Companion

Director: Drew Hancock
Starring: Sophie Thatcher, Jack Quaid, Lukas Gage, Megan Suri, Harvey Guillén, Rupert Friend, Jaboukie Young-White, Matthew J. McCarthy, Marc Menchaca
Running Time: 97 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★)  

Writer/director Drew Hancock's sci-fi thriller Companion works backwards, opening with its implications before doing an about face to show how we got there. Whether it's her blank, emotionless stare, the curious questions or that mechanically obsessive desire to please her partner and be accepted into his friend group, something's clearly off. But while all the signs this title companion is a robot are present from the start, we can just as easily ignore them, lulling ourselves into the idea we're watching the disintegration of a real relationship. And to a certain degree, that's true. 

Given a permission structure to indulge in his basest instincts, the film's antagonist sees this robot girlfriend as someone who will now finally understand him, tending to his every need and desire. But despite seeing the machine as authentic enough to satisfy all those selfish requirements, he won't hesitate reminding her what she actually is. It's an uneven power dynamic that carries very different implications for each, subversively satirizing the risks of artificial intelligence by taking aim at those who abuse the luxury.   

"Companion Robot" Iris (Sophie Thatcher) is nervously anticipating a weekend trip with boyfriend Josh (Jack Quaid) to a secluded lake house where she'll meet standoffish Kat (Megan Suri), partners Eli (Harvey Guillén) and Patrick (Lukas Gage) and Kat's rich boyfriend Sergey (Rupert Friend). But shortly after the pair's arrival, a violent incident occurs as Iris seemingly malfunctions, forcing Josh to temporarily shut her down while also leaving him with an important decision to make. 

With Iris's emotions and feelings still controlled by the app on Josh's phone, he prepares to notify the robotics company about what happened. But when Iris flees, the group must now determine how to handle what's quickly become a major mess. Armed with the app, and in some small part now driving her own destiny, Iris fights for autonomy in a cat-and-mouse game she may not be able to survive. 

The film begins with a meet cute flashback in the produce aisle that under any normal circumstances would seem completely innocuous aside from the fact it never really happened. It's a fitting visual and thematic homage to that infamous supermarket scene in 1972's The Stepford Wives, replacing zombified, subservient spouses with literal robots as Hancock explores the misogyny leaking from every pore of this premise. Uploaded with memories that never existed, Iris's entire being is tailored to the whims of her buyer.    

The word "user" couldn't be more applicable for Josh, whose sense of  entitlement and male victimhood can freely roam unchecked thanks to the service tech company Empathix provides. And in treating Iris as his own personal blow-up doll, Josh doesn't only exert control in a physical sense, but emotionally, as her lack of agency finally provides him the pass he's always wanted and felt deserving of. 

While the angry incel is now a popular go-to genre trope, that doesn't make this subject or Quaid's performance ring any less true. Here, he continues to show his range with a drastic departure from his recent turn as a reluctant action hero in Novocaine. But the movie belongs to a compelling Thatcher, who has just the right look, delivery and blank, glazed over expressions to make Iris eerily believable as a bot opening her eyes to the conspiracy engulfing her. The plot carries echoes of Ex Machina and M3GAN, and though its ideas don't exactly fall by the wayside in the final act, this does eventually take the shape of a more traditional horror thriller, albeit one with a killer last scene. 

"It's the programming" is a mantra frequently repeated throughout, reminding us how these innovations rarely giving users the level of control they assume they're owed. In that sense, Companion feels like a timely excursion into The Twilight Zone, showing us how advanced technology is only as beneficial or harmful as society chooses. And it's a lesson these characters could have stood to learn before finding out the hard way. But that wouldn't be nearly as fun to watch.

Asteroid City

Director: Wes Anderson
Starring: Jason Schwartzman, Scarlett Johansson, Tom Hanks, Jeffrey Wright, Tilda Swinton, Bryan Cranston, Edward Norton, Adrien Brody, Liev Schreiber, Hope Davis, Stephen Park, Rupert Friend, Maya Hawke, Steve Carell, Matt Dillon, Hong Chau, Willem Dafoe, Margot Robbie, Tony Revolori, Jake Ryan, Grace Edwards, Aristou Meehan, Sophia Lillis, Ethan Josh Lee, Jeff Goldblum
Running Time: 105 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★) 

The style vs. substance debate that's followed Wes Anderson throughout his career again rears its head with Asteroid City, an ambitious effort from a very distinctive filmmaker sure to split critics and audiences down the middle. He must be used to it by now, considering how each new release is accompanied by conversations about how Andersonian it really is. For rabid devotees, there's no such thing as too much, whereas just a couple of minutes is more than enough for the harshest detractors. But even as his singular aesthetic still prompts accusations of superficial repetitiveness, few contemporary directors have amassed a body of work so instantly recognizable. No matter what you think of it.  

For all the SNL skits or viral video spoofs, making a Wes Anderson picture is a market he'll always have cornered because there's an underlying sincerity to what he does that no one's been able to duplicate. Even when the execution seems like a parody of itself, there's more there. It's especially true of his best efforts like Rushmore and The Royal Tenenbaums, where style and substance overlap in character-driven stories that go to deeper, rawer places many feel he hasn't returned to since. The jury's still out on where this one lands, but it's definitely a departure of sorts. Or at least as much of a departure as we've gotten from the divisive director in a long time. 

The film's retro futuristic desert setting is a hugely impressive visual achievement brought to surreal life by Robert Yeoman's cinematography and Adam Stockhausen's production design. But there's also a meta layer that distinguishes it, as a stacked cast pulls double duty in both a black-and-white TV documentary special of a play and the play's events, presented in vibrant color. It's also a pastiche of postwar Americana, UFO paranoia and old Hollywood moviemaking that further explores the themes of grief and ostracization constantly present in Anderson's output. In other words, there's a lot to unpack.

The film opens in black-and-white as a TV host (Bryan Cranston) introduces renowned playwright Conrad Earp's (Edward Norton) production of "Asteroid City," a play that takes place in a fictional 1955 desert town of the same name. In it, war photographer Augie Steenbeck (Jason Schwartzman) arrives with his intellectual teen son Woodrow (Jake Ryan) and three daughters at the Junior Stargazer convention where Woodrow is being honored. But Augie's inability to tell the kids of their mother's recent death complicates his already fragile relationship with curmudgeonly father-in-law Stanley (Tom Hanks). 

Also in town is Midge Campbell (Scarlett Johansson), a famous, melancholy actress whose teen daughter Dinah (Grace Edwards) is also being recognized at the convention. Among the other attendees are elementary school teacher June Douglas (Maya Hawke) and her class, a cowboy band led by a singer named Montana (Rupert Friend), the brilliant but eccentric astronomer Dr. Hickenlooper (Tilda Swinton) and five star General Grif Gibson (Jeffrey Wright). 

When a major extraterrestrial event inexplicably occurs during the awards presentation, the U.S. government frantically intervenes to contain the site and quarantine witnesses in town. We're also shown glimpses of the TV special detailing the play's evolution, as the actors struggle to make sense of their roles, most notably Schwartzman's Jones Hall, who helplessly turns to director Schubert Green (Adrien Brody) for creative guidance.

It isn't clear where the story's going for much of the first forty minutes, or even if it's headed in a direction that would set it apart from what we've already seen from Anderson. And despite his penchant for attracting huge names, the involvement of Hanks and Johansson doesn't necessarily signify we're in for something especially unique, as sometimes even the biggest stars have taken back seats to the framing and visual presentation of his pictures. And this one is mind-blowing, shot by Yeoman with a bright, oversaturated artificiality that recalls 50's Westerns like Bad Day at Black Rock. 

As usual with Anderson, the actors dryly deliver their lines with a kind of detached bemusement that almost implies they're playing imitations or mockeries of themselves. Only the real kicker this time is that they actually are. The "play within a play" conceit allow the actors to carry aspects of their performer's uncertainty toward the material into the actual roles, adding an important contextual layer. This works especially well with Schwartzman and Johansson, who delicately depict Augie and Midge's ambivalence toward each another, dancing around their feelings before eventually connecting on a deeper level. Schwartzman's nuanced turn has you wondering why he isn't cast more often as a lead while Johansson perfectly captures this moody, morose Hollywood starlet with an edge. 

Once the UFO event unfolds with the appearance of a wacky looking alien, the script's characters really start to wrestle with various forms of loneliness and uncertainty. And like many Anderson films, it celebrates the quirky outsider, as the Junior Stargazers are far more tuned in and observant than any of their parents, scientists and especially government officials. Those Moonrise Kingdom vibes are definitely present in Woodrow and Dinah's relationship, while the film still manages to incorporate an endless parade of well known faces without it coming across as a stunt.

Hanks, Hawke and Swinton make the most impact with what they're handed and even the smaller parts occupied by Hope Davis, Liev Schreiber and Willem Dafoe humorously fill out the corners of this bizarre world. If there's a true highlight, it's Margot Robbie's sensational single scene opposite Schwartzman, which ties the movie's metaverse in knots to gain invaluably greater insight into Augie and the actor who plays him. Most assumed Hanks' cranky part was originally intended for Bill Murray, but the latter was actually cast as Steve Carell's motel manager before having to pull out. Regardless, Hanks puts his own spin on Stanley and Carell's tiny role would likely be a waste of Murray anyway. 

From the moment an entertainingly deadpan Cranston appears on screen channeling Rod Serling in a Playhouse 90-style special, it's apparent we're in for a rarer breed of nostalgic escape than Anderson usually delivers. A single viewing of Asteroid City won't determine its ranking in his filmography or win over doubters, but much of what the trailer hinted at pans out with Anderson flair, again making it difficult to separate the filmmaker from his creation. But like these characters, we'll just have to accept that understanding everything isn't the goal, or really even necessary at all.

Obi-Wan Kenobi

Director: Deborah Chow
Starring: Ewan McGregor, Rupert Friend, Sung Kang, Moses Ingram, Vivien Lyra Blair, Kumail Nanjiani, Hayden Christensen, James Earl Jones, Indira Varma, O'Shea Jackson Jr., Benny Safdie, Joel Edgerton, Bonnie Piesse, Simone Kessell, Flea, Jimmy Smits, Zach Braff, Maya Erskine, Ian McDiarmid, Grant Feely
Original Airdate: 2022  

**The following review contains major 'Obi-Wan Kenobi' spoilers **

★★★ (out of ★★★★)

How much is too much? That's been the billion dollar question for Disney since their 2012 acquisition of Lucasfilm. Since then, we've seen an entire Star Wars sequel trilogy, a standalone Han Solo film, a much admired big screen A New Hope prequel and an almost equally beloved streaming series thought to have "saved" the franchise. From a commercial standpoint it was all worth it, regardless of how often they hit the creative bull's eye or the amount of vitriol the actor and directors involved seem to receive. But when churning out this much content, we know the real risk comes in trying to fill every story gap in the SW universe with a series or film, leading to potential oversaturation and backlash. In other words, they need to pick their spots.

As one of the few who feel Disney's done better than they've gotten credit for, there's no ignoring the reasons why The Mandalorian worked and The Book of Boba Fett spinoff underperformed until Grogu, Mando and Luke came in for the save. A legendary bit player, Boba's popularity and mystique always revolved around what we thought he could be, but Pedro Pasquel's Mando already had the badass market cornered, leaving a surprisingly restrained Boba without much to do in his own series despite a strong Temuera Morrison performance. So now with viewers still questioning the sustainability of that series comes Obi-Wan Kenobi, which carries an even greater risk.  

Taking place ten years after Revenge of the Sith but a decade prior to A New Hope, Disney's playing with fire in the most literal sense. They've brought out the big guns in not just the title character (whom Ewan McGregor is reprising for the first time since 2005), but Anakin/Darth Vader, Luke and Leia at an unseen stage in their journeys. What's done here can affect perceptions of what happened before and what we know eventually comes. "Continuity" is a loaded word, and as no fan of the prequels, it's come as a bit of a surprise how much nostalgia and affection now suddenly exists for those who grew up on them. The best news is that the series revolves entirely around the long-term aftermath of Episode III, arguably that trilogy's finest hour. 

The show walks a tight rope in trying to get into Kenobi's headspace during this era while not disrupting or diminishing what's already been established, helping make this experiment fascinating to watch unfold. With occasionally scattershot storytelling, some of the six episodes are a mixed bag, but as the finale proves, it gets the big things right and feels like Star Wars, successfully revisiting the complicated bond between Obi-Wan and his former pupil while adding a few wrinkles to their feud.

With more focus, McGregor surpasses what he did in the prequels and channels some of what Alec Guinness brought to A New Hope, as we slowly inch closer to that period. And Disney continues its streak of nailing Vader, actually building on what made him such a terrifying, intimidating force in all his previous incarnations while exploring his fractured psyche. After a somewhat shaky start, it mostly comes together, ensuring that any potential rewatch of the interconnecting big screen sagas could play a lot differently now.

Ten years since Obi-Wan Kenobi (McGregor) survived Order 66 and left a horribly burned and disfigured Anakin Skywalker for dead on Mustafar, he's living as "Ben" on Tatooine, having seemingly abandoned his Jedi ways. Still consumed with guilt over Anakin's turn to the dark side, he resides alone in a cave, working a meat packing job and watching over young Luke Skywalker (Grant Feely) from afar. But Darth Vader's shadow looms large, as vengeful Third Sister and Jedi-hunting Inquisitor, Reva (Moses Ingram) becomes obsessed with finding Kenobi and delivering him to master Vader. 

Reva's ruthless ambition draws the ire of the Grand Inquisitor (Rupert Friend) and Fifth Brother (Sung Kang), who find her rash methods intolerable, even as she sets the ultimate trap, kidnapping 10-year-old Leia Organa (Vivien Lyra Blair) in an effort to lure Kenobi. Unaware of her biological father's identity or his relationship to Obi-Wan, the feisty and brave young Princess of Alderaan must learn to trust this mysterious, bearded Jedi as he prepares for his inevitable confrontation with former Padawan turned Sith Lord, Vader. Haunted and emotionally paralyzed, it's a showdown a weakened Kenobi never expected to occur, and one he may not have the strength to endure.

There were a lot of assumptions made going into these handful of episodes directed by The Mandalorian's Deborah Chow. Would Obi-Wan take a backseat to Reva in his own story? Would his interactions with young Leia and Luke contradict or negatively impact their presumed introduction to him in A New Hope? Would Vader be depicted as the same brutal, intimidating killing machine from the original trilogy? How much, if any, Anakin is left within him? And maybe the most important question is how this all affects Kenobi's fateful encounter with Vader ten years later, which we thought was their only confrontation after Mustafar. 

Kenobi's defeated state of mind during this period makes sense, and while you run the risk of unwanted comparisons to Luke's much maligned exile in The Last Jedi, it is an entirely unrelated situation. It's impossible to believe Obi-Wan wouldn't still be heavily traumatized after leaving Anakin to die, or so he thought, with the big twist being that that he knew nothing of his ex-friend's survival until now. This, along with the revelation that A New Hope didn't mark his first encounter with Luke and Leia, opens up a new can of worms. Though it's not technically cheating from a narrative standpoint, accusations of this being revisionist history will probably persist. But unlike George Lucas' superficially pointless Special Edition changes, this isn't physically altering the actual films, but instead shifting the conversations around them.

The Inquisitors are kind of one-dimensional (especially Sung Kang's grunting and grouchy Fifth Brother), and while Reva 's the notable exception, it even takes her character a little while to get going. Since her rather obvious backstory is easily telegraphed by viewers right away, it becomes a matter of filling in the details and fleshing out why she's so obsessed with bringing Kenobi to Vader at any cost. Having to play everything in a single note until the very end puts Moses Ingram in a tough spot, but she's clearly our main gateway to the two former friends coming face-to-face again. Obviously, we're far more invested in Kenobi, Vader, Leia, and Luke, so it's easy to trust that Chow will eventually get us there.  

As young Leia, the series-stealing Vivien Lyra Blair is sassy and headstrong, while bringing just the right amount of sarcastic precociousness to make it entirely believable she'll emerge as the version Carrie Fisher later portrays. Since we know she'll contact Obi-Wan for help in A New Hope, the writers seem especially careful in developing this temporary bond between the two, borne out of necessity, but primed to be revisited years down the road. 

Kenobi's knowledge of Leia's bloodline and past with Anakin and Padme creates a compelling dynamic while her kidnapping(s) gives the child a closer, harsher look at the Empire that contradicts what she's been fed from adopted parents Senator Bail (Jimmy Smits) and Queen Breha (Simone Kessell). With trusty droid L0-LA in her pocket, little Leia's a handful, as she should be, but Lyra Blair's performance opposite McGregor is perfect in how it plants the seeds for how valuable her rebellious spirit will be. There are also some strong supporting performances from Indira Varma as an Imperial Officer helping Kenobi and Leia, Kumail Nanjiani as a Jedi-posing con artist and O' Shea Jackson Jr. as another Jedi aiding in their escape. But there's only one thing anyone will be talking about after the sixth episode: Kenobi and Vader.  

Voiced again (with some technological enhancement) by the legendary James Earl Jones and getting a physical assist from the returning Hayden Christensen under the armor, this Vader is very much in line with what who we saw in the original trilogy and Rogue One. While not quite at that level of confident brutality yet, this succeeds at showing he's well on his way. Choking villagers and breaking necks left and right on the hunt for Kenobi, it's fitting that Vader's reunion with his mentor should end in Obi-Wan being burned and nearly put in the same state he left Anakin on Mustafar. Obi-Wan's realization that his best friend is still alive as this monster, yet not, becomes nearly impossible for him to reconcile.

Kenobi's guilt makes him incapable of killing Vader no matter how much damage him surviving will cause. This is at the crux of the series, as the finale sees Kenobi recognizing that he doesn't "need" to end Vader, but rather abandon any delusions he had in returning him to the light side of the force. Only Luke can, because unlike Kenobi, he'll see his father and Vader as one, eventually proving Padme's dying declaration that there's "still good in him" to be true. But for all of this to happen and Vader to vanquish Emperor Palpatine (Ian McDiarmid) in Return of the Jedi, Obi-Wan has to let him go. But not until after the epic lightsaber duel that the season's been building toward.

With Chow paying homage to a familiar scene Rebels scene, half of Vader's mask is cut open as his face straddles between lightness and dark, electronically slipping in and out of James Earl Jones and Hayden Christensen's voices. Considering the speculation surrounding just how much the latter would be used with Anakin now fully suited up, a prequel era flashback (minus de-aging effects), hallucinations and that final emotional reveal give us more Hayden than expected. And even his biggest detractors would have to admit his handling of Anakin's turn in Revenge of the Sith was the actor's strongest showing. He delivers again here, being utilized in a way that makes sense, likely satisfying a vast majority of fans that go beyond your usual prequel defenders.  

The question of when Anakin truly becomes Vader will always be mired in debate, with many contending it's when he first dons the suit at the end of Episode III. But this series adds a huge footnote, hinting perhaps that his full evolution into the Sith Lord happened in stages, with this season-closing battle with Kenobi marking a final important step. While Vader takes credit for killing Anakin, strangely absolving his former master and enabling him to let go of the guilt he's carried, it's far from a benevolent gesture. The admission officially confirms that Anakin's gone, with the armored suit now sustaining Vader as much psychologically as physically.  

The creation of this entire Vader persona reveals itself as the only way Anakin can live with guilt of what he did to Padme and the destruction he's caused. His confession that he wished Obi-Wan finished the job on Mustafar is sadly the truth on many levels. After getting demolished in this final duel, Vader crawls away defeated, but lives to fight another day stronger than before, having finally rid himself of this Kenobi obsession. He now has bigger plans on his mind than one mere Jedi, as Palpatine manipulatively reminds him. Having John Williams' iconic Imperial March blasting over the soundtrack in the last episode couldn't be more appropriate. Obi-Wan is no longer an Anakin problem since Anakin now ceases to exist. This is the rise of Darth Vader.

Reva turns out to be both more and less than we thought. As expected, she was secretly plotting against Vader for the Order 66 slaughter but at least the writers were smart enough to keep him more than a few steps ahead. The only thing we may have underestimated was the full range of her anger, not only toward him, but Kenobi, whom she holds almost equally responsible. Reva's sneak attack on Vader had as much chance of succeeding as her being able to move on from the past trauma, but she takes it to a whole new level in targeting young Luke. It's surprisingly satisfying seeing Uncle Owen (Joel Edgerton) and Aunt Beru (Bonnie Piesse) in action combat mode, adding another layer to characters who desperately needed to be remembered as more than the charred skeletons in A New Hope. 

With this comes confirmation of how much the Lars family cared for Luke, while also providing some background on Owen's overprotectiveness. His irritation toward Kenobi for wanting to be a part of Luke's life starts to thaw, indicating that the seasoned Jedi Master is closer to the fully actualized Obi-Wan who later trains Luke, as McGregor's performance expertly conveys it. But for now, we'll settle for a brief tease (along with a "Hello There"), as the wide-eyed youngster greets him with the same look of reverence and astonishment Leia does in their emotional goodbye on Alderaan. 

Finally at peace able to see and communicate with the Force Ghost of Qui-Gon (Liam Neeson), you have to wonder what could possibly be left for a second season, assuming Disney's interested in going there. Attempting to extract even more from Kenobi and Vader probably isn't advisable, but that never stopped them before. And then there's the curious creative decision to leave a now fully redeemed and very injured Reva alive as a dangling story thread, which seems perplexing given how much she knows. 

While still a notch or two below the Mandalorian, Obi-Wan Kenobi keeps with the constantly shifting tone and aesthetic of Star Wars, revealing just enough to keep us intrigued with the past and future of the saga without stepping on too many toes. As an intersecting point between the prequel and original trilogies, it hits the sweet spot, with its best portions recalling a lot of what was done right in Rogue One. If winning over every warring, polarized faction of Star Wars fandom was always an impossibility, this at least does an admirable job in crafting a new adventure worth taking.