Bullet Train (2022) Review

"Bullet Train" is an action film that could easily have been an animated movie, and often looks and feels like one. The story takes place on a bullet train careening across Japan, but most of the movie was shot on green-screened sets, and the cityscapes and countrysides that the train rides through are mainly miniatures and CGI. Its characters are a touch abstract as well, and knowingly comic-bookish. All are either paid killers or otherwise violent individuals connected with the world of crime, and the majority either have grudges against one of the other characters or are the object of a grudge and trying to escape the consequences of past actions. They tend to have tragic-sentimental backstories or be purely malevolent—and inevitably, 30 years after the great Tarantino realignment of the early nineties, most of them are chatterboxes who will monologue at anyone who doesn't point a gun at their head and order them to shut up, and the tone mixes winking black comedy and poker-faced pulp.

Brad Pitt stars as Ladybug, a former assassin ordered to board the train, steal a briefcase, and get off. He's replacing another assassin who became unavailable at the last minute, and he refuses his handler's advice to carry a gun because he just got out of anger management and has renounced killing. Ladybug's fellow killers are a bomber crew of homicidal oddballs. Joey King is "The Prince," who poses as an innocent schoolgirl appalled by the cruelty of men, but immediately reveals herself as a clever and ruthless engine of destruction. Brian Tyree Henry and Aaron Taylor-Johnson (who's groomed to look like the evil drunk Begbie from the original "Trainspotting") are brothers who have gone from mission to mission racking up a body count seemingly in the triple digits, and now find themselves on the train protecting the briefcase and escorting the depressed twentysomething wastrel son (Logan Lerman) of a terrifying crime boss known as the White Death.

The White Death is a Russian who took over a Yakuza family. His face isn't shown until the end of the story (it's more fun for the audience to resist Googling who plays him, because his casting is one of the best surprises in the whole thing). Hiroyuki Sanada is "The Elder," a greying but still lethal assassin connected to the White Death, and Andrew Koji is "The Father"—The Elder's son, obviously; they're out for vengeance because somebody pushed The Elder's grandson off a department store roof, putting him in a coma. They believe the person responsible is on the train, mingling with all the other agents of death.

The plot initially seems goal-driven, revolving around the comatose grandson and the metal briefcase. But as the script adds new fighters to the mix, and establishes that they're all tangentially connected, "Bullet Train" morphs into a half-assed but sincere statement on fate, luck, and karma—and Ladybug's constant (and often humorously annoying) comments on those subjects, voiced in discussions through a handler (Sandra Bullock's Maria Beetle, heard via earpiece), start to feel like an instruction manual for grokking what the movie is "actually" up to. (Ladybug is kind of a post-credits Jules from "Pulp Fiction" after repudiating violence, but he's still stuck in the life, and it has become more challenging because he has resolved never to pick up a gun again.)

Characters are given the sorts of typeface-onscreen-followed-by-flashback-montage introductions that genre fans will recognize from directors like Quentin Tarantino ("Kill Bill" seems to be a primary influence) and Guy Ritchie (who pioneered a particular brand of "lad action" in which verbal insults become little fists and knives deployed against enemies). The fighters go after each other with guns, knives, their fists, and whatever object they can get their hands on (the briefcase gets a workout as both a defensive weapon and a bludgeon). They banter as they struggle, and sometimes when one of them dies, the tone will shift into a maudlin lament that is often affecting because of the cast's skill, but that doesn't inspire deep emotion since the rest of the movie is so glib and superficial.

The film is directed by David Leitch, a former stunt coordinator and screen double for Jean-Claude Van Damme and this film's star, Brad Pitt, and the onetime directing partner of Chad Stahleski (of the "John Wick" series). He's become a specialist in high-grade acrobatic mayhem, having directed "Deadpool 2," "Atomic Blonde," and "Fast & Furious Presents: Hobbs & Shaw." It's hard to deny that he's one the best when it comes to overseeing this type of production—and it's sometimes a kick seeing "Bullet Train" lean into its knowingly ridiculous visuals, which sometimes verge on the psychedelia conjured in "Speed Racer."

But whether this type of project is entirely worth doing is a different matter. It seems to want to have it both ways, telling us "this is all light and silly and none of it is of any consequence" and at the same time trying to whack us across the throat with a moment of dramatic power so that we cry for the characters. Henry and Taylor-Johnson's story gets there, due to the love expressed between the brothers even when they're breaking each other's chops, and the performances of the two actors have a direct connection with the audience despite boasting Cockney accents that might not pass muster in a college production of "My Fair Lady." (The greatest achievement in the film is that Henry manages to take his character's relentless comparison of everyone else to Thomas the Tank Engine characters, and make you not loathe the gimmick on general principle.)

But the rest feels forced and insincere. "Bullet Train" is at its best when it's a comedy about self-styled badasses who think they're free agents but are really all just passengers on a train rocketing from one station to another, oblivious to the desires of any individual riding on it. The abstractness and "it's all a lark" humor ultimately undo any aspect that might otherwise sink its roots into the viewer's mind.

The project is abstract in another way as well: the script's source is a Japanese novel by Kōtarō Isaka, and the characters were Japanese. Leitch and company—who inherited the project from Antoine Fuqua, who had wanted to make a less jokey "Die Hard on a Train"-type film—have recast the tale "internationally," starting with Leitch's longtime screen partner Pitt. They had reportedly considered relocating the story to Europe, but decided to keep the Japanese setting anyway, and have defended this on grounds that "Bullet Train" is a fantastical film that could be set anywhere and is basically taking place nowhere.

The explanation doesn't wash, considering how dependent "Bullet Train" is on Japanese signifiers and cultural attitudes (King's character is basically an anime "schoolgirl" avatar come to life)—not to mention essentially deracinating all of the core characters save for a handful of stereotypical Yakuza, who have been given a Russian chieftain modeled on Keyser Söze from "The Usual Suspects." Even in a fantasy, the latter seems a stretch, although the actors all sell it like the professionals they are. If nothing in the movie is real—either as a justification for the casting, or as a guiding aesthetic—why not just go full "Speed Racer" or "The Matrix" with it, and own the green-screeness of the entire project, and set it in the future on another planet, or in an alternate dimension? It's practically a Marvel superhero movie anyway, except that the characters can't come back to life after being killed off. The result might've been a delirious work of art, instead of a technically and logistically ambitious movie that doesn't leave much of an emotional or intellectual footprint.

Now playing in theaters.

Prey (2022)

 

The cost of seeing "Prey" on the biggest screen is justifiable. The expansive landscapes of Alberta look beautiful, there is a tonne of monster mayhem and action, and Sarah Schachner's stirring score demands to be played loudest speakers possible. So why would Disney release a film from the well-liked "Predator" franchise in the middle of the summer on Hulu? What better way to commemorate the 35th anniversary of the original "Predator," starring Arnold Schwarzenegger, than with a prequel that is superior to all of its sequels? Promoting this connection would have been a breeze for the marketing department. Why then does this movie, like the previous Disney+ feature "Turning Red," go straight to streaming without a concurrent theater release?

Was it because the sci-fi action film directed by Dan Trachtenberg only featured the Predator as a key star? Was it because this is a period piece and the screenplay by Patrick Aison takes place in 1719? Or was it because the lead character is a woman and her family members are Native Americans, both of which go against the grain for movies like this? I suppose I should be grateful that "Prey" is available to see everywhere, including on services to which I do not subscribe, given the recent cancellations of movies that were set to be released soon. This is not to argue that streaming services are awful; rather, it's just that I always get antsy when I promote movies that require a subscription. Additionally, this merits a theatrical debut.

But I'm digressing. The film "Prey" advertises itself as the narrative of the first Predator alien to appear on Earth. This one is outfitted with slightly retro versions of the weaponry used in the first film by late actor Kevin Peter Hall. However, the Predator's mode of operation is the same: it is a hunter seeking for prey prizes. This provides the creature a kindred spirit in Naru (Amber Midthunder), a teenage warrior who aspires to hunt like her tribe's males, including her brother, Taabe (Dakota Beavers). The males mock Naru, saying that hunting is a man's job, but we see that she can hold her own in a fight. She's twice as tough as she appears and three times as perceptive as the rest. Naru is the first to recognise the presence of a strange monster on their territory. Perhaps it had something to do with the blazing streak of fire she had seen earlier in the sky.

Taabe scarcely tolerates Naru's company while on the hunt for a lion that has been lurking around. Midthunder and Beavers have an easygoing sibling relationship very quickly in their initial scenes. When the genuine danger emerges, their bond adds to our concerns. Naru discovers a snake skin and prints that do not belong to a known entity. "Something scared off the lion," she says to Taabe, but he dismisses her assertion that it is a "monster from childhood myths." Meanwhile, the Predator makes its way up the animal food chain, tearing out a wolf's spine to teach it a lesson for selling woof tickets. Naru finally sees it when it mercilessly guts the bear that was hunting her and her loyal hound.

The scene with the bear is so well-staged that one wishes "Prey" hadn't already given us a decent look at the Predator. An gush of blood paints the invisible Predator into existence as it yanks the bear from its pursuit, raising it up for the kill. Naru notices this and flees like hell. So begins a sequence of wonderfully designed pursuit scenes, with our nemesis eviscerating its victims in both familiar and novel ways. There's also a nod to one of the best lines from the original film: "if it bleeds, we can kill it." Bleed it does, with a bright green blood that Naru uses as battle paint at one point. 

A spate of boorish French fur trappers adds another layer of danger (as well as fresh feed for viewers hungry for Predator-based slaughter). When Naru comes upon a field of skinned buffalo, she prays over them, believing that they are the work of the monster. Soon, she learns that man, that other horrible predator, is to blame. Despite their agreement with Naru that something otherworldly exists, the trappers are much more evil than the Predator. So don't be surprised if they start getting splattered.

Even if there are no "choppas" for anyone to get to in 1719, "Prey" is a fitting successor to Ah-original. nuld's Naru should be included to the list of tough characters who can stand up to the Predator. She handles all of her enemies with equal parts wits and brawn, murdering them with gory efficiency. Nature is also a brutal foe, but she is prepared for that as well. The film paints a portrayal of her Comanche tribe without othering them—they are the stars of the story, and their hamlet is alive with community. Even though the film is primarily in English (a full Comanche language version was supposedly also shot in tandem), our suspension of disbelief is not endangered.

Despite the expected whine from immature males who haven’t seen the movie yet but are already deeming it “too woke,” “Predator” fans will not be disappointed by “Prey.” It’s a scary and fun amusement park ride that also elicits a surprisingly tender emotional response. When Naru finally let out the war cry she had previously been denied, I couldn’t help but cheer. It’s too bad I couldn’t do it with an audience full of equally excited viewers.

Wach on Hulu, August 5th.

 Review | Wonder Woman 1984

05 Jan 2021 | By Administration

When “Wonder Woman” came out in 2017, it was a thrilling breath of fresh air, both within the darker realm of DC Comics adaptations and the larger context of bloated summer blockbusters. Director Patty Jenkins’ film offered equal parts muscle and heart, with a perfect tonal balance between transporting action and gentle humor, dazzling spectacle, and charming romance. Crucially at its center was the impossibly charismatic Gal Gadot, who was more than just a gorgeous and statuesque stunner. She radiated goodness, light, and hope in a way that was infectious, that made you believe in the power of superheroes beyond facile platitudes about doing what’s right and protecting mankind.

Gadot remains a winning and winsome figure in “Wonder Woman 1984,” and she retains her authentic connection with the audience, but the machinery around her has grown larger and unwieldy. Maybe that was inevitable, the urge in crafting a sequel to make everything wilder and brasher, more sprawling and complicated. In the process, though, the quality that made the original film such a delight has been squashed almost entirely. And yet, the foundation of the script Jenkins co-wrote with Geoff Johns and Dave Callaham, based on William Moulton Marston’s original characters, is a pretty simple one: It’s an indictment of greed, of our entitled desire to have what we want and have it now. The story takes place at the height of Reagan-era conspicuous consumption, hence the title, but the point “WW84” is making about the destructive nature of avarice is certainly relevant today.

Too often, though, the instinct in evoking that period is to wallow in obvious nostalgia—popped collars on pastel Polo shirts, a Centipede game at the arcade, a B. Dalton Bookseller at the brightly-lit, triple-decker mall. There’s even the obligatory trying-on-clothes montage to allow Chris Pine’s resurrected World War I pilot to marvel at the ridiculousness of parachute pants. (Also: breakdancing! What is that all about?) We’ll get to Steve in a minute, and to the potentially intriguing idea, his return represents.

But what’s also disappointing about the “WW84” screenplay is that it feels like it belongs to a movie that actually came out in the ‘80s. Its plot-driving device would be right at home in a high-concept comedy: an ancient stone that immediately grants you whatever you wish for, resulting in both wacky hijinks and massive catastrophes. It’s a banal notion along the lines of “Weird Science” and “Zapped!,” a cautionary tale in which fantasy fulfillment ultimately doesn’t deliver the satisfaction its characters expect.

Far more compelling is the film’s opening sequence, a flashback to a pivotal moment in the life of young Diana, years before she’d become Wonder Woman. As a girl on the magical island of Themiscyra (played once again by the poised and perfectly cast Lilly Aspell), she competes in an arduous challenge of strength and skill against women twice her age and height. This whole section soars—the camerawork and editing put us right in the middle of the action, and Hans Zimmer’s score sweeps us along. The memory also efficiently establishes Diana’s fearlessness and ability as well as the important lesson she learns about the nature of truth that will become relevant down the road. It is the film’s high point; nothing else will match it in terms of visual cohesion or emotional impact.

Flash forward to 1984. Diana Prince is now living in Washington D.C. (at The Watergate, amusingly) and working as an archaeologist at the Smithsonian, using her expertise and language skills to study ancient artifacts. Being ageless makes her a glamorous and elegant but lonely figure. (Costume designer Lindy Hemming plays off Gadot’s height and her character’s heritage by placing her in regal, drapey outfits that emphasize her length.) We see Diana sitting alone at a table at an outdoor cafe, smiling at passers-by, yearning to make a connection. It’s the film’s most quietly moving moment.

So when mousey new co-worker Dr. Barbara Minerva arrives and meekly asks if she’d like to have lunch, Diana doesn’t quite know how to respond because she doesn’t really have friends. But the two soon hit it off, because Barbara is also a misfit in her own way. Kristen Wiig is subtly hilarious in these early scenes as the sweetly goofy, warmhearted researcher. The chemistry she and Gadot share when they meet for drinks at happy hour, the Washington Monument gleaming behind them in the distance, made me wish they were starring in a mismatched buddy comedy instead. The role allows Wiig to deliver her lines with the sly, self-deprecating deadpan that’s her trademark; it seems effortless but actually requires pinpoint precision. But watching her stretch and develop into a villainous figure as the film progresses has its own joys. It’s a huge change of pace for the comedian, and she rises to the occasion both physically and emotionally.

You see, Barbara gets her hands on a mysterious stone that comes into the lab, which she and Diana determine is the kind that grants one wish to the bearer. Diana wishes she could once again be with her love, Pine’s Steve Trevor, now deceased for seven decades. Barbara wishes she could be more like Diana: confident, strong, sexy. But then—get this—a whole ‘nother person enters the lab under the guise of being a benefactor when he actually wants the stone for his own nefarious purposes. He’s Pedro Pascal as fluffy-haired TV con man Maxwell Lord, a fake oil tycoon promising prosperity to the masses. Crafting a wealthy façade and living beyond his means, Maxwell Lord is an archetype of the era. But beyond his shameless hunger for power and respect, there isn’t much to this character, and Pascal’s portrayal grows increasingly cartoonish. A sensitive performer, he’s afforded the opportunity to show more range beneath his Beskar steel helmet and armor on “The Mandalorian.”

The bulk of the overlong “WW84” running time is devoted to the chaos that ensues when wish-fulfillment runs amok. The script meanders awkwardly between all three of these characters as they either explore their newfound powers or the consequences of their choices. Along the way, the rules for wishing on the stone keep changing in whatever way is convenient to keep the plot chugging along. But some genuinely thrilling moments emerge along to the way to the generically shiny, noisy climax, including a heart-pounding chase across the Egyptian desert that allows Diana to reveal both her resourcefulness and her kindness. And Barbara’s transformation from unassuming scientist to ass-kicking seductress is a pleasure to behold, mainly because the evolution of her clothes and hair are so great and she seems to be having the most fun of anyone on screen. (The same cannot be said for Gadot and Pine this time, whose connection is weirdly inert despite the potential poignancy of being reunited with your one true love.) Sure, Barbara eventually turns into the comic book villainess Cheetah and resembles a refugee from “Cats,” but until then, her arc is the most interesting element of the film.

At the end of this Dumpster fire of a year, though, “Wonder Woman 1984” does deliver a welcome escape, as well as a much-needed message of hope. We’ll take such diversions where we can get them these days, either spread out at a theater or from the safety of your couch at home. It’s fine. Sometimes, it even soars. But it could have been wondrous.

Available on HBO Max and in theaters on December 25.