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"Once upon a time there was a great war that brought so much sadness to so many people. Hardly anyone could remember what happiness was like. But something happened that changed all that..."

“Winnie the Pooh doesn't know what to do …” begins a popular song written by Kenny Loggins, recorded first in 1970 by the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band with a more popular and enduring version by Loggins and Messina a year later. Hundreds of millions of children since the 1920's know who Winnie the Pooh is. He's the happy-go-lucky bear who lives in the 100 Acre Wood with Piglet, Tigger, Owl, Rabbit, Eeyore, Kanga, and Roo. But Pooh's best friend of all was a young boy named Christopher Robin. The books have entertained children for nearly 100 years. Walt Disney introduced us to very different but equally as endearing animated versions in the 1960's. The stories have continued with Saturday morning cartoons, feature films, and an upcoming live action Disney production. Pooh and his friends remain a fond memory for most of us. But most of us don't know the story behind the iconic characters. Goodbye Christopher Robin does an admirable job of bringing that story to life as vividly as the stories have brought Pooh to life over the years. But this is not really a happy story at all. Real life seldom is, and I credit director Simon Curtis for being brave enough to tell the unhappy story without so many of the trappings of Hollywood and the need to have our stories end in happily ever after.

Everyone was warned, but no one listened.”

These words — which are about as subtle as a tsunami — are heard in voiceover at the start of Geostorm, the latest effort from master of disaster (films) Dean Devlin. Yes, I realize no one should venture into a big budget flick produced by Dean Devlin (Independence Day, 1998's Godzilla) looking for subtlety. But no matter what side of the climate change issue you fall on, Geostorm is equally offensive to all parties. And it's not because of its politics or its shoddy writing, which gives that opening monologue to a character who ends up being completely inconsequential. It's because this would-be blockbuster is shockingly short on both fun and spectacle.

"The games have begun again, and they will not stop until the sins against the innocent are atoned for."
It has been about seven years since last we heard Tobin Bell ask if we wanted to play a game. From 2004 until 2010 we were treated to seven films in quick succession, with The Final Chapter apparently bringing the popular franchise to an end. But most of us were pretty sure that the end wasn't quite so near. The films brought in billions of dollars and even inspired a new escape room industry around the globe where people could work out puzzles and attempt to beat a ticking clock to get out of a themed room. Of course, no blood gets spilled, but folks pay for the experience, and a lot of that goes back to the Saw film franchise. With all of that money, Lionsgate simply couldn't let the franchise rest for long. But after moving so quickly from film to film, it was a good idea to allow it time to breathe and the producers a chance to recharge the old batteries. Break's over. The franchise gets a bit of a reboot without completely rebooting at all. The result is Jigsaw, and I suspect this is more of a beginning than merely Saw 8.

Jigsaw is the first film in the series to begin with something other than victims awakening to the newest trap. Police are chasing a suspect with a detonator in his hands. He's pleading to talk to a Detective Halloran (Rennie). As the cops descend upon the manic suspect, he warns that the game is about to start. It's what fans are waiting for, and we cut to five people with buckets bolted to their heads attached to chains. A wall of the obligatory saws awaits their hapless forward plunge, and a familiar voice explains their predicament. From this point there are pretty much two stories playing out for the remainder of the film.

Have you ever heard the legend behind the legend of Ninjago?”

Even though I loved the first two Lego movies, I was completely unfamiliar with the toy company’s Ninjago line before I sat down to watch this latest entry in the madcap cartoon franchise. (I wasn’t even sure how to pronounce “Ninjago”…and the answer isn’t as simple as it seems.) But my unfamiliarity with the source material isn’t the reason why I feel The Lego Ninjago movie is the weakest entry in the series so far.

In case you’ve been living beneath a rock and out of contact with any and all social media, this weekend the long-awaited film adaption of Stephen King’s It releases. Some of my friends look at the trailer for the new film and instantly reject what they see; they immediately cling to their memories of how the original mini-series scared them. One thing you’ll hear them all saying is how Tim Curry made such an impact on their lives and to this day gave them reason to fear clowns. While I respect their opinions, when you revisit the film, you can’t help but notice how dated the film is, and really, if you’re over the age of 10, it just isn’t scary. I grew up on reading Stephen King, and as a fan, I’ve always been frustrated that it seems no one could ever get his horror stories right. Sure, there is Misery and Carrie, but there are many more miserable failed attempts of his material.  The Mist (especially the black and white version) is perhaps my favorite adaption of his work, that is to say, up until now.

When the film starts up, those of you familiar with the mini-series will perhaps have a sense of déjà vu at first. Without a doubt our first introduction to Pennywise, the dancing clown, is at first a little off-putting, but if you hang in there, you’re going to be happily terrified by this performance. Bill Skarsgard fills the clown shoes this time around, and there is no doubt a new generation of kids are going to be terrified of clowns because of this performance.  There is nothing friendly in this performance, and after our introduction and we get a glimpse at what he’s capable of doing to children, that’s when the unease sets in, and as an audience member you realize from the start that no one in the film is safe.

Most people that survive a near traumatic experience don’t go back for seconds. Most people that is. For the group in The House October Built 2, I guess they were adhering to the logic that lightning doesn’t strike the same way twice. Or does it? Embarking on what I can only describe as a horror tour, five friends attempt to capitalize on potential fame and fortune by documenting their experience traveling city to city to explore various haunted houses or hay rides. They even managed to convince the most traumatized member of their group to join them, reopening old wounds and provoking things that best left in the past. I wish that was the worst they had to contend with, as evidence that what they faced a year earlier begins to resurface to finish what it started.

So the concept of the film is top-shelf, execution is another matter in entirely. For one, the set-up is entirely too long. The basic idea was apparent early on, this group looking to capitalize on their famed abduction a year earlier resumes the same activities that nearly cost them their lives. I even enjoyed the addition of a holdout, the girl that refused to take part in this after being buried alive in a coffin. I mean, who would want to relieve that trauma. However, once you have the girl on board, I would say that you only need to visit a handful of places to establish tempo before moving to the center stage for the plot. I think a part of it was the fact that the group went to around three venues before they realized that they need the girl. In my opinion, they should have found themselves turned away at the first venue in order to necessitate the need for their holdout and those other two venues could have been focused more on convincing her to jump back into the mix, possibly a flashback to the year prior.

I'm not saying women are better...I'm saying we deserve some respect.”

Battle of the Sexes chronicles a watershed moment for the women's liberation movement. And given the very bad behavior by very powerful men in Hollywood and other high-profile industries that has come to light in recent months, the movie suddenly feels particularly timely despite being set 45 years ago. But even if that weren't the case, this film — which dramatizes the 1973 exhibition match between top-ranked female player Billie Jean King and former male champion Bobby Riggs — would still be a funny, heartfelt winner.

The crime drama Brawl in Cell Block 99 makes its way onto Blu-ray, DVD and 4K. The film tops the charts as one the most excruciatingly brutal movies to be released this year. If you are not offended by extreme violence and don’t get queasy from the sight of blood and cruelty, then this film may be your cup of java. That said, the crime story does have some vindication behind all the willful chaos. Getting laid off from his job at a towing company, Bradley (Vince Vaughn) cleans out his locker and heads home.  When he gets there things start getting worse when he finds out that his wife Lauren (Jennifer Carpenter) has been seeing someone. Taking it out on her car by tearing it apart with brute force starts a rage within him.  Trying to figure it all out, he tries to come to grips with the lack of income and works out a chance to bring his wife back into his life by running drugs for Gil (Marc Blucas), an old friend.

Quickly getting rich and with Lauren pregnant, he realizes it’s the bump he needed to get his life back. One night Gil introduces Bradley to Eleasar (Dion Muciacito), a crystal meth runner who will provide a large payoff to pick up his shipment. Gil asks Bradley to go along and make sure the pickup goes as planned. When the job goes bad, Bradley gets arrested and finds himself behind bars.

“Backslidin’, how do you do? These slippery people gonna see you through.” 

It has been a long while since I have witnessed a pop song’s lyrics fit so poetically into a feature film. “Slippery People” is a track off the groundbreaking Talking Heads album, Speaking in Tongues, released in 1983. Not only does this song fit the plot of American Made within its lyrics (hints of backsliding with a lot of slippery people), but it also represents a specific aesthetic for one of the many years shown throughout the film. Which, by and large, is what American Made does very well: appreciates the nostalgia of the 70’s and 80’s without exaggerating to extremes. More often than not, the “nostalgia aesthetic” very quickly becomes a parody of itself. However, what director Doug Liman offers audiences is bold moves in film form, lightly garnished with relevant nostalgia.

The classic American Westerns of the 1940s and '50s directed by the likes of John Ford and Howard Hawks famously inspired filmmakers like Sergio Leone to put their own stylish and revisionist spin on the genre. But while Spaghetti Westerns — genre films produced and written by Italians — are the most famous foreign example, plenty of other countries started making their own horse operas in the 1960s. That includes Mexico and filmmaker Arturo Ripstein, who made an outstanding feature film debut with 1966's Time to Die/Tiempo de Morir.

It's no good getting out of jail only to enter a cemetery.”