Yellowjackets (Season 2)

Creators: Ashley Lyle and Bart Nickerson
Starring: Melanie Lynskey, Tawny Cypress, Sophie Nélisse, Jasmin Savoy Brown, Sophie Thatcher, Samantha Hanratty, Christina Ricci, Juliette Lewis, Courtney Eaton, Liv Hewson, Kevin Alves, Simone Kessell, Lauren Ambrose, Elijah Wood, Ella Purnell, Steven Krueger, Warren Kole, Sarah Desjardines, Alexa Barajas, Rukiya Bernard, Aiden Stoxx, Alex Wyndham, Nicole Maines, Nuha Jes Izman, François Arnaud, John Reynolds, John Cameron Mitchell
Original Airdate: 2023

**The Following Review Contains Plot Spoilers For The First Two Seasons Of 'Yellowjackets' **

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)   

Sometimes the big test for a dramatic series is whether its showrunners can make the tough, uncomfortable decisions that serve the story's larger purpose. And now after Yellowjackets' latest nine episodes, it's becoming easier to envision there is one. In ending its first season with a major character's death, the psychological survival thriller hinted it wouldn't be shying away from those difficult calls, generating optimism and dread surrounding what's next for the 1996 plane crash survivors and their emotionally traumatized adult counterparts. As such, this entire second chapter may as well share the same title as its eighth episode, "It Chooses." 

What "It" is has emerged as a show defining question, or even the dividing line that separates real from imagined and past and present. But whether the catastrophes in these two timelines can be traced to a supernatural entity or exists primarily in the survivors' heads is becoming harder to distinguish. Whether it's a combination of both, or neither, there still isn't a way for them to change what's happening. We're getting a lot of answers, as creators Ashley Lyle and Bart Nickerson rarely drag their feet, reeling us in by introducing new complications and dangling some unresolved threads awaiting a pay off. 

They know we're hooked for the long haul, and even if this season is noticeably different and crazier, there's no drop-off, with the 90's timeline becoming increasingly unpredictable despite knowing the fates of some involved. And after hints and glimpses of forthcoming tribal violence, attempted murder and cannibalism, this follows through, retaining its dark, twisted sense of humor in the process. And it all culminates in a finale that will have fans scratching their heads as to what lies ahead. "It" may have chosen, but not without shocking consequences that will surely take these characters to even more disturbing places. 

It's late 1996 and the team of plane crash survivors struggle to make it through a brutal winter in the wake of Jackie's (Ella Purnell) death, turning to their anointed leader Lottie (Courtney Eaton) for spiritual guidance, believing she can talk to the wilderness. But as a guilt-ridden, pregnant Shauna (Sophie Nélisse) remains incapable of processing her best friend's death, Taissa's (Jasmin Savoy Brown) nightmares and sleepwalking incidents escalate to alarming levels, with girlfriend Van (Liv Hewson) desperately trying to contain the problem. 

Natalie (Sophie Thatcher) helps Travis (Kevin Alves) continue the search for his missing brother Javi (Luciano Leroux) while Misty (Samantha Hanratty) forms a bond with quirky teammate Crystal (Nuha Jes Izman). Depressed and withdrawn, the one-legged Coach Ben (Steven Krueger) is the odd man out, morally disgusted by the girls' actions as they fall deeper under "Antler Queen" Lottie's mystifying spell.

The adult Yellowjackets aren't faring much better in 2021, with Shauna (Melanie Lynskey) enlisting the help of Taissa (Tawny Cypress) and Misty (Christina Ricci) in covering up her boyfriend Adam's (Peter Gadiot) murder. But with cops closing in, husband Jeff (Warren Kole) and daughter Callie (Sarah Desjardins) prove surprisingly invaluable in protecting Shauna and keeping their family intact. 

Plagued by escalating hallucinations and a personality disorder that's put estranged wife Simone (Rukiya Bernard) and young son Sammy (Aiden Stoxx) in grave danger, Taissa finds Van (Lauren Ambrose), which introduces a new set of challenges. And in reluctantly teaming with eccentric fellow online "Citizen Detective" Walter (Elijah Wood), Misty attempts to rescue a kidnapped Natalie (Juliette Lewis), realizing all roads lead back to Lottie (Simone Kessell), whose woodsy spiritual retreat more closely resembles a cult, dredging up painful memories for the Yellowjackets.                       

After the finale tease of Lottie being behind Natalie's abduction, one of the bigger curiosities heading into this season was the potential addition of more adult survivors. But Lottie and Van's presence is a little more complex than anticipated, at least so far as the former's motivations, as she psychologically teeters on the edge, hinting at something more sinister. Then again, the same could be said for everyone who made it out of the wilderness in one piece, yet remain permanently shattered by the experience.

Simone Kessell keeps us guessing as the middle-aged version of the Lottie, now going by Charlotte. On one hand, she's credible as a spiritual guru you want to believe has the purest intentions in helping Natalie, until realizing that's exactly how cult leaders operate. Still, it's clear both the younger and older iterations of the character suffer the same painful effects of being able to see what no one else can. Upon their arrival at her compound, the team again becomes quickly entangled in Charlotte's web, discovering what Nat and troubled followers like Lisa (Nicole Maines) already know. Forgiveness is a nice idea, but letting go is harder than it looks. 

As owner of the incredibly named "While You Were Streaming" video store, adult Van also hasn't moved on or dealt with what happened twenty five years earlier. And Taissa showing up does little to improve that, even if their connection is still immediately apparent and seemingly stronger than ever. It's fun contrasting how fan favorite Lauren Ambrose plays Van character in comparison to Liv Hewson's '96 take. While there are still shades of her younger counterpart's sarcastic humor, whatever joy she had as a teen has been wiped clean away in the decades following the crash. And the fatal medical diagnosis she's withholding from Taissa only makes her depression that much worse. 

Adult Misty further pushes the envelope of what we perceive she's capable of after eliminating Taissa's hired investigator Jessica Roberts (Rekha Sharma) last season. Her unbridled excitement at helping Shauna dispose of Adam's body is typical Misty, even as the plan implodes, bringing her no closer to achieving the respect and acceptance she's always craved. The arrival of true crime soulmate Walter provides reassurance, bringing out a certain vulnerability, energizing her with the possibility someone truly sees and accepts who she is. 

Ricci and Elijah Wood's Ice Storm reunion is the highlight of the season, if not the entire series thus far. If you thought Misty and Nat road trips had spin-off potential, a show with these two joining forces to solve crimes would easily top it, as Ricci continues to play Misty as the show's most desperately likable sociopath. She and the equally eccentric Walter each harbor legitimate doubts they can trust each other, while we speculate whether he'll even survive the season. Walter's obsessive interest in Adam's disappearance raises Misty's suspicions, even as their relationship takes some outrageous detours, including a surreal Twin Peaks-inspired musical dream sequence featuring John Cameron Mitchell. 

Even with Misty's criminal expertise, Shauna's doing enough on her own to attract suspicion from detective Kevyn Tan (Alex Wyndham), as Jeff temporarily shelves his shock and anger over Shauna's affair to help cover up Adam's murder. But considering how Jeff's blackmail plot with buddy Randy (Jeff Holman) partially led to this mess, he proves surprisingly loyal, with Warren Kole adding some needed dimension and humanity to his overgrown jock character. 

Sarah Desjardines basically steals these episodes as Callie, flipping the script on last season's angry teen trope and proving the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. When Callie's involvement with undercover detective Saracusa (John Reynolds) jeopardizes everything, she quickly adjusts, showing an aptitude under pressure few expected from this previously irritating character. Of everyone, she might be the shrewdest, as an impressed Lottie eventually finds out firsthand. But as sad at it seems, it took Shauna killing someone to finally bring her and Callie closer.

It's not difficult to see how the loss of Shauna's baby would directly inform that dysfunctional relationship with Callie later on. Shauna's doomed pregnancy is hard to watch, as is the team staring in stunned silence as she later beats the hell out of Lottie, nearly killing her. But the group's impromptu Midsommar-like feast (with Jackie as a main course) is a bridge too far for the disgusted, suicidal Coach Ben. He's haunted by his decision to board that plane and leave behind an unexplored life with boyfriend Paul (François Arnaud). Misty's friendship with Crystal goes south, as we knew it would, but more revealing is how she covers up her bestie's barely accidental death, planting seeds for the Citizen Detective she'll become.

Nat makes some morally questionable calls in dealing with Travis before her number seemingly comes up. It's alarming how quickly the team's bloodthirst kicks in, becoming all too eager to hunt and kill her because the wilderness "chose." But if what happens to the returning Javi is any indication, it's the Yellowjackets calling all the shots. They could have saved him and didn't, instead getting another meal and paving the way for Lottie to pass the Antler Queen baton to Nat.

Adult Nat won't be so lucky, but at least goes out sacrificing herself to save Lisa. This is as big a death as it gets on an ensemble drama like this, placing the remainder of Nat's story in Sophie Thatcher's hands. And she often doesn't get enough credit for channeling Juliette Lewis's mannerisms and voice, with many opting instead to focus on a perceived lack of physical resemblance (which isn't true upon looking at clips and photos of a younger Lewis). 

Heightened by the use of Radiohead's "Street Spirit (Fade Out)," Nat's strangely moving death sequence is more notable for seeing Thatcher and Lewis act side-by-side in the same scene. As the character passes over to the other side having apparently found some kind of peace, you remember just how interconnected everything is. Because the format can sometimes make this feel like two different shows, any chance to see the older and younger versions of these characters interact on screen is bound to feel special. And this definitely does.

With adult Shauna apparently in the clear over Adam's murder thanks to Walter, Misty will have to wrestle with the fact she's directly responsible for Nat's demise. Beyond that, everything's a question mark in that timeline, almost as if it's wrapped up. The past looks a little clearer, as more death, betrayals and dark days seem inevitable until rescue. Feeling increasingly dispensable, Coach Ben's burning of the cabin indicates he's officially gone off the rails, setting him up as a far bigger threat and making those brief glimpses of the team's 1998 return home even more intriguing.   

Like most second seasons, this tries to jam a lot in, but even as we're sometimes left perplexed by character motivations or storytelling holes, it's kind of shocking how steady it remains. And while the musical choices seem a little more on the nose compared to last season, it's tough to complain about such an impressive catalogue of mid 90's hits, along with an Alanis Morrisette cover of Craig Wedren and Anna Waronker's brilliant "No Return" opening theme.

Considering its perilous setting and a plot dependent on physical survival, the makeup and costuming needs to be unmatched, which it is. This also seems to be outgrowing all those early, superficial comparisons to Lost, as you sense the writers know the importance of having enough creative guardrails in place to prevent the series from devolving into an impenetrable puzzle-box. But based on what we've seen, Yellowjackets is still headed in an upward trajectory, delivering a tight sophomore season that doesn't overstay its welcome and still has us clamoring for more. 

Yellowjackets (Season 1)

Creators: Ashley Lyle and Bart Nickerson
Starring: Melanie Lynskey, Tawny Cypress, Ella Purnell, Sophie Nélisse, Jasmin Savoy Brown, Sophie Thatcher, Samantha Hanratty, Steven Krueger, Warren Kole, Christina Ricci, Juliette Lewis, Courtney Eaton, Liv Hewson, Kevin Alves, Rekha Sharma, Jane Widdop, Sarah Desjardins, Rukiya Bernard, Aiden Stoxx, Peter Gadiot, Alex Wyndham
Original Airdate: 2021 

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)  

Lost meets Lord of the Flies in Showtime's Yellowjackets, which already managed to stand out as a major achievement in an increasingly crowded TV field. But what's most intriguing about this psychological thriller created by Ashley Lyle and Bart Nickerson is how it superficially appears to be taking us down a familiar road, before developing its premise in increasingly inventive ways that set it apart. At this point, the "mystery box" genre is basically an art form unto itself, often accompanied by demanding viewers' fears they'll only get burned in the end. And that's a real risk here, as questions and plots continue to accumulate, possibly increasing the odds of eventual frustration. Then again, maybe not. 

Considering how much is still likely to come, it's worth stopping to appreciate a series that feels as if its potential is limitless. And judging this season in a vacuum, freed from expectations of what's next, it's pretty astounding. While a truly accurate verdict can only come once the succeeding chapters play out, it's still impossible no to revel in its addictiveness. Whether or not this is the high water mark, when you get a ten episodes this meticulously constructed and suspenseful, the optimism feels warranted. 

Straddling two timelines, the show invites a rewatch for clues and details that could easily go unnoticed the first go-around. A chilling, occasionally gory survival tale and darkly comical coming-of-age story, it's most interested in how one event can leave lasting emotional trauma that shapes and scars its survivors well into adulthood. And in reframing the idea of what actually constitutes "surviving," it also provides some underappreciated 90's actresses the best roles of their careers, while being backed by a lineup of younger talents who match them at every turn. With a killer soundtrack and unmatched eye for period detail, it's a throwback that's also timely, digging deeply into current culture's true crime obsession.

It's 1996 when a plane carrying the Wiskayok, New Jersey high school girl's yellowjackets soccer team crashes in the Canadian wilderness en route to nationals in Seattle. They'll be stranded for 19 months, scouring for food and struggling to stay alive, holding out hope for a rescue that doesn't look imminent. Among the survivors are team captain and popular queen bee Jackie (Ella Purnell), her best friend Shauna (Sophie Nélisse), stubborn, super-competitive Taissa (Jasmin Savoy Brown), class burnout Natalie (Sophie Thatcher), wisecracking goalkeeper Van (Liv Hewson), schizophrenic Lottie (Courtney Eaton), devoutly religious Laura Lee (Jane Widdop) bullied, awkward equipment manager Misty (Samantha Hanratty) assistant coach Ben (Steven Krueger) and Travis (Kevin Alves) and younger brother Javi (Luciano Leroux), sons of Coach Martinez (Carlos Sanz), who perished in the crash. As winter approaches and the need for food becomes increasingly urgent, tensions bubble over, fragmenting the group. With the woods possibly holding some dark secrets of its own, it's heavily hinted they may soon be resorting to cannibalism to survive.

In present day, we meet the yellowjackets as middle-aged adults when they start receiving mysterious postcards marked with a familiar symbol, reuniting them to protect the secret of what really happened in the woods 25 years earlier. An impulsive Shauna (Melanie Lynskey) feels trapped in a sexless marriage with Jackie's ex-boyfriend Jeff (Warren Kole) when she's approached by suspicious reporter Jessica Roberts (Rekha Sharma), who's attempting to extract information about the crash. 

Taissa (Tawny Cypress) is running for state senator while trying to keep her family out of the public fray. Fresh out of rehab and struggling with her sobriety, Natalie (Juliette Lewis) attempts to locate recently missing ex-boyfriend Travis with geriatric nurse and self-proclaimed "citizen detective" Misty's (Christina Ricci) help. Clingy as ever and still desperately trying to be liked and accepted by the group, there's little she won't do to solve this mystery. With the crash's effects still impacting their lives, finally facing the truth might be the only way out. Unless a threatening blackmailer exposes it first.

Flashbacks and video footage are utilized in showing the public attention the accident has gotten, while we meet the team in the days leading up to the '96 crash. There's a heavy focus on Jackie, who's anointed team captain more for her influence over the others than soccer skills or leadership abilities. Her close friendship with sidekick Shauna seems partially built on a power dynamic that keeps Jackie  the center of attention as she runs around with Jeff (Jack DePew). But there's this subtle tension between the two girls you sense early on, as well as a gigantic secret that completely alters their relationship once the accident occurs, prompting Shauna step out of her friend's shadow. Physically and emotionally suffering in the wild, Jackie's social standing proves irrelevant when pushed this far outside her comfort zone.

With Taissa emerging as the group's leader, previously ostracized Mindy proves medically invaluable in the wilderness. And she knows it, the satisfaction of being needed causing her more manipulative, sociopathic tendencies to surface (like an obsession with Coach Ben). Samantha Hanratty is revelation in the role, which becomes even more apparent when you take Ricci's performance into account as the adult version.

Plagued by substance abuse and a rough upbringing, Natalie unexpectedly bonds with a very distant Travis. And off her medication, Lotti is having eerily prescient visions that are rapidly separating the believers from everyone else. That these sub-plots aren't entirely divorced from real teen problems in the 90's give them even more weight, as many of them were already bubbling under the surface before that fated flight took off.

Perceived pecking orders and hierarchies are flipped once everyone's thrown into a do-or-die scenario that exposes their strengths and weaknesses. It's not surprising things get ugly fast, but the series excels most in depicting the tiny, uncomfortable details that aren't talked about or don't initially come to mind when considering the challenges of being stranded in the woods with no help in sight. 

Credit the makeup and effects team for believably depicting some gruesome deaths and injuries that only intensify in number as this wears on. If episode 7 ("No Compass") contains the season's scariest and most shocking event, tensions reach a peak in the ninth ("Doomcoming"), when the group trips on hallucinogenic shrooms, causing all hell to break loose. What happens next ensures there's no turning back from the darkness. Some will embrace that, even as others don't.  

Ella Purnell's complicated and nuanced performance as outgoing, insecure "mean girl" Jackie creates somewhat of a dilemma since she's the lead and her character isn't seen in present day.  That we immediately assume the worst only increases the intrigue level, prompting speculation as to whether the writers would actually kill off such a major player this early. And if so, why? While there's a genuine sense no one is safe, many reasons work in explaining why we haven't met certain adult versions of the girls. At least as of yet. Everything's on the table, with the only guarantee being that the worst is certainly still ahead. 

All the older actresses are accurate ringers for their younger counterparts in looks, demeanors and personalities, so even as Jackie's future absence remains conspicuous, Shauna, Taissa, Natalie and Misty more than carry the load. Stuck in a state of arrested development, Shauna has a terrible relationship with her rebellious daughter Callie (Sarah Desjardins) and in therapy with husband Jeff when she embarks on an affair with the younger Adam (Peter Gadiot). A suspicious artist who happens to land in her life just as the yellowjackets are being blackmailed, he immediately sends up all sorts of red flags. 

Lynskey carries much of the present day story and it might go unnoticed just how consistently effective she is in playing a woman so used to burying her trauma that she can hardly recognize herself anymore. Based on recent life choices, guilt-ridden Shauna should be the the series' most unlikable character, but in Lynskey's capable hands she's actually sympathetic, and a times hilarious with a twisted, deadpan sense of humor. Part of the our attachment to her may stem from what Sophie Nélisse does as the teen version just seeing what she went through out there. It's just not the kind of emotional trauma that heals overnight, making it easier to see why she'd be prone to these disastrous decisions.  

What hasn't changed about adult Taissa is the stubbornness, throwing herself into the public eye with a senate run that not only draws unwanted attention to the group, but compromises the safety of wife Simone (Rukiya Bernard) and their troubled young son Sammy (Aiden Stoxx). What's going on with her is viscerally disturbing and on an entirely different level than the other survivors, suggesting a full-fledged dissociative disorder of some kind. Tawny Cypress does an exceptional job conveying the growing panic of someone whose private and public personas are simultaneously unraveling. The biggest danger Taissa's family faces just might be her, and she knows it.

Few would complain if the whole series were a middle-aged Misty and Natalie buddy comedy, as their onscreen chemistry is priceless, providing Ricci and Lewis the ideal outlet for their distinctive talents. Misty is who she is, and unapologetically so. If the rest were forever changed by the crash, you get the impression she's always been like this. Thirsting for acceptance, unable to read social cues and yet strangely comfortable in her own skin, there's hardly a moment of reflection or regret for this toxic caregiver, even when leveraging others to further her agenda. Everything is a means to an end, but Ricci brilliantly imbues this painfully self-aware character with such funny, likable quirks that you can't help but want to believe good intentions could be buried beneath even her most deluded behavior. 

Misty is the ideal foil to Nat, played by a manically unhinged Juliette Lewis at the top of her game. Wildly unpredictable and constantly on the verge of substance relapse, she doesn't suffer fools, which Misty appreciates. Nat actually does seem to need her help, but isn't above above using manipulation or blackmail either, representing a stark change from the brave, resourceful girl we see in the woods in '96. It's obvious Nat's had the roughest post-crash existence, greatly contrasting with how highly she's been spoken of by Shauna and Taissa. But that was the past and this is the present. What happened in between is still largely unknown, despite an abundance of clues and bread crumbs dropped throughout.

The show's already mastered the lost art of classic opening title sequences, with Craig Wedren and Anna Waronker's theme, "No Return" seemingly arriving via time machine from the mid-90's. It's accompanied by a grungy, VHS-style assortment of obscure shots sure to have fans frantically searching for Easter eggs. And the rest of its Gen-X infused soundtrack lives up to that musical promise, featuring an onslaught of cleverly placed, period specific needle drops from the likes of The Smashing Pumpkins, The Offspring, Jane's Addiction, Hole, Collective Soul, Liz Phair, The Cranberries and Belly. 

It's hardly a spoiler to reveal that the Eduardo Sánchez-directed finale ("Sic Transit Gloria Mundi') contains multiple surprises and tragedies, as the events of 1996 continue to inform our evolving perceptions of 2021 and its current characters. The tensions between young Jackie and Shauna will have to reach a head, the repercussions of which still clearly reverberate decades later. Adult Misty's desire for control reaches alarming levels as the fragility of Taissa's mental state proves even more precarious than initially suspected. And how about the postcards and blackmail? What about Adam? But maybe more importantly, who's the Antler Queen?  

A genre mash-up of sorts, this feels like the kind of series we've been waiting for, even if it's necessary to temper those expectations with the possibility it can just as easily fly off the rails. While there have already been teases of the supernatural, it's probably too risky a proposition to build the series around it. It's been at its best when exploring the interpersonal relationships and psychological trauma resulting from the crash's aftermath. There's likely to be a continued emphasis on the mystical horror/sci-fi elements, but that tends to work better in a less literal sense, instead reflecting the characters' fractured psyches. How to balance that is a decision they'll have to make before the show can truly know what it is.

If the writers play their cards right, they can expand not just this story, but the series' entire universe. The media circus and the public obsession with the crash seems like fertile ground for future episodes, as does the eventual rescue itself, assuming that's what happens. We could also get a glimpse into what the survivors' lives were like after their return, or even further before the flight. And we'll definitely be getting more older versions of the '96 characters, only further fueling speculation.

Supposedly, the creators have a five-year plan in place, and while it's easy to imagine there's enough story to sustain that, the details will be what matter most. In the meantime, it's safe to bet on many twists and blindsides, as the series continues to show all the signs of evolving into something really special. Whether what follows is capable of sustaining its creative ambition is another matter. Either way, what comes next is anyone's guess, so it's probably just best to buckle up and prepare for a wild ride. 

Jem and the Holograms

Director: John M. Chu
Starring: Aubrey Peeples, Stefanie Scott, Hayley Kiyoko, Aurora Perrineau, Juliette Lewis, Ryan Guzman, Molly Ringwald, Nathan Moore, Barnaby Carpenter, Ryan Hansen
Running Time: 118 min.
Rating: PG

★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

When envisioning a big screen adaptation of 80's cartoon and Hasbro toy line, Jem and the Holograms, it's unlikely anyone expected to see this. Or if box office is any indication, possibly never see, as it barely recouped its $5 million budget on route to becoming one of the biggest financial flops of 2015. The undereported story is just how insane and ambitious it is, admirably, if misguidingly, attempting to appeal to two entirely different audiences that couldn't be further apart on the moviegoing spectrum.

While small in number, fans of the original show (with which I'm only mildly familiar), now in their 30's and 40's have no reason to see this unless its a painstakingly faithful interpretation of what they grew up on. And yet there's this entire segment of the female teen demographic too young to even know of it who also needs catering to. On top of that, you have to also make a good film from a fairly ridiculous material that definitely doesn't lend itself to the big screen treatment at a budget that low.It's important to get that out the way because those circumstances heavily inform the fascinatingly flawed end result.

As an adaptation of the cult cartoon, it's a failure, if we're assuming the goal of a successful adaptation is to remain true to the source material and service its fans. But as a standalone film, its kind of intriguing how (for a while at least), the property is taken dead seriously, and why as a filmgoing culture, we take issue with that unless your name is Christopher Nolan. Using that criteria, the G.I. Joe and Transformers franchises were more of a bastardization of the original material than this because of the silliness and constant winking at the audience. Well, that, and they're terrible. And as a fan of both in my youth, it's easy to imagine how Jem fans feel knowing the movie in their heads never materialized because its creators insisted on a "reinterpretation" for current audiences that sucked the spirit from the original. But let's be honest: a big budgeted Jem movie loaded with mindless CGI action could have actually earned all the vitriol this received. So at least be glad they didn't go there.

Chu's version has serious issues, but many of them are reined in by the fact that it's low-budget indie that feels like one. With its documentary-style approach, ruminations on fame and identity and its incorporation and examination of social media, the movie has its moments, a few of them strangely moving. Its closest cousin in tv-to-film adaptation just might be Michael Mann's disappointing reboot of his own Miami Vice. Like that, this abandons all semblance of its inspiration in favor of sometimes causing exhausting bouts of narrative boredom. And also like that film, its beautiful to look at, with cinematographer Alice Brooks making the absolute most of what she's given while the costume design will come close to matching what fans had in their heads.

Where Jem veers of course is in its predictably desperate attempt to appeal to a mainstream audience of teen girls who likely have no interest in it. Had it truly committed to the tone of its material in the first half and plowed straight through without blinking, this could have been a far different conversation. It would have also made even less money, if that's possible. But this isn't disposable, manufactured junk, and while it's fun to kick a movie while its down, I'd at least prefer it be one with no artistic ambition whatsoever. This contains worthwhile ideas, as woefully executed as they may occasionally be.

Shy teen Jerrica Benton (Aubrey Peeples), and her younger, biological sister Kimber (Stefanie Scott) are living in San Bernardino Valley, California with their Aunt Bailey and foster sisters, Aja (Hayley Kiyoko) and Shana (Aurora Perrineau). With the family about to be evicted from their house, Jerrica and Kimber are still trying to process the death of their scientist father, whom we glimpse in home movie flashbacks with his final invention, a small robot called Synergy. To cope, Jerrica pours her heart out in song, belting out acoustic ballads in her bedroom late at night. But when the social media obsessed Kimber uploads one of those performances onto the internet, chaos ensues, with Jerrica's singing alter ego "Jem" becoming a viral sensation that catches the attention of coldy ambitious Starlight Enterprises CEO Erica Raymond (Juliette Lewis), who wants her on her label.

Desperately wanting Jem on her label, Erica reluctantly agrees to a package deal that would include Jerrica's sisters as her backing band. So it's off to L.A. where the girls will undergo training to launch their massive transformation into worldwide pop stars with Starlight employee Rio (Ryan Guzman) acting as their chaperone. But after originally singing to escape, Jerrica's suddenly facing an identity crisis in the midst of such attention, eventually finding herself torn between fame and family.

The movie opens in a documentary-style not unlike a found footage film and features some really good handheld camera work that takes us into these girls' lives and gives us a feel for their personalities. All of it seems surprisingly realistic, and Ryan Landels' script at least seems plugged in to what it's like for this age group to be living their lives online, cleverly incorporating actual viral videos into the narrative at inspired moments. While many of these choices could have easily been made for budgetary reasons, it fits the material and tone Chu's going for, even as little as it relates to the original property he's adapting.

There's no mistaking the intention was to bring these characters and the story very much into the here and now. Unfortunately, the Jem video that Kimber uploads is indistinguishable from the millions of others posted everyday from aspiring singers all over the world, making the resulting windfall of sudden attention seem a bit silly. She has a good voice, so how hard could it have been to pick a song that wasn't completely forgettable?

More memorable is the entrance of a scenery-chewing Juliette Lewis's Erica Raymond, who takes what has been a fairly straightforward, even occasionally touching depiction of orphan lives, a caring aunt struggling to make ends meet and a deceased parent, and appears to move this more toward what fans expected (hoped?) to see from a Jem movie. The handheld camera work stops exactly when Erica flies to the girls out to L.A. to be taken under wing and makes them abandon all social media. This transition is a small, but important detail that's gone overlooked, proving this does contain ideas, if not necessarily ones fans of the cartoon could ever get on board with.

The expectation at this point is that the film seems destined to evolve into some kind of music industry satire in the vain of 2001's surprisingly subversive Josie and the Pussycats feature. Instead, it actually gets gloomier and more serious with much time spent on Jerrica's identity crisis, as the very persona she cultivated to hide is suddenly the most famous singer in the world. The line the screenplay attempts to draw between the two is so thick it's tempting to draw comparisons to something like Supergirl, until remembering this is neither a superhero or action movie and the closest we get to fantasy is a complicated scavenger hunt involving the Synergy robot (which eerily resembles EVE from WALL-E).

For a project even very loosely based on a cartoon, it's still it's kind of remarkable just how moody and angsty it gets. There's a lot of soul searching from Jerrica, dragging the film to 118 minutes for the purpose of bludgeoning viewers over the head with a simplistic message of female empowerment that turns this into the cotton candy convection we initially feared it could be with the director of Justin Beiber: Never Say Never at the helm. And that's too bad because even in the midst of this nonsense are some genuine flashes of inspiration, like the band's improvisation during a blackout performance or Jem's comical encounter with an overzealous security guard.

Even the developing romance between her and Rio isn't pushed down our throats, paying off with believable restraint, which in all fairness probably has more to do with the studio's desire to maintain a PG rating than screenwriting nuance. And they picked the right actress to play Jem, as Nashville's Aubrey Peeples (giving off vibes that land somewhere between Kristen Stewart and Zooey Deschanel) is not only pretty and talented, but has the pipes necessary to deliver on stage as Jerrica's alter ego. We're left with the impression she would have worked in any incarnation of a Jem movie that got released and comes out of this better than many others would. When Jerrica finally completes and accepts her complete transformation into full-fledged pop star, Ziggy Stardust face paint and all, Peeples even seems to look the part, which could only add to the frustration of hardcore fans wishing they got a different film. 

The rest of the girls make their strongest impressions in that opening half hour before literally and figuratively surrendering the spotlight to Peeples. Stefanie Scott follows not so closely behind in screen impact, with Aurora Perrineau and Hayley Kiyoko eventually relegated to background players. That's kind of disappointing considering how integral they seemed in the opening minutes.

Similarly, Molly Ringwald radiates such pure warmth and kindness in her few scenes as Aunt Bailey that it's hard not to wish more were also done with her. But she does have one fantastic encounter with the aforementioned Juliette Lewis, who digs in her heels to absolutely kill it in a bitchy role that was originally filled by a man in the original cartoon, or more specifically Guzman's character. I'm still unsure Lewis' performance even necessarily belongs in the movie we got so much as the one she wants it to be, but it's hard to argue against her being the most entertaining thing in it.

The music performed by the band is mainstream pop, and as far as that goes, it's catchy enough and better than expected. In a perfect world with little regard for commercial prospects, we may have gotten something that veered closer to rock or even punk (think The Runaways or Ladies and Gentlemen, The Fabulous Stains), but that was never going to happen. If this was to be a complete reimagining that takes the characters into the current musical landscape, only pop would have accomplished that. It's unfortunate, but also underlines the inherent difficulties in updating retro material that needs to be aimed at two generations with such wildly disparate tastes. It's actually the film, more than Jerrica, suffering from the identity crisis, eventually falling on the side of teen empowerment when the preceding hour suggested more serious potential. 

It speaks volumes that that fans and critics all seem to be in agreement that the best scene comes during the end credits. Not because they're right, but because it's systematic of the Marvelization of pop culture, in which movies have become "franchises" and "universes" littered with easter eggs and commercials for  sequels imbedded into the narrative. It might be the only scene that pays direct homage to the original material in a way any disgruntled fan could get behind. In other words, it's pure fan service and nothing more. The movie they "wanted to see" and never will. And there's a really good chance that would have been awful.

This somewhat misguided project has enough problems that I can't comfortably recommend it with a straight face, but at least they're understandable ones given the scope. And that's coming from someone with no dog in the fight, watching primarily to discover if it deserves its designation as worst of the year for reasons other than losing a lot of money. It doesn't. If anything, Jem and the Holograms is a case study demonstrating the perils and pitfalls of crafting an entire film as setup and origin story. But at times it also highlights the strengths of such an approach, culminating in one of the few near-misses worth seeing just to say you did.