Marvel's comic books are capable of delivering. "Spider-Verse" takes advantage of the current superhero zeitgeist we're currently in, I think, and it both rewards and plays with our familiarity with Spider-Man and superhero movies in general. This is a film that presents us with the origins of 6 different heroes, 1 villain and his multiple cronies, doppelgangers, and different dimensions - and it all moves along with the confident assurance that the audience can follow along without a problem.

Despite the fantastical nature of everything described above, "Spider-Verse" miraculously manages to remain grounded through its focus on its central character. Rather than swinging with Peter Parker this time, we are introduced to Miles Morales, a mixed Black and Hispanic teenager whose immediate struggles include feeling alienated at his new prep school, and his strict father. Miles is a captivating and charming lead. He is different from Peter Parker in many ways, but interestingly, his earnestness endears him to us the same way most interpretations of Peter do, while this universe's Peter is allowed to evolve in ways that are bold and new for his character. Both characters, along with the rest, are brought to life brilliantly by the talented cast.

By giving us the "idea" of Spider-Man through the fresh eyes of a new character, "Spider-Verse" creates a brilliant and beautiful thematic throughline about what it means to be Spider-Man, which subsequently highlights why the character has been so meaningful to real people for almost 6 decades now. Batman may be popular at least in part due to him being "realistic" and theoretically attainable, but it's Spider-Man who shows us what true heroism is, what it takes, and ultimately how accessible it really is. Chances are you'll never be bitten by a genetically altered spider, but you can still be a hero. You can wear the mask.

"Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse" is a certified masterpiece in my eyes: a film that is equal parts zany, serious, hilarious, dramatic, thoughtful, engaging, and inspiring - as well as a film that is endlessly rewarding with both the story it tells, and the artistic expression it uses to tell that story.