Scream (2022)

Directors: Matt Bettinelli-Olpin and Tyler Gillett
Starring: Melissa Barrera, Jack Quaid, Mikey Madison, Jenna Ortega, Dylan Minnette, Jasmin Savoy Brown, Neve Campbell, Courtney Cox, David Arquette, Mason Gooding, Sonia Ammar, Marley Shelton, Skeet Ulrich, Kyle Gallner, Heather Matarazzo, Roger L. Jackson
Running Time: 114 min.
Rating: R

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

After years of devolving into more of a parody than the slasher films it was supposedly satirizing, the fifth Scream returns to its meta roots with a smart, wildly entertaining whodunnit that offers up a shockingly intelligent, multi-layered commentary on modern horror. Consider it the Cobra Kai of the series, expertly balancing the returning legacy characters with well written and performed newer ones that actually have the potential to stick around, injecting the franchise with its first signs of life in over a decade. It would be easy to understand if Ready or Not directors Matt Bettinelli-Olpin and Tyler Gillett (collectively known as Radio Silence) decided to get out now and leave on top, as they've just made the definitive sequel with this fifth installment, or at least the first in a very long time that doesn't feel like a Scary Movie follow-up. 

Everything that could possibly go right does here, and the few things that don't carry a critic proof defense because of the knowing, self-referential machinations of the plot, which feel fresh and of the moment. Between a more brutal, unrelenting Ghostface, some new twists on familiar franchise tropes and a delicate incorporation of returning characters, it cleverly introduces "Requel" to the pop culture lexicon while taking shots at elevated horror and toxic fandom. Of course, we already knew what the word entailed, but screenwriters James Vanderbilt and Guy Busick cleverly send up that entire idea, breathing new life into what had become a tired property.

Twenty-five years after Billy Loomis and Stu Macher terrorized Woodsboro, high school student Tara Carpenter (Jenna Ortega) receives a frightening landline phone call from the Ghostface killer while texting her friend Amber (Mikey Madison). Tara's brutal attack brings her estranged older sister Sam (Melissa Barrera) back to town with current boyfriend Richie (Jack Quaid). Soon, they meet up with Amber, Wes (Dylan Minette), twins Mindy and Chad Meeks-Martin (Jasmin Savoy Brown and Mason Gooding) and Chad's girlfriend Liv McKenzie (Sonia Ammar), who all piece together that Ghostface has returned and is likely among them, with the killer or killers motivated by something from the past.  

As the body count rises and mistrust within the group quickly escalates, Wes' mom, Sheriff Judy Hicks (Marley Shelton), tries to narrow down the suspects while Sam and Richie recruit the now retired Dewey Riley (David Arquette) to reluctantly help. But he's still aching over his divorce from morning TV host Gale Weathers (Courtney Cox), whom he warns along with Sidney Prescott (Neve Campbell) to stay far away from Woodsboro. But with the kills continuing, that might be a request both find impossible to honor, as Tara's friends all look to expose each other as Ghostface before it's too late.      

Right from the opening phone call it's evident this film will subvert whatever expectations remain from Drew Barrymore's iconic 1996 scene. It basically takes that entire sequence and flips it, with results that prove to be the ideal lead-in for the direction they've chosen to go. Roger L. Jackson continues his successful streak as the mysterious, sinister voice quizzing victims on scary movies, but puts a different spin on it that lets us know the sequel's really come to play. And since there's usually a new Ghostface (or sometimes multiple ones) in each new installment, it makes sense that this one would be particularly dangerous since they've had a lot of source material to study. This makes it hard to recall any previous entry where the killer seemed as forceful and unrelenting in their attacks. 

There are a lot of gruesome, uncomfortable scenes, mainly because the filmmakers rarely cut away from the action, often lingering for a disturbing amount of time as victims stare right into Ghostface's eyes. It's something you'd almost expect to see in a Halloween film, but represents a massive leap forward considering too many Scream pictures had a tendency to make a total joke of the killings. And for all the talk about rules and tropes, the characters aren't walking cliches or lazily written modern counterparts to their predecessors despite varying connections to them. They also give Ghostface some grueling fights, making the Woodsboro slasher's job tougher than it's ever been, in large part due to their familiarity with history. It's definitely not business as usual so kudos should go to the studio's marketing team for holding back in trailers and commercials to ensure key details weren't given away.

It's not exactly fair to label Melissa Barrera's Sam the "Final Girl" since that doesn't carry with it any guarantees she makes it to the end, or even that she's not the killer herself. But she can comfortably be called the lead protagonist since it's her that much of the action revolves around. As major connective tissue between the original and newer characters, she has a dark, Dexter-like secret that the screenplay fleshes out extremely well, with Barrera believably delivering a lot of expository dialogue and nailing it. The fractured sibling relationship between her and Jenna Ortega's Tara powers the narrative, as former Disney actress and You star Ortega not only fills Barrymore's shoes, but goes more than a few steps further, registering physical pain, fear and trauma in a realistic manner that hasn't exactly been a hallmark of the series up until now. 

Ortega's work ranks amongst the best we've gotten in any Scream sequel, but nearly equaling her is a sarcastically likable Jack Quaid, who kind of channels a late 90's Joshua Jackson as Sam's boyfriend Richie, getting to deliver many of the script's most cleverly satirical lines. Jasmin Savoy Brown is also a huge standout as kind of a modern take on Jamie Kennedy's horror rules-obsessed Randy Meeks, and for good reason, since her character's his niece. The rest of the newer cast is also uniformly excellent, with Dylan Minette carrying a memorable, Psycho-inspired sequence that uses misdirection to mine maximum suspense in a playful way that the other films have rarely explored to this extent.  

It's a while before David Arquette's Dewey appears, and while his previous appearances have meant less with each subsequent film, this feels entirely different. Like a veteran gunslinger called to action for one last stand, there's a tinge of sadness and regret in Arquette's performance that wasn't there before. Whether you want to chalk it up to age, experience or simply being given something meaningful to dig into this time, it's a high water mark for him. His complicated relationship with Courtney Cox's Gale Weathers also strikes a surprisingly bittersweet note without sacrificing any of the warmth or humor associated with the character.

Similarly, Scream queen Neve Campbell is in this only as much as necessary as Sidney, fully completing her evolution into the Jamie Lee Curtis of the franchise, minus the latter's timeline confusion. Her return is carefully handled, dovetailing nicely into the current storyline but never overwhelming it. Sidney offers sage advice while quickly reestablishing herself as a badass fans know and love, all with the recognition that she can only go so far and that these kids are going to have to face this, with or without her help. Campbell doesn't miss a beat, taking full advantage of a script that finally shows the character the respect she's owed, but in an appropriately impactful supporting role that doesn't overstep its bounds. By doing this, the film proves the franchise can have a future without her, should it ever come to that.

By this point, the Stab movies within the movies provide more of an inspiration for the killings than the actual sequels, so it's fitting that the rules have shifted focus from surviving to actually uncovering Ghostface. Using them to cleverly reference this franchise's stumbles and address a lot of popular online complaints about other soft reboot attempts turns the tables on hardcore fans for a change. No previous entry has leaned into the whodunnit aspect as well or strongly as this, luring the characters and viewers into a false sense of security regarding who's responsible. They'll always be watchers claiming they "knew the whole time," but the ingenious aspect to this script is how it has everyone second-guessing themselves because certain picks just seem too obvious, or maybe not obvious enough. 

While rumors are true that original Ghostface, Billy Loomis, appears in hallucinatory form thanks to some de-aging technology on Skeet Ulrich (that admittedly doesn't look great), the bigger story is that it serves the story rather than feeling like a stunt. It's also brief enough that any complaints are skillfully covered by the context in which he's used. The last act is a bit long, but the final reveal justifies it, featuring one of the more wildly unhinged Ghostface portrayals we've seen, as one particular performer chews all the scenery in sight while literally and metaphorically returning to the scene of the original crime. It's a perfect balance brutality and absurdity when the curtain's pulled back on the intricasies of this wacko meta plan. There's also a spectacular death scene that provides the ultimate in-joke for those familiar with the recent career of the actor involved.

So much discussion has centered around how a new Scream film could possibly stay true to the late Wes Craven's vision and still manage to creatively fill the tank for any potential future installments. But this threads that needle so convincingly that those who skipped the sequels wouldn't miss much. And yet, it still acknowledges them in the best of ways, playing fast and loose within that timeline to spring even more tiny surprises on us. With a sense of renewed purpose, the legacy characters return in a logical manner that supplements an already tight story, enabling the actors to bring a welcome gravitas to their roles that's gone missing for too long. It finally feels like the right amount of time has passed for their presence to mean something again and the filmmakers really work to make it count. Better yet, this only further facilitates the efforts of the new cast, many of whom have earned another go-around. And it's definitely been a while since we could say that.                                        

Licorice Pizza

Director: Paul Thomas Anderson
Starring: Alana Haim, Cooper Hoffman, Sean Penn, Tom Waits, Bradley Cooper, Benny Safdie, Skyler Gisondo, Mary Elizabeth Ellis, John Michael Higgins, Christine Ebersole, Harriet Sansom Harris, Joseph Cross, Maya Rudolph
Running Time: 134 min.
Rating: R  

★★★★ (out of ★★★★) 

What's always been distinctive about Paul Thomas Anderson films is his ability to make a story that in anyone else's hands would seem slight feel more important, regardless of whether it actually is. The coming-of-age comedy-drama Licorice Pizza is probably the most accessible mainstream picture he's made, which isn't to imply it any way lacks the rebellious spirit found in his most acclaimed work. It's like a less volatile Punch-Drunk Love, with portions that will remind some of Almost Famous, Magnolia and even some Boogie Nights in terms of tone and setting, while strangely sharing little in common with any of them. You could even consider it PTA's answer to Quentin Tarantino's Once Upon a Time in... Hollywood in how we're transported to such a semi-autobiographical time and place that clearly means a lot to the filmmaker, populated it with weird details, complex characters and a distinctive style that makes a superficially insignificant tale resonate far deeper.

It's hard not to love this no matter which crazy direction it takes us in because the devil's in the details and there are so many welcome distractions and asides that prove as rewarding as the main plot. That it's anchored by two perfectly cast, astonishingly talented actors making their big screen debuts only enhances the feeling we've been dropped into something special and may as well just enjoy the ride. If the knock against PTA has been that he's a superior director to writer, this film won't serve as the strongest counterargument with its unorthodox narrative structure, but that's splitting hairs considering how few equal him in either department. Containing certain elements that carry widespread appeal, it'll connect most with fans who couldn't wait to see what he had up his sleeve. And it doesn't disappoint. 

It's 1973 in the San Fernando Valley and 15-year-old actor Gary Valentine (Cooper Hoffman) spots 25-year-old photographer's assistant Alan Kane (Alana Haim) at his high school's picture day and immediately falls for her. After he strikes up a flirtatious conversation and invites her to dinner, she kind of shoots him down, while not entirely dismissing the offer. Much to his surprise, she actually shows up and they embark on a friendship Alana insists is completely platonic. But when Gary needs a chaperone to go to New York for a press tour for a comedy film he's appearing in with actress Lucy Doolittle (Christine Ebersole), Alana agrees to accompany him.

When Alana starts dating Gary's castmate Lance (Skyler Gisondo), a jealous Gary focuses on launching a waterbed company, which she soon joins in on as his assistant. Struggling to balance running the business with whatever their relationship has become, Alana tries to get into acting, earning a coveted audition opposite self-absorbed screen legend Jack Holden (Sean Penn). Meanwhile, Gary must deliver a waterbed to psychotic, mercurial film producer Jon Peters (Bradley Cooper). But even amidst this ongoing craziness and their lives moving in seemingly divergent directions, Gary and Alana always seem to circle back to each other. 

Loosely inspired by the life of Anderson's friend, child actor and producer Gary Goetzman, who really did start a waterbed company and pinball arcade and appeared in Yours, Mine and Ours with Lucille Ball, the rest is filled in with various stories and recollections from growing up in the Valley during the early 70's. While the most obvious influence on Anderson would seem to be something along the lines of Fast Times at Ridgemont High, the story itself seems almost too offbeat and intimately contained to invite such a broad comparison. It's actually closer in spirit and execution to Richard Linklater's underrated Everybody Wants Some!!, which was set a little later but has a very similar hangout feel that rarely depends on plot.

The script takes many detours, but they're entertaining ones that further the relationship between the two main characters, which is a whole conversation in itself. For all the controversy, it's safe to say that a 25 year-old woman dating a 15 year old boy in a fictional film set in the early 70's probably wouldn't have attracted as much attention and criticism even just five years ago unless the genders were reversed. Viewed in context, there's barely a sexual component to it, the issue's acknowledged, and the relationship itself is so unusually presented throughout, it's easy to forget what we're supposed to be offended by. In other words, you'll probably be too busy laughing with and at their awkwardness to really care. Also, it's 1973, so if you're going to make a film set in that era, accuracy counts, and this plays how it would then, now matter how differently it may look through 2022 glasses.

A similar, though slightly less strong defense can be extended to John Michael Higgins' restaurant owner character, Jerry Frick, who talks in a demeaning Asian accent to his Japanese wives. Is it offensive? Of course, because he is, and that stupidity is pretty much the point of the entire exchange, as we're supposed to notice it because these characters sure won't. And in showing what everyone was once willing to overlook, it becomes a little more culturally accurate and shameful than we were counting on. Of course, all of this is just a reaction to a reaction, as we're too caught up in what's happening with Gary and Alana to worry how about how badly people behaved in the early seventies.

The two leads not only create magic together onscreen, but individually convey a quirkiness and relatability that's just right for whom they're playing. While Cooper Hoffman is the late Philip Seymour Hoffman's son and while there's definitely a physical resemblance, he conveys an entirely different vibe in this role, playing a protagonist that'll remind many of William Miller from Almost Famous if he was infused with the nerdy bravado of Rushmore's Max Fischer. Outgoing and even a little devious in trying to accomplish his goals, he's an old 15 and knows it, as Hoffman's so good at playing this kid whose ambitious bluster hides the fact that he's not quite experienced enough for whatever comes next. He fakes it until he makes it, before faking it some more.  

Like Gary, Alana's an endearing mess spinning in different directions, only lacking the drive and questioning why she's hanging out with him and his teenage friends. As this walking quarter-life crisis, Haim pretty much owns the film and her casting's a masterstroke in the sense that the indie singer looks as if she could have stepped out of a time machine from the 1970's while radiating a natural, effortless charisma that promises a very bright acting future. Blurring the lines even further, Alana Kane's family is played by Haim's real life one, with sisters and HAIM bandmates, Danielle and Este making appearances alongside their parents. Even if Haim did this once and went back to her day job, her work opposite Hoffman would still be hilariously unforgettable, as are the scenes she shares with Sean Penn as this a William Holden-inspired actor who takes an interest in Alana. We're not quite sure what to make of that, until we are, and then the whole thing flies off the rails when Tom Waits enters the picture as an unhinged director indulging his friend's worst and wildest impulses.

An intriguing sub-plot in which Alana works for Los Angeles mayoral candidate Joel Wachs (Benny Safdie) doesn't go where you'd expect, proving to be one of many examples of Anderson fictionalizing historical facts to better fit the picture he's painting. But the real scene stealer is Bradley Cooper, who's take on real-life producer Jon Peters is an amalgamation of every insane, hyper aggressive 70's studio exec with the volume cranked to eleven. Gary and Alana's adventure in delivering his waterbed comprises the film's most electric and hysterical sequence of events, as we hold our breathe waiting for this lunatic to completely snap.

As would be expected for a film titled after an L.A. record store chain, the soundtrack is loaded with era-specific hits and even some obscure but no less inspired musical choices that compliment Jonny Greenwood's score and are perfectly incorporated the narrative. Songs from Todd Rundgren, David Bowie, Donovan, The Doors, Sonny and Cher, Paul McCartney and Wings and others might make it the most musically packed film of PTA's career, nearly doubling as the ultimate "Best of" seventies compilation.  

Anderson's willingness to take the characters on these comedic tangents is what sets this apart from most in its realm. You can practically hear the accusations that the film's about nothing, with the machinations of the plot taking a backseat to a mood and sense of nostalgia that's evoked, even for those who may not have come of age during the specific period. There's just so much to enjoy and take in here, even if viewers may be scratching their heads at all of its delightful eccentricities. Where Licorice Pizza ranks on the PTA scale will vary across the board, but love it or not, the longer this sits the more oddly memorable it becomes, proving in the end to deliver exactly what we came for.

Ozark (Season 4: Part Two)

Creators: Bill Dubuque and Mark Williams
Starring: Jason Bateman, Laura Linney, Sofia Hublitz, Skylar Gaertner, Julia Garner, Jordana Spiro, Felix Solis, Jessica Frances Dukes, Damian Young, Alfonso Herrera, Adam Rothenberg, Verónica Falcón, Katrina Lenk, Charlie Tahan, Tom Pelphrey, Bruno Bichir, Bruce Davison, Richard Thomas, Joseph Sikora, Kevin L. Johnson, Jane McNeill, Brad Carter
Original Airdate: 2022

**The following review contains major spoilers from the fourth season of 'Ozark'**

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

For all the justified criticisms that can be made lately of Netflix, Ozark has remained one of their true creative bright spots since its 2017 premiere. And with each subsequent year it continuously silenced skeptics who initially dismissed the series about a a family relocating to the Missouri Ozarks to launder money for a Mexican drug cartel as a Breaking Bad knock-off. Since then, the writing, performances and direction have revealed it to be more than anyone could have reasonably expected and the streamer made the right call in deciding this season would be its last, quelling fears this would overstay its welcome. 

Even if splitting the remaining 14 episodes into two halves was a questionable call that's increasingly become commonplace, this is exactly the kind of series that needs a specific end date. Stretching it over five or six seasons could inevitably lead to diminishing returns considering there are only so many fires Marty and Wendy Byrde can believably put out or catastrophes they can manipulate their way out of. And there seems to be a never ending amount of them in this last act, hinting perhaps it really was time, even with a finale heavily implying these characters could still have more story left.

These final episodes do bring it, culminating in a supposedly controversial ending that actually makes perfect sense when you check emotions at the door and examine the show's overall arc. This was always where we were headed, and viewers who didn't think the series would go there might need to give it a second look. It's reasonable to hem and haw about certain plot points, but "they killed my favorite character" just doesn't hold as valid criticism unless that death undermines what the show's building toward. If TV finales have taught us anything, it's that most are never going to be happy, and fans whose overall satisfaction hinged on the survival of Ruth Langmore were always setting themselves up for disappointment.

Showrunners need the creative freedom to off a major character so long as it facilitates the story being told and this is clearly one of those cases. If anything, it's a credit to Julia Garner's incredible series-long performance that everyone's up in arms, but Ruth signed her own death warrant at the start of the season. There was no chance she wouldn't try to extract revenge on behalf of her family and display the inner strength we've grown to respect most about her. We also knew the odds were extremely high she'd eventually have to face the consequences. Going ahead with it, she exits on her terms as the badass she's always been. 

After murdering Darlene (Lisa Emery) and Wyatt (Charlie Tahan) due to her continuing their heroine business, the ruthless Javi Elizondro (Alfonso Herrera) has now taken control of the cartel from his imprisoned uncle Omar Navarro (Felix Solis) and getting in on Marty (Jason Batman) and Wendy's (Laura Linney) FBI deal. Their reluctant donor, Chicago-based pharmaceutical CEO Clare Shaw (Katrina Lenk) is caught in the middle, as a raging Ruth (Garner) plots to take out Javi for killing cousin Wyatt, potentially blowing up everyone's plans and sending the Byrdes scrambling to salvage the deal meant to free them for good. To do it they'll need to contend with Javi's mother and Omar's sister, Camila (Verónica Falcón) and work to get her dangerous, unpredictable brother off the SDN List and extradited to Mexico to resume control of the cartel. 

The return of Wendy's father, Nathan (Richard Thomas), along with private investigator Mel Sattem (Adam Rothenberg) has turned attention from cartel attorney Helen Pearce's (Janet McTeer) disappearance to that of Wendy's brother, Ben (Tom Pelphrey) and the Byrdes' likely involvement in both. Still damaged from an abusive childhood at the hands of her estranged father, Wendy attempts to prevent him from growing closer with grandkids Jonah (Skylar Gaetner) and Charlotte (Sofia Hublitz), while she and Marty struggle to make their clean break from the cartel with the deck stacked against them. With Wendy's ambitions still growing, some serious political strings must be pulled to keep this family together and alive.

When Marty and Wendy first arrived in the Ozarks their marriage was essentially in shambles so it's the cruelest of ironies that this criminal enterprise is what ultimately saves the relationship, despite the unimaginable suffering it's caused everyone else. Of course, the biggest victims have been their own kids and Ruth, whose up and down relationship with the Byrdes was always going to be rigged against her. That's largely been due to their wealth and social standing, but also has as much to do with the FBI connection and cartel ties, slippery as both have been for them over the past four seasons. 

Ruth knows Marty and Wendy have often needed her to stay alive, and by making shrewd power plays that utilized her street smarts and fearlessness, she's frequently come out on top. But killing Javi changes all that because it's an emotional act of vengeance that can't be undone, no matter how justified it felt. Her and Wyatt going into business with Darlene may have been their biggest mistake, but dragging a willing Jonah into it was another one, even if you need a scorecard to keep track of all the betrayals in this series. To call Ruth's hotheadedness a flaw is almost unfair given her hopeless upbringing, but the possibility that she's finally overcome it to start a new life makes her eventual end all the more tragic. 

Despite animosity between them reaching a fever pitch, the Byrdes do have a begrudging respect for Ruth, knowing full well what's she's capable of when motivated. Or at least Wendy does, even as the dynamic between Ruth and Marty remains one of the series' most compelling, with both demonstrating a kind of twisted loyalty to the other borne out of necessity. But much like everything with the Byrdes, it's all about them, with Ruth used as only the means to their end. Once she outstays her usefulness or becomes a liability, all bets are off, and that's a cycle we've seen repeat itself over the course of the series.

The hope that Ruth may have finally gotten the drop on Marty and Wendy with her plan to gain control of the Missouri Belle casino with a returning Rachel (Jordana Spiro), makes the result sting even worse. And that they pull it off adds only another layer of devastation on top of Ruth doing the right thing by getting her record cleaned and going straight. Overcoming nearly every urge we've known her to have, she acts with a foresight and practicality we've haven't seen up to this point. It's just unfortunate that it comes too late, with one last receipt that needs paying back. 

 

Brilliantly played by Laura Linney, Wendy continues to double and triple down on unnecessary risks the more dangerous their situation gets, with Marty not only going along with whatever she wants, but now outright admitting as much. Basically his wife's puppet, he weakly attempts to convince her that the FBI's offer of a new life under witness protection is the best, safest option for them to get out unscathed. But Wendy was always more interested in becoming a political kingmaker, dragging personal attorney Jim Rattelsdorf (Damian Young) back into the fold to help her make this Navarro deal happen. 

Marty's sole moment of perceived power is short-lived, temporarily going to down to Mexico to take control for the injured, imprisoned Omar. Heisenberg he isn't, but the act's good enough to keep them in the game, even as it comes as a pathetically desperate attempt to again placate his wife. His memorable road rage breakdown, along with that key scene opposite daughter Charlotte in which he cries over Wendy's endless manipulations feels like the culmination of Bateman's terrific work throughout. Faced with all his faults, Marty has an image of himself wanting to do what's right, but he's unable to ever follow through, settling instead on defending the most immoral of actions. And yet Bateman's so earnest in the role that he becomes a character the actor won't allow you to completely despise, leaving us hoping for a redemption that won't come. 

The Byrdes are faced with a pivotal choice, as the challenges of getting Omar Navarro out of prison are weighed against aligning with his sister, Camila, who's secretly plotting to take him out. But the most psychologically rattling disturbance for Wendy is her own father, Nathan, who with hired P.I. Mel comes dangerously close to discovering their involvement in Ben's death. Nathan and Wendy's toxic father-daughter relationship almost totally reframes the latter's behavior over the course of the series, providing less an excuse than a full explanation. Wendy's past was no picnic and it turns out she shares far more in common with Ruth than suspected, at least as far as nightmarish childhoods go. 

Richard Thomas' performance as Nathan sneaks up on you, coming off at first as this laid back God-fearing Christian who's turned his life around, until gradually revealing his true deficiencies. Because Linney's made it so easy for viewers to resent Wendy, the possibility of anyone usurping her as the family's worst has escaped us. 

Nathan's arrival explains a lot about Wendy, as does his interest in taking Charlotte and Jonah away from their parents reveal all too much about him. For a while it looks like his plan will work, especially considering Wendy and Marty's diminishing ability to keep their kids safe. Wendy may be a monster, but now it's clearer why, and it's all too fitting that a blackmailed Ruth comes to the Byrdes' rescue again, reuniting them with their kids once and for all.

A plausible scenario wherein Ruth survives would have needed to be set in motion at least a season earlier, but that risks complicating the remaining plot even more than it already is, all for the sake of sending everyone home happy. The Byrdes 'car crash fast-forward at the start of Season 4 was a big teaser, but it functions less as a turning point in the plot than as a foreshadowing of the family's growing sense of invincibility. That they all walked away from the accident without so much as a few scratches only bolsters Wendy's confidence that they're untouchable. Sadly, she ends up being right. 

Ruth takes the bullet from Camila and goes out defiantly, expressing no regrets for killing Javi, while again remaining loyal to the Byrdes by not ratting them out. It's a devotion that's never been reciprocated, especially when a terrified Clare Shaw ends up being the one who gives her up after being threatened by Camila. As the weakest, least built for crime character in the series, it's appropriate that the buttoned-up CEO would crack. She never really signed up for this, much like so many others the Byrdes burned while building their empire. 

The only lingering loose end standing in the way of Wendy and Marty's freedom is P.I. Mel Sattem, who made his choice to take the bribe and soon regretted it. By pulling their usual strings, the Byrdes silenced him with a reinstatement to active police duty in Chicago, but his conscience grabbed hold. Stopping people like them is what Mel lives for and now literally holding the cookie jar capable of putting them behind bars for Ben's murder, he becomes the last piece of business they need to take care of. He makes it easy for them by hanging around to gloat, something we believe the tormented Mel just couldn't resist doing.

This isn't an ambiguous, open-ended conclusion comparable to The Sopranos finale. The screen fades to black and we hear the gunshot, but we don't need to see it to know that Jonah takes out Mel, as there are simply no other alternatives. The shy, quiet kid who could barely hold a gun in the first season has now delivered the final fatal blow to close the series' circle. Traumatized, but now indoctrinated into a life of crime with sister Charlotte, Jonah's gone through too much for his parents to pay now. And like them, he must be thinking that at this point, what's one more? After this, the Byrdes get a reset in Chicago running their foundation, finally freed from cartel shackles. They win. 

We've been painfully prepared for the possibility that the Byrdes could escape with little to no repercussions for their heinous actions. Whether they'd all get out alive and manage to avoid prison was the question this entire show was built on, and while it could have gone a number of ways, it went this one. And with that, Ozark provides a harsh reminder that a finale's job isn't to give fans what they think they want, but a closing chapter the story and its characters need. A reformed Ruth riding into the sunset to bask in her newfound wealth as Marty and Wendy face karmic retribution may have given us a fleeting high, but it would also ring false, going against what the writers have already long established this series actually is.  

Ghostbusters: Afterlife

Director: Jason Reitman
Starring: Carrie Coon, Finn Wolfhard, Mckenna Grace, Paul Rudd, Logan Kim, Celeste O' Connor, Bill Murray, Dan Aykroyd, Ernie Hudson, Annie Potts, Sigourney Weaver, Bokeem Woodbine
Running Time: 124 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

After waiting decades and surviving the ill-fated 2016 reboot, many fans have long wondered what an actual Ghostbusters sequel would look like. Jason Reitman's Ghostbusters: Afterlife isn't exactly that, and the fact it doesn't misrepresent this can be viewed both positively and negatively depending upon your perspective. But the biggest surprise is it doesn't seem much like a Ghostbusters film at all, at least until it eventually tries too hard to be. And if someone were to be blindly seated in front of their screen and asked to speculate what this was, they'd probably say it was the first episode of the upcoming fourth season of Stranger Things. While that inspiration was evident in the trailer, little can prepare you for just how much the film resembles that Netflix series, nearly qualifying as a certified spin-off. 

At first glance, all of this seems like a great idea, if not for the nagging reminder that we've desperately wanted a second Ghostbusters sequel for so long that it almost feels like we're doing this just to get it out of the way. But if anyone can do it, Jason Reitman (son of the original's director, the late Ivan Reitman) would be the ideal candidate, despite it being the kind of escapist entertainment he's consciously avoided dabbling in for much of his career. Within its genre and entering with the barest of expectations, this is a fun, entirely predictable and obvious entry into the franchise's canon, even if you can argue we're not truly given what we came for until the final minutes. And by that point, it tracks so closely with the 1984 film that it could be mistaken for a full-blown remake, only with different actors in the roles. 

If the female-lead 2016 reboot was justifiably criticized for its gimmicky casting (though the real problem was always more about whom they chose and the execution), it's only fair to examine a similar call here by Reitman to cast an all kids team. While the intent is clearly to establish the next generation characters to carry the franchise forward, that's assuming it won't take another thirty years to get another one made and again convince the originals to return, especially the notoriously picky Bill Murray. And what would that film even look like? This doesn't offer many answers, as the casting decision was obviously intended to reel in younger audiences and get this particular project made and released now. Well, that worked, even while this doesn't quite fit the spirit of how the franchise was originally envisioned, or more importantly, where it could have possibly gone.

It's June 2021 and original Ghostbuster Egon Spengler has recently passed away, attacked by a creature at his desolate farmhouse in Summerville, Oklahoma. When his estranged, financially struggling daughter Callie (Carrie Coon) inherits the farm after she and her kids Trevor (Finn Wolfhard) and Phoebe (Mckenna Grace) are evicted from their Chicago apartment, they try to acclimate to their new surroundings. While the reclusive Egon was known locally as the "Dirt Farmer," his decaying residence can best be described as post-apocalyptic in appearance, further fueling Callie's resentment toward her late father, whom she feels abandoned her as a child. 

Phoebe adjusts the best, enrolling in a summer school program taught by seismologist Gary Grooberson (Paul Rudd) and making a new friend named Podcast (Logan Kim). Meanwhile, Trevor becomes infatuated with local drive-in restaurant waitress, Lucky (Celeste O' Connor), prompting him to take a job there. But when Phoebe discovers the farmhouse is haunted and learns more about her grandfather's legacy from Gary, it soon becomes obvious that Egon was onto something huge happening in town. Upon locating his underground lab, equipment and even the dormant Ecto-1 Cadillac, Phoebe, Podcast and Trevor must get to the bottom of what's causing this seismic supernatural activity, bringing them face-to-face with an indescribable evil lurking beneath Summerville's mysterious underground mine. 

Reitman takes his sweet time introducing the characters and situation, putting us far ahead of the central players in terms of grasping this family's current connection to the supernatural occurrences in New York City thirty years prior. It's almost about halfway through the film until those events are openly acknowledged (via YouTube no less) and that kind of works since Reitman already has a knowing and willing fanbase at his disposal that doesn't need anything spelled out for them. Most of the trailer took care of that anyway and he's in the rather fortunate position of being able to postpone the payoff as long as possible, spending most of the time building the story before blowing the roof off in the last act. The  character-centric shenanigans, while predictable and sometimes overly cutesy, is mostly a success, especially when it comes to the more emotional story arc of Callie's bitterness toward her late father and how it's affected the relationship she currently has with daughter Phoebe, an awkward, self-professed science nerd. 

Carrie Coon gives the film's best performance as this single, frazzled mom in over her head and broke, still suffering as a result of her father's tainted legacy, but determined to be the parent she thinks he wasn't. Reitman and co-writer Gil Kenan have a really good idea there and when that's front and center is when the picture's at its best, most notably in the final minutes. Grace McKenna is basically the lead, and while it's easy to question the reasoning behind having a tween character carry this, she's very believable as Spengler's quirky, likable granddaughter. The realization of who he was and how it helps her see what she could be is well handled, a standout amongst lesser scenes of the kids busting ghosts. And given screenwriters' recent obsession with podcasting characters, it was only a matter of time before we actually got one named "Podcast." Logan Kim's fun in the part, but when his supporting role is elevated to a co-lead, it's hard to argue that his goofy charms didn't work better in smaller doses. 

It's a bit jarring to see these kids with a proton pack and ghost trap, stepping into such iconic, identifiable roles even if they aren't necessarily being touted as "replacements" for the original actors who are now too up in years to carry this again.  Stranger Things' Finn Wolfhard already briefly wore the uniform on that series so you have to wonder if Reitman cast him as a deliberate attempt to further incorporate the tone of that show. He acquits himself fine, even if the sub-plot involving his crush on Lucky seems thrown in and doesn't really land. Paul Rudd is entertaining as usual in what can best be described as an oddly written science teacher/seismologist character who shows horror movies in class and bonds with the kids, while also trying to woo Callie. There's enough going on with this guy that he comes off as a composite of multiple characters, but Rudd is Rudd, so that helps.

The special effects and CGI are top notch, and while some have complained, the mini Stay Puft marshmallow men are a clever touch that calls back to the '84 film in much the same way a new ghost nicknamed "Muncher" does, making for a suitable Slimer stand-in. While it's not exactly a well kept secret that Bill Murray, Dan Aykroyd and Ernie Hudson all respectively return as Venkman, Stantz and Winston (along with Annie Potts' Ghostbuster secretary Janine Melnitz and Sigourney Weaver's Dana Barrett), the nature and extent of their roles vary some (Weaver's basically non-existent). No one's likely to be disappointed, as the core three are mostly back at the top of their games, with Aykroyd arguably turning in one of his more memorable recent supporting turns as Murray and Hudson smoothly slide back into their parts as if no time has passed. 

Its last act most feels like a Ghostbusters movie, both for better and worse. The performances are a highlight (including a great but uncredited Olivia Wilde as Gozer), as is the emotional payoff involving the late Egon and his family. In terms of providing fan service, Reitman's approach is to basically recreate the original's ending with a new cast, with Coon and Rudd's purpose becoming distractingly familiar. Viewers are put in an odd position when the entirely new touches are hit or miss and what's faithful to the original is almost too slavishly faithful, resulting in another one of those soft reboots that straddles the fence in not wanting to alienate anyone. Stranger Things aside, Close Encounters of the Third Kind is also a noticeable influence, so when you throw some of that in there it's all kind of a mess, albeit not an entirely uninteresting one.

The first Ghostbusters is largely thought of as an action comedy appealing to kids and nostalgic adults with a key difference being that 11 and 12 year-olds weren't the leads. But at least Afterlife prevents embarrassing The Karate Kid remake comparisons by leading with a multi-generational story that elicits high quality work from the young actors despite a questionable conceit. The movie is slick, well made and probably the nearest of near-misses, but it's arguably more effective as a Harold Ramis tribute than a Ghostbusters entry, at least in terms of whatever we now perceive that to mean.