Fly Me to the Moon

Director: Greg Berlanti
Starring: Scarlett Johansson, Channing Tatum, Woody Harrelson, Ray Romano, Jim Rash, Anna Garcia, Donald Elise Watkins, Noah Robbins, Christian Clemenson, Colin Jost, Victor Garber
Running Time: 132 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★½ (out of ★★★★)

Reactions to Greg Berlanti's Fly Me to the Moon could vary based on whether you feel all its contrasting elements eventually converge into a somewhat successful film. Anyone looking for a biographical drama on the 60's Space Race will find that plot ceding the spotlight to a fluffy throwback romance in the vein of a Rock Hudson/Doris Day movie. As an inoffensively lightweight rom-com it's a fairly well made effort that looks and feels how you'd imagine studio executives view this era, for better or worse. 

Clocking in at just over two hours, it feels much longer, which could be due to Berlanti juggling multiple balls in the air before landing on the snappy farce teased in its trailers. With a narrative that revolves around advertising, Rose Gilroy's script does deliver what's publicized, as you can easily envision a pitch meeting describing this as Mad Men meets Apollo 13. Or more accurately, Apollo 11. Ironically, everything involving a faked moon landing is the most intriguing aspect, even if it's sometimes treated as a bigger obstacle for the romance than the space program.

It's 1968 and NASA has an image problem, failing to secure funding in the Space Race with the Soviets following the Apollo I disaster. As Kennedy Space Center launch director Cole Davis (Channing Tatum) prepares for the upcoming Apollo 11 flight that will put the first men on the moon, deceitful New York advertising executive Kelly Jones (Scarlett Johansson) is blackmailed by President Nixon operative Moe Berkus (Woody Harrelson) into revamping NASA's public relations office. After some initial flirtation, her and Cole soon clash when Kelly starts making sponsorship deals and hiring actors to play scientists in media appearances. 

While Kelly's new initiatives result in increased funding, the nation's attention remains on a raging Vietnam War. With the agency's entire future now riding on Apollo 11, Kelly plans to broadcast the moon landing on television despite Cole's skepticism about placing a camera on the spacecraft. Moe loves the idea, but has a back-up plan few but Kelly and her assistant Ruby (Anna Garcia) are privy to. As the launch approaches, Kelly must decide whether to tell Cole the entire truth or risk undermining everything NASA's team has been working toward.

Going just by its description, you'd figure this would have the potential to be a fairly exciting take on the Space Race. But it's goofy in a tone reminiscent of Jerry Seinfeld's recent Unfrosted, which would be fine if this were about breakfast treats rather than sending the first men to the moon. Add to that a sullen Cole's guilt over the recent Apollo 1 tragedy and suddenly there isn't a whole lot to laugh about. 

NASA needing some serious PR assistance makes for a believable hook, as does the involvement of Harrelson's Nixon operative. But whatever credibility those ideas carried on paper quickly dissolve once the emphasis is put on Kelly and Cole's "will they or won't they" relationship. The pair's early scenes together do work though, especially when she infuriates him with a constant stream of product tie-ins. The script drops not so subtle clues that lying and manipulation come easier to Kelly than most, even by cutthroat Madison Avenue standards. Since Cole basically despises every idea she has, we know their constant bickering will wear out its welcome before he finally comes around. 

It's a while before we get a sufficient explanation about Cole's state of mind, making his interactions with Kelly a bit exasperating. If that's not enough, she's also hiding something significant from her past, resulting in disagreements, misunderstandings and manufactured crises before the inevitable launch. Johansson and Tatum are just fine, and while few could claim their chemistry is off the charts, they each deliver exactly what's required given the scope of these roles.

Harrelson lends a mischievous sarcasm to the bureaucratic Moe, squeezing a little extra out of a supporting turn that's more worthwhile than expected. Once the shuttle launches, this takes off in way it didn't before, treating us to a spirited performance from Jim Rash as the flamboyant director put in charge of filming this staged production should the real mission fail. A film solely focused on a fake moon landing would probably be less far fetched than what we see here, but at least the approach is different and leads into a suspenseful split screen finale.

Unfortunately, Berlanti pays only so much attention to the details before declaring what he really thinks the story's about. Those more interested in the mission itself should probably prepare themselves for a breezy diversion that isn't particularly interested in going beneath the surface. But during the moments it strikes the right balance, Fly Me to the Moon shows glimmers of what could have been under the best of circumstances.

MaXXXine

Director: Ti West
Starring: Mia Goth, Elizabeth Debicki, Moses Sumney, Michelle Monaghan, Bobby Cannavale, Halsey, Lily Collins, Giancarlo Esposito, Kevin Bacon, Simon Prast, Chloe Farnworth, Sophie Thatcher, Toby Huss
Running Time: 104 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★)   

After much anticipation, the third and possibly final installment of Ti West's X trilogy, MaXXXine arrives to deliver exactly what the the trailers and teasers hinted it would. If X paid homage to 70's grindhouse slashers like The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and Pearl drew inspiration from golden era Technicolor classics like The Wizard of Oz, this is pure 80's VHS sleaze with a nod to Giallo horror. And while it's strangely the most conventional of the three in terms of plot, it still diverges enough from those to terrorize.

Even when it's easy to telegraph where the story's headed, from purely an aesthetic standpoint, West's neon-infused interpretation of this down and dirty era is worth the price of admission alone. Of course, the obsessively ambitious title character's goal was always to be a huge star, and after escaping X's bloodbath, nothing could stand in her way. If there's a thematic through line, it's Maxine's desire to attain the life she knows she deserves, instilled in her by a televangelist father at an early age and reinforced with the chilling black-and-white home movie footage that opens this picture.

It's 1985 Los Angeles and six years after Maxine Minx (Mia Goth) survived the slaughter of her friends on that Texas farm, she's searching for stardom under the bright lights of Hollywood. With the Night Stalker murders all over the news, Maxine has been making a splash in low budget adult films while working at a dingy strip club. But her big break comes when she lands the lead role in cold, no-nonsense British auteur Elizabeth Bender's (Elizabeth Debicki) horror sequel, The Puritan II. 

Soon after sharing the good news with her loyal agent Teddy Knight (Giancarlo Esposito), colleagues Amber (Chloe Farnworth) and Tabby (Halsey) and friend Leon (Moses Sumney), Maxine receives a VHS tape of the ill-fated porn filmed at the farm house in 1979, along with a visit from bombastic private investigator John Labat (Kevin Bacon). Hired by a mysterious man responsible for Maxine's friends now turning up dead in Night Stalker inspired slayings, Labat demands she meet with his boss or have her criminal past exposed. But just as LAPD detectives Williams (Michele Monaghan) and Torres ( Bobby Cannavale) close in on these murders, Maxine decides to take matters into her own hands.

West exploits the period setting to maximum effect, using the seedy early 80's L.A. atmosphere to make a bold, visually stylish statement about how Hollywood swallows its young starlets whole. And in doing so this joins a long list of noir mysteries made in a similar vein, such as Brian De Palma's The Black Dahlia. But if West's interested in exploring the dark underbelly of Tinseltown as a natural next chapter for fame hungry Maxine, he's also committed to giving us another moody retro slasher that also carries faint echoes of Once Upon a Time in Hollywood. 

Better paced and structured than X but lacking the dramatic flair of Pearl, this lands squarely in the middle, subverting expectations that it would be the most shocking and outrageous of the three. In doing a lot of small, simple things extremely well, the plot itself often taking a deserved backseat to the performances and visuals. The grungy sights and sounds of L.A. function as the story's mirror, and while it's cliché to call the city another character, the depiction would have definitely earned a mention in that great 2004 documentary Los Angles Plays Itself. It may not be the West Coast equal to what countless 70's films did for New York, but what West pulls off is still pretty impressive.

When the opening titles roll and we see Maxine driving her white convertible to this audition as ZZ Top's "Gimme Me All Your Lovin'" blasts over the soundtrack, the countdown to carnage may as well begin. But it's officially underway when she gets an unexpected visit from Bacon's wacky detective. Clearly underestimating her, Labat has no idea what he's gotten into, regardless of the anonymous leather gloved killer giving him his marching orders.

The term "Scream Queen" gets thrown around a lot, but Goth is the only contemporary actress who can legitimately lay claim to that crown, even if it oversimplifies just how much she's raised the bar for this genre. And it's a testament to Goth's grasp on the material that even her subtlest, straightforward performance in the trilogy still feels out of left field amidst these new surroundings. Sporting a Louisiana drawl, Bacon's a comedic highlight, as is Esposito, who shines as the shady talent agent that's more Saul Goodman than Gus Fring. 

Certain moments leave big impressions, like a beatdown featuring John Parr's "St. Elmos Fire (Man in Motion)" and a chase through the Psycho house. Or really anything related to the filming of The Puritan II, especially Maxine's interactions with Debicki's classy, controlling director and the original's star Molly Bennett (Lily Collins), who has some words of wisdom for her replacement. The former casts a strong presence, dishing out a blunt, icy mix of sarcastic cruelty while attempting to keep Maxine on the straight and narrow.

The killer's identity isn't exactly the best kept secret, nor is it necessarily intended to be. But anything the plot lacks in surprise it makes up for when Maxine finally comes face-to-face with this monster, culminating in a finale cleverly set against the most famous of landmarks. Strangely enough, with all its religious underpinnings, the West project this most resembles might be his 2013 found footage film, The Sacrament, based on the 1978 Jonestown Massacre. 

Unlike that, this isn't exactly about a cult, but it does share key elements, including another real life crime case that helped define an era. Given the trilogy's lofty reputation, it would be easy to take MaXXXine for granted, but Goth still carries the load as she did the others. And for fans already willing to follow this character to the ends of the earth, a depraved dive through Hollywood's so called "dream factory" proves too enticing a proposition to pass up.                     

The Bikeriders

Director: Jeff Nichols
Starring: Jodie Comer, Austin Butler, Tom Hardy, Michael Shannon, Mike Faist, Boyd Holbrook, Damon Herriman, Beau Knapp, Emory Cohen, Karl Glusman, Toby Wallace, Norman Reedus, Will Oldham
Running Time: 116 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★)  

If it's hard enough adapting any non-fiction book into a feature film, one consisting entirely of black-and-white photos and transcribed interviews might seem impossible. But writer/director Jeff Nichols seems to have figured it out with The Bikeriders, a historical crime drama based on journalist Danny Lyon's mid-sixties stint as a member of the infamous Chicago Outlaws Motorcycle Club.

While going the documentary route may have been more expected, Nichols finds a different avenue to explore the humanity beneath this chaos, narratively dissecting the impact of a rebellious subculture that helped define an era that eventually passes them by. It really feels like the last gasp for these outlaws, evoking nostalgia for a period many watching never experienced, but probably wished they had.

In 1965, photojournalist Lyon (Mike Faist) interviews Kathy (Jodie Comer) about her time with the Chicago-based Vandals Motorcyle Club, which founder Johnny (Tom Hardy) was inspired to create after watching Marlon Brando in The Wild Ones. She recounts feeling out of place among a gang of rough and tumble riders at the Vandals' bar, until meeting the brooding, hotheaded Benny (Austin Butler). Immediately attracted to his cool, distant aura, he takes Kathy home on the back of his bike, camping across the street until her angry boyfriend moves out in a huff.

Benny and Kathy begin living together as she gets to know the rest of the club, consisting of reliable Brucie (Damon Herriman), mechanically inclined Cal (Boyd Holbrook), volatile Zipco (Michael Shannon) and bug eater Cockroach (Emory Cohen). But with Vandals chapters soon popping up all over the Midwest, Johnny's had enough, approaching a disinterested Benny to take over leadership duties. Unfortunately, it may be too late, as a new challenger emerges and angry, disaffected youths reeling from the scars of Vietnam come home. With change on the horizon, there's a good chance America's original generation of bikers will be left in the dust. 

Kathy is initially the film's entry point, but it isn't long before this whole interview format takes a backseat to the personal drama surrounding these bikers. It's actually a bit perplexing why the character of Lyon is incorporated to begin with since there's no noticeable on screen attempt to absorb him into the club like the journalist was in reality. Occasionally, Nichols cuts to him questioning Kathy in a biker vest, but that's about the extent of Mike Faist's role. It's a bit off putting at first, but once you're absorbed in the story, this inconsistent framing device isn't given a second thought.

The accuracy of regional accents will always cause debate but Comer really commits to her memorable Midwestern twang. Having no idea how realistic it is or isn't, there's no denying it adds an air of down home folksiness to a character who's supposed to be out of her element in this grungy atmosphere. But as much as the film attempts to put Kathy at its center, Butler owns the screen from the moment he appears in a performance not entirely dissimilar from his Oscar nominated Elvis turn, with a little James Dean mixed in. 

Butler's approach should seem overdone or cliche, but he's just too good to deny, capturing the essence of this introverted, self destructive loner capable of flying off the handle on a whim. He hints there's more bubbling beneath the surface, even as Kathy tries to figure out exactly what. Correctly surmising Benny needs to get out of this club before he gets himself killed, he'll do whatever he wants, even as we question whether that really will solve his anger issues. There's an equally strong chance his association with the Vandals might be the only thing left keeping him sane.  

Tom Hardy is the Brando to Butler's Dean, basically attempting a full-on impersonation of the iconic actor, which he pulls off pretty well, intimidatingly throwing his weight around to maintain some degree of law and order. But between a family and an actual 9-to-5 job, he's getting exasperated as his grip starts to slip. Even when they're not seeking it out first, violence has a way of finding them, but Hardy strikes the right balance between thuggish brute and fair, loyal leader with a heart.

The best scenes involve the Vandals picking fights, pulling pranks, riding through towns and sometimes just sitting around smoking and telling stories, as this loaded cast of recognizable faces distinguish their characters with unmistakably unique personalities. A subplot involving a group of youths led by a knife-wielding delinquent credited as "The Kid" (Toby Wallace) and the arrival of California hippie biker Funny Sonny (Norman Reedus) give the film an extra jolt as it barrels toward the finish line.

There's nothing particularly groundbreaking about The Bikeriders, but it is a well acted, impeccably shot adult drama that fills a needed niche by striving for authenticity. More Hunter Thompson than Cameron Crowe, it finds its voice through the relationships, camaraderie and turmoil among this ragtag gang of outcasts relegated to the fringes. They play by their own rules, until the real world intrudes. But like so many other touchstones, it's fun while it lasts, leaving a cultural footprint that doesn't easily fade.             

Love Lies Bleeding

Director: Rose Glass
Starring: Kristen Stewart, Katy O' Brian, Jena Malone, Anna Baryshnikov, Dave Franco, Ed Harris
Running Time: 104 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★)  

While A24's wild and exhilarating Love Lies Bleeding takes inspiration from of darkly comic, noirish thrillers like Blood Simple and Bound, it also manages to feel like a grittier, far superior alternative to what Ethan Coen couldn't pull off with the recent Drive-Away Dolls. It starts slowly before taking what would otherwise be considered B-movie material to a higher level than the elevated trash suggested by its plot description. Gloomy and violent, it also has a wicked sense of humor, with co-writer/director Rose Glass taking a stylistic approach ideally suited to all the pulpy madness that unfolds. 

Much of its success can be attributed to the leads, each of whom give magnetic performances that only grow more absorbing as the story's complications multiply. After initially playing her cards very close to the vest, Glass teases at serious trouble before flying off the rails in fresh and exciting ways, cornering us into awkwardly rooting for these troubled lovers in over their heads.

It's 1989 in a rural New Mexico town when Crater Gym manager Lou (Kristen Stewart) encounters Oklahoma native Jackie (Katy O' Brian), a bisexual bodybuilder passing through en route to a competition in Las Vegas. Disturbed by her sister Beth's (Jena Malone) marriage to physically abusive sleazebag J.J. (Dave Franco) and constantly hit on by clingy friend Daisy (Anna Barishnikov), Lou quickly bonds with Jackie, supplying her steroids.

Before long, Lou and Jackie are in a relationship and living together when Lou discovers her new girlfriend began working as a waitress at her estranged father Lou Sr.'s (Ed Harris) gun range alongside J.J. As the F.B.I. trails Lou for information about her dad's sordid criminal past, a traumatizing event sends her over the edge, causing a protective, chemically altered Jackie to take drastic action. All this leads to a big problem that desperately needs cleaning up before Lou Sr. handles it first. 

When we first meet Lou she's unclogging a toilet and evading Daisy's sexual advances so Jackie's presence couldn't be more welcome. Stuck in this depressing town while managing a dingy gym that lives up to its "Crater" moniker, it's no wonder she's instantly intrigued. It's not like there's much else to occupy her in a place barren and lonely enough for residents to commit crimes out of sheer boredom. 

For the withdrawn Lou, Jackie's initially calm, supportive demeanor proves a welcome respite from the violent insanity that's defined her family. Sleeping under highway overpasses on her way to Vegas, Jackie proves she'll do whatever it takes for cash and accomplish her goal of not only entering this bodybuilding competition, but winning it. And we immediately get the impression she could.

As Lou deals with J.J. regularly beating the hell out of her sister while the feds lurk, a single crime  changes everything. Glass and Weronika Tofilska's script wisely holds back in revealing too much about Lou Sr., even if Ed Harris's casting is strong enough a clue. With his creepy, quietly menacing presence and long, stringy skullet, it's obvious that whatever Lou Sr.'s into is unimaginably bad. Those complaining Harris is too old for the role are probably right but few could play this kind of part better.   

It's hard to argue Stewart's quirky but effortlessly cool persona isn't used to its fullest potential in smaller, more daring projects like this. She again proves up to the task as Lou holds a lot back until a series of circumstances cause her to completely boil over. But the surprise is O' Brian, who's subtly terrific as a woman whose dreams of making something of herself are both enhanced and derailed by this relationship. 

Even those familiar with real life former bodybuilder O' Brian from her more restrained role in The Mandalorian will have a tough time identifying her because she's so unrecognizably jacked. And Glass definitely takes full advantage of that, lingering on close-up shots of expanding muscles and bulging veins as Jackie's roid rage leads her down a path that feels lifted from the old Incredible Hulk TV series. Like Lou, she yearns to prove her family wrong, if only they even cared. Now her world revolves around a competition she may not even make it to, but revealing more risks spoiling the film's most humiliatingly uncomfortable scene.

The last act is a thrilling cat-and-mouse game that forces Lou to finally break a poisonous lifelong cycle. Lou Sr. knows the power he wields, and if push comes to shove, eliminating his own daughter isn't off the table. With a grungy mood and atmosphere that feels dead on, Glass takes some big swings that could have seemed derivative with a less talented filmmaker at the controls. It also has some tricks up its sleeve, like a moment in the closing minutes that defies explanation by asking viewers to abandon all pretense and take a leap as gigantic as one of its characters. It shouldn't work at all, yet somehow does, convincing us this is the ride we signed up for all along.   

Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga

Director: George Miller
Starring: Anya Taylor-Joy, Alyla Browne, Chris Hemsworth, Tom Burke, Lachy Hulme, George Shevtsov, John Howard, Angus Sampson, Nathan Jones, Josh Helman, Charlee Fraser, Dylan Adonis, Elsa Pataky, Daniel Webber
Running Time: 148 min.
Rating: R

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

It makes sense that the very idea of Mad Max: Fury Road getting a prequel would cause instant skepticism among fans who consider it one of the finest action movies of the decade. But we know nothing's off limits in Hollywood, as the history of this particular franchise has already proven. There were Mad Max movies before Fury Road, and despite the inexplicably poor box office performance of Furiosa, it's still a safe bet we'll see even more. Few thought this property could survive without Mel Gibson, until Charlize Theron came along and with a single outing established herself as equally irreplaceable in viewers' eyes. Now, it's someone else's turn. 

Rotating leads notwithstanding, the real key to the series' success has always been visionary director George Miller, who believably shoots action and spectacle better than just about anyone. A revenge story through and through, Furiosa's broken into five titled chapters filled with spectacular action sequences, incredible Simon Duggan cinematography and award worthy costuming and production design. So while audiences were busy basking in the enormity of Dune: Part Two, they somehow  missed out on the year's other huge sci-fi event.    

In post-apocalyptic Australia, a young Furiosa (Alyla Browne) is captured by wasteland Raiders on motorcycles while picking peaches. After being taken to their leader, Dementus (Chris Hemsworth), he demands she lead them back to her home, The Green Place of Many Mothers, which is one of the last remaining areas with fresh water and agriculture. But when Furiosa's mother Mary (Charlee Fraser) is crucified by Dementus when attempting to rescue her, he adopts the girl as his own, agreeing to trade her to Citadel warlord Immortan Joe (Lachy Hulme) in exchange for valuable supplies. 

When Furiosa runs from the clutches of Joe's son Rictus (Nathan Jones), she disguises herself as a mute teen boy, rising up the ranks of Joe's army for over a decade while helping to build the massive War Rig tanker. Still haunted by the past, an older Furiosa (Anya Taylor-Joy), eventually trains under driver Praetorian Jack (Tom Burke), making plans to ambush Dementus at the dilapidated Gastown. With her sights set on finally confronting the man who murdered her mother, Furiosa has no intention of showing him any mercy. 

If the decision to go with an origin story removed Theron from the equation (save a brief cameo via archival footage), it's fair to say Taylor-Joy silences any doubters with an intensity that more than makes up for how little she physically resembles the actress preceding her. And recasting this role rather than testing the limits of iffy de-aging technology was a wise play from one of the few big budget filmmakers who's effectively balanced practical effects and CGI. 

Miller further proves this by implementing what's might be the crispest use yet of AI technology, subtly modifying young Alyla Browne's face into Taylor-Joy's as the character ages. This results in very little daylight between the two portrayals, helping to make the film's jump ahead in time look and feel seamless. It almost works too well since it's hard to pinpoint when exactly the older actress takes over the role. 

Since most of the first hour focuses on the child counterpart, many have complained Taylor-Joy's part is merely a supporting one. But if that's true then you may as well apply that same false logic to Browne, who plays young Furiosa with a steely determination that sets the stage for that second half. In actuality, each carry equal weight for their section of the story, making it easier to buy both as one in the same.

Unrecognizable behind his wig and prosthetic nose, Hemsworth's never been better as the dastardly Dementus. On one hand, his scheming character is entirely unserious, delivering one liners and dry, witty soliloquies to disarm adversaries, even as own underlings disrespect him. But Hemsworth eats this up, as his over-the-top mannerisms and facial expressions conveying a ruthless, sleazy streak that not only makes him a formidable opponent for Furiosa, but a wildly entertaining villain. 

The movie feels most alive when Hemsworth's on screen, but there's more than enough to take in while he isn't, like some awe-inspiring chase scenes and battles that make its two and a half hour run time fly faster than the considerably shorter Fury Road. Much of that could also be due to a story that, while steeped in allusions to religion, myth and politics, is solely about this girl's evolution from impressionable child to hardened, world weary badass warrior. Taylor-Joy isn't given much dialogue, but doesn't need it, her eyes telling us all we need to know about Furiosa's quest for revenge and potential journey back to the Green Place via that star map tattooed on her arm.

Dementus unintentionally set the wheels in motion for his own potential demise, even if he's too arrogant to notice. But before we get there, Furiosa fights alongside and bonds with Jack, who's probably the film's closest equivalent to usual franchise protagonist Max Rockatansky. And it's impressive just how much mileage Miller and co-writer Nico Lathouris get out of a pairing that leads to this sensational Gastown attack, as spraying bullets, high speed desert chases and flipping tanks culminate in the confrontation we've all been waiting for. 

Whether Dementus remembers what he did to Furiosa's mother, and how it does or doesn't change what's on her mind for punishment, leads to a compelling test of wills that Miller keeps us glued to our seats for. The ending skirts that line between legend and lore, organically shaping the future Imperator while laying the groundwork for what we know comes next. Furiosa isn't intended to be a deep, philosophical treatise, but an epic, pulse pounding adventure best experienced on the big screen, only making its lack of commercial success even more perplexing.