- Back to the Future, Part III (1990): It's funny how universally adored the first two Back to the Future films are, but everyone's a critic when it comes to Part III. Admittedly, it's not as much as fun as the other two, and is a real departure in terms of setting and scope. But relative blandness notwithstanding, it's a perfectly adequate threequel. Michael J. Fox and Christopher Lloyd are awesome, the humor is light and airy, and the special effects are wonderful (the finale is unforgettable). This movie provides a nice conclusion to the trilogy, tying up all the loose ends and giving audiences a happy high note to end on. Although it may not live up to its predecessors, Part III is much better than people insist. It's quick, uncomplicated, and incredibly charming.
- The Blair Witch Project (1999): Remember, if you can, the summer of 1999. Everybody was all abuzz about this new movie. One that was supposed to be absolutely terrifying. One that was fresh and original. Critics loved it, and anyone brave enough to venture into the local theater or video store raved about it. "Blair Witch is incredible!" you might hear. "Scariest thing I've seen in a long time." Universal acceptance abounded. I remember this. I also remember seeing the film for the first time in the mid-2000s, after all the hype and excitement had dissipated. I rented it from Blockbuster on a Friday night. I watched it alone in my basement on a television that still had wooden paneling. I was frightened, I was depressed, and I was floored. I loved the movie. A lot. Unfortunately, it seemed I was the only one. Whenever I tried to talk about the film in years to come, I was laughed at. Yes - I was actually laughed at. "You like Blair Witch? Why?" It was like having some incurable disease. To this day, my public fondness for this movie has made me somewhat of a pariah. Honestly, I have no idea why. It's an impeccably acted, beautifully shot, high-concept horror film. After a decade of glossy horror thrillers that reduced the genre to little more than occasionally gory Lifetime original movies, this was a shot of adrenaline straight to the heart. It is unpretentious, unassuming, and woefully underrated. Getting lost in those woods is scary. Getting lost in the characters' heads is downright horrifying. This movie is a potent blend of terror and melancholia, and belongs up there with classics like Psycho and The Exorcist. If you can ignore the bad reputation this movie has somehow cultivated in the last fifteen years, you won't be disappointed.
- The Godfather Part III (1990): Yup, here it is - arguably the most hated film of the last thirty years. This is unfortunate, because it's actually pretty good. Now, before you grab your nearest pitchfork, light a torch, and start roaming the streets hunting my monstrous hide, hear me out. I understand why people hate it - really, I do. Sophia Coppola isn't the world's best actress, the cousin-on-cousin love story is super weird, and it isn't nearly as spectacular as the other two films. I get that. What I don't get, is why everyone is blind to the film's obvious merits. Many of the performances are astounding, notably Andy Garcia as a hotheaded wannabe mobster and Talia Shire returning as Connie Corleone. Al Pacino again gives a career-defining performance as Michael Corleone, picking up the character's subtleties and nuances quite gracefully considering the sixteen years that span between this film and Part II. The elegant cinematography and dynamic pacing aptly tie the movie's style with the rest of the trilogy. Most impressive is the thunderous climax, which is achingly poetic. The film's original title was The Death of Michael Corleone, but the studio thought it would be too confusing for audiences, and therefore changed the name to something more recognizable. I think they really messed that up. The first two Godfather films tell a shared story, weave together characters and plots into a single, taut narrative. Part III, however, stands alone - it establishes new story lines, new characters, and new settings. With a different title, it would be easier to identify what it really is - a grand epilogue. It's not a continuation, but rather an extension. It exists apart from the prior films, more like a bookend than anything else. With all that in mind, this Oscar-nominated threequel starts sounding a whole lot more endurable. And trust me - it is.
- Halloween (2007): Rob Zombie might be the most polarizing writer/director in horror. His movies are so brutal, so savage, that many people consider them unwatchable. On the other hand, they are stylishly executed, very original, and often populated by fascinating characters. His remake of John Carpenter's 1978 classic Halloween fits perfectly into this mold. Audiences and critics were disgusted by the overt violence and crass dialogue. Nevertheless, if you can stomach the violence and hear truth in the foul language, then the movie is actually quite engaging. The first half follows the tragic life of Michael Myers - a budding, blue-eyed sociopath. We see him grow up in an asylum, slowly morphing into the serial killer we all fear. This part of the film is fascinating. Malcolm McDowell steals the show as Dr. Sam Loomis, the man who treats Michael, studies his behavior, and eventually hunts him down. The second half of the film is just as you remember - Michael escapes the asylum and goes on a killing spree in his home town on Halloween night. This is a simplistic return to form, and is a bit of a letdown after the compelling first hour. Regardless, it's an interesting movie that is frightening and entertaining. If you're a fan of horror, then I'd say give it a fair chance. It's especially effective on a dark October night, when that old familiar chill licks the air and the only noise outside is the rustling of fallen leaves.
- Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (2008): We've all heard the complaints and know all the problems, from the nitpicky to the severe. The monkeys. The aliens. The ubiquitous CG. Shia. And, of course, the infamous nuclear refrigerator. They're part of our pop culture, inseparable from the rest of the Indiana Jones series. Yet, I have to say, my only serious complaint stems from the unnecessary computer-generated effects - Spielberg got way too carried away with this. Everything else, however, is fine with me. The monkeys are stupid, but it's an entertaining visual. The aliens make perfect sense, seeing as the entire Indiana Jones series pays homage to old movies, and this one is a tribute to classic 1950's B-movies, right down to the Soviet villains and flying saucer. Shia LeBeouf is amusing as Indy's fast-talking sidekick. And, I'm going out on a precarious limb here, I actually like the refrigerator scene. I'm aware it's unrealistic, but come on, like the other Indy films are? In The Last Crusade, Jones not only meets Hitler (let that one sink in for a minute), but later falls off a cliff while trapped on a Nazi tank and miraculously survives. In Temple of Doom we see the main cast jump out of a plane without parachutes and then SLIDE DOWN A MOUNTAIN ON AN INFLATABLE RAFT. If we can accept all that nonsense (all that fun, pulpy nonsense), then why can't audiences accept Indy surviving a nuclear blast inside a lead-lined refrigerator? I think it's absurd, yes, but it's an enjoyable, tongue-in-cheek kind of absurdity. Believe it or not, this is an incredibly entertaining movie, just as much fun as the other Indiana Jones films. It's got terrific action, miraculous pop-cinema visuals, and great characters.
- Man of Steel (2013): I'm not here to say Zack Snyder's Man of Steel is perfect. I will say that it's pretty darn good - better than most people give it credit for, anyway (and it's leaps and bounds better than a few of the Superman films that precede it). The casting is impeccable. Amy Adams is a perfect Lois Lane, Keaton and Costner make a great Ma and Pa Kent, Michael Shannon is menacing and (more importantly) believable as General Zod, and Henry Cavill's Superman is sublime. The musical score, composed by Hans Zimmer, is occasionally quaint, occasionally thunderous, but always a joy. Above all else though, I think the best aspect of the film is it's scope, it's breadth. We start with a beautifully designed Krypton on the verge of destruction, in which an entire world - teeming with culture, opaque with tradition - is displayed. Next we journey to Earth, flashing back and forth between Clark's heroic present and troubled past. We end on a vision of what is to come, with a beloved character in a familiar setting. Snyder somehow took a hero as old fashioned as Superman, one who is humble and conflicted and righteous, and made him real again. The action might be a bit nauseating, sometimes the Biblical allusions are ridiculously overt, often the product placement is distracting, but whatever: this is a great movie - fresh, fun, and fast-paced.
- Quantum of Solace (2008): There are plenty of bad James Bond movies, maybe a dozen or so, but I assure you - Quantum of Solace is not one of them. People gripe about a lot of things: there's too much action, there's not enough character development, it's unrealistic, it's shallow, blah blah blah. My take? It's not supposed to be Citizen Kane, so take a deep breath and manage your expectations. I had friends who were offended, practically insulted, that this wasn't the Best Bond Movie of All Time. Really? So it's not Casino Royale or From Russia With Love or even Goldeneye. Big deal. You know what Quantum is? Unpretentious, snarky, and merciless - it's a terrific little popcorn flick. I like the detailed set design, which is gorgeous but realistic. I like the action scenes, which are over-the-top but not completely unbelievable. I like the cool subtitles that announce new settings in interesting ways. Best of all, though, is the intriguing editing, which seamlessly blends varying elements of a scene together simultaneously (watch the opera sequence again and you'll understand). All in all, it's entertaining - plain and simple. This movie isn't a martini (shaken, not stirred), but rather a quick shot of whiskey. It might not go down as smooth as you like, but it'll get the job done.
- Signs (2002): Uh-oh. I'm really stirring the pot with this one. Anytime writer/director M. Night Shyamalan is mentioned, people run for the hills. After a slam-dunk with The Sixth Sense in '99, the masses started turning against this poor guy. Granted, he has puked up ample amounts of cinematic vomit (The Last Airbender, The Happening, and Lady in the Water), but I contend that his first three big-budget films are surprisingly good. Of these three, Signs is the most derided. They say it's cheesy. They say it's poorly acted. They hate the twist ending. They hate the humor and the horror and the premise. I say these people couldn't be more wrong. Signs is a tremendously satisfying sci-fi story about how an alien invasion affects a family in rural Pennsylvania. A lot of cool visuals, many brought to life by great cinematography, keep the film buoyant when the pacing starts to slow down. I especially enjoy the intermittent flashbacks that sprinkle in just enough backstory to keep the characters dimensional and weighted. The music is captivating, and best of all, Shyamalan seems to know it - an eerie three-note motif dominates the film, shifting and evolving as emotional undercurrents do the same (the opening credits are a stunning sample of the music to come). But the film's biggest triumph, its most rousing success, is the acting. Joaquin Phoenix and Abigail Breslin are great as always, yet this film belongs to Mel Gibson. I know, I know - the guy is Public Enemy Number One these days - but this film showcases a master actor at the top of his game. His character is Graham Hess, an embittered former minister just trying to protect his family, and every physical and emotional choice rings true. Don't let the Shyamalan haters deter you. Signs is superb.
- Unbreakable (2000): Another one written and directed by M. Night Shyamalan. I guess I just don't know when to quit. Nonetheless, I find myself defending this film a lot. Critics called it dreary and uninspired. Moviegoers said it was a tiresome rehash of Shyamalan's previous film, The Sixth Sense. Obviously, I disagree with both. This is, without question, one of the best superhero movies ever made, and belongs right up there with the likes of Spider-Man 2 and The Dark Knight trilogy. Surprisingly, it's a soft film. Ideas take precedent over action, which means a lot of the violence is implied and the characters always come first. This isn't just a refreshing change for the genre, but also for Shyamalan, who has a tendency to overcomplicate plots. In this case, simplicity is good. Very good. Thanks to the minimalism, visuals take center stage. It's an atmospheric film, with lots of interesting camerawork, art direction, and lighting choices. There is indeed a famous twist ending, but this time around it hardly feels like a twist at all. It feels...essential, engrained - kind of like I should have known all along. While many people hate this, I rather like it. Not every twist needs to come out of left field. Often the best surprises are the ones you suspect somewhere in the deep recesses of your brain, where not even your consciousness cares to look. This is a wonderful movie, perhaps even one of the best.
Thanks for reading. If you're a strong enough swimmer, I urge you to fight the tumultuous tide of public opinion and give these films a chance. Hopefully you'll enjoy them.
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