"Catching Fire" Takes "The Hunger Games" Series to the Next Level

No that's not a scene from Black Swan. It's the latest Hunger Games.
Notice the guy in the corner with the purple hair?

In my review of The Hunger Games I called it “a solid double that, with exposition largely dispatched with, paves the way for an even better second outing.” The Hunger Games: Catching Fire, the latest entry in the series, lives up to that prediction, deepening and improving what the first film did well, while simultaneously correcting its most problematic elements.

The film picks up with Katniss (Jennifer Lawrence) back in district 12, living in the Victor’s Village alongside drunken mentor Haymitch (Woody Harrelson) and fellow tribute Peeta (Josh Hutcherson). She’s dealing with post-traumatic stress disorder and she barely even looks Peeta’s way following the events of the first film, but things are mostly going OK – her mom and sister are safe and living in luxury with her, and she’s getting pretty cozy with long-time friend Gale (Liam Hemsworth).

But, her defiant gestures from her time in the arena have bred hope of uprising within many of the districts. President Snow (Donald Sutherland) isn’t happy with her, and now she has to go on her victor’s tour during which she’ll have to confront the emotional fallout of her time in the arena with Peeta. Even worse, Snow threatens the lives of Katniss’s loved ones, implying he’ll do some pretty nasty things unless she sells the love story rouse believably enough to discredits herself as an instigator and symbol of rebellion.

Needless to say, that doesn’t go over well, causing President Snow to be all “I’m going to kill this chick.” But “Hey, not so fast,” says Plutarch Heavensbee (Phillip Seymour Hoffman, brining the same icy calm and confidence he displayed in Mission Impossible 3), the man who took over as Gamesmaker after the last one was killed for getting Snow into this predicament in the first place. Heavensbee argues killing her outright would only make Katniss a martyr; instead, he suggests a plot that would have her return to the arena in a sort of Hunger Games: All-Stars Edition, pitting her against 23 former winners. He promises her death in a way that will invalidate her as symbol, while also offering the added bonus of eliminating 22 other victors, all of whom now pose a threat due to the hope they instill within the districts of Panem.

There’s plenty of interesting metaphorical subtext in all of this, particularly related to the way our society disenfranchises the lower class while placating them with false hopes and trivial preoccupations. I get that it’s easy to label all sorts of movies as allegories for the Occupy Movement, especially those with dystopian futures (Elysium, In Time, etc.) but there’s something that feels almost fresh about the way this series focuses specifically on “hope” as a weapon used for both oppression and revolution. 

Katniss's defiance has inspired revolt throughout the other districts.

Twilight has been an obvious comparison for this series since it was first announced, but as The Hunger Games continues to distinguish itself as one of the higher quality franchises of the moment, it seems clear that the more apt comparison may be the Harry Potter films. As with Potter, The Hunger Games is working from legitimately solid source material, and it is being treated with dignity by its filmmakers who have put a premium on talent and quality. Superb actor after superb actor populates these films (and will continue to do so as  Julianne Moore is set to join the final two installments), and the behind-the-scenes players are impressive across the board. Look no further than the screenwriters for proof – this episode has been adapted by Oscar winners Michael Arndt (Toy Story 3, Little Miss Sunshine) and Simon Beaufoy (Slumdog Millionaire, 127 Hours).

As with Harry Potter’s Christopher Columbus before him, writer-director Gary Ross (Pleasantville, Seabiscuit) has been unfairly maligned for his stewardship of the franchise’s first film, with most detractors focusing on the negatives (most specifically, his decision to go all shaky cam). But, it’s worth noting that launching a franchise like this is nearly impossible. Occasionally a bad one succeeds (Twilight) or a promising one fails (The Golden Compass), but young adult literature adaptations usually tend to be gross miscalculations along the lines of Eragon, I Am Number Four and The Mortal Instruments: City of Bones.

The fact that Ross delivered a hit, clearly established the world in an accessible manner and nailed the tone and casting is a pretty spectacular feat, and accomplishing all of that did a great deal of the heavy lifting for this second outing. For my Phillies fans out there, he’s basically what Ed Wade was to the 2008 championship – hamstrung by budgetary concerns and remembered for his miscues, despite planting the seeds for greater achievement.

But just as Pat Gillick deserves a great deal of credit for bringing a World Series trophy to Philadelphia, Francis Lawrence (Constantine, I am Legend) deserves his fair share for Catching Fire. A singular success along the lines of the Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe is rare enough, but even rarer is a franchise like Harry Potter – one that not only maintains a level of quality but continues to improve. Regardless of what you think of his previous output overall, Lawrence is experienced with the genre and a far more established visual stylist than Ross, and I think that makes a world of difference. He wisely abandons the shaky cam, opting instead for longer takes that make geographical sense of what’s happening while also allowing the camera to linger on actor reactions and the improved aesthetic of Panem.

Having most of the exposition out of the way is, as predicted, a major boon for the film. With the world established, screen time can instead be devoted to defining character moments. By necessity, the first film is laser-focused on establishing Katniss (Jennifer Lawrence) and the rules of the Games. The rest of cast did nice work, but all in support of establishing the lead. Here, they are far more prominent.

To be clear, Katniss is still the undisputed focus of the picture, and, Jennifer Lawrence remains the greatest asset this franchise has going. As Katniss, she manages to be difficult, uncompromising and closed-off, while still coming across as relatable, likable and desirable. It’s a great role and an even more impressive performance, and at this point in her career, Jennifer Lawrence is Hollywood’s Girl On Fire.

The bond between Katniss and Peeta is way better realized this time out.

But the world around Katniss begins to open up in Catching Fire, resulting in a greater sense that the supporting characters are living their own lives and that there’s vastly more at stake than the fate of 24 tributes. Returning costars like Donald Sutherland, Stanley Tucci, Elizabeth Banks, and Woody Harrelson are given more notes to play, and they make the most of them. Meanwhile, new cast members like Hoffman, Jeffrey Wright, Amanda Plummer, Jena Malone, and Sam Clafin all get a chance to make an impression. 

However, Hutcherson is probably the greatest beneficiary amongst the supporting cast. Dude’s practically playing a saint in these films, and that could become awfully annoying, but the script invests great effort into Peeta, and Hutcherson sells the character’s inherent decency and wealth of emotions. As opposed to the first film, which botched the presentation of the bond between Peeta and Katniss, this one gets it right by highlighting several moments that emphasize why this woman might fall for the meek, unassuming baker’s boy when she has a big, brooding coal miner/hunter waiting at home for her.

Twilight has shown this “Who will the girl choose?” crap can be the worst, but this is a very thoughtful take on love triangles, one in which obligation, affection and empathy take the place of sneering and petty possessiveness. Peeta’s not the type a movie of this magnitude would normally pair with its heroine (as The Onion hilariously explored and NPR thoughtfully analyzed), but he has the capacity to comfort and understand her, and, perhaps more importantly, to surprise her. One particular moment of inspiration – having Katniss (and thus the viewer) actually see the picture Peeta painted of Rue, and not just hear about it later on as she did in the novel.

As far as other changes between the book and the film, I’d say the filmmakers make a lot of smart decisions here. It’s a shame to lose out on the stuff related to Haymitch’s victory in the 50^th Hunger Games and the early scenes with Twill and Bonnie, two runaways that hint at District 13 still existing as a place of refuge, but neither was all that necessary.

Just like in the first film, the biggest alteration involves repeated cutaways to Snow and his Gamemaker. Adding a granddaughter for Snow is a simple way to humanize the guy and further establish the fragile system he operates, but more important are the scenes showing Heavensbee convincing Snow to keep Katniss alive until the time is right to kill her.

One of my biggest problems with the book was the hard-to-shake feeling that Snow’s plan seemed a little over complicated, that a guy like him would probably just kill her, or, at the very least, her family. This is especially true given the way he treats others in Panem and the way Haymitch’s loved ones were dispatched with after his victory in the Games. These scenes do a nice job offering explanation for this decision, while also providing a bit more insight into the twist involving the rebellion’s daring plan to extract Katniss from the arena unbeknownst to her (another thing that annoyed me in the book, but that makes sense here).

Donald Sutherland and Phillip Seymour Hoffman are both so good
at acting.

Although I like that, and enjoy how the film shows Heavensbee conning Snow with misdirection, the twist is a great deal more confusing on film. In the book, the ultimate implication is that Heavensbee volunteers as Gamemaker to help carry out the plot to save Katniss after Snow has already decided to do Hunger Games All-Stars. The goal seemed to be saving the symbol of freedom at all cost, so as to save the revolution.

In the film, Heavensbee is shown to be a master puppet master, pulling strings from the very beginning with designs to embarrass Snow on live television and thus further spark rebellion. He’s the one who comes up with the idea of doing a Hunger Games with past victors, and although you could argue he only does that to buy Katniss time, I think there’s a lot more to it than that (after all, the rebels could’ve just picked her up earlier in the film if they were worried Snow would kill her).

Part of me likes this aspect – it implies that even the good guys are ruthless in pursuit of their goals since they are willing to put previous victors in harm’s way to galvanize the public – but part of me hates it because of how densely elaborate the con turns out to be. It’s hard to believe anyone could ever convince Snow to do all these things in this way, at least not if we're supposed to believe Snow is a cunning and worthy adversary.

Additionally, I imagine nonreaders were very confused by the way the end is handled, specifically related to what the plan actually involved. Obviously confusion is part of the point during the events within the arena, but I think more work could’ve been put into explaining what exactly happened once the film transitions to its denouement. A full on, Ocean’s 11 style reveal isn't necessary, but a few throwaway lines when Katniss busts in on Heavensbee, Finnick and Haymitch would’ve gone a long way toward providing clarification for the uninitiated.

Despite these hiccups, Catching Fire is a great time at the movies. It’s long, but it moves; it’s big budget popcorn, but it has some substance to it. I’m skeptical about splitting Mockingjay, the final book in the series, into two films, but the filmmakers have earned some good faith.  I’m genuinely excited to see the next entry, and in a world where so many sequels seem like inevitable chores, that’s something. B+

Roland Emmerich Does His Thing with the Ridiculous "White House Down"

He uses this gun to kill one guy. One.

It’s been almost three months since I’ve posted on here. That was by design – with graduation on the horizon, I’ve been focusing most of my spare time on nursing studies. However, now that my schedule is easing up, I’m itching to get back to writing reviews.

Since I’ve been gone so long, it might seem that I’d jump at the opportunity to review one of the good movies I saw during the time off. However, to get back in the swing of things, I figure I’ll go for the softball instead. Gravity can wait. Let’s talk some White House Down, which, to be clear, is the assault on the presidential residence movie starring Magic Mike and Django, not the one with King Leonidas and Two Face.

White House Down is slickly made product that’s populated with a slew of great actors and features some impressive scenes of visual destruction. It’s got two talented leads in Channing Tatum and Jamie Foxx, and they have an appealing buddy chemistry that’s bound to entertain most people. Of course, it’s also a loud, dumb and cliché spectacle of the variety that can only be delivered by the likes of Roland Emmerich (Independence Day, 2012).

Basically, this thing is a McDonald’s Big Mac. It’s processed crap for sure, but it’s kind of tasty and, they’ve thrown on all that lettuce, some salty pickles and that Thousand Island sauce. Is it better than something like The King’s Speech? Well, no. But a Big Mac isn’t better than king crab legs, and I’m still a lot more likely to eat a Big Mac.

Like Independence Day before it, White House Down has some clunker moments that somehow manage to make it that much more enjoyable. One great example: Early on there’s a scene where we find out Tatum’s John Cale missed his daughter’s color guard recital (or something), and, of course, in the climatic moments of the film he gets to watch as she courageously bandies the presidential flag about on the White House lawn to convince incoming fighter pilots not to blow up the building.

That's pretty much all I got. However, I will say that once, just once, I'd love to see a movie where a character escapes death by a bullet courtesy of an everyday object in his or her pocket (a bible, a pocket watch, whatever) only to be killed moments later. Or, in lieu of that, maybe a comedy where cops or soldiers are issued everyday items with the stated purpose that it could one day take a bullet for them. C

Fearless Franco Delivers in Subversive and Surreal 'Spring Breakers'

Mid-movie, the cast has a sing-along to Britney Spears' Everytime.
Seriously.

Spring Breakers isn’t a movie you watch so much as a film you experience. It’s an art film, but not in an urbane way. After all, the film does feature scenes that could be pulled straight from Cops, Girls Gone Wild and Grand Theft Auto, as well as James Franco playing a corn-rowed, tatted and gold-toothed drug-dealer named Alien who leads a cast sing-along to Britney Spears’ Everytime and simulates fellatio on a gun.

That makes the film sound like a campy comedy, but it’s really quite more than that. Although it’s darkly bonkers and emphatically provocative, at its heart, Spring Breakers is a melancholic message movie. It’s an indictment of an entire way of life embraced by a whole sect of shallow and desensitized youths – the spring break state of mind.

The bare-bones plot involves four college girls who rob a diner for the money to attend spring break in Florida, where they eventually befriend Alien and get mixed up in his decadent lifestyle and drug turf war. But really the story itself is of secondary concern – much more important is the way it’s told.

Writer/director Harmony Korine makes some interesting stylistic choices to create a surreal daze of a film. The most effective of these is the use of repetition, with some lines and even full on monologues being repeated multiple times. However, the varying color saturations, dissonant musical cues, hypnotic editing, and, hell, even the scene blocking, are all worth mentioning.

For his central quartet, writer-director Harmony Korine casts
three former Disney stars alongside his real-life wife.

The film’s casting is also noteworthy. Selena Gomez, Vanessa Hudgens and Ashley Benson, all former child stars who made their names under the Disney banner, join Korine’s real-life wife Rachel to form the film’s central quartet.

Although the roles are intentionally underdeveloped, the against-type casting works to emphasize Korine’s genre subversion. One can easily imagine a glossy coming-of-age comedy starring these same actresses with this same exact title – Sisters of the Traveling Pants with a touch of Sex and the City thrown in. Korine knows this, and he exploits it to make a point about a party lifestyle that is simultaneously alluring and abhorrent.

As for Franco, well, it’s not a stretch to say pairing him with Korine could’ve been a real disaster since both have come to be known for a certain level of pretentiousness. However, the teaming proves to be a fruitful one. In Alien, they’ve created a uniquely contradictory, and perhaps even iconic, character. 

Although he’s glimpsed earlier in the film during a rap number (oh did I not mention he’s also a low-level rapper?), we first meet Alien when he bails the girls out of jail. It’s easy to think a character like this would trap these girls under his thumb and corrupt them via manipulation or force, but Alien is genial, uncontrolling and ultimately submissive to them. A man who came from nothing and has no family, Alien holds status and material things in the highest regard. He’s repulsively garish, and yet he’s also endearingly fragile and magnetically honest.

Although this could've been a Showgirls type of embarrassment,
Franco successfully navigates his way to a mesmerizing performance.

In some ways, he is a spiritual kin of Jay Gatsby (whose own movie treatment I reviewed earlier this year). There’s even a scene to mirror the one in which Gatsby proudly shows Daisy his lavish collection of clothing. Here, Alien proudly proclaims “look at my sheeyit” while pointing out his things, which include numerous automatic weapons, designer clothes, nun-chucks, and, best of all, a flat screen playing round-the-clock Scarface.

It’s a testament to Franco’s skills that he can take a ludicrous caricature like Alien and make him feel like a real human being. He’s turned this trick before of course – making Saul, the drug dealer from Pineapple Express, into far more of dynamic character than he had any right to be – but he’s working on a totally different level here. Alien could've proven an embarrassing undertaking, but Franco fearlessly puts his all into the role, coming across equal parts ridiculous and sincere. The end result is probably his best work to date.

Regardless of how one views the content of the film, it’s hard to argue against the craftsmanship on display. In a just world, the film would be a major player for end of the year awards in cinematography, editing, and directing. However, since Franco’s chances of a supporting nom are slim at best, I wouldn’t hold my breath on kudos for anything else.

It’s been weeks since I viewed this film, and, still, it lingers with me. Despite its experimental nature, Spring Breakers is an accessible film. It never approaches the frustrating ponderousness of something like 2001: A Space Odyssey, Synecdoche, New York or The Fountain. Whereas those films are undone by their sweeping ambition and opaque curiosities, Spring Breakers succeeds on the strength of a brisk pace and focused scope. With a run-time of 94 minutes, there’s very little fat on the film, and it manages to get in, captivate and get out before fatigue sets in. A-

"Admission" Fails to Stand Out

The shower scene was necessary. Because of the cow placenta.

Admission is a decent enough flick. It’s professionally made and has many of the things you’d look for in a good film, including a likable cast, a solid setup and worthwhile themes.

It stars Tina Fey as a Princeton admissions officer who simultaneously discovers that her live-in boyfriend of nearly a decade (Michael Sheen) is leaving her for the snooty English scholar he impregnated and that one of her kookier admits (Nat Wolff) may be the child she secretly gave up for adoption back in college. Oh, and all of this turmoil is coming right in the thick of the busiest season for admissions, during which she’ll be vying to replace the retiring dean (Wallace Shawn).

The film also stars Lily Tomlin as Fey’s typically atypical mom and Paul Rudd as a romantic sparring partner and a teacher at the alternative school Fey’s possible son attends. And it makes some nice points about regret, parenting and the cruel and arbitrary guidelines used by college admission offices.

All in all, everything is very… amiable – amiable actors playing amiable characters in an amiable story by an amiable filmmaker (Paul Weitz). However, there’s not much takeaway beyond that general “meh, yeah, okay” feeling. It’s fitting that a movie that disparages the callousness of an admissions process that critiques students for how interesting and unique they are would be so competently ordinary, so readily unmemorable.

Although she's playing the clichéd wacky parent, Tomlin brings 

a nice energy to the film and kills her one dramatic scene.

That is perhaps somewhat harsher than it needs to be. Fey and Rudd share a nice chemistry, the messages play well enough, and there’s something to be said for the restraint the film shows in not wrapping an artificial bow around what would undoubtedly be a messy and anticlimactic situation.

In the film’s best sequence, the admissions staff meet to select next year’s batch of students, and, in so doing, they discuss the idea that they can only invest in so many on-the-bubble students.

With movies, it often works the same way. There’s always time for the big cinematic attractions that a Spielberg, Tarantino or Scorcese might make, but when it comes to these lower-wattage entries, there needs to be a certain vitality that sells the thing and gets it over the hump.

Films like Take This Waltz, Beginners, or Weitz’s own About a Boy manage to make the cut. Films like Admissions – well, they’re destined for the safety school that is basic cable. C

The Wolverine Marks a Wasted Opportunity

Hugh Jackman is one hugely jacked man. See what I did there?

The Wolverine has done relatively well with critics due to its atypically somber and intimate approach to the superhero genre, but, by and large, the praise is overblown.

The film aspires to be a slow burn, character-focused actioner with a flawed and broken antihero, something along the lines of the underrated George Clooney film The American or even Clint Eastwood’s Unforgiven. However, while star Hugh Jackman seems game and there’s some interesting themes buried in the narrative, The Wolverine collapses under the weight of nonsensical plot machinations, lackluster development and a silly finale.

The movie opens with a Yeti-looking Wolverine eking out an isolated existence in wilderness of the Yukon, still haunted from being forced to kill ladylove Jean Grey at the conclusion of X-Men: The Last Stand. However, after being tracked down by pixie-cute martial artist Yukio (Rila Fukushima), he quickly finds himself enroute to Japan to bid farewell to Yashida (Haruhiko Yamanouchi), a Japanese acquaintance he saved from certain death during the bombing of Nagasaki.

When he arrives, Wolverine learns Yashida has become a billionaire industrialist and that, instead of saying goodbye, what he actually wants to do is take Wolverine’s regenerative power, saving his own life while simultaneously granting Wolverine mortality that will eventually lead to the peaceful and honorable death Yashida believes he desires. After Wolverine unexpectedly scoffs at the idea, Yashida dies in the middle of the night.



"Poison Ivy," I mean "Viper," terrorizes Wolverine's girlfriend.

From there, Wolverine gets embroiled in family politics, becoming the protector of Yashida’s granddaughter Mariko (Tao Okamoto) who Yashida names as heir to his empire. This revelation causes uproar with Mariko’s father, and ultimately the Yakuza, an ancient clan of ninjas and Viper (Svetlana Khodchenkova), a mysterious mutant who weakens Wolverine’s regenerative capabilities, factor into the plot.



There’s plenty of action, including a standoff on top of a bullet train and a beautifully shot sequence in which Wolverine goes up against numerous arrow wielding ninjas, but the film’s actually more of a drama in which our hero comes to terms with his immortality and learns to love again.

These through lines are strong conceptually, but the film botches them. For Wolverine’s existential crisis to carry weight, the film should’ve devoted more screen time to the development of Wolverine’s friendship with Yashida, perhaps even showing our hero vocalizing the burdens of everlasting life while hiding in a hole after the bombing. A similar criticism could be levied at the film’s romantic relationship. Although Jackman and Okamoto have a nice chemistry, there’s just not enough there, and, from a story perspective, it makes little sense that Wolverine would pull a Casablanca and fly away from the woman he loves, simply stating “I’m a soldier, and I’ve been away to long.”



Apparently, this scene intentionally evokes Akira Kurosawa's

Throne of Blood. That's cool.

However, that nonsensical plot point is nothing compared to the ludicrous (but telegraphed) twist in which viewers discover Yashida faked his own death and took up residence in an adamantium robot, biding his time until he could steal Wolverine’s power by force via drilling into his claws.

Forgetting for a second that the adamantium-heavy plan makes little sense in it’s own right (Wolverine’s actual powers have nothing to do with the adamantium skeleton Stryker grafted onto him), it’s tough to comprehend why Yashida would go through all the trouble of faking his death and putting his granddaughter in harms way when he could simply imprison Wolverine while he’s sleeping under his roof. It also doesn’t make sense why Mariko and Yukio wouldn’t be in on this plan, and why exactly Viper is helping Yashida at all.

Overall, the film plays like a series of artistic compromises, and while some parts are effectively thoughtful, others are mind-numbingly cartoonish.  Given the end result, it’s easy to imagine why original director Darren Aronfsky was attracted to the project, and why he ultimately bailed on it.

 

In watching The Wolverine, I was reminded of Last Stand, another X-Men film with some interesting ideas that downgraded at director right before production. Although most X-Men fans revile that film, The Wolverine has been embraced as a return to form for the character after two disappointing entries (Last Stand and X-Men Origins: Wolverine). However, from where I’m standing, it’s basically the same as Last Stand – a wasted opportunity. C

Visceral Impact of Monster vs. Robot Battles Make 'Pacific Rim' A Worthwhile Ride

Can you guess which two are actually in Pacific Rim?
Give you a hint: the upper right one is from Cloverfield. 

Walking out of Pacific Rim, my friend Sean indicated he’d finally gotten the Cloverfield sequel he’d been waiting for. It was a joke of course, but other than the fact that the aliens came out of a different ocean in the 2008 film, it actually would be pretty easy to view Guillermo Del Toro’s latest spectacle as an unofficial sequel of sorts.

Similar content aside, the main reason for that is that Pacific Rim plays like the final film in a trilogy, dispatching much of what would make up films one and two via an epilogue, exposition and flashbacks. One can imagine a first film in which alien monsters known as Kaiju rise from the Ocean and begin attacking Earth’s inhabitants (ala Cloverfield) and a second film in which humanity begins to fight back via the creation of massive robots known as Jaegers.

But Del Toro bypasses all of that to focus on humanity’s last stand, holding nothing back for a potential sequel. In an era of moviemaking in which presumed tentpoles have largely ceased being self-contained films and instead become franchise-building first acts (i.e. I Am Number Four and The Golden Compass), that in itself is refreshing.

On the plus side, this approach results in a tightly paced film that, with so much to do, doesn’t have a lot of time to spin its wheels. That means we get a boatload of pay off moments and throw down battle scenes without having to sit through an abundance of coy foreshadowing, learning-the-ropes training sequences and lame filler.

Two damaged souls with tragic histories related to the Kaiju wind
up being humanity's last hope. Go figure.

However, with so much content to cover, Pacific Rim is ultimately forced to rely on a slew of narrative shortcuts and clichés in the hopes that the audience will fill in the gaps. Generally, we get exactly what we need to make sense of everything, and nothing more.* That’s not a crippling problem – the film is too visceral an experience and put together with too much care for that – but it unfortunately forces the film to focus on plot machinations in favor of organic developments and the far more novel ideas sketched in the margins.

*Apparently, co-screenwriter Travis Beachem wrote Pacific Rim: Tales From Year Zero, a graphic novel that more fully details the initial Kaiju assault, the creation of the Jaeger program, and the back stories of many of the characters.

Chief among these ideas is the intriguing notion that the mental strain of operating a Jaeger is so intense, that it requires two pilots. However, these pilots can’t just be any two schmoes; since they will share a neural connection, they must be “drift compatible.” Although there’s enough explanation to make sense of the concept of “drifting” and the intense connection it begets, it is not explored in the way it might have been if given more time to breathe in an earlier film (I imagine Tales from Year Zero does the concept justice).

The second most interesting element of the story –the way in which society has developed around the reality of the Kaiju – is intriguingly hinted at, but mostly left to the side. The quick depictions of how society begins to idolize Jaegers and look at Kaiju as a terrifying but regular threats (as we do with real-life terrorists), as well as the sojourn into the black-market dealings surrounding Kaiju remains, work to add detail and flavor to the world Del Toro is creating. But more of these elements would’ve been welcome.

Just Awesome.

Ultimately, complaining about such things seems pointless, because the film delivers on the promise of gigantic robots taking on humongous monsters. Pacific Rim has all the spectacle of a Transformers film, but also contains a decent amount of heart and manages to avoid insulting its audience. It sort of plays like the movie version of a Final Fantasy-type RPG, something that's even more solidified by bad-ass character names like Stacker Pentecoast, Mako Mori and Dr. Newton Geiszler (and that doesn't even include Jaeger names Gipsy Danger and Striker Eureka). The 12-year-old Frank buried within really can't hate on something like that.

Would I have liked to be more invested in the relationship between Charlie Hunnam’s Raleigh and Rinko Kikuchi’s Mako? Sure.

And would I prefer to have some of the broader elements toned down (Mako’s initial over-the-top reactions to the flirtatious Raleigh, Burn Gorman’s entire performance as Gottlieb) or eliminated all together (the Newton’s cradle gag, Ron Pearlman’s survival)? Absolutely.

But will I gladly take enthralling monster melees in a compellingly dense universe? You bet. B-

'Star Trek Into Darkness' Provides Familiar But Satisfying Entertainment

In the first film Kirk and Spock met and became chums. Here, they

become absolute besties.

It’s been over two months since I’ve seen J.J. Abram’s Star Trek Into Darkness, but I’ve been dragging my feet on writing a review. To be clear, that’s not a reflection of the film itself, which I actually found to be great escapist entertainment.

For fans of Star Trek, the 2009 relaunch of the series, much of Star Trek Into Darkness will feel extremely similar. Once again, the crew of the Enterprise is tasked with dealing with a self righteous, revenge-seeking villain who, early in the film, kills a Kirk (Chris Pine) father figure. And, once again, the major focus is on the developing bromance between Kirk and Spock (Zachary Quinto).

Some could argue that makes this outing derivative, especially when you throw in lifted story beats from an earlier Star Trek film (more on that in a bit), but considering how well they’ve pulled everything off here, I see little reason to complain.

(Ummm…. spoiler warning).

The villain here is first introduced as Harrison (Benedict Cumberbatch), a rogue Starfleet Commander who apparently has curative blood and a major vendetta against his employers. Kirk and his team are tasked with hunting him down, and when they do, they discover he also possess superhuman strength and unparalleled intellect. Oh, and they come to learn that he is actually Khan, an extremely iconic Trek character who, as even non-fans like myself know, killed Spock in Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan.

He may not have the ridiculously large chest, but Benedict

Cumberbatch offers up an imposingly memorable take on Khan.

Despite universal praise for Cumberbatch’s magnetically forceful performance, a great deal of criticism has been launched at using Khan for this story, particularly related to the thematic bastardization of the Spock death, which has been twisted here to result in the death of Kirk. A good example of this backlash can be found here.

I actually quite liked this aspect of the film. Although the concept of keeping Khan’s identify a secret from the audience was silly, I think making him the bad guy worked well, especially in the way it played off of the previous history with the character. When Spock seeks the counsel of Spock Prime (Leonard Nimoy), it’s a nice little nod to the original series, but also a story beat that makes sense.

Furthermore, while I understand there was great thematic heft to having Spock be the one that died in Wrath of Khan, I really like that they flipped the script. Instead of building on Kirk’s inability to accept death, this new interpretation (which you can watch here) represents a thematic highpoint in the developing friendship between Kirk and Spock, both of whom are learning from one another and changing as a result.

Some might argue Kirk’s quick revival ruins the impact of his death. I disagree with that, because regardless of his status at the end of the film, the death is still a real and tangible moment for the characters. It still meant something to them and still elevated the relationship to another level. In the first film, Spock Prime told Spock his relationship with Kirk would be “a friendship that will define you both in ways you cannot yet realize.” Here, the filmmakers continue to develop that idea.

Alice Eve doubles the sexy woman total on the Enterprise, taking some

of the weight off of Zoe Saldana's back.

That being said, there are some incredibly silly things in this film. Obviously, the Khan blood stuff is hokey, and that isn’t helped by the way McCoy discovers it. And, while I mostly like the way Khan is used, the climatic showdown between him and Spock just doesn’t make sense. I mean, seriously, why would a super human run from one mere Vulcan?

There’s not much more to say. As with its predecessor, all the technical aspects are top notch, and the hurling momentum of the thing is huge plus, but the greatest strength of the film is in the character dynamics. While the film predictably focuses on Kirk and Spock, nearly every character is nicely sketched, well portrayed and feels like a vital part of the team. They may not all interact with each other and some recede to the background, but they all seem to have a very specific relationship with Kirk, a subtle touch that I think plays very well, especially considering so much of Kirk’s development has to do with his standing as a leader. Meanwhile, Kahn isn’t the only famous character to be reintroduced – Dr. Carol Connors (Alice Eve), who in the previous Trek timeline bore Kirk a son, also plays an integral role.

Overall, Star Trek Into Darkness is not quite up to the level of its predecessor, but it’s pretty damn close. It’s one of the better sequels you’re likely to see, because it commendably deepens and expands the themes of the first film, making the combo seem far more apiece than the typical series. B+