Marty Supreme

Director: Josh Safdie
Starring: Timothée Chalamet. Gwyneth Paltrow, Odessa A'zion, Kevin O'Leary, Tyler Okonma, Abel Ferrara, Fran Drescher, Luke Manley, Emory Cohen, Larry Sloman, Ralph Colucci, Géza Röhrig, Koto Kawaguchi, Pico Iyer, John Catsimatidis, Sandra Bernhard, George Gervin, Ted Williams, Penn Jillette, Isaac Mizrahi, David Mamet, Fred Hechinger, Levon Hawke, Phillipe Petit
Running Time: 150 min.
Rating: R

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)     

The biggest surprise to come out of Josh Safdie's semi-biographical table tennis drama Marty Supreme isn't how much is constantly happening, but the frenetic, breakneck pace at which it all occurs. In fact, there's such a dizzying abundance of side quests, odd characters and cleverly constructed scenes you'll probably need a scorecard to keep track. And that's not even accounting for the myriad of familiar faces popping up throughout, many of whom aren't actors, but various pop culture personalities who seamlessly acclimate themselves into Safdie's period specific universe. 

Full of wild excursions and sub-plots, the action revolves around a cocky, unlikable main character with a single goal: letting the world know he's the best. But he's also a liar, conman and egotistical scam artist who won't hesitate stepping over everyone as he claws and scratches his way to the top. At one point he matter-of-factly predicts he'll be on a Wheaties box without so much as a hint of irony or doubt. For him, it's all about reaching the coveted World Championships, with all of the film's creatively calamitous detours existing in the service of getting him there.

It's New York City in 1952 and shoe salesman Marty Mouser (Timothée Chalamet) is working at his uncle Murray's (Larry Sloman) shop while competing professionally as a table tennis player. On the cusp of being promoted to store manager, he's having on an affair with married childhood friend Rachel (Odessa A'zion), even as his sights remain set on playing in the British Open. But when a broke Marty can't convince his uncle to give him money for the trip, he takes drastic action, arriving at the tournament only to lose in the finals to deaf Japanese rival Koto Endo (real life table tennis player Koto Kawaguchi). 

While in London, Marty starts another affair with former actress Kay Stone (Gwyneth Paltrow), whose wealthy pen magnate husband Milton Rockwell (Kevin O' Leary) makes him a lucrative offer to lose an exhibition match to Endo in Japan. Taking this as an insult, Marty continues touring with friend and former champion Béla Kletzki (Géza Röhrig) as an opening act for the Harlem Globetrotters until he faces a stiff ITTA fine and possible ban for his unprofessional tournament conduct. After desperately convincing taxi driver pal Wally (Tyler Okonma) to help him hustle local players for cash, chaos ensues, forcing Marty to rethink Rockwell's offer, even if that means sacrificing his integrity for cash and a chance at competing in the World Championships. 

Though Marty and Rockwell are at odds from the moment they meet, both could believably benefit from this proposed business arrangement since each are selfishly motivated by their separate desires to see the sport's popularity take off in America. For Marty, it can mean greater exposure and fame while Rockwell sees dollar signs, not to mention the opportunity to exploit a brash young punk he'll tolerate just long enough to get what he wants.  

While the title character is loosely based on late table tennis champion Marty Reisman, that's where most of the similarities between reality and fiction end, with Safdie concocting a heightened version of the actual person and using the period setting as his primary inspiration. Ironically enough, the very idea of a scripted corporate sponsored exhibition match might be the film's timeliest aspect considering how often these pre-determined corporate sports events are still held, sadly demonstrating the almighty dollar's ability to override the thrill of competition. 

Marty's discomfort with throwing a match for money and his undeterred tenacity could be seen as the aspiring champ's only redeeming qualities. It's just too bad he keeps using every friend and family member who helps him, whether that's his uncle, mother (Fran Drescher), girlfriend or even total strangers he encounters along the way. And yet despite sleeping with Rockwell's morose, frustrated wife and insulting his late son, he still manages to come across as the ultimate underdog in comparison since their power dynamic is so severely unbalanced. 

Under different circumstances, Rockwell could be considered a somewhat sympathetic character for putting up with Marty, but since he's played by Shark Tank's "Mr. Wonderful" Kevin O' Leary in his acting debut, there's little chance of that. Safdie transposing TV's most recognizably greedy capitalist into the 1950's is a masterstroke, mainly because he's unsurprisingly great at adapting his own outsized persona into such an environment. In actuality, O'Leary goes a few layers deeper, like when delivering Rockwell's metaphorical vampire speech, claiming to have met and destroyed countless Martys over his lifetime. We believe him, just as we recognize how the thought of working with the Japanese who killed his son hasn't ever entered his mind. It's just business.

Marty also knows a lot about compartmentalizing, having screwed and backstabbed to finance a trip that may not even happen unless the idea of consequences start sinking in. His worst behavior comes out in the film's exhilarating middle section when endless scheming unleashes a crazy chain of events involving a mobster (Abel Ferrrara), his missing dog, a gas station fire, a trigger happy farmer (Penn Jillette) and a thwarted venture with hapless friend Dion (Luke Manley) involving orange table tennis balls ("spheres'). And Safdie somehow manages to have it all converge, leading Marty to his lowest point, abandoning a very pregnant Rachel to follow his dream at the worst possible moment.

If Marty's no prize, neither is retired actress and Rockwell's trophy wife Kay, who fills the void of her monotonous, miserable existence with this younger man. While Paltrow's casting could have similarly come across as a stunt, she delivers some of her most memorable work following what's been a nearly seven-year acting hiatus. There's this cold sadness to Kay, who sleepwalks through life without so much as a smile until Marty briefly reignites in her a spark to perform again. It's a strictly physical relationship of convenience for both until they actually start spending time with each other and realize just how bad an idea it is. Or at least she does. 

If O' Leary proves how often non-actors can add dimensions of authenticity, this also extends to the smaller supporting roles and cameos Safdie uses to fill the corners of his world. Hardly a scene passes where there isn't some recognizable face, even when it takes a minute to place them. Whether it's Ferrara, Jillette, Tyler, the Creator, internet personality Manley, fashion designer Isaac Mizrahi, writer/director David Mamet, "Man on Wire" Phillip Petite, billionaire businessman John Catsimatidis or "The Man with the Golden Voice" Ted Williams, their presence helps make everything feel a little more real. Far from a distraction, it further draws us in, while Jack Fisk's production design and Miyako Bellizzi's costuming handle much of the heavy lifting. 

Though he's constantly scrapping by, we're given fleeting glimpses of Marty's loyalty buried beneath the bravado. But even when he's right, he still manages to express himself so arrogantly that no reasonable person would bother sticking around to listen. These are only a few of the contradictions a brilliant Chalamet brings to a character audiences won't necessarily like, but find complicated and complex enough to warrant redemption. Since there are numerous ways to read the ending, it's not entirely clear whether he gets it, leaving us with something that might appear to resemble a smidgen of growth, depending on your interpretation.   

Being recognized as champion is Marty's answer to everything, even if he can't help but let his pride and insecurity get in the way. No one wants to willingly help an abrasive jerk so he manipulates whoever he encounters, constantly failing upwards to reach the next level. But over the course of the story you sense he's resorting to those tactics out of pure survival instincts rather than any calculated plan. It's just who he is. And since having heroic protagonists shouldn't be a prerequisite, a certain comfort comes from knowing Marty won't ever be mistaken for one, making his twisted, energetic journey that much more exciting.

A Complete Unknown

Director: James Mangold
Starring: Timothée Chalamet, Edward Norton, Elle Fanning, Monica Barbaro, Boyd Holbrook, Dan Fogler, Norbert Leo Butz, Eriko Hatsune, Scoot McNairy, P.J. Byrne, Michael Chernus, Charlie Tahan
Running Time: 141 min.
Rating: R

★★★½ (out of ★★★★)

When a quality musical biopic comes around, whatever praise it receives is usually accompanied by some dismissive, backhanded compliment about it not feeling like one. As if the entire genre only exists to chronologically retrace a public figure's life with little insight or nuance. So for skeptics, it's probably best not to label James Mangold's A Complete Unknown a biopic, but a great film Bob Dylan happens to be at the center of. Besides referencing his famous lyric, its clever title doubles as a description of the man himself, which could have only helped in convincing the notoriously picky and cantankerous artist to sign off on Mangold and co-writer James Cocks' script. 

That it's based on Elijah Wald's 2015 book Dylan Goes Electric!, gives us a pretty good idea all roads will lead to his controversial 1965 Newport Folk Festival performance that turned the music world upside down. Filtered through the prism of Timothée Chalamet's disappearing act, we get glimpses of the sensitive, creative genius at his peak who's also defined by a selfish, obsessive perfectionism that pushes away those closest to him. And though fame was an entirely different animal back then, it's fun and fascinating to watch Dylan subvert his while still remaining repulsed by the whole idea of it.

It's 1961 when a 19-year-old Bob Dylan (Chalamet) hitchhikes from Minnesota to find his idol, folk legend Woody Guthrie (Scoot McNairy), who's in a New Jersey hospital slowly succumbing to Huntington's Disease. Upon his arrival, Dylan meets Woody and his good friend Pete Seeger (Edward Norton), who are both blown away by the young man's singing and songwriting talents. Pete invites Dylan to crash at his house, introducing him to New York's Greenwich Village folk scene and rising star Joan Baez (Monica Barbaro), who he immediately takes a liking to. 

After being signed to a record deal by manager Albert Grossman (Dan Fogler), Dylan embarks on a relationship with artist Sylvie Russo (Elle Fanning), who grows frustrated by his standoffish behavior and inability to open up to her. But as Dylan's popularity skyrockets amid the political turmoil of the 60's, he strays from folk's traditional roots to embrace more modern, socially conscious songwriting. While Pete and the folk community disapprove of Dylan's plans to bring a polarizing new sound to the masses, Sylvie is increasingly alarmed by his growing connection with Baez.  

Because this period represents the most vital slice of Dylan's development, Mangold consciously avoids making pit stops through the various stages of the legendary singer's career, instead dropping him into his own story, seemingly out of nowhere. Neither Pete or an ailing Guthrie have a clue who this kid is, but after picking up the guitar and working his magic, none of that matters. 

Fanning's Sylvie isn't just the film's fictionalized version of Dylan's real-life girlfriend Suze Rotolo (best known for appearing alongside him on the album cover for 1963's The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan) but the only person interested in who he actually is. But in prodding the former Robert Zimmerman about his days working at a traveling carnival, she only awakens a more temperamental side to his personality. If she views a person's past as the gateway to their soul, Dylan merely sees it as an inconvenient obstacle in crafting an entirely new persona out of whole cloth. 

The soft spoken warmth in Norton's portrayal of Pete Seeger prompts us to suspect the folk legend would have still taken Dylan in knowing the repercussions his protégé's choices would have on folk and how negatively he'd feel about it. While Dylan's respect for the genre is unquestioned, he only sees a dead end recording cover songs from previous generations while society yearns for something that addresses their current reality.

The Baez partnership is best described as magical onstage but parasitic off it. While Mangold definitely takes some liberties and fudges the timeline a bit, the essence of how they became so inextricably linked does shine through, particularly in the stage performances. Career-wise, she doesn't actually need Dylan, so while they both artistically benefit, it creates an uneven power dynamic because he's a control freak, as some geniuses are. Gifting her "Blowin' in the Wind" is where his generosity stops, at least once he discovers she won't be catering to his every whim. 

Sylvie painfully realizing the palpable bond between Dylan and Baez as they perform is the closest Mangold comes to pedaling in familiar tropes, but Fanning makes the plight of a long suffering girlfriend ring true, effectively conveying the frustration of putting up with an emotionally inaccessible partner who views relationships as disposable. So even while movie's reverence for Dylan's work is persistent, this isn't a saintly, fawning depiction of him in other respects.

If the running joke about Chalamet learning how to sing badly enough to play Dylan holds any truth, he passes the test, nailing that nasally, rambling inflection as he tears through timeless classics like "Girl from the North Country," "Like a Rolling Stone," "Mr. Tambourine Man," "Masters of War" and "The Times They Are a-Changin'." Despite only scratching the surface of music's richest catalogue, the film undeniably hits the key peaks of his early to mid 60's output while Francois Audouy's production design and Arianne Phillips' costuming helps provide the transportive backdrop.  

Any criticisms leveled against Dylan never stuck because he had a perfect voice for the songs he wrote, forever marking him as a storyteller before all else. He was also a prickly, complicated personality that Chalamet effectively blends with an aloofness and underdog quality worth rooting for. Once Dylan enters his most recognizable black turtleneck/sunglasses phase, the actor completes his full immersion, becoming stranger, moodier and more withdrawn in the celebrity spotlight.

Feeling the burn of getting too close to an almost casually cruel Dylan, Monica Barbaro captivates as the increasingly frustrated Baez who tires of his games. Justifiably tiring of his games. she risks becoming collateral damage in his quest to reinvent folk/rock, which comes to a head in the film's thrilling final act. But her biggest feat is in credibly replicating Baez's distinctively rich soprano voice despite no prior singing experience. Asked to fill enormous shoes, it's about as accurate a portrayal as anyone thought possible.

One of the best details of Dylan's infamous '65 Newport set is the presence of Boyd Holbrook's Johnny Cash, who's depicted exactly how we'd hope, cheering on his pal's attack on the music establishment as the act of rebellion it truly is. Pete and the festival organizers may try to stop it, the crowd can boo and heckle him, but when Dylan starts in on "Maggie's Farm," the train's left the station and it hardly matters who's right anymore. As Baez says, he got the freedom he wanted. 

A Complete Unknown is less concerned with checking off dates, facts and milestones than conveying the experiences of those Dylan sucked into his vortex. In an irony he'd appreciate, by film's end he remains as much an enigma as when it started. Drawing the battle lines between what music was and where it's going, we can tell he didn't see any of it as a big deal, shrugging his shoulders with bemusement at all the chaos. He knew everyone would have to move on because this was just the beginning.

Dune: Part Two

Director: Denis Villeneuve
Starring: Timothée Chalamet, Zendaya, Rebecca Ferguson, Josh Brolin, Austin Butler, Florence Pugh, Dave Bautista, Christopher Walken, Lea Seydoux, Souheila Yacoub, Stellan Skarsgård, Charlotte Rampling, Javier Bardem 
Running Time: 166 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)     

Denis Villeneuve's adaptation of Frank Herbert's seminal sci-fi novel Dune always seemed intended as a giant, visually impressive spectacle that doesn't primarily rely on its story to succeed. You could even argue it benefits the viewer not to think too hard about the details for risk of ruining the experience. That definitely holds true for its 2021 predecessor, where Velleneuve overcame the challenges of introducing a world populated by characters who needed to hold our interest through two or more sequels. 

Most of that first film felt like setup, abruptly ending before the main course arrived. Now, after what felt far longer than a two and a half year wait, the sequel arrives. Only this dark, heady, somewhat odd property isn't your usual franchise tentpole, carrying the risk that some fans may find themselves playing catch up with the story. But with its mind boggling vistas, astonishing effects and flawless sound and production design, it does qualify as "epic" in every sense of the word, noticeably bigger and more ambitious than what came before.

Picking up almost immediately where the last film left off, Paul Atreides (Timothée Chalamet) aligns with the Fremen following the destruction of House Atreides by House Harkonnen. Against his pregnant mother Jessica's (Rebecca Ferguson) wishes, Paul is taken in by tribal leader Stilgar (Javier Bardem) as "the chosen one," forming a close bond with Fremen warrior Chani (Zendaya). Now with friend and mentor Gurney Halleck (Josh Brolin) back by his side, Paul aims to avenge his father's death while the Harkonnens escalate their attacks to gain control of Arrakis. 

Meanwhile, the incompetent hothead Rabban (Dave Bautista) proves himself a failed leader of the Harkonnens, prompting his Jabba-like uncle Baron (Stellan Skarsgård) to transfer the reigns to ruthless younger sibling Feyd-Rautha (Austin Butler). And as Paul settles into his new role with the Fremen, Emperor Shaddam IV (Christopher Walken), daughter Irulan (Florence Pugh) and the Reverend Mother (Charlotte Rampling) brace themselves for retribution. With fighting between the two factions reaching its boiling point, only a showdown remains in determining Paul's final destiny.

Overflowing with plot and characters, you'd think this follow-up would lend credence to all the skeptics who still consider Dune one of those notoriously unfilmable novels. So it's to Villeneuve and co-writer Jordan Spaihts' credit that they manage to balance it all out and wrangle the themes into a straightforward, digestible package. If someone bypassed the 2021 entry and came into this cold they may not be completely lost, especially since the world itself is as much a draw as the actual narrative.

Paul's journey takes detours and excursions, but all roads leads to his gradual transformation. While we're given some voiceover from Pugh's Irulan, the opening hour mostly consists of his assimilation into the Freman, the burgeoning relationship with Chani and a handful of spectacular battle sequences. Originally, Chalamet was considered a divisive choice for the role, but everything about the character's arc in this sequel lends more credibility to his that casting, as the actor quietly builds on the groundwork laid out in the last film, paving Paul's path from insecure, reluctant outsider to burgeoning leader, despite Chani's legitimate reservations.

Zendaya further extends her 2024 on screen winning streak with her extended take on Chani, conveying just the right mix of stubborn skepticism and practicality opposite Chalamet. We detect her character's unease over what's to come and it won't be long before discovering just how right she is. And as the dangerous consequences of mixing politics and religion remain constant, Rebecca Ferguson's hooded, face tattooed Reverend Mother Jessica (who telepathically communicates with her unborn daughter) will come to represent the inflection point for that conflict.  

As everything converges in Empire Strikes Back style by its end, so too does the rise of the ruthless Feyd-Rautha, terrifyingly played by a pale, unrecognizably demonic Austin Butler. Tasked with stepping into the role originally filled by Sting in David Lynch's '84 attempt, he definitely makes it his own, especially during a black and white coliseum showdown stunningly shot by cinematographer Greig Fraser. 

The more our "hero" avoids fulfilling his prophecy the closer he gets, with that ongoing sense of inevitability hovering over every scene. By the time he eventually reaches his perceived goal, it won't come without major sacrifices he'll continue to weigh as this saga continues. Some of the metaphysical elements are a bit much, but at almost 3 hours, Joe Walker's masterful editing ensures there's no extra fat on the bone, as everything at least feels important and unmissable. Once pulled into this expansive, oddly hypnotizing universe, any uninitiated viewers' concerns should wash away, replaced with anticipation for where Villeneuve plans to go next.  

Wonka

Director: Paul King
Starring: Timothée Chalamet, Calah Lane, Keegan-Michael Key, Paterson Joseph, Matt Lucas, Matthew Baynton, Sally Hawkins, Rowan Atkinson, Jim Carter, Natasha Rothwell, Olivia Colman, Hugh Grant, Rich Fulcher, Rakhee Thakrar, Tom Davis
Running Time: 116 min.
Rating: PG

★★★ (out of ★★★★) 

As the latest cinematic take on Roald Dahl's legendary children's book, Wonka surprisingly represents a best case scenario for another go-around with the material. Now far more associated with Gene Wilder's performance in 1971's Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory than the novel itself, the actor's iconic turn would always be impossible to top. Johnny Depp took a stab at it, attempting something completely different in Tim Burton's 2005 reimagining, but still found himself in the shadow of an instantly recognizable, universally beloved work that's already ingrained into pop culture. 

The unexpected selection of Timothée Chalamet to play this role did little to quell fears of a bloated, miscast cash grab, causing even more groans and skepticism than you'd anticipate ahead of Paul King's musical fantasy prequel. But the involvement of Paddington's imaginative director at least signaled the chance this could amount to more. And as it turns out, King and co-writer Simon Farnaby deliver, concocting an origin story that does justice to its predecessor's spirit, while still straying from the source in inspired ways.

Upon arriving in Europe, eccentric inventor and magician Willy Wonka (Chalamet) dreams of honoring his late mother (Sally Hawkins) by opening a chocolate shop at The Galéries Gourmet, home to the world's best confectioneries. But after quickly burning through his savings, a homeless Wonka is persuaded by oafish henchman Bleacher (Tom Davis) to stay at Mrs. Scrubitt's (Olivia Colman) boarding house, unwittingly signing a contract full of expensive hidden fees. Trapped in her basement laundry working off his debt, he meets five other "employees," including young orphan Noodle (Calah Lane) with whom he shares his chocolate making secrets. 

Planning his escape, Wonka must contend with rival shop owners Slugworth (Paterson Joseph), Prodnose (Matt Lucas) and Fickelgruber (Matthew Baynton) who bribe the corrupt, chocolate addicted Police Chief (Keegan-Michael Key) into running him out of town. As Wonka and Noodle attempt to expose this conspiracy, he also faces off with a determined Oompa Loompa named Lofty (Hugh Grant) who's been stealing his sweets to settle a past score. With Wonka's chances of achieving his lifelong dream slipping away, he'll need to get creative, enlisting the help of some new friends.

This opens with a show stopping musical number that establishes Wonka's situation in only a few minutes, successfully grabbing those who may know nothing of the character at all. But it doesn't rely on previous films or even the book, instead using both as a jumping off point to explore what the early incarnation of this wacky inventor could have been. This helps set the tone, with King striking a strong balance between story and song, knowing exactly how to present these sequences so they don't feel forced or shoehorned in. 

Infusing young Wonka with a wry, off-putting sense of humor, Chalamet gives us a sense of how unlucky beginnings inform the aspiring entrepreneur's instincts. Determined, but not completely sure of himself, he's in need of some aid and motivation while stumbling into enemy territory, sabotaged at every turn by the hilariously crooked chocolate cartel. 

In a story driven as much by over-the-top villains as its protagonist's heroics, Olivia Colman hams it up as the nefarious Mrs. Scrubitt, whose long suffering laundry workers are at least afforded the luxury of a catchy theme song. As her nasty hotel owner gives off vibes of Annie's Miss Hannigan, Paterson Joseph's conniving ringleader Slugworth makes for the most memorable of the three chocolatiers, with Keegan-Michael Key also stealing scenes as the bumbling, overeating lawman. 

Much of what works can be attributed to the pairing of Chalamet with Calah Lane as the orphan Noodle. Lane's just a total natural in the role and the writers are clever enough to give the character a purpose beyond merely serving as Wonka's junior sidekick. You get the impression he needs her more, with their joint efforts culminating in an elaborate, cleverly choreographed last act heist that's heartfelt and funny. It also feels right on brand, as does the casting of Hugh Grant as an Oompa Loompa, which isn't something anyone knew they needed until seeing it. He definitely doesn't disappoint, playing little orange Lofty as condescendingly as you'd hope.

It's really hard to nail a musical, much less one with an established lineage, but this has a distinctive visual flair and solid pacing that lends well to the format, harkening back to the genre's glory days. Better still, Nathan Crowley's production design is top notch and the plot makes sense, making it easy to care for the humorous heroes and dastardly scoundrels populating King's fantastical world.  

While Wonka lacks the darker, creepier undertones of the previous two films, it adds just the right dose of mischievous cynicism, abiding by the franchise's unwritten rule that things should be a little weird, keeping with the story's spirit. But the biggest shock might be Chalamet, who's delightful in a part most wouldn't think he'd have any business in, emanating just the right mix of innocence and lunacy. Knowing it's a fool's errand attempting to channel Wilder, he instead lays a believable foundation for what we know comes next, bolstering an already enjoyable companion piece to the classic film.                   

Don't Look Up

Director: Adam McKay
Starring: Leonardo DiCaprio, Jennifer Lawrence, Rob Morgan, Cate Blanchett, Meryl Streep, Jonah Hill, Mark Rylance, Tyler Perry, Timothée Chalamet, Ron Perlman, Ariana Grande, Scott Mescudi, Himesh Patel, Melanie Lynskey, Michael Chiklis
Running Time: 138 min.  
Rating: R 

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

The loudest conversations surrounding Adam McKay's sci-fi satire, Don't Look Up, might center on the likelihood of an event as cataclysmic as what's threatened in the film actually occurring. But that depends on what you consider the real tragedy. A comet potentially wiping out the planet or the hilariously awful ineptitude in which that information's handled by the supposedly smartest, most capable in our society, entrusted to make decisions for humanity's well-being. Could any of this happen? The quickest answer is that it just did, only not with a comet, and this is what gives McKay's film so much power, lifting it from social commentary into something far more scathing and relevant. But that's only half the story, as it takes aim some of the biggest, timeliest targets imaginable, rarely missing.

Having already directed the polarizing The Big Short and Vice, McKay's no stranger to walking a tightrope that sometimes frustrates as many viewers as it delights, but this is operating on a much higher plane. What's most surprising about is how he manages to repeatedly hit these impossible marks, bringing the laughs for almost two and a half hours straight. You sit there expecting it to completely run out of steam because it's just so broad and of the moment, but the truth just keeps funneling through, exposing self-interested government and society that have no idea how pathetically clueless they are. Not that they'd care anyway.  

Whatever divisive reactions exist to the the film itself, it's much harder to claim Leonardo DiCaprio, Jennifer Lawrence or even Meryl Streep have ever tackled the kinds of parts they're given here. It feels like a real first, witnessing performers of their caliber strongly playing against preconceptions to juggle some really difficult material they likely jumped at the chance of challenging themselves with. Uncomfortably hilarious, it holds a harsh, revealing mirror up to a society many will recognize as pitifully identical to the one we've been living in for the past couple of years, if not far longer.

When Michigan State University astronomy doctoral candidate Kate Dibiasky (Lawrence) discovers a previously unseen comet hurling toward Earth, her mentor and professor, Dr. Randall Mindy (DiCaprio) comes to the frightening calculation that it'll hit in six months, resulting in an "extinction level event." Joined by NASA's Planetary Defense Coordination head, Dr. Dr. Teddy Oglethorpe (Rob Morgan), they're summoned to the White House to present this information to disinterested President Janie Orlean (Streep) and her obnoxious son and Chief of Staff, Jason (Jonah Hill). With midterm elections on the horizon and a scandal involving a Supreme Court Justice nominee breaking, Orlean selfishly advises them to just sit on it to avoid more bad press.

Shaken by the President's apathy, Kate and Randall leak the news to the media at Oglethorpe's urging,  soon discovering that the public may also not be as receptive to this information as they thought. But with Orlean's popularity dipping amidst further scandal, she realizes her team may be able to use this impending catastrophe and the scientists to her political advantage. With the help of billionaire tech CEO and key donor Peter Isherwell (Mark Rylance), Orlean's plan for handing the comet crisis is put into motion, dividing the nation and sowing unneeded doubt about its very real danger. It'll be up to Kate and Randall to convince the public what's really happening, but it might be too late, as the rapidly approaching comet remains on course to take out human civilization. 

From the very start, there's an anti-science sentiment Kate and Randall have to battle that quickly chips away at everything they knew about themselves and how the government, media and public view their work and competency. Or more accurately, people just don't like bad news and will come up with any excuse not to receive it. Undermined and humiliated from the moment of discovery, they're  now in over their heads, sucked into a machine intended to dismantle and destroy them for stating facts. While it appears one of them is more capable of handing this, even that doesn't end up being true, with the situation understandably rattling them both to their core in very different ways. 

The astronomers have unknowingly entered an arena where Earth's impending demise is laughed off and mocked by fluff morning TV hosts Brie Evantee and Jack Bremmer (Cate Blanchett and Tyler Perry), whose phony banter, goofy jokes and insistence on "keeping things light" result in some of the film's funniest, but most depressingly realistic moments. Blanchett and Perry are so good in these scenes, perfectly capturing the kind of annoying, celebrity and social media obsessed camera hogs flooding the air on every major "news" outlet. With hosts far more interested in music star Riley Bina's (Ariana Grande) recent breakup with DJ Chello (Scott Mescudi) than a comet wiping out Earth, the scientists start realizing the level of stupidity they're up against, which extends far beyond just the political spectrum.     

The journey DiCaprio takes Randall on is really something, as this seemingly nerdy, Xanax popping, numbers-obsessed scientist has to find his media sea legs after being thrust into the spotlight. A simple man enjoying a comfortable, if pleasantly mundane life back home with his devoted wife June (Melanie Lynskey) and grown kids, he's suddenly a huge celebrity pressured into telling everyone what they want to hear. And as those drawbacks and rewards push back against his principles, he'll have to make some tough moral choices. As a weakened Randall teeters on the verge of implosion, DiCaprio has what might be his best scene out of many, completely snapping as he channels Peter Finch's Howard Beale in Network with a breakdown that feels like the culmination of everything this guy and the country's been put through.

As Randall adjusts to becoming a media sensation, it's Kate taking the brunt of the backlash, framed as a fear-mongering psycho despite being more well-adjusted and sensible than most. Publicly demeaned by everyone from her journalist boyfriend (Himesh Patel) to the President herself, she's the character who earns the most amount of empathy, as even the naming of the "Dibiasky Comet" feels like an intentional slap in the face, putting an even bigger target of unjustifiable blame on her back. 

With an seemingly permanent look on her face conveying utter disbelief at this insanity, Lawrence's "comeback" performance after a three year break ranks as one of her most nuanced and fascinating, reminding us all what we've missed. Between the President's cruel categorization of her as a poster girl for "disaffected youth and mental illness" and her son's sarcastic cheap shots at Kate's looks and intelligence, Lawrence conveys her character's boiling impatience and frustration with often just a single, piercing glance that speaks volumes. Beaten down through much of the film, she never makes Kate a doormat, imbuing her with the strength and resourcefulness to curb this corrupt hypocrisy, regardless of the consequences.

McKay also incorporates all these smaller details into the script that make for a surreal viewing experience, like the fact this narcissistic, power-hungry President has her own incompetent son serving as Chief of Staff, adding nepotism and cronyism to the list of malfeasance. And if it's going to still be a long running complaint that Streep's nominated for anything, why isn't she even being discussed for this? It's one of the rare recent examples of her taking a huge unexpected leap with this blistering portrayal of a delusional Commander in Chief that may contain some Hillary Clinton mannerisms, but by the actress's own admission, is entirely based on Trump. What's most impressive is the nonchalant arrogance with which Streep plays Orlean, who never once considers the option that anyone will hesitate in doing exactly what she says while happily kissing her ass at the same time. And sadly, she's completely right.

Mark Rylance is weirdly brilliant as BASH cellular CEO Peter Isherwell, a nightmare hybrid of Elon Musk, Jeff Bezos, Steve Jobs, Richard Branson or any other eccentric, self-absorbed tech billionaire promising to better everyone's lives. There's an expected way to play someone like this, but McKay has Rylance throw that rule book out the window, instead giving him these delightfully strange quirks that add so much to the persona. From Isherwell's odd accent to the creepy calmness, he's either mumbling unintelligibly, leaving out words or staring into space while talking, often making no sense whatsoever. It would have been so easy and predictable to play him as this kind of evil overlord, but McKay's smarter than that, knowing it's the disingenuous benevolence that makes this character resonate. Rylance goes all in, providing his own bizarre take on how these very recognizable personality types behave. 

There have been complaints about film's length, but in this particular case it feels strangely warranted, and that's coming from someone who cringes at any comedy or drama going beyond the two-hour mark. As with any picture, you could probably find areas to trim and tighten, but there's nothing egregiously obvious here. If pressed, even the two weakest sub-plots involving Ariana Grande's pop star character and Kate's relationship with a skateboarding shoplifter named Yule (Timothée Chalamet) don't unnecessarily extend the proceedings. The former is given brief, proportional screen time while you could argue Lawrence and Chalamet's performances help land that latter storyline land in a much better, more meaningful place heading into the third act. As for supposed issues with tone, given the material needs to alternate wildly between laugh-out-loud satire and dramatic events that suddenly seem a lot less fictional now, McKay remains remarkably consistent.               

Just when you think this has run out of people and ideas to skewer or went as far over-the-top as possible, its ending moves the goalpost. But none of it would work if there wasn't something real there with characters who are invested with a depth that make them work as both parodies and people. Comparisons have inevitably been made to Dr. Strangelove, but a more accurate reference point might be the similarly misunderstood, even less easily digestible Southland Tales, in which an eclectic, all-star cast of actors are placed inside an ambitiously imagined universe on the brink of socio-political collapse. Don't Look Up allows us to laugh at all the absurdity, relieved that someone finally had the guts to just say it, and this entertainingly well. With an evergreen quality likely to hold up over repeated viewings, it's the ultimate time capsule, providing a crazy snapshot of a world where the truth's become convenient to dismiss, but even easier to ignore.        

Dune (2021)

Director: Denis Villeneuve
Starring: Timothée Chalamet, Rebecca Ferguson, Oscar Isaac, Josh Brolin, Stellan Skarsgård, Dave Bautista, Stephen McKinley Henderson, Zendaya, David Dastmalchian, Chang Chen, Sharon Duncan-Brewster, Charlotte Rampling, Jason Momoa, Javier Bardem
Running Time: 156 min.
Rating: PG-13 

★★★ (out of ★★★★)

Better the longer it sits with you, Denis Villeneuve's Dune has the unenviable task of once again bringing to life the world in Frank Herbert's groundbreaking 1965 novel, while also picking up the pieces from one already perceived failure of an adaptation. There are few major, commercially viable cinematic properties left carrying as much baggage, due mostly to its inaccessibility and heady themes. Despite a story predating Star Wars by over a decade, on paper the plot contains elements justifiably earning those comparisons, albeit with more abstract material at its core, previously resulting in a rough big screen transition. Even if appreciation for his vision has grown slightly since, David Lynch learned found out the hard way in 1984, ensuring it wouldn't be revisted on a similar scale or scope until now. 

Arrival and Blade Runner 2049's Villeneuve seemed as good a choice as any to tackle this, possibly bringing the visual grandeur necessary to distract from, or maybe even enhance, some of the colder, navel-gazing excursions long thought to make it a better read than watch. And he does, giving us the best possible adaptation under the circumstances, even if a feeling of dread may overcome viewers when they see a title card reading "Dune: Part One" at the start of this 265-minute epic. Given the density of its source, that was inevitable, but you have to wonder whether this has the creative momentum necessary to become the franchise it's being positioned as. But it's a success, carefully guided by a director who, to his credit, doesn't try to fit a square peg into a round hole or dumb down a story that takes its time to marinate.

It's 1091 and the ruler of the ocean planet Caladan, Duke Leto (Oscar Isaac) of House Atreides has just been assigned to replace Baron Vladimir Harkonnen (Stellan Skarsgard) of House Harkonnen as the fief ruler of desert planet Arrakis. It's a rough, harsh terrain, but provides the only source of "spice," an invaluable resource critical to human viality and interstellar travel. Unbeknownst to Leto and House Atreides' weapons master Gurney Halleck (Josh Brolin), the Emperor is having Harkonnen stage a coup wit his troops to retake the planet, eradicating them before they can control the spice or form an advantageous alliance with the Freman, Arrakis' native inhabitants, represented by tribe leader Stilgar (Javier Bardem).

Leto's concubine, Lady Jessica (Rebecca Ferguson), an acolyte of the Bene Gesserit sisterhood, possesses advanced physical and mental capabilities that have been passed on to son Paul (Timothée Chamalet), who is trained by her, Halleck and  swordsmaster, Duncan Idaho (Jason Momoa). While they all sense greatness in young Paul, he has impulse control issues and problems harnessing his powers, distracted by visions of a turbulent future and dreams of a mysterious young Freman woman (Zendaya). A war looms as Harkonnen's fleet of troops and hulking nephew Glossu Rabban (Dave Bautista) prepare to attack. With the fate of House Atreides, as well as the planet of Arrakis hanging in the balance, their futures may depend on Paul answering the call to fulfill his true destiny.      

As involved as this all seems, it's even more convoluted than that, so Villeneuve deserves credit for distilling the script he co-wrote with Joe Spaihts and Eric Roth into a palpable cinematic experience that reaches a certain level of comprehensibility. They didn't exactly hit the jackpot in terms of the breeziest sci-fi tomes to adapt so it's actually amazing how well this holds together, especially in its strongest middle section. For anyone not already familar with Herbert's novel or Lynch's '84 take, what will initially be most noticeable are how many basic mythological tenets it shares in common with the Star Wars trilogy, including a young hero struggling with his lineage who's now suddenly thrust into a leadership role in the wake of family tragedy. 

The use of a Bene Gissert Force-like technique known as the "Voice" that's ultilized to control others actions are where the closest similarities between Paul and young Skywalker end. If the latter was an eager go-getter almost too energetic for his own good, Paul's the most reluctant and introverted of heroes, with Chamalet subtly conveying a quiet confidence, while still registering his character's inner anguish and growing dread in nearly every scene. He's asked to do a lot while at times sustaining an almost absent stillness, putting a lot of pressure on the audience to embrace an entirely different kind of protagonist who must adhere to a philosophy built almost entirely on restraint and passivity, at least until it isn't. 

Since the character of Paul is such a departure, for some it may not be the most compelling thing to watch, but Chamalet completely makes it work, especially in his many scenes opposite a tremendous Rebecca Ferguson as his mother, Lady Jessica, who's simultaneously disappointed in and encouraging of her son. This, and his futuristic visions of Zendaya's Chani might be the film's most successful element, with even cinematographer Greig Fraser's impressive vistas and Hans Zimmmer's score managing to take a backseat (though not too much of one) when those actors are on screen. And while his time is more limited, Jason Momoa finds a way to make maybe the biggest impression as the spectacularly named Duncan Idaho, perfectly filling the cocky, anti-hero warrior role that's been so frequently miscast of late in these big blockbusters. 

That such strong acting assets as Oscar Isaac, Javier Bardem and a slimy, Jabba-like Stellan Skarsgård (buried in prosthetics) are far from an afterthought in an already stuffed A-list cast is a testament to how well Villeneuve utlilizes what he has. Whatever the story's perceived problems or occasional lapses in focus are made up for by them and the sheer spectacle of the fight sequences and effects, especially those ferocious sandstorms. Striking just the right balance of keeping your eyes glued to the screen without going overboard, the ratio of meditative scenes to slam bang action is well proportioned, with visuals that make one of the better recent cases for theatergoing.

A seemingly uncompromised Dune that's free from the pandering you'd expect from a movie this size might the best thing about it, staying true to its vision while avoiding the temptation to self-indulge. Culminating in more of a stoppage than an end, it feels so much like a first part, they may as well just slap a "to be continued" on the screen. How many will want to follow this story into the next chapter is the bigger question, even as it stands as one of the year's bigger technical achievements, awash in imagery and scenes that stay with you long after the final credits. No one expected this new Dune film to achieve perfection, but it's impressive nonetheless, reigniting a spirited debate as to why that lofty goal seems unattainable, both for better and worse.