It Chapter Two

Director: Andy Muschietti
Starring: Jessica Chastain, James McAvoy, Bill Hader, Isaiah Mustafa, Jay Ryan, James Ransone, Andy Bean, Sophia Lillis, Jaeden Martell, Finn Wolfhard, Chosen Jacobs, Jeremy Ray Taylor, Jack Dylan Grazer, Wyatt Oleff, Bill Skarsgård
Running Time: 170 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★) 

Endings have never been Stephen King's strong suit. This is worth mentioning since It Chapter Two seems to allude to that numerous times with a wink and a nod, as if audiences were already going into Andy Muschietti's sequel to his really great 2017 film adaptation of King's epic novel prepared for disappointment. After all, they've experienced it before, with 1990's underwhelming It TV miniseries having a particularly problematic second half marred by a wretched conclusion. But to lay the blame entirely at King's feet rather than the filmmakers tasked with translating his work through the years, isn't exactly fair.

You need only see The Mist or The Shawshank Redemption to realize how taking creative license with King's material can yield extremely satisfying results that enhance the themes of his storytelling. Muschietti's It was one of the good ones, delivering a Stand By Me meets Stranger Things vibe bolstered by the 80's era setting, perfectly calibrated child performances, and Bill Skarsgård's demonic turn as Pennywise The Clown. Part-horror, part coming-of-age nostalgia, you could call it the quintessential King adaptation in how it streamlines the author's over-indulgences while accenting his strengths.

Chapter Two was always going to be challenging in that it couldn't be a period piece with the same young actors, unless there's a big deviation from the novel preventing the inevitable time jump that sees all the roles recast with adult counterparts. Plus, there's just something about kids at that age being confronted with supernatural horror, just as their imaginations and emotions are already running rampant. Not only does everything seem more important during adolescence, but the stakes just feel higher when pre-teens experience a loss of innocence, forcing them to grow into who they'll eventually become, whether they're ready or not.

Now, we find out exactly who these kids become in a solid, if a little messy, sequel that does a lot right in avoiding many expected pitfalls. It helps that the same director returns with a nearly identical vision, and while it may take viewers a bit to get acclimated to the cast, Muschietti employs a very similar structure that works heavily in its favor, making for an effective, but undeniably overlong experience. But it's a testament to him that the nearly three-hour running time doesn't feel like the drag it so easily could have.

It's 2016 in Derry, Maine when a man is brutally attacked by a gang of homophobic youths at the town's carnival and thrown off a bridge, into the waiting arms of the murderous Pennywise (Skarsgård). After investigating the crime, Mike Hanlon (Isaiah Mustafa) realizes the clown has returned 27 years later and takes it upon himself to contact childhood friends Bill Denbrough (James McAvoy), Beverly Marsh (Jessica Chastain), Ben Hanscom (Jay Ryan), Richie Tozier (Bill Hader), Eddie Kaspbrak (James Ransone) and Stanley Uris (Andy Bean), summoning them back home to honor the promise they all made in 1989 as members of the Losers' Club to kill the clown if he ever returned.

All but Stan arrive back in Derry, but soon discover they only have partial memories of what occurred over two decades ago. But with Mike's help, everything comes flooding back and they're soon tormented by Pennywise with hallucinations from their own past and visions of the future, even as their tormentor seeks out new victims. Making matters worse is that teen sociopath Henry Bowers (Teach Grant) survived his fall into the well and is out for revenge, having recently escaped the mental hospital where he's been confined for his father's murder. Formulating a plan to stop Pennywise for good, the gang will have to make sacrifices of their own, retracing their steps as kids, and coming face-to-face with the painful memories they'd rather have remain buried. Only then, can they be prepared for what could be their final confrontation with Pennywise.

The film's opening is almost shockingly violent, and a reminder that this was a story that never played it safe or compromised in its first installment, and certainly not now, with the characters having long aged out of childhood. Homophobic attacks and sexual abuse aren't usually the first things that come to mind when considering King's catalogue, and while this entry does seem to be unusually hung up on the former, Muschietti deserves credit again for revolving Pennywise's supernatural reign of terror around the true-to-life challenges his victims face. Like its prequel, it doesn't hold back, again earning an 'R' which admittedly carried more of an impact the first time around with a cast comprised entirely of kids. While the genuine sense of danger, the ear for how the gang talked and felt, and Pennywise's attacks heightened the scare factor of the 2017 film, this seems more like a reunion, or greatest hits compilation of all the scariest story beats and scenes from that outing with a new cast.

The more the action gets going, the better it gets, as after all pleasantries are exchanged and we get a deeper read on the characters, you start to appreciate the tiny details and continuity that link the adult losers club protagonists to their childhood counterparts. Whether it's Bill's guilt over little brother Georgie's death at the hands of Pennnywise, Beverly's abusive upbringing, Ben's impossible crush on her, Richie's inability to fit in, or the long-term consequences of Eddie's terminally overprotective mother.

To its benefit, the narrative is flashback-heavy, cutting back and forth between the past and present, filling in details we weren't previously privy to, which takes some pressure off the new faces to top their predecessors. The biggest surprise is just how much the younger originals are in this, even if some of their scenes carry a visual awkwardness resulting from them having noticeably aged a couple of years. But mostly, it's done well, with each character's 2016 story mirroring the 1989 version, bolstering the unifying the two installments while further linking the chains that connect their traumatic childhood and adult experiences.

If there's one thing everyone knew we needed in this sequel, it was Jessica Chastain stepping in to continue Sophia Lillis' extraordinary work as Beverly. Rarely does a fan casting choice feel so obviously right on every level, and when the possibility of her playing the part suddenly became real, that hook was reason enough to continue. She doesn't disappoint, transforming young Bev's quirks into a darker, more psychologically wounded woman, while still retaining the character's tomboy spirit. In other words, she delivers exactly as predicted, with the added bonus of that uncanny physical resemblance to Lillis. Her and James McAvoy predictably shine, with the latter most registering when he needs to confront guilt-ridden Bill's mental anguish over his responsibility in Georgie's death.

Bill's career as a writer also becomes a clever meta device to reference Stephen King's aforementioned battles with endings, with the author himself even getting in on the joke with one of his more memorable screen cameos. The rest of the cast have varying degrees of success, with Bill Hader channeling the goofy eccentricities younger counterpart Finn Wolfhard brought to Richie and infusing it with an angrier adult sensibility. The bond between Ben and Beverly is revisited, this time with Jay Ryan attempting to project the formally awkward, bullied overweight new kid's insecurities as a handsome, successful architect. This sub-plot, which works better in flashbacks then present-day, should have been deeply affecting, but Ryan's kind of bland opposite Chastain, thus undercutting its impact as the story's big redemptive arc. There's also a distracting exposition dump involving Mike's theories on Pennywise's origins that make little sense and should have been excised entirely.

The cast does gel, just not to the level the kids did in the previous film, causing viewers to possibly readjust their expectations for a sequel already saddled with the burden of having to follow one of the best recent King adaptations. But Muscietti manages to tie things together at the film's most important point, and an extremely long third act where the narrative should be losing steam ends up being its highlight, aided in part by Skarsgård's less present, but still scary, performance as Pennywise and a strangely compelling final showdown wherein the script simultaneously juggles numerous narratives in the past and present. If nothing else, it's actually a well-edited three hours that doesn't leave you with that sinking feeling of disappointment prevalent in so many of the author's multi-part adaptations. Still a far cry from its first chapter, It's second half functions well enough as a companion piece to prove it was a story worth finishing.     

Trainwreck

Director: Judd Apatow
Starring: Amy Schumer, Bill Hader, Brie Larson, Tilda Swinton, Colin Quinn, John Cena, Mike Birbiglia, Jon Glaser, Vanessa Bayer, Ezra Miller, LeBron James
Running Time: 124 min.
Rating: R

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

It's easy to assume you have Judd Apatow's Trainwreck all figured out before even seeing it. It'll be an uncomfortable, awkward mixture of comedy and drama with some toilet humor thrown in, eventually culminating in an unlikable, emotionally arrested protagonist learning to grow up. And since it's an Apatow production, there's always the chance it'll take thirty minutes longer to arrive at that revelation than it should. In the best case scenario, that would be just over two hours, or in the worst case, closer to two and a half. While those details do prove correct, there's something very different about the execution this time, resulting is his most purely satisfying effort in a while.

After essentially repeating the same formula that worked in the 40-Year-Old Virgin, but grew progressively worse with Knocked Up, Funny People and This is 40, Apatow finally nails it. Maybe it's the absence of
autobiographical subject matter or a willingness to relinquish his desire to be the next James L. Brooks, but he's delivered a movie that stands out from his others. But you have to figure the real difference maker is Amy Schumer, who in her first big screen starring role proves she's more than deserving of all the hype surrounding her.     

The film opens with a flashback in which a young Amy and her sister Kim are told their parents are divorcing, and warned by their drunken, philandering, Mets obsessed father, Gordon (Colin Quinn) on the dangers of monogamy. Flash forward twenty-three years and an adult Amy (Schumer) has internalized that advise, regularly smoking, drinking and sleeping around with guys like gym rat, Steven (John Cena) in order to escape the possibility of an actual adult relationship. Meanwhile, Kim (Brie Larson) has done the exact opposite, settling down with Tom (Mike Birbiglia) a dorky, if generally decent guy with an equally nerdy son Amy finds annoying.

It's Amy's intense dislike of sports that causes her intimidating editor at S'nuff men's magazine, Dianna (Tilda Swinton), to assign her a piece on renowned sports surgeon, Aaron Conners (Bill Hader.), who spends most of his free time hanging with best friend LeBron James (as "himself") and is currently preparing for a major surgery on Knicks' Amar'e Stoudemire (himself again). With a promotion on the line and her father recently admitted to a nursing home, Amy hasn't a clue what to do when she actually starts dating and falling for a genuinely good guy who really likes her, faults and all. So, of course, she does her best to sabotage it, not realizing the person she's hurting most is herself.

This is a comedy that gets a lot right, which is a big surprise considering how much it's attempting to do at once, and how shaky Apatow's previous attempts at juggling this type of material have been. Helping is a really strongly defined character at the movie's center, which is evident immediately upon her introduction in the first few minutes. There's no doubt Amy likes to have fun, and it's interesting to note that when she wakes up in some random guy's bed completely hung over without a clue where she is, we realize this isn't a scene we'd even wince at if the protagonist were male. Schumer (who penned the script) and Apatow know this and are always a few steps ahead of our thinking she's a slut by having her admit to being one with little hesitation and no regrets.

I know very little, if anything, about Amy Schumer other than the fact that she has a show on Comedy Central a lot of people love that's supposedly dirtier and more controversial than this. That her casting was met with groans that she's not "hot enough" for the role is an especially bizarre complaint considering this isn't exactly the kind of female part we frequently see. Schumer makes it soar, hilariously transforming what should be detestable character traits into relatable, often painfully sympathetic quirks. She's also able to switch gears on a dime between the laugh-out-loud scenes and some of the more serious, soul-searching moments which are thankfully never all that serious in her hands.

The movie's secret weapon is Hader, would seem to be as atypical a choice as Schumer to lead a romantic comedy, which makes him an inspired choice, while marking sort of a divergence from the goofball characters he's known for playing since his SNL days. She's not as funny without Hader's straight man to play off and if the running joke is that Aaron's supposed to be boring, than it would be tough to find another actor who makes boring as interesting. Similar to Schumer, audiences will walk away from this experience with a higher opinion of his acting talents than when they went in, potentially opening the door to different types of roles we can picture him in.     

What separates this from other entries in an increasingly popular comedy subgenre is that this is actually invested in exploring what's behind Amy's behavior, while still consistently eliciting laughs doing it. She's on a journey with a very clear end point but the plot doesn't feel as forced or telegraphed as usual does because the writing and acting are so strong. It's the little details that count, such as the hilarious workplace scenes where we get to see an unrecognizable, but delightfully evil Tilda Swinton endorse one ridiculous story idea after another, as Amy and her hapless co-workers (played by Vanessa Bayer, Randall Park and Jon Glaser) sweat with fear.  Or how John Cena's musclehead character becomes a little too boyfriend-like for Amy to handle. Even a sub-plot involving Ezra Miller's overeager intern that has no business working, somehow pays off hilariously.

Every scene with LeBron and Bill Hader's Aaron, specifically those involving the world's highest paid athlete stiffing the latter with every bill. It's worth noting that Cena and especially LeBron's roles are almost ridiculously substantial compared to what would be expected of them. Neither necessarily feels like stunt casting and both end up excelling in supporting parts that don't ask too much of them and actually serve a function in the story. The real celebrity stunt casting actually comes at the end, and it's so random and unexpected that it rightfully earns some of the film's biggest laughs.

Colin Quinn playing Amy's ailing father in a nursing home while looking exactly like his 56-year-old self is definitely a head-scratcher that strangely serves to make an already hilarious performance seem that much funnier. At worst, Quinn's trademark sarcasm and deadpan delivery is put to such excellent use that it's difficult to even notice or care that he's playing someone nearly two decades older. As Kim, Brie Larson is given a slightly undeveloped role she still manages to still do a lot with, allowing us to see through her how Amy turned into such a disaster. And as her oddly matched husband, the loony Birbiglia unexpectedly steals most of the scenes he's in.

Despite employing the usual Apatow tricks, the movie never forces us to like Amy. We just do, and that's all Schumer. The running joke will be that this is really a guy's part since Hollywood dictates only they can struggle with the issues she does here. It's almost impossible to watch without thinking her script's really on to something that hasn't been publicly acknowledged, at least on the big screen. In finally figuring out how to effectively juggle comedy and drama, without giving audiences a headache, Apatow does creep over the two-hour mark, if just barely. But this time it doesn't feel like a drag or mishmash of tones. The only quibble might be the ending, as it's difficult not to wish for a conclusion a little less pat, and maybe a bit more ambiguous or edgier. But that may have been asking too much. As it stands, Trainwreck is the kind of movie we all not so secretly wish Woody Allen could still make, even when it's poking fun at him.