For the week of January 30th, Paramount Home Media Distribution is bringing Jack Reacher: Never Go Back. I wasn't the biggest fan of the first film in Tom Cruise's latest action franchise - the 2012 Jack Reacher put such an absurd premium on its title character's deadly skills that after a while, the whole thing started to feel like a giant concession to Cruise's vanity - but I understood why others responded to it so positively. Writer/director Chris McQuarrie kept the action refreshingly grounded and brutal (it definitely tests the boundaries of the PG-13 rating), and he brought some interesting quirks to an otherwise generic thriller, most notably the spirited performances from Robert Duvall and Werner Herzog (yep, you read that right) as Reacher's equally unlikely sidekick and foe, respectively. Never Go Back, by comparison, has even less to recommend it. Gone is the first film's relative restraint - Never Go Back is a far more conventional blockbuster, with bigger action and twists, both of which do more to harm than help the film. See, this time around, Reacher is investigating a military conspiracy that implicates one of the only people he trusts (The Avengers' Cobie Smulders), and while that setup in itself isn't particularly bothersome, the end result turns the movie into a buddy picture, of sorts, as Cruise and Smulders pair up to clear her name. It's way too familiar, and it ruins Reacher's lone-wolf status, which now mostly vanishes so that Cruise can banter unconvincingly while under fire. Still, that new development wouldn't rankle as much (Smulders, in fairness, is quite good - she deserves an action movie of her own) were it not for the fact that Never Go Back ALSO introduces that hoariest of clichés: a plucky teenage girl (Danika Yarosh) who (surprise surprise) might be Reacher's illegitimate daughter. We're a long way from the guy who used the head of one unconscious henchman to beat up another henchman - Never Go Back offers Reacher in sitcom-ready mode. I'd be more forgiving if the action were better, yet despite a larger scope, the many scenes of violence are pretty generic, and that's surprising, given the presence of director Ed Zwick, who's replacing McQuarrie this go-round. The last time Zwick collaborated with Cruise, they made The Last Samurai, which has some of the most stunning, geographically coherent screen-combat that I've ever seen. Zwick's work here is very much of a piece with the rest of Never Go Back - generic, tired, familiar. We're dealing with leftovers here, and only lightly reheated.
Martin Liebman wrote that the film " falls into routine and cliché and never makes an effort to get back up. It's basic and crude, a run-and-chase-and-shoot type that tries to wrench in some greater characterization that winds up meaning precious little to the plot and certainly doesn't add anything to the stale action sequences...that never se[e] the heroes in any sort of tangible peril. Sure bullets might whiz past their heads but Zwick, who co-wrote the screenplay adaptation of the Child source novel with Marshall Herskovitz and Richard Wenk, never leaves the viewer truly concerned for the characters' fates or, worse, the movie's outcome. The cast doesn't seem overly enthusiastic about he project, either. Tom Cruise is such a prolific actor in terms of the quantity of films in which he appears and, usually, one can count on his starring in a quality film, too. But [the film] feels more like some sort of contractual obligation performance, a movie in which he stars out of necessity rather than passion for the project. Perhaps he's just a victim of a script that never gets off the ground or challenges him to reach (despite the character's name). He brings zero personality to the part of Reacher."
My advice: ditch Jack Reacher and catch Walt Disney Home Entertainment's Queen of Katwe. In its broad strokes, you've seen something like this film before; it's a sports drama where Ugandan teen Phiona (newcomer Madina Nalwanga) uses her instinctive mastery of chess to beat the odds and lift her family out of poverty. All the hallmarks are there: sobering reminders of the world that wants to crush her (Phiona's older sister hangs out with feckless and irresponsible thugs; her brother suffers a grievous accident made more difficult by the family's lack of health care), a determined coach (David Oyelowo) willing to put his own family on the line so that Phiona can develop her gift, and - of course - a number of stirring tournament montages. However, rarely do you see the level of care and craft that Queen of Katwe brings to the genre. Queen of Katwe is the latest in a spate of restrained, idiosyncratic family films from Disney (the others include Steven Spielberg's flawed-but-interesting The BFG and David Lowery's melancholy Pete's Dragon), and it's easily the best. The studio brought in the great Mira Nair to direct, and as her wonderful Salaam Bombay already demonstrated, she approaches the realities of slum-life with vibrancy and nuance. Nair shot the film in Katwe, and she has a documentarian's eye for detail, working with 12 Years a Slave DP Sean Bobbitt to capture the freewheeling, oft-uncertain flow of life in the streets (big props, too, must go to Spike Lee's regular editor Barry Alexander Brown - not only does he help maintain the pulse of the life Phiona faces on the streets, but he makes her chess matches play like the stuff of great drama). Now, given that Queen of Katwe is, at heart, a children's movie, Nair and Bobbitt never show the most graphic hardships facing those on the fringes (this is hardly Tsotsi), but their acknowledgement of the many challenges Phiona must overcome is far more clear-eyed than I would have expected from the Mouse House. That casual realism applies to all the performances as well, which largely eschew the tropes inherent to the sports-movie genre. We might expect Oyelowo's coach to be a burnout looking for his own redemption, so we're a little surprised to find that he's a smart, thoughtful man trying to balance his innate compassion (when Phiona's family falls on especially hard times, he brings them into his not-large house) against the more pragmatic concerns facing his family (a job as a water engineer would net him more income than chess coach but would also keep him from being able to train Phiona). So it goes with Phiona's mother Nakku (the lovely, heartbreaking Lupita Nyong'o) - the second she learns that her daughter could use chess to find a better education and life, Nakku supports Phiona unthinkingly, even at the expense of her own happiness. Again, the level of nuance for a Disney kids film is staggering. You won't be surprised at all with how Queen of Katwe ends, but a) you likely won't care, considering how likable all these characters are, and b) it helps that this picture is based on a true story. Plus, rarely do you see family entertainments as quietly progressive as this one - directed by an Indian woman, starring a predominantly African cast, and holding up the mental rigors of chess in the same light as football or baseball (contrast this film with Million Dollar Arm, which needed Jon Hamm and Alan Arkin to act as conduits into the world of Indian sports players). Queen of Katwe died during its theatrical release, and that's a shame. You wish more people had caught it since this is exactly the type of mainstream fare Hollywood should support. In its own way, a perfect film.
Martin Liebman wrote that the film is "comfortable and grounded, playing with a classic character arc that sees the movie's hero rise to prominence and experience a range of emotions - curiosity, understanding of her gift, adulation of others, self-doubt, triumph - along the way, all while coming to realize that in chess she can find purpose in life and through its maneuverings and machinations see the parallels for life in the game. It's pretty basic stuff, but the filmmaking team...has assembled it with passion and care, paying attention to the finer-point character details and making the movie about its people rather than chess itself. The game is the classic 'vehicle,' the thing that propels the character through her journey. It's critical, obviously, but it's not the focal point. The film finds a richly layered study of the human spirit and human condition by way of the characters' participation in the game, as they come to not only meet others and travel to distant lands but also to find their inner purpose and sense of worth by finding themselves along the way. The movie's performances and production design are strong, too. The film has a very real, tangible, lived-in, immersive feel to it. Even as the film's dramatic cadence and performances take center stage, it's impossible to miss how the movie looks and progresses, how Phiona's successes in chess bring with them a rather dramatic increase in the stability - physically and emotionally alike - in her quality of life."
Also from Disney is one of the greatest films ever made: Pinocchio, which is getting a "Signature Edition" upgrade this week. Viewed solely as an example of the Disney house style, Pinocchio is peerless. Directors Norman Ferguson, T. Hee, Wilfred Jackson, Jack Kinney, Hamilton Luske, and Bill Roberts have put together a seamless piece of popular entertainment, using Carlo Collodi's classic fable about a wooden puppet who wants to become a real boy as an opportunity to flex every creative muscle the Mouse House had at its disposal. Every couple of minutes offers a different visual wonder - the opening multi-plane-camera move through Pinocchio's village, the various clocks that adorn Geppetto's studio, the translucent Blue Fairy, the chaos of Pleasure Island, and the desperate chase from Monstro the Whale - all of which look like nothing Disney had produced at the time (1940). In fact, the baroque, Japanese-woodcarving-inspired animation still looks unique within Disney's oeuvre; the distortions and grotesque exaggerations feel more reminiscent of Orson Welles or any Terry Gilliam picture. It's hard to believe that Pinocchio was a box-office disappointment at the time (look it up!), given how confidently it moves or how vital it feels within the realm of contemporary screen animation. That said, maybe Pinocchio's most distinctive element is what kept it at a distance from 1940s audiences. For such a beloved family favorite, the film remains one of the darkest properties to ever bear Disney's name. We're operating in the rigid moral universe of a Grimm's fairy tale: if you transgress (in Pinocchio's case, if you lie), then bad things happen, and the film takes on the horrific flavorings of the Grand Guignol. Pinocchio skips school and is sold into slavery. He decides to try smoking and drinking, only to mutate into a donkey. He betrays Geppetto's trust, and a whale eats the old man for his troubles. Sure, everything shakes out in time for a happy ending, but the road there is straight out of the Book of Job. As bracing now as it ever was.
Martin Liebman wrote of the new Signature Edition that the disc "is very well done: more streamlined than the previous release, attractively packaged, and priced to own. Video and audio qualities are identical to the last release - and they're great - and the addition of several new supplements makes this a fine overall package. Recommended to Disney completionists and to those that picked up the old release but would like the digital copy. The added supplements by themselves are fine but aren't worth the full price of admission. It's obviously a must-buy for those that don't yet own the film on Blu-ray."
Finally, from Scream Factory comes the double feature of Poltergeist II: The Other Side and Poltergeist III. Let's get this out of the way first: the first Poltergeist is a masterpiece, as scary and funny a Hollywood horror movie as you'd ever want (it plays like the Halloween funhouse you always wanted but never got), with wonderful performances and atmospheric cinematography and thrilling direction from the great Steven Spielbe...I mean, Tobe Hooper. Poltergeists 2 and 3 are decidedly less masterful. But if you go in not expecting the heights of the original, you probably won't be disappointed. Poltergeist II, in particular, wisely attempts to forge its own path. Gone are the slow-burn menace and realistic family dynamics: this one takes the form of a full-scale monster movie, throwing the Freeling family (JoBeth Williams, Craig T. Nelson, Oliver Robins, and the late Heather O'Rourke) into confrontation with a demonic spirit (played in human form by Julian Beck) that is ostensibly a ghost but looks like a full-scale Freddy Krueger/Xenomorph monstrosity (unsurprising, given the involvement of Alien-design architect H.R. Giger) more often than not. The whole endeavor doesn't make a lick of sense, and it traffics in some Native American mysticism that would be offensive were it not for the presence of Will Sampson, who's a sympathetic foil to the evil ghosts, but the film gains points for speed, scares, and the sterling work of Beck, who's even more terrifying when he's not buried under layers of grisly prosthetics. On the other hand, Poltergeist III is a little less defensible, given the mounds of compromises shaping its inception. Beck was the best thing in Poltergeist II, but he's been replaced this time around by the far less unsettling Nathan Davis. Still, that's not the film's fault: Beck died of cancer shortly after principal production on Poltergeist II, and you can't fault the filmmakers for wanting to maintain such a formidable villain in the series. You can, however, blame a slashed budget that led to both confining the action in a less-than impressive Chicago apartment as well as mandating the exclusion of all the Freeling actors save for O'Rourke. Poltergeist III feels so slight by comparison, and given that the original was just a popcorn chiller (albeit a brilliant one), that's saying something. I'll credit director Gary Sherman with pulling off some cool in-camera effects, but then there's that cliffhanger ending, and the whole experience goes off the rails.