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Cocaine Bear (2023)
Too much cocaine, not enough bear
Elizabeth Banks's career has always been plagued by ill acting and directing choices, and Cocaine Bear is sadly no exception. The only novel aspect of the movie is its high concept, a bizarre true story of Russia's number one pet that comes across bags of cocaine dropped from the sky by the world's worst drug smugglers. Since watching one of nature's most formidable omnivores fatally overdose on drugs wouldn't make for a very entertaining picture, the writers take generous creative liberties with the script, none of which bear fruit.
On paper, the project should have been a slam dunk - a bear going on a murderous, drug-fueled rampage against its unsuspecting victims. Which does happen, albeit sparingly and with disappointingly timid results. Save for an entertaining chase scene involving an ambulance, most of the bloody kills are either fairly unimaginative or happen off screen. But in the writers' biggest misstep, the movie receives the "Godzilla 2014" treatment, where the beast plays second fiddle to the plethora of uninteresting characters. For the majority of the movie's mercifully short running time we see the likes of Keri Russell, O'Shea Jackson Jr. And Alden Ehrenreich engage in frivolous banter, sit in trees, partake in Mexican standoffs or mourn the death of someone we didn't even know. The worst offender in this regard is the late great Ray Liotta, lazily typecast as the drug kingpin and appearing in whopping three scenes as the villain, with a tacked on paternal subplot to boot. Had the producers truly wanted to honor his memory, they would've left his character on the cutting room floor and this whole project in development hell, preferably forever.
Missing (2023)
Of roughly the same worth as a viral TikTok short
Having finally suffered long enough to see the end credits roll, I was made aware of one thing and realized another - that "screenlife" is apparently a genre and I never want to see any of it ever again. Make no mistake, it's not just the format that makes Missing an utter waste of everyone's time. Sure, it's directed and edited with a stylistic flair of a fledgling underage YouTuber. And granted, the lengths the movie will go to stay within the genre's technical confines becomes increasingly groan-inducing. But Missing mostly just fails at being an entertaining and coherent thriller. The main character, reduced to a blurry camera footage and a personality to match, spends the majority of their time following bizarrely convenient cyber leads in a plot that doesn't make one iota of sense. Clues and locations are as swiftly introduced as they are abandoned, and logic-defying contrivances and ludicrous revelations pile up at an alarming rate. The only thing more worrisome than the characters' complete ignorance of internet security is the chilling prospect of movie-making like this taking flight in the near future.
Blood (2022)
Woefully anemic
Examining Brad Anderson's back catalog, it's almost heretical to state that Blood is in desperate need of thrills. This is a guy that has given us the likes of The Machinist, TransSiberian or Session 9 - all competent, albeit disposable genre fares. Anderson is clearly trying to capitalize on his strengths here - the moody and evocative cinematography, simple yet relatable themes, and committed performances from his leads - but they never coalesce into something consistently engaging. The trailer is probably the most rousing aspect of this picture - a masterclass of false advertising promising a gloomy, vampiric take on a child gone bad and containing most of the movie's memorable scenes. Yet the final product is more Room than The Good Son, a plodding tale of a loving mother that is too languid and ludicrous to sustain any kind of dramatic heft. Much like the child she nourishes, it's an insipid piece that only sporadically springs to life - and it will take more than a few pints of blood to fix.
Sick (2022)
An incurable mess
Just as we were starting to reintegrate back to society after the pandemic, along comes a movie like Sick, whose sole aim is to prey upon the fears and paranoia induced by that seemingly interminable period. This latest, pointless drivel hones a particular, streaming brand of bad, one defined by utter lack of inspiration or wit. Sick is simply meant to exist and be consumed, churning out cheap jump scares, throwaway lines and predictable story beats with clockwork precision. The only times it springs to life and elicits any kind of response is during its fleeting moments of gore and hilarity, intentional or not. By the time the movie limps to its climax that defies credibility, you're left wondering whether this marks the advent of movies that will just senselessly conflate COVID and the slasher genre and call it a day. If so, then the pandemic will have had graver cinematic consequences than we could have anticipated.
Terrifier 2 (2022)
Bad taste at its finest
Terrifier 2 is a deliriously demented experience; a supercharged Dead Alive update with a grainy, Rob Zombie-esque sheen of nastiness. While the gorefest mayhem is a victory of practical special effects and animatronics, it's the fiendish neighborhood Art the Clown that truly steals the show. His decidedly mute character feels like the Pennywise we never got - terrifyingly unhinged but also frequently hilarious, owing mostly to the actor's immaculate, off-kilter comedic timing. Terrifier 2 works best when you let all its strengths - the unrelenting but cleverly intermittent splatter, the bouncy synth tunes, and the careful moodiness of the picture - wash over you like sweet 80s nostalgia they're partly meant to invoke. It falls ever so slightly off in the third act when writer-director Damien Leone drags out the climactic confrontation between the villain and his two final victims, both given just enough depth and plot armor to be elevated barely above fodder material. Sequels are already being fast-tracked, and if Leone finds a way to rein them in without artificially inflating the series' lore and mythology too much, then Art the Clown might serve us gifts that will keep on giving.
M3GAN (2022)
Wasted potential
This Blumhouse latest isn't as bad as its January release date might suggest, but it could have been so much more. Megan sports a bonkers premise but never figures out what it wants to be. Is it a cerebral Child's Play ripoff by way of Ex Machina? A scathing critique of consumerist America? Or a musical techno thriller reveling in its self-aware, Exorcist-style contortions? Sadly, the final product is never smart, subtle or over-the-top enough to deliver on any of these fronts. Even the climax, which promises at least some creative outburst of madness, eventually fizzles out under its PG-13 limitations. If there ever is to be a sequel, let's hope it's more Megan, the Demon Doll of Fear Street, and less Meh, Can We Watch Gremlins Instead.
The Last of Us: When You're Lost in the Darkness (2023)
It was for nothing
It is yet unclear whether The Last of Us intends to be anything more than a big-budget imitation of its source material. Sadly, nothing that we saw in the first episode suggests it. Fans of the original game may relish the show's live-action recreation of many of their favorite scenes, but there's very little else to truly appreciate. In a lot of ways, HBO's TLOU has always been dead on arrival. The tired zombie/post-apocalypse motifs were already wearing out their welcome in 2013, and they definitely can't carry what's supposed to be premium television in 2023. It is the game's greatest strength - the effective reliance on rote television tropes - that turns here into the show's greatest weakness. The actors' performances are serviceable but their character arcs range (or will range, judging by the show's rigid adherence to the original script) from predictable to non-existent, the dialog is merely functional, and Mazin's direction, while confident, can't overcome the garden-variety writing of Neil Druckmann, the game's co-creator. Had this been a prologue or a spin-off to the original narrative without Druckmann's name attached to the project, the writers might have wrestled a less formulaic zombie drama out of its paper-thin premise. As it stands, it is woefully complacent fan service - and a lengthy cinematic you can safely skip.
Where the Crawdads Sing (2022)
Where the Crawdads Sink
Daisy Edgar-Jones gives it her all to keep this movie afloat, but even her committed performance can't save Where the Crawdads Sing from slowly giving in to its over the top melodrama and half-baked character arcs. Jones is the beating heart of the picture - the typical abandoned child turned social outcast who many teenage girls will look up to and connect with. The best bits come from her struggles to find herself and her place in the world - quietly powerful moments that are wonderfully underpinned by the often beautiful natural scenery. Sadly, the movie smothers any attempts at potent drama by recycling age-old tropes - from the abusive father, the judgemental and condemning small town, to painfully generic voiceover lifted presumably straight from its source material. Adding insult to injury, the movie predictably relies on a court trial as its framing device, introducing us to often unintentionally unlikeable characters who merely whizz by to deliver tired story beats you see coming from a mile away. Subtlety truly isn't the name of the game here - the movie culminates in a closing speech that beats you over the head with a message about acceptance and social prejudice, and tacked on we find a ludicrously sentimental epilogue that saps away even the last bits of ambiguity. At worst, Where the Crawdads Sing is a forgettable coming-of-age drama that knows its audience. At best, it's a serviceable springboard for Daisy Edgar-Jones' stardom career.
Candy (2022)
Oh Candy, when you came and you gave without boring
Candy is the rare TV show where the non-chronological approach works in its favor. What is usually a gimmick and a crutch for lazy writing is smartly utilized here to enhance tension and to flesh out the small ensemble cast. To be fair, the material here almost demands it - there isn't that much meat in the story of Candice Montgomery that could be successfully turned into a 10-part series. Instead, we get 5 hour-long episodes that cover all the important facets of the story just enough - be it the small cast led by Jessica Biel's family-loving, but sexually repressed title character, the consequences of her affair or the brief trial following the murder that is still shrouded in mystery to this day. Long-time fans of Candy's struggles may not find anything particularly new or illuminating in Hulu's latest show, and it will inevitably draw comparisons to the impending, Elisabeth Olsen-led adaptation on HBO Max, but it's a satisfying chronicle of one of America's most polarizing murder cases.
Puss in Boots: The Last Wish (2022)
I wish for more The Last Wishes
I never expected an animated movie to top my end of year list, much less a sequel to a spin-off to a franchise that hasn't been relevant in 20 years. Coming out of nowhere, seemingly as a much delayed afterthought, the latest Puss in Boots is anything but. Boasting gorgeous animation reminiscent of Into the Spider-Verse but never feeling like a visual rip-off, The Last Wish constantly fires on all cylinders for young audiences and adults alike. The movie's imaginative style that is bound to become a new dazzling showcase for high-end TV screens meshes well with its kinetic set pieces, the funny scenes are actually hilarious and rarely miss a beat, and the recurrent themes of mortality, friendship and identity are as astute as any big, "mature" movie you will have seen this year. Couple that with a memorable cast of both returning and new characters and an actually terrifying villain for a change, and you have a genre entry that is shockingly great given its questionable pedigree. Puss in Boots might be down to his last life here, but the franchise is definitely not on its last paws.
The Banshees of Inisherin (2022)
Severed thumbs up
There's an Australian metal band that have a song titled "In Misery There Can Be Comfort" - a sentiment that echoes particularly true in The Banshees of Inisherin. Martin McDonaugh's latest is a melancholic slow burn, a poignant and strangely soothing meditation on friendship and family that can be both tranquil and agonizing. Yet for all its gorgeously evocative scenery and career best performances from its two veteran star, it's as likely to make my "Best of 2022" list as it is to make my "Best movies I never want to see again" one. Which is a compliment more than anything - its emotional weight makes the movie stick with you long after the credits (and a couple fingers) have rolled.
The Batman (2022)
What's black and blue, and dead on arrival?
Watching the latest reboot of DC's most recognizable superhero is a surprisingly listless experience. Say what you will about the Caped Crusader's past adaptations, but they all had something unique and, most importantly stimulating to offer to the character, whether it was Leslie Martinson's campiness,Tim Burton's bizarre gothic overtones or even Zack Snyder's weary cynicism. Matt Reeves, who made a splash with his horror debut Cloverfield but has since moved on to inferior adaptations of Let the Right One In and Planet of the Apes, seems more intent on smelling his own farts than delivering an engaging Batman story. There are shades of David Fincher and Stanley Kubrick permeating the picture, from its pretentious, Ave Maria-led opening coupled complete with out-of-character voiceover, to the deliberate camera movement and the movie's central mystery. Reeves is clearly trying to transcend the limitations of the comic book movie genre, but it works nowhere near as well here as it did in The Dark Knight, a Heat-esque action thriller with reckless superhero abandon. In THE Batman, a title meant to signify the definitive version of the character, all these elements make the movie's already excessive runtime all the more sluggish. It's a moody but lethargic piece that is, despite several meticulously staged set pieces, devoid of energy and excitement. This is especially evident in the film's action scenes, framed in a way that sucks all the intensity out of them. The movie's centerpiece, a high speed car chase through the busy streets of Gotham, mostly consists of close-up shots of spinning wheels and characters' facial expressions, all erratically edited in a way that makes it impossible to discern what exactly is going on. Elsewhere, a hallway brawl between Batman and a group of armored thugs in pitch black dark is as cool as it sounds, but it never gets your heart rate up like it should. These scenes, much like the trademark shot of Batman overlooking the city from sky high, merely add stylistic flair, not tension.
The cast doesn't fare that much better. Robert Pattinson makes for a serviceable Year 2 Batman, a rookie vigilante focused on vengeance above all else. His Bruce Wayne persona almost feels like a caricature, taking brooding to comically new levels. His banter with his butler, played competently by Andy Serkis, contains eye-rolling lines like "You're not my father, Alfred." ten minutes into the movie, revealing the writers' early desire to please their audience with generic dialogue and half-baked character development. This is most evident when Batman is told by Catwoman (Zoe Kravitz) that "they're not that different", then share an awkward, passionless kiss in their second scene they've had together. Kravitz's character, much like the rest of the masked cast, is rocking a disguise that makes her look flat out stupid. But not as stupid as the movie's main villain played by Paul Dano, whose face is so uniquely expressive and disturbing it's a shame that it's hidden behind a generic hooded costume most of the time. There is a plethora of other, woefully wasted characters that partake in this castrated Se7en worship, such as Jeffrey Wright, whose Jim Gordon is reduced to reading clue cards out loud and asking the obvious, or The Penguin, who is clearly being saved for a bigger role in the inevitable sequel. If Matt Reeves figures out a way to make the audience care again.
Barbarian (2022)
Wickedly unpredictable
It's always a toss-up whether forays into horror from traditionally comedy directors are going to be successful. Some that missed the mark include David Gordon Green with his Halloween re- imagining and Kevin Smith's bizarre Tusk, while Jordan Peele. A once comedy stalwart, made some of the most memorable horror outings of the decade. After the credits rolled on Barbarian, and having read up on its director Zach Cregger, I was shocked how many vapid and ill-received comedy turds littered his filmography. Make no mistake, there are shades of deliciously dark humor in his latest effort, but they're sandwiched in between some of the most unpredictable and wildly entertaining moments I've witnessed all year. The less you know about the plot the more rewarded your initial viewing will be - what starts as a simple case of double-booking soon morphs into something far more sinister. The movie's insistence on subverting the audience's expectations is its biggest asset - once you think you know where things are going the film will dramatically shift the scene, characters, tone, and further into the movie, even its chronology. The transitions are sometimes a bit jarring, the characters, in true slasher horror fashion, often make nonsensical decisions, and the movie's climax doesn't really stick the landing, but Barbarian is a movie that hopefully jump starts Zach Cregger auspicious horror turn in his dubious filmography.
Pain & Gain (2013)
Sickly enjoyable
Pain and Gain is the unsung hero of Michael Bay's extensive filmography, his best work that is both subtle and bombastic in ways only he can muster. Based on the true events in which three idiotic bodybuilders devise an extortion plan for one of their clients, it's a story that demands serious approach from a director that understands sensitive issues involving murder and fraud, not a guy that relishes in CGI mayhem of killer robots. Bay taking the reins of this project results in a misguided, misdirected black comedy that turns what would otherwise be a serious true story into a morbid delight. To be fair, the first half hour might be the director's most subtle work of his career, introducing an unusually sharp commentary on the American dream, as well as the movie's star-studded ensemble cast. They all play their roles both predictably and against type: Mark Wahlberg is the leader of the gang, an ambitious brawn-for-brains imbecile who has seen enough movies to naively think his plan to extort his millionaire client, a gloriously despicable Tony Shalhoub, might actually work. To aid him in his scheming, he recruits The Rock, an ex-con has has found God during his time in prison, and Anthony Mackie, whose only dream is to get it back up again. Only Ed Harris, a retired PI that enters the picture later on, seems to possess any lick of common sense, and is a perfect foil to the rest of the cast.
After an almost subtle opening ,what follows is a screwball comedy involving kidnapping, torture and attempted murder, all played completely straight and all intended to elicit a hefty laugh from the audience. The director seems to revel in human misery, frequently reminding you that you're still watching a true story during the movie's most gruesome scenes. Besides the director's trademarks like relentless violence, sexism and lack of nuance, there's also an attempt to mirror the rise and fall formula present in many Scorsese classics, especially Goodfellas and The Wolf of Wall Street. And just like in those movies, the characters' actions in the third act spiral ridiculously out of control, making you question the future of humanity when knowing these events actually transpired in real life. It's all horrific and detestable, and it probably didn't deserve such deliriously insensitive and misguided handling, but it did make for a deeply flawed yet grotesquely entertaining adaptation.
Fresh (2022)
Tastefully twisted
Having read next to nothing about Fresh apart from its genre tags, I didn't really know what kind of movie I was getting into, and that made the whole watching experience rather pleasantly surprising, dare I say almost... (you know the word). A commentary on the dangers of random hook-ups, dating and female empowerment, the movie's message may be too on-the-nose, but it makes for a small, entertaining movie. Sebastian Stan's villainous turn is a delight to watch, and you can almost see a burning urge to get rid of the thirst of his female admirerers that his past Marvel movies have brought him (though I suspect even this performance will attract a new, very kinky audience). His character is alternately seductive, dead serious, terrifying, pathetic and hilarious - and frequently all at once. For the sake of avoiding spoilers, I won't mention the obvious character inspirations here, and I doubt Stan will reach similar iconic status with this one. That's in part due to the supporting cast, none of which besides the main female lead are all that fleshed out or interesting. Two tonally different but wildly enjoyable acts also give way to a fairly generic climax where the whole thing almost falls apart thanks to its efforts to please impatient genre enthusiasts. But even with its botched conclusion, Fresh is a movie worth taking your partner to see - just make sure it's not on your first date.
Smile (2022)
It is happening again
Smile is this year's It Follows, a sleeper hit among younger audiences who mistake rote horror cliches for suspense and depth. Its twists can be seen from a mile away and the jump scares are as predictable and ineffective as they come. Like the aforementioned movie, Smile revolves around an entity that, following a cathartic event in the opening scene, starts to pursuit the main character who is dealing with issues all their own. It's a slow burn that frequently lulls the viewer into apathy, and the often uninspired direction doesn't help things either. As the movie drags towards the end with a surprisingly resonant and graphic resolution, its heavy handed handling of themes such as trauma and grief becomes all the more obvious. By the end of 2023, this movie will no doubt have been replaced by the next "big thing" - and hopefully more memorable than this one.
Thor: Love and Thunder (2022)
A little too much love
Love and Thunder is a glorious misfire, a tone-deaf amplification of the first movie dead set on delivering more of everything that made Ragnarok such a welcome change at the time. Most of the time it's a painfully unfunny screwball comedy where Thor's role as the village idiot is amped up to eleven, while a running joke involving screaming goats and Lady Thor's search for a suitable catchphrase make up the rest of the movie's many, many moments of levity. This is juxtaposed with serious moments involving terminal illness of a character the producers thought needed some sort of undercooked closure. The budget, which could eradicate hunger in a small eastern European country, is mostly wasted on achingly blinding CGI that gives the film the sheen of a Saturday morning cartoon. Most of the supporting cast is utterly wasted, including Russel Crowe's buffoonery as Zeus and Tessa Thompson's Valkyrie, who the writers couldn't find anything noteworthy to do but is in the move anyway. Christian Bale turns in a stellar performance as the movie's villain, and his backstory would've made for a more interesting movie than the one he's in. Taika Waititi is clearly having a blast but others should steer clear of this over-indulgent mess.
Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness (2022)
More like Multiverse of SADNESS amirite?
Whenever DSitMoM (just rolls off the tongue, doesn't it) tries to be a Sam Raimi movie, it works. There is some creative monster design at work here, particularly in the third act involving ghastly monsters and Evil Dead-style reanimation, and some of the angled and POV shots again invoke the director's most famous horror flicks. Sadly, most of the time it tries to be a blockbuster Marvel movie, and that's where the movie becomes tiresome really quick. The film opens in medias res with a kinetic action scene, but it's hard to care amidst the heavy use of dazzlingly numbing CGI. As the title suggests, the movie ventures into multiple world's, but its exploration and integration into the plot feels rushed and underutilized, especially compared to Spiderman Into the Spider-Verse. The plot also brings back a particular Marvel TV favorite in what's supposed to be a tragic villainous turn, and while knowledge of their past material isn't strictly necessary, the movie's most emotionally resonant scenes feel hollow without it. Along the way, the movie doesn't forget to shoehorn and set up other well-known Marvel IPs, but being this deep into Phase 4 (or is it Phase 5? I'm starting to lose track here) and knowing how previous attempts have fared, it's really hard to care about any of it. At least not in this universe.
Nope (2022)
You definitely shouldn't nope out of seeing this
Nope takes full advantage of the cinematic power of the opening shot - it's an image that is both mysterious and terrifying, intimidating yet strangely inviting. What follows is a movie that works as social commentary as well as a horror movie - a staple by now of Jordan Peele's short but illustrious career as a director. Questions about race, identity and class weave in and out as a mysterious object from the skies piques the interest of unassuming ranchers led by Daniel Kaluuya, who already worked with the director in his debut smash hit Get Out. And just like in that movie and Us, Nope doesn't falter or get off the rails in its third act like most other horror contemporaries. Instead, it builds up to a climax full of suspense and dread that reveres the Spielbergian spectacle as well as defying it - a cinematic feat that is further amplified by Hoyt van Hoytema's gorgeous cinematography that demands viewing it on a big screen. It's a movie that keeps you glued to the screen while watching and lingers in the mind afterwards, begging for repeated viewings which it certainly deserves.
Violent Night (2022)
A fleetingly entertaining hodgepodge of various Christmas classics
Violent Night is a passable action flick, one that tries to ride a number of successful trends but never really capitalizes on any of them. It's another attempt to establish David Harbor as an action star, much like they have done before with the likes of Liam Neeson, Keanu Reeves or even Bob Odenkirk. He's a capable actor, but much like his Hellboy movie, there's only so much you can do with a paper thin story and checkbox like plotting and characterization. It's also a holiday spin on the Die Hard (itself a holiday juggernaut) formula, but the movie doesn't have a charismatic villain, emotional stakes nor a strong supporting cast to match it. Likewise, its flashes of satisfying but often overbearing gore have been done better in other, straight up Christmas slashers like Santa's Slay or even Jack Frost. Even traps from Home Alone make an appearance in the third act, though funnily enough not as brutal as their PG-13 inspiration. Overall, it's not the worst movie to fire up during your comfy Christmas Eve - just don't expect it to make it into your yearly rotation like the other films it takes heavy inspiration from.
Glass Onion (2022)
It's not brilliant - it's just dumb
Glass Onion is true to its name, a seemingly complex web of subplots, motivations and characters that reveals itself to be shatteringly shallow and inconsequential. Benoit Blanc, the world's greatest detective with the most unplaceable accent, is back for another overwritten adventure involving deceit, drugs and devilry. The "Netflix phenomenon" is in full effect here - everything from the dialogue to the plot and characterization has been upped to 11, once again naively thinking that bigger is better. The plot is needlessly convoluted, with each backstory revealing another tedious backstory you will have long stopped caring about. The characters, so sharply written in the first installment, reach almost comical levels of satire, devoid of any believable human traits. And the dialog, clearly meant to sound smart on repeated viewings, just comes off as contrived and occasionally downright stupid. Even the setting gets a downgrade here, moving from lovely autumny English countryside to a dazzlingly opaque but emotionally sterile tech island estate. It's simply a movie that is merely going through the motions, with the producers intent on milking the surprise success of the first film. Let's just hope they don't try to create their own elaborate Knives Out universe - that may turn out to be a puzzle that even the likes of the always likeable Daniel Craig will not be able to solve.
Christmas Bloody Christmas (2022)
Bloody boring
Not even the heaps of neon and Christmas snow can't hide the fact that there's almost nothing going on for this painfully generic holiday slasher. The biggest insult here is the movie's two main characters whose incessant, ridiculously profane and pseudo edgy lines ruins any kind of emotional connection this movie might have been going for. Mercifully, their insufferable banter is cut short half an hour into the movie by a killer robotic Santa Claus hell-bent on murdering the two leads and anyone that stands in his path, and judging from their toxic personalities established earlier you can't really blame him. The kills themselves are standard fare, not gory or creative enough to be entertaining. All in all, a forgettable holiday dud that should be on everyone's naughty list - and not in a nice way.
The Night House (2020)
As if we needed another proof that Rebecca Hall is awesome
The Night House is another solid Rebecca Hall vehicle, the kind of unsettling slow burn that made her stand out in other projects like The Awakening, The Gift and, most recently, Resurrection. All the familiar psychological horror tropes are in effect here: an eerie house with a twist, a deceased husband with a dark secret, loss, trauma, and things that go bump in the night. It's a shame then that the movie cannot sustain its atmosphere of uncertainty and dread for the entirety of its runtime and veers into generic schlock in its final act. But even then, the main actress's central performance keeps the movie afloat, switching effortlessly and convincingly between mental anguish, anger, disbelief and physical pain and contortions in true Exorcist style. "Nothing's there" truly can't be more wrong.
Black Adam (2022)
Man of Steel doesn't look too bad now, huh
Black Adam is sensory overload in the worst way possible, a big, bloated mess that sacrifices any coherent sense of storytelling for corporate greed and franchise set-up. To its credit, the three writers that strung together this mess do try to put the country of Khandaq and the oppression of its citizens first, but its political subtext, amidst the poorly paced non-stop action and shoddy CGI quickly starts to feel like an afterthought. Everything in this project follows "tell, don't show", from its lengthy opening voiceover to characters that only spew expository dialog like their lives depended on it. Most of them don't go beyond the most perfunctory characterization, and the writers' efforts to wrestle an emotional response in some of the movie's supposedly touching or rousing moments rings woefully hollow. They all feel like cardboard cut-outs, from the annoying, you-gotta-come-up-with-a-catchphrase kid, through the phoned in performance of Pierce Brosnan, to the main villain who is introduced in the last act merely that him and Black Adam can have one more reason to wreck havoc and cause billions of property damage. The film's unsung (anti)hero might unintentionally be its main star, whose deadpan line delivery coupled with great comedic timing produces a few moments of much needed levity. If this slog is all Warner Bros could come up with, almost 10 years into their misguided universe, then the hiring of James Gunn to give DC a clean slate can't have come any sooner.