Kingsman: The Secret Service (Matthew Vaughn, 2014)

Cast: Colin Firth, Taron Egerton, Mark Strong, Samuel L. Jackson, Sofia Boutella, Michael Caine, Fiona Hampton, Samantha Womack, Mark Hamill, Jack Davenport. Screenplay: Jane Goldman, Matthew Vaughn, based on a comic book by Mark Millar and Dave Gibbons. Cinematography: George Richmond. Production design: Paul Kirby. Film editing: Eddie Hamilton, John Harris. Music: Henry Jackman, Matthew Margeson. 

Def by Temptation (James Bond III, 1990)

Cynthia Bond in Def by Temptation

Cast: James Bond III, Kadeem Hardison, Cynthia Bond, Bill Nunn, Samuel L. Jackson, Minnie Gentry, Steven Van Cleef, John Canada Terrell, Melba Moore. Screenplay: James Bond III. Cinematography: Ernest R. Dickerson. Production design: David Carrington. Film editing: Brian O'Hara, Li-Shen Yu. Music: Paul Laurence. 

Def by Temptation overcomes its chief weaknesses -- a silly script and a miscast leading man -- to become good, gory fun, which shows how an ensemble working with the right director and producer can surmount even those obstacles. More to the point, the producer and director, James Bond III, overcomes his own weakness, because he's also the screenwriter and the leading man. The premise is that the devoutly religious Joel (Bond), who plans to become a "world-famous minister," puts himself in temptation's way by going to New York to see an old friend, known as "K" (Kadeem Hardison). K takes to a bar, where he falls for Temptation herself, a sultry seductress played with flair by Cynthia Bond, whom we see picking up men at the bar and bringing them to bloody ends. Realizing who and what she is, K joins forces with Dougy, a cop played by Bill Nunn, to rescue Joel, calling his grandmother (Minnie Gentry) to their aid. Hardison and Nunn bring the film to comic life, and they're aided by some very funny special effects, one of which involves a predatory television set surmounted by a caricature bust of Ronald Reagan. (Yeah, you have to see it to get it.) Unfortunately, there's also a lot of misplaced religiosity at work in Joel's battle with Temptation, and the R&B songs on the soundtrack sometimes don't work with what's on screen, so the movie goes tonally out of whack at times. It stays watchable even then, thanks to Ernest R. Dickerson's cinematography. Samuel L. Jackson has a small role in flashbacks as Joel's father, a minister in whose footsteps he hopes to follow. 

 

Spider-Man: Far From Home (Jon Watts, 2019)

Jake Gyllenhaal and Tom Holland in Spider-Man: Far From Home

Cast: Tom Holland, Jake Gyllenhaal, Zendaya, Samuel L. Jackson, Jon Favreau, Marisa Tomei, Jacob Batalon, Tony Revolori, Angourie Rice, Remy Hii, Martin Starr, J.B. Smoove, Jorge Lendeborg Jr., Cobie Smulders, Numan Acar. Screenplay: Chris McKenna, Erik Sommers. Cinematography: Matthew J. Lloyd. Production design: Claude Paré. Film editing: Leigh Folsom Boyd, Dan Lebental. Music: Michael Giacchino.

Andrew Garfield and Tobey Maguire are fine actors, but neither of them made the role of Spider-Man their own the way Tom Holland has done. His training as a dancer helped him get the moves right for the stunts as Spider-Man, and he's the right height (five-eight) and age (early 20s) to keep him credible as the adolescent Peter Parker. Beyond that, he's a gifted actor, more than holding his own in scenes with veterans like Samuel L. Jackson and Jake Gyllenhaal. It's hard to know what Marvel Studios will do when Holland eventually ages out of the role. He's the main reason I liked Spider-Man: Far From Home much more than the usual superhero movie. He makes the slam-bang special effects tolerable. It helps, too, that he's up against one of the more engaging villains in the genre, Gyllenhaal's Quentin Beck, aka Mysterio. Gyllenhaal -- who was once considered for the role of the webslinger in Spider-Man 2 (Sam Raimi, 2004) when Maguire was sidelined -- makes the seduction of Peter Parker into handing over the gizmo that gives him power credible, and then does a fine job of unveiling Beck's bad side. But mostly it's Holland's ability to sustain Peter's boyish gullibility, and his reluctance to give up his teenage life (and his pursuit of Zendaya's MJ) to become one of the Avengers, that brings the implausible superhero to life. The screenplay is efficient and sometimes witty, often at the expense of Peter, who gushes "Oh, I love Led Zeppelin!" when Happy Hogan (Jon Favreau) plays a track by AC/DC and who gets zinged by Nick Fury (Jackson) with "Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown. Stark said you wouldn't get that because it's not a Star Wars reference."

Captain Marvel (Anna Boden, Ryan Fleck, 2019)

Captain Marvel (Anna Boden, Ryan Fleck, 2019)

Cast: Brie Larson, Samuel L. Jackson, Ben Mendelsohn, Jude Law, Annette Bening, Djimon Hounsou, Lee Pace, Lashana Lynch, Gemma Chan, Clark Gregg, Akira Akbar. Screenplay: Anna Boden, Ryan Fleck, Geneva Robertson-Dworet, Nicole Perlman, Meg LeFauve. Cinematography: Ben Davis. Production design: Andy Nicholson. Film editing: Debbie Berman, Elliot Graham. Music: Pinar Toprak.

When I was a kid, Captain Marvel was a big guy in red long-johns and a cape who looked like a swole Fred MacMurray. But now, many years and many lawsuits later, the captain is a woman and my erstwhile superhero has taken on the name Shazam! which was the magic word that Billy Batson used to transform himself. And that's another movie -- not to mention another comics universe -- entirely, one that I hope I hope to see before too long. Captain Marvel the movie is about Carol Danvers and the origin story of her superhero alter ego. Or perhaps I should say one of the origin stories, because if you start rambling around the internet you'll find that the mighty captain has had many personae along the way. Even this origin story is a little head-spinning, involving rival alien races, abduction, amnesia, accidentally acquired superpowers, and much more. Even now, I'm not sure I can tell you for certain whether the Kree and the Skrull are the bad guys or the good guys and where Annette Bening's Dr. Lawson fits into the whole thing. Only my familiarity with Nick Fury and Phil Coulson (Samuel F. Jackson and Clark Gregg, respectively) from other Marvel movies and TV shows makes me think that Carol Danvers is doing the right thing by trusting them. Even my favorite character in the movie, Goose, is a somewhat ambiguous figure, apt to turn into a voracious many-headed monster when provoked. Good kitty. I have long since grown impatient with movies in which the credits run almost as long as the story, so the narrative complexity of Captain Marvel bored me less than the usual CGI foofaraw it sets up. Brie Larson does what she can with a character who, if she's really as invulnerable as the film implies, doesn't hold much chance for challenge and growth. I assume the sequels will show us what her Kryptonite is -- she can't just potter around the universe tidying things up forever.

The Hateful Eight (Quentin Tarantino, 2015)

The title, The Hateful Eight, is pretty clearly an homage of sorts to such films as The Magnificent Seven (John Sturges, 1960), The Dirty Dozen (Robert Aldrich, 1967), and even The Wild Bunch (Sam Peckinpah, 1969).  And it's well to remember how all of those films were once criticized for excessive violence and The Wild Bunch was once threatened with an NC-17 rating. None of them contained anything like the violence of The Hateful Eight, which is visited on all of the characters, but most memorably on the one woman among the eight: Daisy Domergue (Jennifer Jason Leigh), who is subjected to torrents of blood, vomit, and blown-out brains along with repeated blows to the face and a final drawn-out hanging. Writer-director Quentin Tarantino and his defenders excuse the excess of violence by arguing that his cinematic violence is a metaphor for racial and sexual violence in America and an expression of the revenge mentality that undermines the due administration of justice. As Oswaldo Mobray (Tim Roth) argues in the film, "dispassion is the very essence of justice. For justice delivered without dispassion is always in danger of not being justice." That Mobray is using this argument to forestall any actual dispassionate justice meted out to him only reinforces its irony -- a kind of postmodern irony that some will argue tends to lead us into spirals of self-defeat. That's why Tarantino's films often feel so nihilistic, despite their wit and technical prowess. At more than three hours, The Hateful Eight is about an hour too long, which I think is a fatal flaw, considering that the suspense lags as the slow revelation of its plot twists emerges. The wait for the eruptions of violence that we know are coming produces a kind of prurience, but there is no cathartic release when they arrive. The movie is well-acted by Leigh, Roth, Samuel L. Jackson, Kurt Russell, Walton Goggins, Demián Bichir, Bruce Dern, and Michael Madsen as the eight, and Channing Tatum gives a remarkable performance in his late surprise appearance. The music by Ennio Morricone won a well-deserved, long overdue Oscar, and the cinematography by Robert Richardson makes the most of the shift from spectacular mountain scenery to the claustrophobic setting of the major part of the film. But Tarantino has settled into predictability, and I want him to show us something new.

Jackie Brown (Quentin Tarantino, 1997)

Pam Grier and Robert Forster in Jackie Brown

Sometimes called "the Tarantino movie for people who don't like Tarantino movies," Jackie Brown feels a bit like Tarantino under the influence of Martin Scorsese. That's not just because of the presence of Robert De Niro in the cast, but also because it's the Tarantino film that feels most under control, with its long takes and following shots. It's also the only Tarantino movie adapted from other material, in this case the novel Rum Punch by Elmore Leonard, which imposes a certain rhythm on the material, unlike Tarantino's usual jazzy riffs and variations. On the other hand, any time that Samuel L. Jackson (who is to Tarantino what De Niro used to be to Scorsese) is on screen, you can feel the obvious synergy between director and star. The real star, however, is Pam Grier, whose Jackie Brown is a force of nature, proud and statuesque, like Sophia Loren or Anna Magnani in their prime. Delivering her lines out of the side of her mouth, she's clearly in control even when things seem to be going against her. She's well-matched with Robert Forster's wearily implacable Max Cherry, a bail bondsman who can't help getting too involved with his clients. It's clear from the outset that Jackie and Max have what it takes to triumph just by sheer persistence over Jackson's flamboyant Ordell Robbie, not to mention his somewhat too stoned accomplices, Louis (De Niro) and Melanie (Bridget Fonda), and the wiseass ATF agent Ray Nicolette (Michael Keaton). The pleasure of the film consists largely in watching this gallery of top-notch actors go through the paces of the plot.

Pulp Fiction (Quentin Tarantino, 1994)

Uma Thurman and John Travolta in Pulp Fiction

Pumpkin: Tim Roth
Honey Bunny: Amanda Plummer
Vincent Vega: John Travolta
Jules Winnfield: Samuel L. Jackson
Butch Coolidge: Bruce Willis
Marsellus Wallace: Ving Rhames
Mia Wallace: Uma Thurman
Capt. Koons: Christopher Walken
Fabienne: Maria de Medeiros
Winston Wolfe: Harvey Keitel
Brett: Frank Whaley
Jody: Rosanna Arquette
Lance: Eric Stoltz

Director: Quentin Tarantino
Screenplay: Quentin Tarantino, Roger Avary
Cinematography: Andrzej Sekula
Production design: David Wasco
Film editing: Sally Menke

Watching Pulp Fiction again -- I don't know how many times I've seen it but it feels like a lot -- I'm struck by how much the film is about language. In a way that's appropriate, given that it was nominated for seven Oscars but won only for the screenplay by Tarantino and Roger Avary. And certainly language comes to the fore in the way the film tramples on taboos like the f-word and the n-word, which are repeated so often that you're numbed to the expected shock. And then there's the great biblical tirade by Jules, extrapolated from a passage in Ezekiel and repeated three times to make sure we get the point that Jules is some kind of prophet. And of course there's the familiar pronouncement by Vincent that the French call a quarter-pounder with cheese a Royale with cheese. But throughout the film characters encounter semantic problems, as when Jules asks Brett what country he's from. The puzzled Brett asks, "What?" thereby provoking Jules's response, "'What' ain't no country I've ever heard of. They speak English in What?" Or when Esmeralda (Angela Jones) asks Butch what his name means, and Butch replies, "I'm American, honey. Our names don't mean shit." Or when Pumpkin calls out, "Garçon! Coffee!" and the waitress (Laura Lovelace) corrects him: "'Garçon' means boy." Pumpkin and Honey Bunny have even decided to give up robbing liquor stores because they're owned by "too many foreigners [who] don't speak fucking English."  For Pulp Fiction's characters language is a means of establishing dominance, as when Winston Wolfe refuses Vincent's request to say "please" when he's giving orders. It's also a way of establishing intimacy: When Vincent brings Mia home after she has overdosed, she finally tells him the silly joke -- a pun on catch up/ketchup -- that she refused to tell him earlier. So maybe Pulp Fiction isn't exactly about language -- it's also about violence and God and a lot of other things -- but I don't know of many other recent films that are so memorable because of it.

Avengers: Age of Ultron (Joss Whedon, 2015)

There are two distinct audiences for superhero comic book movies like The Avengers (Joss Whedon, 2012) and this one, its sequel. One audience is just the casual fan of action movies. The other is the hardcore devotees of the comic books on which the movies are based. Pleasing one audience without losing the other is a hard trick to pull off. The hardcore audience knows the backstories of all the characters and is likely to be turned off by any inconsistencies with the source material. But the audience ignorant of the backstories needs some exposition to get them clued in to who these people are and what they're up to. Whedon is probably the person best qualified to deal with the problem, for one thing because he brings his own hardcore devotees along with him: the fans of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, who trust Whedon to keep them entertained no matter how complicated and absurd the storyline becomes. I don't happen to be steeped in Marvel Comics lore myself, but I've watched every episode of Buffy at least once, so I appreciate Whedon's ability to take me along for an amusing ride. He does this by not taking anything in the Avengers movies terribly seriously. As in Buffy, what you have is a bunch of characters wisecracking through the apocalypse. And fortunately, the producers have enough money to spend not only on special effects but also on a huge cast of likable actors who relish the gags Whedon gives them and have the skill to play it all with the right blend of seriousness and tongue-in-cheek. In the end, the movie seems a little overloaded with stars -- in addition to Robert Downey Jr., Chris Hemsworth, Mark Ruffalo, Chris Evans, Scarlett Johansson, and Jeremy Renner, there are cameos by Idris Elba, Samuel L. Jackson, and Don Cheadle, as well as the luxury casting of James Spader as the voice of Ultron. Keeping all of them busy squeezes the action sequences into incoherence. That may be why Whedon confessed to feeling exhausted afterward and declined to write and direct the third film scheduled in the series.