After his widely popular 2017 film, Get Out, Jordan Peele’s sophomore film, Us, continues Peele’s dissection of American culture. Even after its first weekend at the box office, Us has proven that Peele is established at the forefront of pop culture, and his creativity will continue to thrive within Hollywood.

While Peele’s creativity is reassuring to the future of Hollywood, each of his films — Us especially — lack the necessary poignancy to depict the nature of his social commentary. Conceptually, Peele is clearly a master of the creative process and an excellent storyteller, but his creativity is significantly held back by the American fetishization of explanation.

With the heavy-handedness of a title such as Us, it is no surprise that elements of the film aren’t nearly as sharp as they could or should be. This is not necessarily an issue with Peele’s filmmaking ability, but rather the current the climate in which Peele is making films.

Search any Hollywood release that is remotely reflective in any way, and one of the suggested searches is bound to have “ending explained” somewhere in the search. This culture of packaged answers and hand-holding through politically or socially important art frustratingly mutes the impact of Peele’s underlying message. Throughout the film, his message has been drilled into the audience so much that by the end of the runtime there is hardly any message left.

However, as much as Peele is certainly a victim of the current American climate of Hollywood film, he certainly does not remove himself from the worrying trends. His screenplay is surprisingly tame, albeit much funnier in comparison to his previous work, and many lines of dialogue are infuriating. The prime example of Peele’s inability to get out of the Hollywood expository mindset is an exchange in which the humans in the story ask the “Tethered” who they are, and their response is “We are Americans.” Peele has proven himself as a sharply subtle writer, so the lacking elements of his screenplay are surprising.

Despite the overarching issues with Peele’s message, the film has some great components. Lupita Nyong’o’s performance as Adelaide Wilson and her “Tethered” counterpart, Red, is fantastic to watch. Her work anchors the film’s tone and captures the audience’s attention for the entirety of the runtime. Tim Heidecker also provides a great performance as Josh Tyler and his counterpart, Tex, that seems like a continuation of his famous role from Rick Alverson’s The Comedy.

With the killer horror remix of “I Got 5 on It” and the creativity of Peele, Us could have been much more than its scattered final product. Peele has quickly established himself within Hollywood, and he certainly has a great career ahead of him. While Peele hasn’t mastered the subtly required for a relevant social commentary, his creativity simply cannot be overlooked. He is one of the only Hollywood directors who brings a level of invigorating, creative storytelling, and while his first two films lack the necessary technique of a complete film, his potential is clearly evident.

Stephen Merchant’s Fighting with My Family is a biographical sports comedy based on the rise of World Wrestling Entertainment superstar Paige. The film is a lighthearted attempt to bridge the genre gap between sports films and family dramedy, and Merchant is mostly successful in creating a believable world inside of the scripted, fixed world of professional wrestling.

The film follows Saraya “Paige” Bevis’ life from her childhood fights with her brother Zak “Zodiac” Bevis to her call up to the main WWE stage. Throughout her journey, she wrestles with numerous forgettable characters, but also with herself as she struggles to know who she is in the world of professional wrestling. Outside of the ring, Merchant shakes off the stage names and the scripted choreography and finds some genuine moments between the characters.

Similar to the world of professional wrestling, sports films typically follow the same genre pattern and feel equally fixed and predictable. The narrative structure of this film is nothing new, Merchant’s directorial style is nothing exceptional and the film retains its familiarity throughout the runtime. Yet, in this familiarity Merchant taps into a tone that simply cannot be written off. The interactions of the Bevis family are thoroughly enjoyable, despite the obvious Hollywood dramatism.

These genuine aspects of the film are spearheaded by Nick Frost and Lena Headey. Frost, who gained international recognition for his work in Edgar Wright’s trilogy Three Flavours Cornetto, anchors the comedic aspect of the film and remains hilarious in each of his scenes. His role as Paige’s father, Patrick “Rowdy Ricky Knight” Bevis, charms despite the character’s obvious, exaggerated dialogue. Lena Headey, who plays the role of Julia “Sweet Saraya” Bevis, is an excellent counterpart to Frost’s comedic aspects. Headey’s screen presence provides one of the key aspects that balances the film between its comedy and its biographical exploration of the Bevis family.

Despite the big names such as Frost and Headey in the film, rising star Florence Pugh steals the show. Her role as Paige could not be more different than her previous work as Katherine Lester in Lady Macbeth or Elizabeth de Burgh in Outlaw King, but she never once seems out of place on the screen. Her work in this film shows her range as an actress and proves that despite her age, she is destined for a long and successful career on the screen.

Unfortunately, the authenticity of the actors of the film is countered by the obvious narrative influence of the WWE and the extended cameos of Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson. An executive producer of the film, Johnson inserts himself into the story in instances that halt the wholesome tone. These instances, though they may have some validity, feel out of place and forced. Despite Johnson’s immensely successful acting and producing career, his involvement in this film feels more scripted than the WWE. Paired with Johnson’s disappointing influence, Vince Vaughn’s only purpose in the film is to recite rejected dialogue from DodgeBall: A True Underdog Story.

Fighting with My Family hits all the necessary genre points, but in between these points, each actor finds their respective sincerity within their roles. The film can’t quite shake off its corporate influence to remain true throughout, but the big-screen treatment of the Bevis family makes for an enjoyable experience.

Texas-native Robert Rodriguez’s latest film, Alita: Battle Angel is the big-budget, Hollywood adaptation of the Japanese manga series, Gunnm The film, which remained in production limbo for nearly 10 years, is a jumbled mess of its source material and nearly every sci-fi film of the 20th century.

The film follows Alita — a cyborg who was discovered and repaired by cyborg scientist Dr. Dyson Ido — as she seeks to learn her place in this dystopian world. The screenplay, written by writer-producer James Cameron, feels as though its sole purpose is to brutally murder even the slightest amount of enjoyment during the runtime. Cameron, who hasn’t written an adequate screenplay in nearly 30 years, is clearly over-reliant on his visual effects team to make up for his inability to generate even a single line of decent, believable dialogue.

For a screenplay that is as bad as Cameron’s, the film’s budget is downright outrageous. The budget, which is rumored to be between $175 and $200 million, just does not make logical sense. With source material that the majority of Americans have never even heard of, this film’s production is bizarre. Hollywood has always been run as a business, so these types of films must have a certain draw to them.

With the budget that this film has, there is a substantial amount of money wasted on acting talent that is completely unused. Mahershala Ali, who won an Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor for his work in Barry Jenkins’ 2016 film, Moonlight, plays one of the film’s villains, Vector. Ali, who has roughly 10 minutes of total screen time, is clearly just collecting his check in this film. The screenplay obviously plays a major role in restricting him of acting talent, but Ali doesn’t mutter one line of convincing dialogue in this film. Jennifer Connelly, who won an Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress in Ron Howard’s 2001 film, A Beautiful Mind, is similarly as useless as Ali. Both Ali and Connelly are among the elite of Hollywood acting, but they are reduced to monotonous, lackluster mechanisms to recite Cameron’s uninspired screenplay.

As dreadful as the film’s acting and writing may be, the visual effects of the film are a spectacle. The VFX team features many of the same skilled artists who have worked with Cameron on his previous films, but they don’t venture into new territory as they have in previous films. So, as beautifully stunning the world of the film is, the visuals fail to make up for the lack of a coherent film.

Directed by Xavier Burgin, Horror Noire: A History of Black Horror is a documentary based on a 2011 book by  Texas A&M Vice President and Associate Provost for Diversity Robin Means Colman. The documentary asserts the close relationship between the representation of blacks in horror films and their treatment within American culture.

Although not necessarily reflected by this year’s Academy Award nominees, the film world has seen a positive shift toward equal representation of African Americans on the big screen. However, it is only recently that black voices have begun to be heard in regards to their cliché or token roles throughout film.

Horror Noire is a fantastic, all-encompassing dissection of black representation, highlighting many influential films throughout the 20th century. The first film is D. W. Griffith’s Birth of Nation, a racist agitprop film about the Ku Klux Klan from 1915. While not typically classified as a horror movie, this film proved a direct threat to the treatment and perception of blacks, which presents the idea that horror is interpreted differently by people marginalized in the film.

Next, the documentary follows the evolution of the horror genre and how black actors are represented. The documentary features an impressive range of directors and actors from each of the films mentioned. The most prominent of these is Jordan Peele, director of the wildly popular film, Get Out. Alongside Peele are William Crain, director of Blacula, and  Tony Todd, lead actor of Candyman, along with various black film critics and professors. Although their individual experiences with horror may differ, their collective voice is a refreshing addition to discourse of a genre that is, for the most part, still dominated by white perspectives.

While providing fresh discourse that dissects the subjectivity of horror based on race, Burgin provides a new voice in the world of documentary filmmaking. Similarly to the horror genre, documentary filmmaking is, in general, dominated by white writers and directors. Burgin’s work, and all of the talented team behind this film, place it among the elite of documentaries.

Rich in dialogue from a group of marginalized black directors, this documentary is essential viewing for anyone who loves horror films but also to those who enjoy hearing other viewpoints. These perspectives can challenge even the most open-minded person, and history always requires a close reexamination.

Texan filmmaker Catherine Hardwicke is one of the most prominent female Hollywood directors currently working.

Her movies Thirteen and Lords of Dogtown shaped the film aesthetic of the early 2000s, and although not entirely indicative of her prowess as a filmmaker, Twilight is one of the highest grossing films directed by a woman. Other than Thirteen, which she co-wrote with lead actress Nikki Reed, and Plush, which she co-wrote with Arty Nelson, Hardwicke works alongside writers with a completed screenplay. In some cases, such as Lords of Dogtown, the screenplay doesn’t hold back her directing ability. However, as in most cases where the writer and director are working collaboratively, one tends to outshine the other.

Miss Bala is a prime example of the latter. Hardwicke took the reigns as the director of the film and, as evident in most of her previous works, is passionate about female representation within Hollywood. However, her ability is heavily suppressed by Gareth Dunnet-Alcocer’s lack of writing ability. Dunnet-Alcocer, who had never written a feature film screenplay until this one, does not seem like the right man to adapt the widely popular Mexican movie for American audiences. Gerardo Naranjo, the writer and director of the original film, is clearly a more developed filmmaker, and his screenplay is, unsurprisingly, far better than the mess Dunnet-Alcocer came up with.

So just as any film where the screenwriter pales in comparison to the ability of the director, the screenplay sticks out amongst the bad-ass imagery of Hardwicke’s film. This, unfortunately, negatively affects the overall feel of the film. However, Hardwicke proves throughout the film why she is one of the top female directors in Hollywood. She beautifully paints her heroine, Gloria, played by Gina Rodriguez, trapped between the law of the DEA and the law of a Mexican cartel, perfectly developing her character arc.

Rodriguez, who recently made the transition from her widely popular television show Jane the Virgin to film, continues to establish her presence within Hollywood. In 2018, she appeared as one of the four main characters in Alex Garland’s popular sci-fi film Annihilation. In each of these performances, she earns her growing reputation as an action star. Her screen presence is felt in every scene and her ability perfectly compliments Hardwicke’s female-driven style.

Miss Bala walks the blurry line that every American remake walks in the process of adapting a foreign film. In nearly every case, the American version of the film exploits the popularity of the original for the gain of Hollywood producers. Yet, in the case of this movie, Hardwicke seems to take the source film and tell her own story. Even with her lack of ability to change the screenplay, Hardwicke focuses her directorial power to creating a film where it doesn’t feel out of place for a woman to be the star of an action film.

As stated and shown in her previous work, Hardwicke is passionate about bringing the female voice to a male-dominated industry. Her work, alongside the work of Kathryn Bigelow, Dee Rees, Sofia Coppola and the many other female directors in American film industry, is paving the way for younger women to have their voice in Hollywood.

Overall, Miss Bala is heavily held back by its screenplay. However, the artistic talent of Hardwicke combined with acting ability of Rodriguez certainly makes up for the lack of quality writing.

In conjunction with the controversial film Extremely Wicked, Shockingly Evil and Vile, which premiered at the Sundance Film Festival a few weeks ago, Joe Berlinger released a new documentary miniseries on Netflix titled Conversations with a Killer: The Ted Bundy Tapes.

The four-part documentary was built around hours of personal interviews with Bundy himself and attempted to capture a comprehensive view of his life. Although not as revealing as Netflix’s advertising claims, Berlinger’s documentary is overall a conclusive look at the void that is Bundy’s mind.

The line between depiction and glorification of a serial murderer is not always as clear as it may seem. Bundy, who spread fear across the country during the 1970s, is often regarded as the most notorious serial killer of all time. Bundy himself relished the media attention he received and used it to fuel his already inflated ego. So when depicting his life in a documentary, especially one that uses Bundy’s own words as the backbone of the series, it is nearly impossible to always stay on the correct side of the line. Overall, Berlinger’s examination of Bundy’s life stays within the confines of depiction and not glorification.

Although the documentary is based around the audio recordings of Bundy’s interviews while on death row, Berlinger undermines much of what Bundy claimed in the interviews by proving that Bundy was a compulsive liar. This builds a compelling case against the celebrity image that Bundy created for himself, and chips away at the “normal” exterior that Bundy was often said to maintain. In doing this, the tapes of Bundy answering questions regarding his childhood come under scrutiny as well.

Bundy’s answers regarding his crimes are portrayed as correct and irrefutable, while his depiction of his childhood is viewed as a narcissistic ploy for media attention. Netflix presented this series as Bundy personally admitting and describing each of his crimes in detail, but it is ultimately just an overarching look at these crimes.

In many modern productions involving true crime, the victims are not usually the centerpiece of the film. However, one of the positive aspects of Berlinger’s documentary is the reverence paid to each of Bundy’s victims. Each of the victim’s stories is presented in a way that keeps the them in the spotlight and never slips into elevation of Bundy. Despite the status that Bundy has attained in response to his place in American history, Berlinger seeks to represent those who were directly and indirectly affected by his heartless acts.

As compelling as the docuseries is, this is clearly only half of the story that Berligner is telling. His fictionalized account of Bundy’s story, Extremely Wicked, Shockingly Evil and Vile, is set to be released later in the year. From the first look at the tone of the film, it appears Berligner could cross the line from depiction into glorification. Hopefully, this is not the case.

Despite the misleading marketing, Conversations with a Killer is a great, comprehensive look at Bundy’s life. The series doesn’t necessarily prove anything new regarding Bundy’s crimes, but does give a clear view of the darkness inside him.

Dan Gilroy’s latest work, Velvet Buzzsaw, is an interesting new addition to his already sporadic filmography. Gilroy gained national attention with his directorial debut in 2014 with his film, Nightcrawler, but he followed up his box-office hit with a drab, legal drama, Roman J. Israel, Esq. Now, Gilroy has returned as a director and paired up with Jake Gyllenhaal once again. However, Gilroy’s latest work feels lifeless, especially within the context of its release on Netflix.

Despite the film’s many issues, its biggest problem is that its underlying themes are in direct conflict with its Netflix release. Velvet Buzzsaw depicts the horrors that begin to arise when one obsesses over the monetary value of a work of art. Yet, Netflix has proven time and time again that their business model is centered around assessing the value of their releases. Netflix clearly has the ability to reach millions of users, yet relatively few of their titles are heavily promoted. For example, last year Orson Welles’ final film, The Other Side of the Wind, and a documentary about its production, They’ll Love Me When I’m Dead, were both released onto the platform. However, Netflix never placed them into the “New Releases” category and buried the films in their extensive database.

On the contrary, Netflix kept Bird Box on their front page for weeks and even ran ads on television. So, it is deathly ironic that Netflix would release a film discussing the problematic process of placing money ahead of artistic expression when the company is, by far, the most notorious in the film industry for doing so.

The film itself is not worth overlooking the obvious issues with its corporate influence. Velvet Buzzsaw never really finds its lane, and Gilroy, despite his oddly diverse filmography, clearly does not have the capability to master the tone of a genre splicing film. The tone of the film is erratic, and the outcome of the characters is obvious too early on in the film.

The best aspects of the film are its horror elements, which really show off Gilroy’s directional capabilities. Although quite possibly unintentional, his nod to the Phantasm franchise with an art piece strikingly similar to the Sphere in the films was a nice touch to an otherwise dull film.

Despite the movie’s overall lack of quality, the acting is phenomenal and boasts one of the best casts so far this year. Toni Collette follows up her Oscar-snubbed performance in last year’s Hereditary, and Daveed Diggs, who made the most of his talent in Hamilton and recently transitioned into film acting, continues to prove his range as an actor. Despite the immense talent of the supporting cast, Jake Gyllenhaal, unsurprisingly to say the least, steals the film. He plays the role of Morf, an art critic that discovers the horrific aspects of his occupation and attempts to stop the inevitable death of his co-workers.

Overall the film is watchable, but unfortunately for Gilroy, it is representative of the growing issue of films released by Netflix. As shown on numerous occasions throughout its existence, the streaming service is slowly draining the artistic aspect of film and replacing their corporate-fueled content in its place. Netflix has the influence to give the joy of artistic film to those who otherwise would not have access to such cinema, but Velvet Buzzsaw is a prime example that they have no intention of doing so any time in the near future.

Rating: 2.5

Back in 1976, The Omen, directed by Richard Donner, changed the genre of horror by introducing audiences to the horrifying sub-genre of child possession. Since then, Hollywood has systematically churned out a couple of these films a year. So it was no surprise that even this early in the year, The Prodigy landed in theaters.

The Prodigy, directed by Nicholas McCarthy, follows the story of Miles, a supposed super-smart kid who is battling with an evil Hungarian spirit that has come back into the physical world to complete some unknown business. The plot is fairly formulaic, and McCarthy doesn’t dare to stray far from the beaten path of genre filmmakers before him. However, despite the reuse of horror tropes seen in nearly every Hollywood-produced horror film, McCarthy is clearly building toward an ending he believes to be a surprising, dark twist.

The ending is the only somewhat fresh aspect of the film, but not for the reasons that McCarthy clearly thinks. Recent horror films, especially in the last decade, are almost always a box office success. However, this comes at an unfortunate price for true horror fans. Producers know horror films will make money, so they produce films they believe will reach the largest audience. These films are tame and tend to stick to a few generic horror mechanisms to tell the story, rather than staying true to the original purpose of horror, which was to push the boundaries of storytelling without a care to the box office return.

In comparison to recent horror films, McCarthy’s film has a great, original ending. However, in the context of the horror genre, having an especially dark ending is nothing special. For decades, horror films have pushed viewers to the edge of their comfort level, so for hardcore horror fans, The Prodigy will be nothing new.

Although the ending is admirable in the face of many robotic and bland Hollywood-produced horror films, the rest of the movie is as standard as they come. The actual plot of the film is so loose that McCarthy doesn’t really bother explaining anything. He casually hits all the points that he clearly needed to so he could receive Hollywood production money. The lack of directing is so evident that the scenes without horror elements fizzle out long before the next sequence of horror.

Paired with the lazy directing job, Jeff Buhler’s screenplay has dialogue that is worse than most home movies. There is a scene in which the father of the film, played by Peter Mooney, utters dialogue that is very similar to the infamous “You’re tearing me apart, Lisa” line from Tommy Wiseau’s The Room. The dialogue is so laughably bad it seems like a child wrote it.

Although the film is predictable and the screenplay is downright awful, the resurgence of the horror genre in the last few years is worth the pain of sitting through the misfires. The Prodigy struggles to be its own film, but its attempt is a step in the right direction for Hollywood filmmakers. The horror genre has swayed in recent years toward a formulaic, cash-grab for producers all over the country, but The Prodigy shows a little progress toward the boundary-pushing horror films that define the genre.

Rating: 2.5

On the Basis of Sex, directed by Mimi Leder, depicts the early career of one of the, if not the, most famous supreme court justice, Ruth Bader Ginsburg. Ginsburg managed to win bipartisan praise for her dedicated work for female equality during her career prior to her Supreme Court appointment in 1993, but this film fails to bring any substance to this influential time period.

The film follows Ginsburg from her days at Harvard and Columbia Law School to the first case she takes on gender discrimination law. Her time studying in college takes up about half of the film and is meant to depict the various challenges Ginsburg faced as a woman in a male-dominated environment. However, what is played as a shocking reveal of the gender discrimination during that time period comes off overwhelmingly truistic.

The screenplay, written by first-time screenwriter and Ginsburg’s nephew, Daniel Stiepleman, is one of the worst biopic screenplays of 2018. With the dreadful biopic screenplays of films like First Man and Bohemian Rhapsody to come out in the same year, it is an unfortunate reality that a film depicting Ginsburg would be placed alongside films such as these. Ginsburg is one of the most personable figures in our government, but Stiepleman reduces her to a mumbling, clumsy cliché.

Stiepleman tries to focus too much on Ginsburg’s personal life, so once the film gets around to her court case, the film feels too rushed. Now, this isn’t inherently Stiepleman’s fault. Ginsburg, now 85, has lived a long and influential life. That said, Stiepleman and Leder waste too much time on Ginsburg’s household drama, rather her time fighting gender discrimination. This is clearly a failure in the unnecessary attempt to depict Ginsburg’s household life.

Much like the other lousy biopic films of the year, Leder and Stiepleman rely heavily on the audiences admiration of Ginsburg to make up for their lack of directing and writing ability. The final product is a watered-down mess of period and genre clichés, with some heavy-handed depictions of famous moments in Ginsburg’s career.

Alongside the insufferable screenplay, the casting of Felicity Jones as Ginsburg is an odd choice to say the least. Jones, a British actress, struggles throughout the film to maintain Ginsburg’s Brooklyn accent. Sometimes the Brooklyn accent is present, other times it is nonexistent, and, on a few occasions throughout the film, her British accent is on full display.

Fortunately, this film is the second film about Ginsburg to come out this year, so Ginsburg’s legacy depicted on film isn’t ruined. RBG is a documentary that gave a more definite understanding of Ginsburg’s life. The film highlights the legal achievements of Ginsburg and describes her sudden and surprising rise to popularity in pop culture. Although not a perfect documentary, the film is a much better look at Ginsburg’s life.

Overall, the film’s lack of quality and dedication to clichés is unfortunate. It is unlikely that another Ginsburg biopic will ever be produced, so hopefully the RBG documentary will leave a lasting impact that will overshadow this failed project. Ruth Bader Ginsburg is certainly one of the most influential women in American history, so thankfully her legacy will not be tarnished by the, at times, hilariously awful depiction of her early life.

Rating: 1.5/5