The Electric State

Directors: Anthony Russo and Joe Russo
Starring: Millie Bobby Brown, Chris Pratt, Ke Huy Quan, Stanley Tucci, Woody Norman, Giancarlo Esposito, Jason Alexander, Holly Hunter, Anthony Mackie, Woody Harrelson, Jenny Slate, Alan Tudyk, Brian Cox, Hank Azaria, Colman Domingo, Billy Gardell
Running Time: 128 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★½ (out of ★★★★) 

It's hard to pretend critics' knives weren't already sharpened for the Russo brothers' latest big budget action spectacle, The Electric State, before it was seen. Chalk that up to the "Netflix Effect," where the streamer's fondness for pumping out easily disposable popcorn fare gets blamed for all of entertainment's ills, specifically the sharp decline in theatrical releases. But wishing a film you detest had a wider reach is wild, especially when these titles seem ideal for Netflix's fast food menu style of streaming. You can either take it or leave it, which is the whole point of having options. 

Based on Simon Stålenhag's 2018 illustrated novel, its most glaring flaw is a concept that would have probably worked better as the series many assumed it was after seeing those trailers and commercials. Not as unwatchable as you've heard, it plays like a rushed, far inferior counterpart to Amazon's recent Fallout adaptation, which possessed a gripping human element sorely lacking here. But all the complaints about this being one of the most expensive movies ever made is silly once you realize that statistic will inevitably be topped by something worse in a matter of months.

It's 1994 and the war raging between humans and robots for the past four years has ended, leaving society a post-apocalyptic wasteland where semi-comatose humans are entirely reliant on the Neurocaster virtual reality headsets that helped win the battle. Successfully used for combat drones, the technology stuck around and caught on with the public, allowing them to physically check out while these electronic surrogates live their lives. 

With robots now outlawed and banished to the forbidden "Exclusion Zone," teenager Michelle Greene (Millie Bobby Brown) is visited by a big headed yellow bot named Cosmo (voiced by Alan Tudyk), who's based on a popular cartoon character. But she'll soon discover that inside this steel can is the uploaded consciousness of her gifted younger brother Christopher (Woody Norman), presumed dead in a car accident. 

Escaping her abusive father Ted (Jason Alexander), Michelle and Cosmo join up with military vet turned smuggler Keats (Chris Pratt) and his wisecracking robot Herm (voiced by Anthony Mackie) to find Christopher. Hunted by mercenary Marshall Bradbury (Giancarlo Esposito) as they head toward the Exclusion Zone for clues, Michelle hopes to reunite with her brother. But Neurocaster creator and evil tech mogul Ethan Skate (Stanley Tucci) needs him for more nefarious purposes that could jeopardize humanity's future. 

For better or worse, the Russo's Marvel offerings proved their penchant for efficiently delivering huge, effects laden extravaganzas even when the script's an overstuffed mess. This is one of those, but at least you wouldn't know it from the opening, which details the circumstances and background of this post-war society through documentary style newsreel footage. In fact, most of the world building in its first hour is done well, promising potential we keep waiting to arrive. 

The story dips when flashbacks meant to establish the close bond between Michelle and Christopher feel squeezed in and strangely executed, as their affectionate displays seem laid on unnaturally thick for teen siblings. Whether these scenes are Michelle's rose colored recollections of Christopher or intended to suggest knowledge of his impending doom, they're bizarre, much like Jason Alexander's character, who hovers between being an actual threat and a dimwitted comedic foil.

While Pratt will undoubtedly be accused of playing a variation on his Star-Lord from Guardians of the Galaxy (with some Han Solo thrown in), business does pick up once he's introduced, though not necessarily because he and Brown share such great chemistry. It has more to do with robots Cosmo and Herm, who make a more entertainingly worthwhile pair. 

The group's arrival at the Exclusion Zone represents the film's creative peak, with all the banished bots congregating in a run down mall they've converted into a semi-functional society comprised of colorful characters like Brian Cox's Popfly (a takeoff on the Cincinnati Reds' Mr. Redlegs mascot) and Jenny Slate's Penny Pal letter carrier. But the real star is bespeckled, top hat wearing Mr. Peanut, who Woody Harrelson voices as the wise, soft spoken war vet who signed a peace treaty with President Clinton in an unintentionally hilarious Gump-like scene. He's the bots' leader and may be called to action again, whether he wants it or not.  

MCU writers Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely sprinkle in politically relevant themes involving the dangers of technology and government overreach, but those familiar messages get muddled amid the bombastic adventure. Much of the last act is driven by the big reveal involving Tucci's evil CEO, and though his intended use of Michelle's brother is obvious even by wacky sci-fi standards, he and Esposito do give the film's two strongest human performances, adding needed dimension to their sneering villains. Key Huy Quan also briefly shows up in a fun role as a doctor who allegedly holds all the answers Michelle's seeking.

Despite creating a retro futuristic alternate 90's world brimming with possibility, The Electric State can't help but feel like a giant AV project assembled from parts of movies that cover similar terrain. Allusions to Edge of Tomorrow, Ready Player One, Five Nights at Freddy's, and even Stranger Things are all noticeable in a picture that isn't the total abomination you've heard, but problematic in important spots. Even with a packed cast of surprisingly huge names in unexpected roles and impressive effects, we're still only left with a mildly painless watch that's biggest offense is its unoriginality.                                                           

It Ends With Us

Director: Justin Baldoni
Starring: Blake Lively, Justin Baldoni, Jenny Slate, Brandon Sklenar, Isabel Ferrer, Alex Neustaedter, Hasan Minhaj, Kevin McKidd, Amy Morton, Robert Clohessy, Robyn Lively, Emily Baldoni
Running Time: 130 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ (out of ★★★★)

Lies, manipulation, abuse, trauma, harassment. Right now, everyone's associating those words with what's alleged to have happened on the set of Justin Baldoni's It Ends with Us, but it may as well describe the film's entire plot. So even if reports of troubled productions can blur the lines between fiction and reality, the best news coming out of this is that viewers just catching up now are still in store for an untainted experience.  

Before its commercial success or details of a feud between its two stars leaked, this adaptation of Colleen Hoover's 2016 bestselling novel was basically marketed as a Hallmark movie on steroids. And while the description sort of fits, it also simultaneously proves to be a bit smarter and more tonally consistent than expected. 

In one sense, the heavily scrutinized Baldoni reveals himself an even better director than actor, which  says something considering his performance really lands. And despite her status as the project's most established name, this might mark the first time Blake Lively's called upon to lead a drama this emotionally taxing. It's a bigger test than you'd assume, with a script that addresses domestic abuse and generational trauma through a surprisingly honest lens, navigating some tricky narrative terrain in the process. 

After delivering her father's eulogy at his funeral in Maine, Lily Bloom (Lively) returns home to Boston where she randomly encounters neurosurgeon Ryle Kincaid (Baldoni) on the rooftop of his apartment complex. After talking and flirting, he's called in for surgery as they go their separate ways, reuniting when Lily coincidentally hires his sister Allysa (Jenny Slate) to work at her just opened flower shop. As Lily befriends Allysa, she unsuccessfully fights her growing feelings for Ryle, who's already infatuated with his sister's new boss. 

Ignoring Allysa's warnings that Ryle's a serial womanizer incapable of having a real relationship, Lily begins dating him, but after a euphoric start for both, his jealousy and anger bubble to the surface as Lily's high school boyfriend and current restaurateur Atlas Corrigan (Brandon Sklenar) unexpectedly reappears. Haunted by the memories of being raised in a household filled with physical abuse, Lily must find the strength to break the cycle and forge a path of her own. 

When florist Lily Bloom is the least pretentiously named character in your script, it's a safe bet they'll be challenges translating certain elements of Hoover's novel to the screen, but Baldoni and writer Christy Hall find creative solutions around this and other creative shackles involving the timeline. That the two leads mock the absurdity of their situations in the introductory rooftop scene help fend off potential criticisms, shrewdly establishing Lily and Ryle's awkward but palpable chemistry. And Baldoni walks a razor thin line, initially coming off smooth enough that Lily doesn't look gullible being drawn in, even when this guy's sending up red flags that he's trouble.

A red-haired Lively is in full hippie earth mother mode as Lily, carrying many of the tougher scenes as a free spirit who's internalized her own mom's (Amy Morton) abuse only to later relive it as an adult. As Ryle's fits of rage escalate, each succeeding incident seeming less an accident than a disturbing pattern, eventually reaching a boiling point. But it's the reemergence of Lily's first love Atlas that completely sends him over the edge, exposing her to a dangerous situation she's been conditioned to accept.

It's to the film's benefit that the characters are aged up from the novel, enabling memorably pertinent flashbacks to Lily's past, which in many ways surpass the present day storyline. Much of that's due to the performances, especially from newcomer Isabel Ferrer as Lily, who not only looks and sounds like a younger Lively, but conveys all the fear, uncertainty and excitement that accompanies the adolescent pangs of teen love. 

Even with far fewer scenes, the movie belongs as much to Ferrer as Lively, potentially signaling the arrival of a major new star. Seeing Lily witness her dad's (Kevin McKidd) heinous actions tells us everything we need to know about how she'll still internalize what happened decades later, bringing a purpose and clarity to the flashback structure that other films in this genre frequently lack. 

As younger Atlas, Alex Neustaedter fulfills his end of the deal as a quiet, withdrawn homeless teen rescued by Lily, but not without devastating consequences that lay the foundation for Sklenar's adult take on the character. These flashbacks work so well that there's actually a twinge of disappointment when they end, knowing we'll be stuck with their older, less intriguing counterparts for the remainder. But Baldoni ultimately overcomes this with a satisfying third act that tie those threads together, setting the stage for Atlas to instill in Lily a belief she's capable of saving herself.

One of the best written scenes involves Allysa's reaction to her brother's behavior, as a lesser movie would have this character lash out, insulted by the idea of choosing between her best friend and sibling. What she says instead indicates just how lost a cause Ryle truly is, implying tormentors like him are permanently broken, tainted by an event so traumatizing that the only thing left to do is run far away from them.  

Craftily juggling two timelines, the film avoids romanticizing the serious issue at its center or coming across as a heavy handed public announcement. That's not to say it has a particularly light touch either, but Baldoni knows what he's doing, even if the chances of he and Lively reuniting for any kind of sequel are non-existent. 

With an inevitable legal battle looming over rights to Hoover's follow-up novel, you do have to wonder what part of the story is left to tell after a conclusion this unambiguous. While any forthcoming entry is obviously more dependent on Lively's involvement than his, what we get here feels like just enough, written, acted and directed as well as it could possibly be given the material.