The Sandlot (Retro)

The Sandlot (1993) PG 101 minutes Director: David Mickey Evans Writer: David Mickey Evans CAST Tom Guiry...Scotty Smalls Mike Vitar...Benny Rodriguez Patrick Renna...Hamilton "Ham" Porter Denis Leary...Bill James Earl Jones...Mr. Mertle Art LaFleur...Babe Ruth

“I am Hercules.” — Kevin Sorbo

The Sandlot is one of those movies that feels smaller when you’re a kid and larger when you’re an adult. What once felt like nothing more than a string of jokes and bits slowly reveals itself as something gentler — a memory of a summer that mattered, even if no one knew it at the time.

The narration sets the tone. It’s Christmas Story–adjacent, but with a key distinction: Ralphie grows up still wrestling with his childhood. Scotty Smalls grows up simply grateful for his. There’s no bitterness in the voiceover—only fondness.

That tone brings the movie closer to a family-friendly Stand by Me. Same idea—kids on the brink of change, one last shared adventure—but filtered through humor, exaggeration, and baseball. And even then, it’s not really about baseball. Baseball is the setting, not the point. This is a movie about kids hanging out one last summer before their lives quietly shift out of reach.

You see that shift everywhere. The legend of the Beast is cartoonish and funny, a child’s myth inflated into something operatic. The s’mores bit still works. The chewing-tobacco-on-the-carnival-ride scene remains perfectly disgusting and impeccably timed. Everything is heightened, but it’s emotionally honest—how summers felt, not how they literally happened.

The adults mostly exist as pressure. Bill, Smalls’ stepdad, radiates pure Denis Leary energy. You know he’s going to give that kid a black eye; the only surprise is how.

Even the stuff that could have aged poorly mostly doesn’t. The pool make-out scene lives in a gray area, sure, but it never feels creepy. If this movie had been made five years earlier, it’s easy to imagine that scene being played differently. Instead, the joke stays on Squints, keeping it silly over leering. That restraint matters.

Hercules—the Beast—becomes a central emotional anchor for the movie. He’s terrifying, misunderstood, and ultimately just a lonely old dog with a bad reputation. For anyone who grew up with an outdoor dog—the kind that growls at strangers but licks your face when you get home—it rings true. And mercifully, this is a movie with the right amount of dog in it: memorable, meaningful, never emotionally exploitative.

Art LaFleur’s brief turn as Babe Ruth is one of those performances that stays with you. He shows up for maybe three minutes, delivers a handful of lines with the perfect mix of gruff kindness and faint impatience, and then vanishes. But those minutes quietly reframe everything that follows. He’s not trying to steal the spotlight—he’s just there to hand it back to the kids. That understatement is what makes him so good, and it’s why, even now, I catch myself smiling every time the Bambino walks out of the fog.

I was surprised by how teary the ending made me. Nothing especially tragic happens—none of the boys meet some grim fate, no one gets killed breaking up a fight at a McDonald’s—and yet the emotion sneaks up all the same. Maybe it’s the exact balance the movie strikes between sweetness and sincerity, with just a trace of melancholy underneath. Even Hercules—or the Beast, as he’s more often called—is revealed, just before the epilogue, to be a mere mortal when the fence collapses on him. Later, we’re told he lives to be 199 in dog years, which sounds legendary until you realize he’s still the only character who actually dies. Or maybe the sadness comes from something simpler: the knowledge that once the movie ends, you don’t really get to see these kids—these newfound celluloid friends—again. Like childhood summers themselves, they don’t end in tragedy. They just end.

The epilogue seals it. “Heroes get remembered, legends never die” works because the movie earns it. The futures aren’t tragic, but they aren’t fantasy either. Benny Rodriguez makes it all the way, the way you always hoped he would. The rest don’t—and that’s the point. Bertram gets really into the ’60s. Life happens. It’s the exact right balance of bitter and sweet—proof that a family movie doesn’t need to be a bummer to be honest, and doesn’t need to be a fantasy to be comforting.

If anything, The Sandlot improves with age. As a kid, it’s funny and exciting. As an adult, it’s generous. It’s the kind of memory that sneaks up on you years later—when you’re old enough to see just how much that one summer really meant.

Final Verdict: 92 out of 100

Sidenote: Postscript

The Rip

THE RIP 113 minutes Director: Joe Carnahan Writers: Joe Carnahan, Michael McGrale Ben Affleck, Matt Damon, Steven Yeun CAST Matt Damon...Lieutenant Dane Dumars Ben Affleck...Detective Sergeant JD Byrne Steven Yeun...Detective Mike Ro Teyana Taylor...Detective Numa Baptiste Sasha Calle...Desiree “Desi” Molina Catalina Sandino Moreno...Detective Lolo Salazar Scott Adkins...FBI Agent Del Byrne Kyle Chandler...DEA Agent Mateo “Matty” Nix Néstor Carbonell...Major Thom Vallejo Lina Esco...Captain Jackie Velez

So the cops knew Internal Affairs was setting them up, but they played along so they could catch the real killer.
—Homer Simpson, THE SIMPSONS, 6F23

The title is deliberately vague, which turns out to be fitting—it could be about Rip Torn, Rip Van Winkle, Rip Hamilton, or a documentary about a guy engraving tombstones. URBAN DICTIONARY will tell you a rip is a monster hit from a bong. But in this movie, it’s simpler: a rip is robbing a stash house — money no one can claim. That looseness isn’t just in the title. It bleeds into everything else.

The movie opens with Jackie’s murder. From there, it settles into a mode where no one trusts anyone. Everyone is a potential liability, everyone’s a suspect, and no one’s motives are entirely clean. Even Mike Ro, who the movie quietly positions as someone to watch, is hard to read. Is he doing a dirty job, or just stuck inside a system where everyone’s already compromised?

THE RIP is built to entertain, and on that level — while the bullets are flying — it does work, even if that forward motion ignores basic logic. It’s the kind of movie where you stop caring exactly why someone is being shot, as long as the choreography looks good.

Part of the issue is that the plot is over-engineered, stacking OCEAN’S ELEVEN–style reveals — tactics and timelines held back just to be “cleverly” unveiled. In a straight heist flick, that’s part of the fun. Here, with real stakes like bodies dropping and careers imploding, it feels evasive by design. THE RIP wants that gotcha satisfaction without dealing with the mess it’s making.

The story feels cobbled from real cop stories and heist-movie tricks, but that real-life edge gives THE RIP a seriousness it wouldn’t have otherwise — even when the script takes a few shortcuts to keep the plot moving.

Still, there are moments that pull you out of it. There’s a scene where Ben Affleck’s JD, alone in a bathroom, takes off his shirt to dry his face — a move so exaggerated it borders on parody. Paper towels exist. Hand dryers exist. The shirt comes off, the face is dried, and back on it goes. It’s not symbolic enough to mean something, and not natural enough to feel real. It plays less like psychological distress than a brief pause where you can almost hear Ben Affleck saying, “hey, check me out, I hit the gym at 53.”

JD doesn’t help matters. Is there anyone named JD in fiction who isn’t a total douche? Jermaine Dupri remains the lone exception. The movie wants him to carry real moral weight—but it feels more like a performance than real pressure.

Oddly, the most likable character is Wilbur, the cash-sniffing beagle. He’s cute, efficient, and refreshingly uncomplicated, unlike the humans around him. The movie could have used more of him. He’s also got one of those names that feels like it wandered in from another era — you mostly hear “Wilbur” now in MR. ED reruns — which gives him an unintended charm. He’s certainly easier to root for than most of the people in THE RIP.

Kyle Chandler pops up as Matty, and if you’re looking for FRIDAY NIGHT LIGHTS–era nobility, adjust your expectations. The only lights he seems headed for are red and blue — no football fields in sight, Coach Taylor. Chandler brings a steady, professional presence, but even he can’t ground a story that keeps flipping between that Ice-T procedural grit and convenient plot shortcuts.

It’s not dumb or lazy—it’s entertaining, competently made, and engaging in the moment. It’s the kind of movie that’s fun while it’s running, but doesn’t hold up when you hit pause—like a stash-house rip that falls apart if anyone looks too close.

Final Verdict: 60 out of 100

Blank Check (Retro)

BLANK CHECK (1994) PG 93 Minutes Director: Rupert Wainwright Writers: Blake Snyder, Colby Carr Brian Bonsall, Karen Duffy, Miguel Ferrer CAST Brian Bonsall...Preston Waters Karen Duffy...Shay Stanley Miguel Ferrer...Carl Quigley James Rebhorn...Fred Waters Michael Lerner...Bank Manager Tone Lōc...Juice Jayne Atkinson...Mrs. Waters Rick Ducommun...Henry

“You got the juice now, man.”
—Bishop, JUICE

BLANK CHECK opens by taking its villain way more seriously than the rest of the movie ever will. Miguel Ferrer, in full ’90s character-actor mode, is shown in a dark, industrial basement counting out a million dollars in illicit cash. It’s played completely straight, like we’re meant to take Carl Quigley as a genuine criminal threat, which makes it stranger to watch him get outsmarted by a kid with a handful of Kevin McCallister tricks.

It’s nice, occasionally, to review a movie where the title handles most of the work for you. Preston Waters is a dorky, friendless kid — a YOUNG SHELDON type — ignored at home, picked on at school, and framed as poor in that specific ’90s-movie way where poverty means only having a couple of dollars at a theme park. When Carl Quigley backs into his bike and hands him a signed check to make the problem disappear, Preston fills it out for a million dollars, and the movie immediately enters a reality where a child is treated like a serious adult, no questions asked. In 1994, a check was money; now it’s evidence.

Miguel Ferrer should have been appreciated more while he was around—here, he brings a level of conviction that feels wildly out of scale with the movie he’s in. If you want to see what Brian Bonsall was doing just before this, watch MIKEY and then watch BLANK CHECK right after. The whiplash alone is worth the double feature.

Once the money clears, the movie settles into its fantasy: Preston living like a kid pretending to be a rich adult, though he’s not any more likable with a mansion than he was without one. What kid doesn’t fantasize about living like Nicolas Cage—buying a castle one week and going completely broke the next? There’s generic ’90s music underscoring expensive toys and a long line of adults who never once question the existence of “Mr. Macintosh.” Even the poster tries to help, sticking sunglasses on Preston and turning the hat backward, like he’s Snoop Doggy Dogg. Preston builds himself a kid-friendly version of Neverland Ranch.

The movie runs on fantasy speed, where a racetrack and a waterslide appear overnight and nobody thinks to ask how. The name itself—grabbed from the nearest computer—is adopted without a second thought. One thing the movie gets right is that in the ’90s, parents didn’t really care where you were — just be home in time for dinner.

The one relationship that actually works is with Henry, Preston’s chauffeur. He isn’t law enforcement, a plant, or a secret guardian — he’s just hired help, and that’s why the character works. He doesn’t ask questions because the movie needs at least one adult who won’t immediately shut the fantasy down. When Preston realizes his party guests are only there for the free food and prestige, Henry stands out as one of the few people who seems to genuinely care. It’s the closest the movie comes to anything resembling emotional grounding.

By this point, Preston has managed to burn through a million dollars in less than a week, which helps explain why the big party feels less like a celebration and more like a problem.

Naturally, the villains catch up. There’s a bike chase through the park, a limo escape, and Carl Quigley repeatedly shouting “your butt is mine,” a line it seems oddly proud of. The money disappears faster than the movie seems willing to acknowledge — even in 1994 — and the fantasy starts to fall apart.

Beyond a Super Soaker, a pair of Jordans, and a big-screen TV, I honestly wouldn’t have known what to do with a million dollars as a kid in this time period. Five grand would’ve felt like plenty.

BLANK CHECK is a simple premise stretched just a bit too far, stitched together by overqualified character actors and a brand of wish-fulfillment that only works if you squint real hard. It’s harmless, occasionally weird, and stranger than you remember — a kids’ movie from an era when Disney was still comfortable letting a little sleaze creep in around the edges.

Final Verdict: 45 out of 100

Sidenote: Streaming on Disney+. If you don’t have Disney+, it’s usually only a dollar more to buy than rent.

Bingo (Retro)

BINGO (1991) PG 89 Minutes Director: Matthew Robbins Writer: Jim Strain Cindy Williams, David Rasche, Robert J. Steinmiller Jr. CAST Cindy Williams...Natalie Devlin David Rasche...Hal Butler Robert J. Steinmiller Jr....Chuckie Devlin Donnie Jeffcoat...Lonnie Billy Jayne...Leo

The name’s Poochie D and I rock the telly
I’m half Joe Camel and a third Fonzarelli
I’m the kung-fu hippie from gangsta city
I’m a rappin’ surfer you the fool I pity
—Poochie D, THE SIMPSONS, 4F12

I didn’t grow up on BINGO, so I’m coming at this without rose-colored glasses. Most people who like this movie probably wore out their VHS copy in 1993, but I was raised in a house where my father had zero tolerance for “dog movies.” I finally see why. So many of them are lazy, relying on a cute face to carry the entire movie while the actual filmmaking stays stuck in a strange, low-effort place.

My path to BINGO came through David Rasche. I was watching SLEDGE HAMMER! and wanted to see if his straight-faced, deadpan delivery translated to a ninety-minute family comedy. Throw in Cindy Williams—whose LAVERNE & SHIRLEY status usually earns a movie at least twenty minutes of my patience. But even with that pedigree, you start to suspect the actors were in it just for a paycheck—possibly earmarked for alimony or tax debts.

BINGO is very much a product of the video-store era. Regardless of quality, a movie with a dog wearing sunglasses on the cover was going to get rented—especially by kids, and especially by parents desperate to kill ninety minutes. It’s a hard PG, too, from a time before the lines between kids’ movies and adult movies were so aggressively enforced. There’s something oddly refreshing about seeing children exchange middle fingers or a parent occasionally swear without the movie feeling like it was sanitized by a corporate focus group.

Movies with talking dogs are an abomination. Maybe “abomination” is too strong—let’s just say they’re strictly for kids in nursery school, the kind where a Chihuahua is given George Lopez’s voice and says things like, “We’re Mexi-can, not Mexi-can’t!” BINGO at least avoids that particular sin. There are no digitally altered mouths and no inner monologue voiceovers explaining his feelings. The gold standard for the genre remains EIGHT BELOW (or its source material, ANTARCTICA), and BINGO never threatens that title. But it does understand that dogs are most effective when they’re actually allowed to be dogs—even if “being a dog” in this movie involves MACGYVER-level tactical genius.

I’m not going to pretend this was a good movie, but there are a lot of fun scenes. Bingo licking dishes clean at a diner as a “job.” A hot dog stand run by a guy who keeps dogs in cages, implying they’re not just mascots but inventory. Bingo even manages to call 911 to report the villains after they kidnap a family and steal their RV. A courtroom scene where Bingo places his paw on a Bible before testifying, gets cross-examined, and somehow winds up in jail. There’s an unaccompanied bus trip to Green Bay, Wisconsin. An extended crotch-attack gag that refuses to let go. And yes, Bingo grabbing the villains’ suitcase bomb and dumping it into the water, limiting the damage but not walking away unscathed.

The villains have a budget HOME ALONE energy—all bluster and incompetence—which makes the movie’s later escalation into genuine peril feel especially strange. They kidnap Chuckie and stash him in a nondescript warehouse while the plot slides into actual hostage territory. It leads to a bizarre ultimatum where Chuckie’s father is forced to tank his kicking career or his son gets blown up. This is the point where BINGO stops being a goofy dog-on-the-loose movie and briefly convinces itself it’s a thriller, even though it never fully commits to that shift.

Bingo’s fear of fire, which the movie went out of its way to seed earlier, finally comes into play here. It’s rooted in his backstory as a circus dog, where a missed jump through a flaming hoop led to a catastrophic blaze. Overcoming that trauma is the movie’s way of giving Bingo an emotional arc, even if it arrives packaged in the clunkiest way possible, with consequences that immediately turn physical. Judging by the size of the explosion that follows, the villains wildly overestimated how much explosive force was required to kill a child.

Bingo survives, of course, after being injured by the blast, and the movie milks the hospital scene for all the fear it can before it gets sentimental. Friends—human and canine—wait anxiously for him to pull through. Once he does, BINGO can’t resist one final joke, ending not on relief or reflection but on a neutering gag—a final reminder that this was always meant to be a family comedy first and a coherent emotional experience second.

Final Verdict: 55 out of 100

Roofman

ROOFMAN R 126 Minutes Director: Derek Cianfrance Writers: Derek Cianfrance, Kirt Gunn Channing Tatum, Kirsten Dunst, LaKeith Stanfield

CAST

• Channing Tatum...Jeffrey Manchester
• Kirsten Dunst...Leigh Wainscott
• LaKeith Stanfield...Steve
• Juno Temple...Michelle
• Peter Dinklage...Mitch
• Ben Mendelsohn...Ron Smith
• Uzo Aduba...Eileen Smith
• Melonie Diaz...Talana
• Emory Cohen...Otis
• Molly Price...Sgt. Katherine Scheimreif

It’s a tale as old as time: robbing McDonald’s through the roof after they close. Except the employees are still there, and because he’s such a nice guy, he locks them in the fridge. Don’t worry—he calls the authorities afterward so they can get out. As if nothing could possibly go wrong in the time between him leaving and help showing up. It seems so easy and straightforward, it’s a wonder I haven’t done it yet.

ROOFMAN opens right in the middle of Jeffrey Manchester’s routine—dropping through ceilings and calmly cleaning out registers like he actually works at McDonald’s. He’s good at it, but eventually he gets caught. After robbing 45 different McDonald’s locations, Manchester is sentenced to 45 years in prison.

Prison doesn't agree with him. Almost immediately, he's scanning routines and weaknesses like he's back casing a McDonald’s. His escape is hiding in a false bottom he built in a box truck—low-tech in concept, but it actually takes some decent planning and work to pull off. This isn’t a movie about a criminal mastermind—it’s about persistence and not getting noticed.

Once he’s out, Manchester disappears into the world’s most bizarre safe house: a Toys “R” Us. He shuts off the cameras and moves into an inconspicuous corner of the store, surviving on a steady diet of Peanut M&M’s and whatever merchandise he can flip at the local pawn shop. It’s a middle-aged man living out a childhood fantasy as a survival strategy, like an alternate version of BIG where Tom Hanks never gets to go home. Here, Manchester isn’t liberated by the toy store — he’s imprisoned by the neon aisles and shiny new toys, spying on the employees with baby monitors.

Channing Tatum drops the usual MAGIC MIKE charm and plays Manchester with this low-key, vacant energy that actually works. He’s not going for swaggering outlaw or cool rebel—just a socially awkward guy who's oddly polite while making one bad decision after another. Even in that dumb blonde wig for the fake passport photo, he lets himself look a little pathetic, and it makes for a better movie.

Ginger-haired freak, Kirsten Dunst shows up and does what she’s been doing for the last decade—playing grounded wife/mom types with a quiet sadness humming underneath. It’s the kind of role she’s been playing since FARGO, and she’s still very good at it. Here, her weariness plays off Manchester’s blank detachment: she feels everything, he feels almost nothing, and somehow that makes their scenes land without forcing it.

The problem is that ROOFMAN eventually falls into the familiar “based on a true story” trap. Once Manchester meets Leigh, the trajectory becomes obvious. He grows attached to her kids. He lives a lie he can’t sustain. You know he’s going to disappoint everyone involved, and you know how it’s going to end long before the movie gets there. At over two hours, it lingers too long on Jeff’s isolation, stretching what could have been a tight 90-minute oddity.

Still, there’s an offbeat weirdness that kept me watching. Strange without feeling random, quiet without being dull. A movie about a grown man surviving on pawned toys and candy sounds like a stretch, but it’s more engaging than the premise suggests.

Final Verdict: 65 out of 100

The Grinch that Stole Bitches

THE GRINCH THAT STOLE BITCHES R 74 Minutes Director: Malik Marcell Writers: Urick Hopkins, Malik Marcell Otis “Money Bag Mafia” McIntosh, Navv Greene, Christianne “Chrissy Cindy” Jones CAST Otis “Money Bag Mafia” McIntosh...The Grinch Navv Greene...Santa (Martin Luther Santa) Christianne “Chrissy Cindy” Jones...Mrs. Claus (Coretta Santa) Nigel K. Rhoden...Lil G Marly St. Cloud...Lil E Terry “Goofy” Jones...Jevonte Erica Duchess...Greisha Marco Lavell...Jamier Travis Adonis...Jaquan Nic Starr...Father Claus

I don’t know how I missed this gem last year. I picked it mostly because I knew the title alone would make you laugh—and to be fair, you can’t accuse the movie of false advertising. There are definitely bitches stolen.

A movie like this has so much potential. In my head, I pictured something with a little more confidence and swagger: Katt Williams in a fur coat, walking around the neighborhood with a pimp cane, stealing bitches with intent. That’s not the movie we get.

Instead, Gregory Reynolds gets out of jail in a headless green Grinch costume. It doesn’t work. The movie expects you to accept he’s the Grinch and keeps moving.

Through a flashback, we learn Greg tried to rob Santa a few years earlier and got arrested. Now he’s back, and he wants revenge.

After three years inside, Greg heads back to Santa’s house to finish what he started. Instead, he kidnaps Mrs. Claus—Coretta Santa. From there, the Grinch rides around town with an accomplice or two, knocking on doors like Jehovah’s Witnesses, except he’s stealing bitches instead of handing out pamphlets.

This is some deeply specific hood shit, punctuated by weird, soft-core porn montages that feel like they belong to a different movie entirely.

You can also tell exactly where the ad breaks were supposed to be. The movie plays straight through without commercials, which makes sense. I’m having a hard time picturing the meeting where someone says, “Okay, let’s advertise our detergent in this film.”

THE GRINCH THAT STOLE BITCHES.
Brought to you by Tide: clean up your jizz stains with Tide.

If you want an extra laugh, turn on the subtitles. They’re wrong from the very beginning, like they were auto-generated and never checked.

There’s a running gag with the Grinch’s old lady showing up with a kid that—even by the standards of this movie—definitely isn’t his. Not because it’s funny—because it keeps showing up. And that’s about as consistent as this movie gets; everything else feels like it was assembled from a series of unrelated Vine clips.

It all builds to the husbands marching around in red cloaks like it’s HANDMAID’S TALE, tracking the Grinch to his lair. We eventually learn that the movie casually drops that the Grinch is Santa’s father’s bastard son, like it’s no big deal. This reveal happens and then immediately disappears into the next scene, as if the film itself forgot it just said that. Santa and the husbands finally catch up to him, chaos ensues, and by the end everyone learns to appreciate their wives. Why not.

Every filmmaker wants their movie to make sense. That’s something I believed before watching THE GRINCH THAT STOLE BITCHES. Put it on if you have family over and you’d like them to leave.

Final Verdict: 42 out of 100

Sidenote: Only available on Tubi.

Merv

MERV PG 105 Minutes Director: Jessica Swale Writers: Dane Clark, Linsey Stewart Zooey Deschanel, Charlie Cox, Patricia Heaton CAST Zooey Deschanel...Anna Finch Charlie Cox...Russ Owens Patricia Heaton...MJ Owens David Hunt...Jack Owens Chris Redd...Vice Principal Desmond Ellyn Jameson...Jocelyn Jasmine Mathews...Rebekah Gus...Merv

THE MERV-U-MENTARY

If you clicked MERV hoping for Merv Griffin: nope. No one’s singing “I’ve Got a Lovely Bunch of Coconuts.” That’s a joke—for my readers over 80. Instead, we get something quieter and very modern: two exes who share joint custody of a rescue terrier mix because they can’t stand each other but can’t let go of the dog.

Anna is an optometrist; Russ is a teacher played by Charlie Cox (post-Daredevil), looking like he wandered off a Marvel set into the world’s most low-stakes crisis. Anna is an angry, brittle workaholic who seems allergic to joy, and Russ is a sad sack with a permanent apology-face. You’ve met this guy: “We swear he’s fine, but he looks like he cries in his car.”

Merv—the dog—is the one with depression. That’s not me projecting; the movie tells us Merv is sad because his parents aren’t getting along. The veterinarian even suggests Xanax, and Anna and Russ react like she’s talking about heroin. I’m not exaggerating.

Nothing cheers Merv up. Not the house, not toys, not even a trip to a Florida beach in December. (I can’t really blame him for that last one.) Once they’re in Florida, Anna shows up because she “misses the dog”—but what she really misses is Russ. They end up at a dog birthday party, where they meet a “spiritual animal healer” who channels Merv’s feelings and basically tells them the dog wants mom and dad back together. I kept waiting for Merv to roll his eyes and walk out. At this point, I was about three minutes away from turning the movie off, but Merv looked so genuinely embarrassed by the “healer” that I stayed.

All I wanted was a bland Christmas movie with an adorable dog—and I didn’t want the dog to die. That’s the bar now. I didn’t even know about dog boots before this. Apparently, we’re putting tiny boots on terrier mixes so they don’t freeze their paws in Boston snow. Do dogs in Boston actually need boots? Probably not. Are they adorable? Begrudgingly yes. Gus (the real dog) steals every scene anyway—mostly with hangdog eyes that say, “Fix your shit, humans.”

Zooey Deschanel plays Anna, and I mostly know her from Elf. Everyone else seems to find her quirky and charming; I’ve never quite understood her appeal. Twenty years later, and we’re still doing the “adorkable” thing—just with more edge and fewer ukuleles. She plays Anna like someone who treats every room as a group project nobody asked for—defensive, prickly, and convinced she’s the only adult present.

Patricia Heaton pops in as Russ’s mom, delivering a concentrated dose of the prickly matriarch role she patented decades ago. It’s basically Debra Barone if she retired to Florida and switched to high-end box wine. She’s not on screen long enough to anchor the movie, but she’s a needed shot of sitcom professionalism—landing more punchlines with a silent, weary blink than the rest of the humans do with their actual dialogue.

There’s a running subplot about Anna not being able to have kids. The movie treats it like a late reveal, but Anna and Russ spend the whole film orbiting the issue before finally saying it out loud like it’s a twist.

The movie actually gets one thing right: Russ’s rebound dog, Angelina. He gets her after it looks like he and Anna won’t reconcile. It’s a very human move: “Fine, I’ll just get another emotional support dog.” Angelina’s role is pretty transparent, but the movie isn’t wrong—dogs know when something is missing in your life. Or at least they know when you’re sad and eating more snacks than usual.

Buck the dog made Married… with Children. Without him, it was just a show about assholes who lived together. Same idea here. Merv (and later Angelina) are the moral center of the movie. Watching them, you think, “These people can’t be all bad. They take care of their dogs.” The humans act out, sulk, and overcomplicate everything. The dogs just exist, and somehow they make everyone else more watchable.

The ending is kind of sweet, I have to admit, even though it’s telegraphed from the beginning. If you’ve seen a couple holiday movies, you know where this is going: big gesture, heart-to-heart, dog in the middle, some tasteful Christmas lights in the background. It works. It’s not winning any awards, but it serves a purpose.

One practical question: how did they get Angelina a personalized sweater in less than 24 hours? Is there a secret emergency monogram service for emotionally fragile dog owners?

MERV isn’t great, but it knows exactly what it is. It’s a paint-by-numbers Christmas movie about broken people using a rescue terrier mix to patch the hole in their lives.

Final Verdict: 60 out of 100

Playdate

PLAYDATE PG-13 93 Minutes Director: Luke Greenfield Writer: Neil Goldman Kevin James, Alan Ritchson, Sarah Chalke CAST Kevin James...Brian Jennings Alan Ritchson...Jeff Eamon Sarah Chalke...Emily Alan Tudyk...Simon Maddox Stephen Root...Gordon Isla Fisher...Leslie Benjamin Pajak...Lucas Banks Pierce...CJ Hiro Kanagawa...Colonel Kurtz Paul Walter Hauser...“Zach Galifianak-ish”

For those of you who think I can’t review two Kevin James movies in a row—like I’m going to run out of jokes, or it’ll start sounding redundant—challenge accepted.

“Do I look like a child predator?” Kevin James asks early in PLAYDATE, standing in a park in a windbreaker that’s practically begging for a restraining order. Honestly? I bought it. I can believe him as the awkward stepfather everyone assumes is a creep. What I don’t buy—not for a single second—is Kevin James as a forensic accountant.

The suit looks like it’s on him for the first time in his life. He doesn’t even bother to wear glasses. Oh, don’t get confused—he keeps them perched on top of his head, because in Hollywood, glasses are shorthand for “this is a smart guy doing smart things.” But actually crunching numbers? Please. I could see him as a zookeeper, an IPS driver, or maybe a high school biology teacher who does mixed martial arts to save the music program.

Anyway, Brian gets fired and slips into stay-at-home dad mode, which means he ends up in that weird daytime purgatory of parks, small talk, and pretending you’re not desperate for adult conversation. That’s where Alan Ritchson shows up as Jeff, and he’s the funnier of the two. Jeff has this infectious, manic energy—like he just chugged three energy drinks and decided friendship is a contact sport. I can see why Brian ends up in his orbit, even if Jeff gives off a “this guy has seen some shit” vibe.

Is Ritchson playing the same character as Reacher? It’s hinted. I think he missed the fine print on his Amazon contract: “If you want to get renewed for another season, you have to do a movie with Kevin James.”

Sarah Chalke plays the wife, Emily—you may know her as the other Becky Conner—and yes, she seems a little too attractive for him. The movie knows it too and says it out loud. That kind of self-awareness goes a long way here, and it’s part of why PLAYDATE ends up better than you’d expect.

Then the movie remembers it needs a plot. Jeff kidnaps CJ, and the story never quite gives you an airtight reason. We find out the kid is his—or so it seems—until the villain shows up and snatches him back, because we need movement, not clarity. The pacing stays brisk. It never turns into a slog, which is more than I can say for a lot of these algorithm-built streaming movies. It all builds to a bizarre final standoff involving Maddox, Colonel Kurtz, and an entire army of CJs.

We also get an appearance by the doofus from COBRA KAI (Paul Walter Hauser), and he’s cast perfectly in this. Jeff refers to him as “Zach Galifianak-ish,” and that’s about right. He leans into the weirdness enough to be memorable. The movie could’ve used more of that energy.

PLAYDATE is a solid C. Not an “I didn’t deserve it” C like I got in high school—a real C. Some of the jokes are dumb, but not all of them. Yes, this is a movie you can watch with your family. If I were grading on a curve, I might bump it up—because contemporary family movies are god-awful. But I’m not grading on a curve. If you need something harmless in the background, this’ll do.

Final Verdict: 72 out of 100

Guns Up

GUNS UP
R
91 Minutes
Director: Edward Drake
Writer: Edward Drake
Kevin James, Christina Ricci, Luis Guzmán

CAST
Kevin James...Ray Hayes
Christina Ricci...Alice Hayes
Maximilian Osinski...Antonio Castigan
Luis Guzmán...Ignatius Locke
Melissa Leo...Michael Temple
Leo Easton Kelly...Henry Hayes
Keana Marie...Siobhán Hayes
Timothy V. Murphy...Lonny Castigan
Joey Diaz...Charlie Brooks
Francis Cronin...Danny Clogan
Solomon Hughes...Ford Holden
Miroslav Barnyashev...Harry the Hammer

Here Comes The Boom

In case you missed it the first time—and you probably did—GUNS UP is on Paramount Plus.

GUNS UP is the kind of movie that starts with a bad sign and never really recovers: our hero is named Ray Hayes. Even his name is kind of lazy. Ray Hayes. No parent gives their kid a first name that rhymes with their last. That’s like naming your child “Ben Denn,” then being shocked when he grows up to make questionable decisions.

Ray begins the film making a life-changing decision. He can either keep his police job—where he’s probably making six figures and gets great benefits—or work as an enforcer for some shady criminal enterprise where he can maybe make a few more dollars. Naturally, Ray goes the Doug Heffernan route—dumb, stubborn, and convinced it’ll all work out. He takes the enforcer job, and he’s still there five years later, like this was always part of the plan.

We find Ray embedded in a strange, multi-ethnic gang, the kind you only see in bad ’80s movies. He and his wife, Alice, are saving up for a diner. As soon as he has enough, he’s out. Now that he finally has the money to quit, things get complicated—because that’s how these movies work. You know something will pull him back.

That “something” is Lonny Castigan, and the minute he takes over, Ray’s exit plan is dead.

We’re also supposed to believe Ray’s kids don’t know what he does for a living. I could see the young boy not figuring it out, but he has an 18-year-old daughter. Even Meadow Soprano was hip to what her father was up to.

To get out, Ray agrees to kill Antonio—but he can’t bring himself to do it. He just wants to scare him and run him out of town. Then a third guy barges in, there’s a scramble for the gun, it goes off, and Antonio takes it in the head by accident. Messy, loud, and it sets the rest of the film in motion.

I like many of the character actors here. Luis Guzmán. Christina Ricci. Joey Diaz. Unfortunately, they’re underutilized. You spend the whole time waiting for them to do something interesting, and the script doesn’t let them. They show up, they deliver their lines, and the movie hustles past them to the next burst of violence.

Instead, everything becomes completely preposterous. We find out the wife has her own criminal past. She apparently took Lonny’s eye after his gang killed her parents. Sure. The dialogue doesn’t help much either, relying on generic tough-guy lines like: “We finish what we start.” “No more running, we finish this.”

By the end, it’s less a crime thriller than a conveyor belt of gunfire.

Who is this for? Families looking for a wholesome night in… plus an orgy of violence?

I’ve enjoyed Kevin James’s work and defended him plenty of times, but there’s absolutely no excuse for this movie.

Final Verdict: 48 out of 100

The Naked Gun

THE NAKED GUN PG-13 85 Minutes Director: Akiva Schaffer Writers: Akiva Schaffer, Dan Gregor, Doug Mand Liam Neeson, Pamela Anderson, Paul Walter Hauser CAST Liam Neeson...Lt. Frank Drebin Jr. Pamela Anderson...Beth Davenport Paul Walter Hauser...Capt. Ed Hocken Jr. Danny Huston...Richard Cane CCH Pounder...Chief Davis Kevin Durand...Sig Gustafson Liza Koshy...Detective Barnes Eddie Yu...Detective Park Moses Jones..."Not Nordberg Jr."

It was inevitable, wasn’t it? In an era where IP is king, someone was always going to dust off the Police Squad files and try to make them print money again. Producer Seth MacFarlane is a fan of the originals—you can feel the reverence in the attempt—but loving a classic and understanding why it worked are two very different things.

On the surface, the cadence is there: the rapid-fire nonsense, the visual gags, the naked commitment to being stupid on purpose. That might sell at a pitch meeting, but the final product is a reminder that style is not the same thing as funny.

Liam Neeson as Frank Drebin Jr. is the entire gamble. The script leans hard into the grim action guy doing straight-faced stupidity. And to be fair, it’s a workable idea. Let’s be clear: I don’t care about the racist things Liam Neeson said years ago; he’s not on trial here. This movie is.

This would never top the original, but even with tempered expectations, this reboot struggles to justify its existence. If you watch the original NAKED GUN right after this one (as I did), the difference is staggering. The original took place in a world that, while absurd, had rules. It was a grounded reality where chaos happened to the characters. This movie is a cartoon. If Liam Neeson can just morph into anything he wants, why even have a film?

The casting is where it really falls apart. Leslie Nielsen and George Kennedy were infinitely more likable because their characters felt like people who existed between the jokes. Here, everyone functions as a delivery mechanism for punchlines that don’t always land. And Paul Walter Hauser—that doofus from COBRA KAI—is here to fill Kennedy’s shoes? It simply doesn’t work.

Pamela Anderson plays the “age-appropriate” romantic interest, which is a refreshing choice, but the movie wants to have it both ways. She’s in her late 50s, and we’re asked to believe she’s still turning heads like it’s 1996. I’m not saying she can’t—Pamela Anderson is Pamela Anderson—I’m saying the movie wants the credit for being age-appropriate while still selling the centerfold.

The only person who seems to understand the assignment is Danny Huston. The man knows how to play a villain, and his take on Richard Cane—a fictionalized Elon Musk—is spot on. Huston plays it straight while the world goes stupid. It makes him the standout antagonist because he’s the only one acting like this movie has a pulse.

The core problem is that the film keeps winking at the audience. The jokes feel like a Spotify playlist called “NAKED GUN TYPE HUMOR” rather than new material. Cultural references are ingredients, not jokes, and pointing out a trope isn’t the same as subverting it.

Also, I’m sorry, but if you’re only going to make one half-joke about O.J. Simpson and then tiptoe away, you’re playing it too safe. Where’s Norm Macdonald when you need him? This franchise used to run toward the uncomfortable stuff at full speed and trip over a garbage can on the way there. This version jogs, checks its phone, and asks if everyone’s okay.

And yes, I’m going to say it: for a PG-13 comedy to work, it has to be witty. This film is definitely stupid, and there’s a place for stupid comedies, but this isn’t stupid in the right way. I’m not saying there are no laughs—the funniest bit for me is the scene where he’s firing a gun because he has to use the bathroom. That’s my kind of stupid. I just wish there was more of it. Other people seemed to find it funny, but for me, the ratio just wasn't there.

Final Verdict: 46 out of 100

Downton Abbey: The Grand Finale

DOWNTON ABBEY: THE GRAND FINALE PG 124 Minutes Director: Simon Curtis Writer: Julian Fellowes Hugh Bonneville, Michelle Dockery, Elizabeth McGovern CAST Hugh Bonneville...Robert Crawley, Earl of Grantham Michelle Dockery...Lady Mary Talbot Elizabeth McGovern...Cora Crawley, Countess of Grantham Jim Carter...Charles Carson Laura Carmichael...Lady Edith Pelham Harry Hadden-Paton...Bertie Pelham, Marquess of Hexham Allen Leech...Tom Branson Penelope Wilton...Isobel Grey, Lady Merton Joanne Froggatt...Anna Bates Brendan Coyle...John Bates Robert James-Collier...Thomas Barrow Phyllis Logan...Elsie Carson Sophie McShera...Daisy Parker Lesley Nicol...Mrs. Patmore Paul Giamatti...Harold Levinson Dominic West...Guy Dexter Alessandro Nivola...Gus Sambrook Imelda Staunton...Maud, Lady Bagshaw

With a title like DOWNTON ABBEY: THE GRAND FINALE, you know things are about to end. It’s the film equivalent of a farewell tour. And like any farewell tour, you half-wonder if they really mean it, or if someone will need more money in a few years. The Who did their first, and only, farewell tour in 1982. We’ve all seen how that turned out.

This time we’re in 1930, with the Crawleys juggling scandal, money trouble, and the slow, painful realization that the world is moving on without them. Lady Mary is divorced now, and her love life is once again a headache for everyone around her. Her entanglement with Gus, a charming financial “wizard” who turns out to be more con man than savior, helps drag the Granthams to the edge of social ruin. For a hot minute, the family becomes polite society’s problem child, and you can feel how fragile their place in the world really is.

Meanwhile, Cora’s American fortune isn’t just dented; it’s basically gone. Harold has managed to lose what his mother built, and Gus has his fingerprints all over the mess. Watching Cora and Robert face the fact that Downton can’t keep coasting on ancient money forever gives this movie more bite than you might expect from what could’ve been a pure nostalgia tour.

Downstairs, life keeps rearranging itself. Daisy is taking over for Mrs. Patmore in the kitchen, which feels both right and a little terrifying. Anna and Bates are moving with Robert and Cora to the Dower House, where Anna is pregnant again at forty-four. It’s technically possible, but in 1930 it feels like the script is pushing its luck. Still, I’m rooting for Anna and her sixty-one-year-old husband. They’ve earned their improbable happiness.

Mr. Carson is now retired, supposedly settling into a quiet life with Elsie. He loves her, obviously, but you can already see the boredom setting in behind the proud posture. A man who lived for silver-polishing and protocol is suddenly supposed to enjoy village committees and garden paths. Good luck with that.

What’s missing, of course, is Granny. The film does what it can with memory and echo, but it’s not the same without the Dowager Countess dropping one-liners like depth charges. You feel that absence in almost every room. The show has always been about change, but this is the first time it really feels like loss.

You come in expecting fan service, and you definitely get it—old faces, callbacks, little grace notes for long-time viewers. But you also get a bit more: a genuine attempt to reckon with what happens when an entire way of life reaches its expiration date and everyone has to find a softer landing than “happily ever after at the big house.”

DOWNTON ABBEY has always leaned toward mostly happy endings with a few tragedies sprinkled in for good measure. That’s not realistic; I know that. But I still like that most of my favorite characters get to land somewhere gentle—if not perfect—by the time the credits roll. The parents are moving out of Downton, Mary is fully in charge, the staff is aging into new roles, and the place we’ve been visiting for fifteen years finally feels ready to go on without us.

If this were a TV special, I’d say it was a great one. As a movie, it’s a good one—handsomely made, emotionally satisfying, and maybe a little too comfortable. With a movie, you expect a little something extra. THE GRAND FINALE doesn’t quite transcend its origins, but as a long goodbye to these people and this house, it’s hard to ask for much more.

Final Verdict: 78 out of 100

A House of Dynamite

A HOUSE OF DYNAMITE R 112 Minutes Director: Kathryn Bigelow Writer: Noah Oppenheim Idris Elba, Rebecca Ferguson, Jared Harris CAST Idris Elba...President of the United States Rebecca Ferguson...Capt. Olivia Walker Gabriel Basso...Jake Baerington Jared Harris...Reid Baker (Secretary of Defense) Tracy Letts...Gen. Anthony Brady

A HOUSE OF DYNAMITE starts with a killer premise: an anonymous missile hurtles toward Chicago, impact in under twenty minutes. The fate of millions rests in the hands of Very Serious People in suits. Somehow, this becomes a movie where nothing actually happens for almost two hours.

The big gimmick is that we keep revisiting the same chunk of time from different perspectives. In theory: tense, ticking-clock thriller. In practice: the world’s drabbest clip show. We keep cutting back to the same radar screens, the same shots of Chicago, the same Very Important Conversations in the Situation Room. It’s like the movie hit rewind on itself and never found play again.

And then there’s the President. Idris Elba, one of the most watchable people on the planet, spends most of the film as a disembodied voice on a screen. We barely see his face for over an hour. This isn’t some clever stylistic choice; it feels like Elba wanted to be in the movie as little as possible. When he finally shows up in person, around the 75-minute mark, it’s less “dramatic reveal” and more “oh right, they did say he was in this.”

The movie imagines a federal government staffed entirely by competent adults. That’s adorable. Have you watched the news in the last twenty-five years? We haven’t had uniformly competent government officials since the Kennedy administration.

On paper, there’s a nice cross-section of people in the room: all ages, backgrounds, and job titles. In practice, it feels like a distracting level of diversity used as wallpaper. Representation isn’t the problem; the problem is that nobody is written like an actual human being. The characters are mostly bland, forgettable expo-delivery systems. I should care about a nuclear missile hitting Chicago. Instead, I found myself quietly rooting for it to land—not because I’m a homicidal maniac, but because at least something would finally happen.

I loved Jared Harris as Secretary of Defense Reid Baker. His daughter lives in Chicago, and you can see the situation hollowing him out in real time. He always looks like the only adult who understands how doomed we are, and that weary intelligence gives the movie its only pulse. When he cracks, you believe it. For a few minutes, A HOUSE OF DYNAMITE feels like it might be about something.

If you’re looking for real action, look elsewhere. This movie plays like an extended episode of THE WEST WING, except without any of the charm or moral crackle—or Martin Sheen wandering around muttering Latin under his breath. The most “exciting” moment is a guy jumping off a building on purpose, and I’m not totally convinced that counts as action. Mostly, it’s people standing in rooms under fluorescent lights, talking about what they might do.

The missile is supposed to hit in under twenty minutes, but the film drags that window out so long it feels like I’m stuck in a time dilation bubble where twenty minutes lasts two hours. Normally, that would be an advantage. Here, it’s just a reminder that time is precious, and I could’ve spent mine watching literally anything else.

Final Verdict: 56 out of 100

John Candy: I Like Me

JOHN CANDY: I LIKE ME
PG-13                                                  113 Minutes
Director: Colin Hanks
Steve Martin, Bill Murray, Catherine O’Hara, Macaulay Culkin, Eugene Levy, Tom Hanks

In my Mount Rushmore of favorite actors: John Candy is George Washington. Christopher Walken is Thomas Jefferson. Philip Seymour Hoffman is Teddy Roosevelt. Hmm… we’ll need a fourth one. I guess Patrick Swayze. That’s the place where Candy lives for me—etched in granite, permanently grinning, somehow still making room for everybody else.

Nepo-baby Colin Hanks plays it straight and respectful—which is exactly right. The film celebrates Candy’s generosity and timing—the way he could float a scene on kindness alone—while also acknowledging the pressures of fame, the anxiety that rides shotgun with it, and the public scrutiny over his weight. You feel the love, and you feel the cost. Both belong in the story.

The interviews are marvelous—including Steve Martin, Bill Murray, Catherine O’Hara, Macaulay Culkin, and others. These aren’t just “remember-when” anecdotes; they’re small hymns. O’Hara, who seems to have logged the most hours in Candy-world, even gave a tender eulogy—because of course she did. That friendship reads on- and off-camera.

After watching this documentary, it’s become quite evident that I’m still grieving, all these years later. I found myself blubbering like a little child. Almost as if he were a family member. One cutaway to that smile and I’m done.

And here’s the part that really got me: Los Angeles literally shut down the 405 for his funeral procession. The 405. Closed. For John Candy. That’s the kind of civic love you can’t manufacture; it’s what happens when a whole city realizes it lost a good man.

Candy, to me, was like John Wayne—he pretty much always played himself. But that “himself” contained universes: decent, awkward, earnest, wounded, generous. He didn’t need tricks. He needed eye contact and a beat. Suddenly, everyone else in the scene got better.

I remember the day after he died like a weird little home movie: I’m at the barbershop, clippings on the floor, and everyone is talking about him. Not gossip—gratitude. Stories. Chatter that feels like a celebration.

I LIKE ME is a sturdy frame built to hold a giant heart—two hours of remembering why this man felt like home, and why losing him still stings all these years later. So watch this documentary, and then watch PLANES, TRAINS AND AUTOMOBILES for Thanksgiving.

Final Verdict: 94 out of 100

Sidenote: I docked some points because Ryan Reynolds was so heavily involved in this production. At least he didn't put himself in the film. 

Equalizer II

EQUALIZER II
R
121 Minutes
Director: Antoine Fuqua
Writers: Richard Wenk, Michael Sloan, Richard Lindheim

CAST
Denzel Washington...Robert McCall
Pedro Pascal...Dave York
Ashton Sanders...Miles Whittaker
Orson Bean...Sam Rubinstein

I was in the mood to see Denzel kick some ass. And since I can't follow the man around, waiting for him to get into an altercation, watching EQUALIZER II is the next best thing.

EQUALIZER II is completely different from the first film. This time around, it's all about Denzel Washington. One day, he gets bored with the acting game, and becomes an 'equalizer', to help people for a change. It makes so much sense. Denzel has attained such a broad skill set from his previous roles as a boxer, a security guard, and all the various police/military officer characters... that he couldn't help but transform into an 'equalizer'. Any other life path would be unconscionable. That movie sounds cool, but it's obviously not this one. They wouldn't change the main character of a successful franchise, would they? Dwayne Johnson replaced Vin Diesel in FAST FIVE. Which means anything is possible, but I digress.

EQUALIZER II is like the first film, and that includes that stupid, blue, button-down shirt. This time around, Robert McCall drives a Lyft, instead of working for Home Mart. The only meaningful difference between this film and the first EQUALIZER is hair — Denzel has hair. Maybe Homer Simpson looks good with a bald head, but not Denzel Washington. It just makes the character look impotent. Like he's going through chemotherapy or something.

THE EQUALIZER franchise is based on a fair-to-midland TV show. So it's no minor miracle, that a movie adaptation, even one with so many flaws, is as good as it is. I don't remember much about this unremarkable, paint-by-the-numbers, action-thriller, but I do remember liking it...a little bit.

Final Verdict: 82 out of 100

Spoiler alert: You already know that Denzel's character lives, because you don't write EQUALIZER II without having a rough outline of EQUALIZER III. My only concern is for his health. I don't want him to have a nervous breakdown...from the exertion of acting like a badass-looking, out of shape, middle-aged man.

The Shape of Water

THE SHAPE OF WATER
R
123 Minutes
Director: Guillermo del Toro
Writers: Guillermo del Toro, Vanessa Taylor
Sally Hawkins, Octavia Spencer, Michael Shannon

CAST
Sally Hawkins...Elisa Esposito
Michael Shannon...Richard Strickland
Richard Jenkins...Giles
Octavia Spencer...Zelda Fuller
Michael Stuhlbarg...Dr. Robert Hoffstetler
Doug Jones...Amphibian Man

It's difficult to watch movies about bizarre, misunderstood creatures. Which is why I avoid Gary Busey films. But seriously, go watch KING KONG, MIGHTY JOE YOUNG, or IRON GIANT. Preferably, later in the evening, otherwise your whole day will get ruined. Those movies are especially sad. With MARLEY AND ME, the dog dies, but at least Marley died surrounded by a loving family. King Kong dies Tupac-style, alone in a hail of gunfire, never to experience any of the love this world has to offer. THE SHAPE OF WATER is a different type of 'monster' movie. It posits that the real monster is...humanity. Just kidding, this review isn't about to get pretentious. Humans and a single, strange creature can live in harmony. Just look at ALF, or HARRY AND THE HENDERSONS. But once there's a group of strange creatures, like in ALIENATION, conflict ensues. Like confronting a coworker who keeps weird smelling food in the fridge at work. You try having that conversation, without sounding culturally insensitive. This is a film for those of us who would like monster movies, if it weren't for those callous, tragic endings.

The SHAPE OF WATER is about a strange amphibious creature. He's chained, and tortured in a government facility. Elisa Esposito is a mute woman, who is a janitor at this facility. She and Aquaman soon develop a secret friendship. Elisa has a plan to break him out. But things don't go so swimmingly. Because this monster is scheduled to get euthanized in the near future. That's all you need to know.

I remember reading about a scientist that slept with dolphins in the 60s, and by slept, I mean had sex with. Humans can't sleep in the water, and as far as I know, she didn't boink dolphins, in the plural sense. She remained monogamous to 'Peter', but who knows for sure, dolphins all look the same. In this film, Guillermo del Toro celebrates bestiality. It's not looked at as something icky, shameful, or questionably consensual. They didn't get into the mechanics of intercourse between the two, but I assume it's the way Chris Farley, and Connie did it in CONEHEADS; with rings on their heads.

Aside from the story, it's the actors that make this movie particularly enjoyable. I like Sally Hawkins more than most people, because I think she's the character from HAPPY GO LUCKY, and she's not that character. The same goes for Michael Stuhlbarg. I like him, but only because he played a psychopath on an episode of LAW AND ORDER:CI. I enjoyed watching Michael Shannon, because he looks like Bill Hader. Who knows, maybe they're the same person. Like a Andy Kauffman/Tony Clifton situation. I'm on to you...Michael Hader. And as for Doug Jones, I liked him better on TWIN PEAKS.

Final Verdict: 98 out of 100

It

IT
R
135 Minutes
Director: Andy Muschietti
Writers: Chase Palmer, Cary Fukunaga, Gary Dauberman, Stephen King
Jaeden Lieberher, Jeremy Ray Taylor, Sophia Lillis, Bill Skarsgård

CAST
Jaeden Lieberher...Bill Denbrough
Jeremy Ray Taylor...Ben Hanscom
Sophia Lillis...Beverly Marsh
Finn Wolfhard...Richie Tozier
Chosen Jacobs...Mike Hanlon
Jack Dylan Grazer...Eddie Kaspbrak
Wyatt Oleff...Stanley Uris
Bill Skarsgård...Pennywise

I heard a lot of chatter on this movie months before the release date. I didn't watch any of the trailers, but I knew it was scary. Which left me puzzled. How could a film about information technology be scary? Then I figured it was a movie version of the SNL sketch, 'Nick Burns, Your Company's Computer Guy'. Nothing is scarier than watching a two-hour Jimmy Fallon film. But alas, that was not the case. Nonetheless, I was pleasantly surprised with this movie about a psychopathic clown who terrorizes children.

I love how IT takes place in 1989. It really takes me back. Fine Young Cannibals were topping the charts. HONEY I SHRUNK THE KIDS was disappointing theater goers everywhere. Culturally, we reached peak blandness. Nonetheless, I still have fond memories of that magical summer before I started kindergarten. More than anything, IT is a love letter to a bygone era. Twas a much simpler time in America, when fanny packs were considered acceptable attire.

I can't overemphasize how historically accurate this film is. The clothes, movies, cars, and music are spot on. The bad things aren't whitewashed either. Back then, people used the 'other f-word' with reckless abandon. And bullies had free reign to torture kids, without interference from adults.

Good horror movies are rare, and a good Stephen King film is even rarer. First, the group of 13-year old friends is realistic. This is really how kids would interact with one another, kind of like SUPER 8. Secondly, the clown is actually creepy, and so are the adults. Like when the girl flirts with the pharmacist to steal cigarettes, the pharmacist actually flirts back. And her father, to put it delicately, had some serious boundary issues. And lastly, the acting is passable, which is no minor miracle with this many child actors.

I recommend you see IT. Isn't that a confusing statement, especially if those words were spoken aloud to another person. Uttering the sentence could start an Abbott and Costello routine. So instead of recommending IT, you should say 'I recommend you see the clown movie'. People will know what you mean. It's not like they're going to think you're talking about KILLJOY, or KILLER KLOWNS FROM OUTER SPACE.

Final Verdict: 90 out of 100

War Of Planet Of The Apes

WAR OF PLANET OF THE APES
PG-13
140 Minutes
Director: Matt Reeves
Writers: Mark Bomback, Matt Reeves, Rick
Jaffa, Amanda Silver, Pierre Boulle
Andy Serkis, Woody Harrelson, Steve Zahn

CAST
Andy Serkis...Caesar
Woody Harrelson...The Colonel
Steve Zahn...Bad Ape
Karin Konoval...Maurice
Amiah Miller...Nova

Dawn Prince-Hughes, an anthropologist, noticed that Gorillas at zoos talk to each other (nonverbally), and it's mostly about humans outside their cage. So there's no need for me to suspend disbelief about apes conquering a planet. Clearly, they're just waiting for the right moment to take shit over.

Normally, I'd take the time to describe the plot, but the title says it all. Everything takes place on an Earth-like planet. Where people and animals speak (and sign) in English. Ron Pearlman...I mean Caesar is the chief of apes. And the apes are fighting humans in a war.

It would be easy to point to the symbolism and the use of metaphors, because those things aren't exactly subtle. The apes are kind of like Native American/Slaves. While the colonel and his men are like that KFC guy with a Confederate Army. But I won't go into further detail. If you think too much about it, you might not enjoy the film.

Only dead animals in movies can make me cry. So if an animal dies after a heroic act, I'm scarred for life. I know these animals are computer generated, but it doesn't matter. The battle scenes are still difficult to watch. It's like one of those Sarah McLachlan commercials...times a hundred; except my donation to the ASPCA won't keep these animals from the arms of an angel.

This story isn't all tragic though. You already know the apes prevail in the end. After all, it's called PLANET OF THE APES, not PLANET OF THE HUMANS, or PLANET WHERE APES AND HUMANS PEACEFULLY COEXIST. On another positive, the apes are adorable, even when they're acting super serious. If I watched Caesar read the DIARY OF ANNE FRANK, I'd be unable to suppress that ear-to-ear grin on my face.

In closing, I want to say that it's very difficult to make a part III worth watching. Remember BACK TO THE FUTURE III? Neither do I, and I'm pretty sure I watched it. I'm impressed with the APES franchise thus far, and just like those LAND BEFORE TIME cartoons, WAR OF PLANET OF THE APES demands several follow-up films.

Final Verdict 95 out of 100

All Eyez On Me

ALL EYEZ ON ME
R
140 Minutes
Director: Benny Boom
Writers: Jeremy Haft, Eddie Gonzalez, and Steven Bagatourian
Demetrius Shipp Junior, Danai Gurira, Kat Graham

CAST
Demetrius Shipp Junior...Tupac Shakur
Danai Gurira...Afeni Shakur
Kat Graham...Jada Pinkett
Hill Harper...Interviewer
Annie Ilonzeh...Kidada Jones
Jamal Woolard...Biggie
Dominic L. Santana...Suge Knight

Except for that poetry album, read aloud by Malcolm Jamaal-Warner. I've listened to all Tupac's music, watched all the documentaries, and movies. Which unfortunately, includes NOTHING BUT TROUBLE. So naturally, I had to watch this film. As a fan, I'd be inclined to like any movie about Tupac. That is, unless it's this bad.

First and foremost, let's talk about how good all the impersonators are. At the most basic level, I have few complaints. Even the ancillary characters: Dre, Snoop, Daz, and Kurupt were true to life. No Nate Dogg though. I suspect his silky smooth vocals were just too difficult for any mere mortal to imitate. Aside from his psychopathic tendencies, Suge Knight plays as a cliché record executive. But I can't fault the movie for that. If all record executives are the same, then it leaves very little room for nuance. As for Tupac; appearance wise, Demetrius Shipp is impeccably close. His voice isn't spot-on, but is nonetheless adequate. The one thing missing is Tupac's charisma.

The lack of charisma, is the same issue I had with the Biggie movie. While larger-than-life people can never be duplicated, filmmakers can still approximate them better. Like in THE BUDDY HOLLY STORY (1978). A pre-motorcycle-accident Gary Busey literally thought he was possessed by the spirit of Buddy Holly, and you know, I'm inclined to believe him.

Next, I want to talk about...nothing else. Aside from the characters, I'm not left with much substance. Large segments of the movie are recreations of documentaries, music videos, and concert footage. It felt like there was only about thirty minutes of unoriginal original dialogue. Which leaves me with no new insights into the man, or his life. And even though this picture is over two hours, it still felt like the movie was fast-forwarding through the rapper's life just to get to the last scene of the Vegas shooting.

If he were actually dead, Tupac would be rolling in his grave. ALL EYEZ ON ME is bad for a reason: because something this egregious just might get the rapper to come out of hiding.

Final Verdict: 40 out of 100

Captain America: Civil War

CAPTAIN AMERICA: CIVIL WAR
PG-13
143 minutes
Director: Anthony Russo, Joe Russo
Writers: Christopher Markus, Stephen McFeely, Mark Millar, Joe Simon, Jack Kirby

CAST
Iron Man…Robert Downey Junior
Captain America…Chris Evans
Hawkeye…Jeremy Renner
Falcon…Anthony Mackie
Ant-Man…Paul Rudd
Black Widow…Scarlett Johansson

CIVIL WAR?

One look at the title, and you know what it’s about: the American Civil War. The Avengers reenact the Battle of Gettysburg, as a team building exercise, but they never get to reenact anything. Before the fake battle begins, Loki and his intergalactic minions open a wormhole, and the Avengers are transported into the real Civil War. And this time the right side will win. No, hear me out. I mean if the South won, Lincoln doesn’t get assassinated. Honest Abe retreats to Toronto. And the Confederacy would get their own country, for a while anyway. Before killing themselves, through bar fights, incest, and slave rebellion…right around 1870. At which point, Lincoln moves back to the states, to sew together the tattered pieces of old America; because that’s how history works. To my surprise, CAPTAIN AMERICA: CIVIL WAR wasn’t about the American Civil War. Which goes to show that you can’t always get the gist of a film from the title alone, like NAKED LUNCH. Sometimes it’s best to watch the trailer.

THIS WAR DOESN’T SEEM SO CIVIL

I might as well start with the things I didn’t like. The fight scenes were frequent, and lengthy. Generally, I don’t mind fight scenes, but do they have to be so long. I can suspend disbelief for short bursts of time, but overly long fight scenes make you realize your watching a cartoon. I can now envision a future where actors become obsolete. And CGI people star in their own two-hour fight scene.

HAWKEYE…WHAT’S HIS DEAL?

It’s not Jeremy Renner’s fault, but of all the Avengers, Hawkeye is the least compelling. He shoots arrows, accurately…that’s it. If things took place in Middle Earth, and Jeremy Renner were Orlando Bloom, then I’d find Hawkeye’s antics more impressive.

LAST WORDS

At this point, you may have the impression that I didn’t care for this AVENGERS movie, but that’s not the case. I was never bored because I never had a chance to think about what was going on. Nonetheless, CIVIL WAR is still a solid, BM…I mean, solid, B-movie. Sharp humor, and an interesting cliffhanger, push this into I-wouldn’t-mind-seeing-this-again territory.

Final Verdict: 81 out of 100

God Is Not Dead 2

GOD IS NOT DEAD 2
PG
120 Minutes
Director: Harold Cronk
Writers: Chuck Konzelman, Cary Solomon
Melissa Joan Hart, Jesse Metcalfe, David A.R. White

CAST
Maria Canals-Barrera…Catherine Thawley
Pat Boone...Walter Wesley
Robin Givens...Principal Kinney
Melissa Joan Hart...Grace Wesley
Brad Heller...School Attorney
Ernie Hudson…Judge Robert Stennis

Clarissa Explains It All

GOD IS NOT DEAD 2 was more compelling than the previous installment. In that there  is actually something at stake. First off, this movie takes place in a courtroom, instead of a Philosophy 101 class. But the courtroom proceedings are so ridiculous, it makes an
episode of NIGHT COURT look like a Nuremberg trial. Furthermore, Kevin Sorbo is conveniently absent from the proceedings, so I’m going to award seven bonus points.

Drive Me Crazy

This film has a simple premise. Clarissa is a history teacher that gets fired for quoting a bible verse. This quote stated a non-controversial, historical fact. Nonetheless, it’s a big deal. Sabrina has to fight for her job in court. Now, the school district is making it their business to persecute a Christian educator. There are other plot points, but I won’t into them, because can see how bored you’re getting.

The only chance a faith-based movie has at success, is with Hollywood stars…of yesteryear. Melissa Joan Hart, Robin Givens, Ernie Hudson. Also, it was strange to see the sister from THE GOLDBERGS,  play one of the main characters.  I like her on that show, and I don’t know how she got roped into this. Because it’s not like this gig pays network sitcom money.

Salem Witch Trial

As I stated earlier, Melissa Joan Hart stars in this film. Yes, that Melissa Joan Hart.  Star of CLARISSA EXPLAINS IT ALL, and SABRINA THE TEENAGE WITCH. And let me tell you, this movie could really use a talking cat, especially one hell-bent on world domination.  His name would be Jesus, and he could take the witness stand. I know he’s not the real Jesus, but no one else has to know.  Because a talking cat must be…feline…I mean Divine.

Final Verdict: 7 out of 100