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Dog Man (2025)
I probably wouldn’t have as much familiarity, and good feelings for the Dog Man series of books had I not become a father to a Dog Man-obsessed kiddo. The silly and imaginative comic books by Dav Pilkey, creator of Captain Underpants, are easy to enjoy with their upbeat tone, sly satire, and whimsical child-like art style. The movie is essentially all that you would want in a Dog Man movie, replaying some of the more famous stories and images and characters from some of the books. Dog Man is born when a police officer and his trusty canine sidekick get into an explosion and have their bodies surgically attached to one another becoming the ultimate crime fighter/man’s best friend. Dog Man has to battle villains like Petey (voiced by Pete Davidson), an evil cat genius, and Flippy (Ricky Gervais), a super intelligent fish with telekinetic powers as well as impress the always harried Chief (Lil Rel Howery). It’s a movie aimed squarely a children without any larger themes beyond life lessons about basic responsibility and empathy, important lessons but ones simplified and aimed at is target audience. The pacing and jokes are swift and the vocal cast is each well suited to the task, with Davidson being an inspired choice for the easily flummoxed and dastardly Petey. The material where Petey makes a child clone of himself and basically learns about parenthood is the best part of the books and could have been explored further in the movie. Still, it’s a low-stakes and goofy movie that mostly succeeds at channeling the appeal of the books. If you’re a Dog Man fan, or the parent to one, then the movie may be everything they wanted, though even at 80 minutes much longer than most bedtime reads.
Nate’s Grade: B-
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Wicked: Part One (2024)
It’s shocking that it took this long for Wicked to make its way from the Broadway stage to the big screen. The musical, based upon Gregory Maguire’s novel, began in 2003 and while it may have lost out on the biggest Tony Awards that year to Avenue Q (it seems astonishing now but… you just had to be there in 2004, theater kids) the show has been a smash for over two decades, accruing over a billion dollars as the second highest-grossing stage show of all time. As show after show got its turn as a movie, I kept wondering what was taking so long with an obviously mass appealing show like Wicked. It’s the classic Hollywood desire of “same but different,” a reclamation project for none other than the Wicked Witch of the West, retelling her tale from her perspective. Well, Wicked’s time has eventually dawned, and the studio is going to feast upon its protracted wait. Taking a page from the YA adaptation trend that dominated the 2010s, they’ve split the show into two movies, separated by a full year, hoping to better capitalize on the phenomenon. I was wary about Part One being 150 minutes, the same length as the ENTIRE Wicked stage show, but having seen the finished product, and by “finished” I mean one half, I can safely say that Wicked is genuinely fabulous and deftly defies the gravity of expectations.
In the fantasy world of Oz, the green-skinned outcast Elphaba (Cynthia Erivo) is looked at with scorn, derision, and fear. She’s always been different and never fully accepted by her father who blames her for her mother’s death and her younger sister Nessarose (Marissa Bode) being stricken to a wheelchair. Nessa is going to study at Shiz University with all the other up-and-coming coeds of the land of Oz, including Glinda (Arianna Grande), a popular and frivolous preppie gal peppered in pink pastels. Glinda desperately wants to be taken seriously and become a witch, studying magic under the tutelage of the esteemed Madame Morrible (Michelle Yeoh). Instead, Morrible’s fascination falls upon Elphaba after she reveals her tremendous magical ability in a moment of extreme emotion. Now Elphaba is enrolled at the magic school and learning about the way of the world, and she’s stuck with Glinda as her roommate. The two women couldn’t be any more different but over the course of the movie, we’ll uncover how one became Glinda the Good and the other the Wicked Witch of the West.
At two-and-a-half hours long, again the length of both acts of the stage show, Wicked Part One only covers the events of the show’s first act, and yet it feels complete and satisfying and, even most surprising, extremely well paced. It’s hard for me to fathom what could have been lost to get the running time down as each scene adds something valuable to our better understanding of these characters and their progression and the discovery of the larger world. It’s a movie that feels constantly in motion, propelling forward with such winning ebullient energy that it becomes infectious. It’s also not afraid to slow things down, to allow moments to breathe, and to provide further characterization and shading that wasn’t included in the stage show. The adaptation brings the fireworks for the finale and raises the visual stakes and danger in a manner that feels exciting and compellingly cinematic. Considering the resplendent results, I feel I could argue that the movie is actually -here comes the heretical hyperbole, theater kids- an improvement over the stage musical. It makes me even more excited for a bolder, longer, potentially even more emotionally satisfying second part in November 2025.
One of my primary praises for 2021’s In the Heights was that director John M. Chu, who cut his teeth helming the Step Up movies, knows exactly how to adapt musicals to maximize the potential of the big screen. If you’re a fan of musicals, old and new, you’ll find yourself swept away with the scope and intricacy of these large fantasy worlds, the flourishes of costume and production design, as well as the creative choreography making fine use of spaces and the power of film editing. There’s a rousing dance sequence set in a library with shelves that rotate around the room, making the slippery choreography that much more immersive, impressive, and acrobatic. Even big crowd numbers are given the knowing framing and sense of scale to hit their full potential, from the opening rendition of Munchkinland celebrating the death of the Wicked Witch of the West complete with giant burning effigy that would make a Wickerman envious, to the introduction to the City of Oz where it appears every citizen has a jovial role to play in welcoming strangers to their enchanted capital city. Chu’s nimble camerawork allows us to really enjoy the staging and skills of the talent onscreen, bringing a beating sense of vitality we crave from musical theater writ large. Wicked is simply one of the best stage-to-screen adaptations in musical theater history and a joyous experience that allows the viewer sumptuous visuals.
At its core, the story of Wicked is about some pretty resonant themes like self-acceptance, bullying, the fear of what is different or misunderstood, and all of this is built upon an irresistible friendship between Glinda and Elphaba. The rivals-to-allies formula isn’t new but it is tremendously effective and satisfying, especially when both characters are as well drawn and deserving of our empathy as these two ladies. They’re each on a different meaningful character arc for us to chart their personal growth and disillusion with what they’ve been taught is The Way Things Are. One is starting from a disadvantaged position and gaining traction through an outward demonstration of power, and the other is beginning in a position of privilege and becoming humble and more considerate as she acknowledges the challenges of others in a manner that doesn’t have to reconfirm her enviable “goodness.” It just works, and both women are fantastic in their roles. I was on the verge of tears at several points and my heart felt as full as a balloon throughout because of the emotional engagement and heartwarming camaraderie between our two leading ladies. With all its razzle dazzle, Wicked is a story of feminine friendship first and foremost and emotionally rewarding to experience, with the soaring music as a bonus.
Let’s finally talk about the music, a key factor in the enjoyment of any musical, naturally. The music was written by Stephen Schwartz, the Oscar-winning composer for “Colors of the Wind” from Pocahontas as well as “Believe” from The Prince of Egypt. I found his Wicked numbers to range from good to astoundingly good, with catchy ear-worms like “Popular” to the anthemic power and sweep of “Defying Gravity.” The cheeky and toe-tapping “Dancing Through Life” is a showcase for Jonathan Bailey (Bridgerton) and benefits from the aforementioned creative library choreography. “I’m Not That Girl” is a heartbreaking ode to the girls who don’t think of themselves as enough, which is begging for a reappearance in Part Two. The only clunker is “A Sentimental Man” but that’s more the result of the deficiencies of Jeff Goldblum as a singer than the song. I await the reuse of themes and motifs that will make the music even more thematically rich in the eventual Part Two.
Count me as part of the skeptical throng when it was announced that Grande, who hasn’t acted in over ten years, was cast as Glinda. I’m here to say that she is uniformly great. The Glinda role is the more outwardly showy role and thus immediately more memorable. It’s the far more comedic role, in fact the main source of comedy in the show, and Grande has serious comedic chops. Naturally she excels with the singing and its purposeful miasmic bombast, but it’s the subtle comedic styling and the exaggerated physicality that impressed me the most, like a moment of her twirling on the floor as an added dramatic flourish. There’s one scene where she’s just marching up and down a hallway in full exuberance, kicking, dancing, and exploding with joy. I anticipated that Erivo (Bad Times at the El Royale) would be exceptional, and of course the Broadway vet is, as she brings such simmering life to Elphaba. There’s a strength in equal measure to her vulnerability, making the character fully felt. Erivo also delivers during the big moments, like the climax of the movie that can give you goosebumps in hiw it weaves together empowerment and defiance and self-acceptance. Together, the two women are an unbreakable pair of performers and heroes that we’ll want to see triumph over adversity.
After decades of belabored waiting, Wicked finally makes its journey from stage to screen and I must say it was worth every minute. The film, even at only one half, feels complete and richly realized, building upon the strong foundation of the stage show and its numerous winning elements and masterfully translating them to cinema, taking full advantage of the visual possibilities while also expanding upon the story and themes for further enrichment. While born in the early 2000s War on Terror Bush era of politics, Wicked’s themes of anti-immigrant fear-mongering as scapegoats still bears striking resonance today, as do the emerging warnings of fascism in Oz. If you’re a fan of The Wizard of Oz, musical theater, or even just grandiose spectacle that doesn’t dilute grandiose feelings, then step into Wicked and you too will feel like you’re floating on air.
Nate’s Grade: A
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Harold and the Purple Crayon (2024)
As an elder Millennial, I’ll try and ignore my rising bile for what they did to my boy Harold here, and I’ll simply ask who was this movie for? The big screen adaptation of the classic 1955 children’s book by Crockett Johnson that celebrates the power of imagination is a mishmash of mawkish feel-good family nonsense, fantasy power wish-fulfillment, and grating fish-out-of-water comedic antics. Increasingly missable actor Zachery Levi (Shazam!) plays yet another glorified man-baby, this time as an “adult” Harold who ventures into the Real World to search for his narrator, essentially the god of his purple-hued universe. He befriends a lonely boy with a big imagination and the kid’s single mom (poor Zooey Desceanel) and life lessons are learned while “adult” Harold makes a mess of just about everything as he leaves behind chaos and disaster. Eventually Harold has a full-on wizard duel against a villainous librarian and wannabe published fantasy author played by Jermaine Clement. That’s right, Harold and the Purple Crayon transforms into a magic battle over the fate of the all-powerful ring, I mean crayon. Making matters worse is Levi’s hyperactive schtick that has been growing stale for years and is tiresome and annoying throughout the movie. It’s also quite ironic, and phony, that a movie expressly proclaiming the power of individuality and imagination is so thoroughly and depressingly generic. This should have been animated or left alone, period.
Nate’s Grade: D+
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Beetlejuice Beetlejuice (2024)
Usually sequels over thirty years later reek of desperation, trying to rekindle the past while usually only hoping to tickle people’s fading sense of nostalgia. Rare is the 30-year-plus sequel that excels by breaking free of its imitator and making us see the original in a new light. It helps to keep your expectations in check, especially for a project that is so miraculous as the original 1988 Beetlejuice. What a wild movie that was, an introduction to horror comedy for a generation, and a near-perfect balance of creepy, silly, and imaginative. From director Tim Burton’s career-launching sense of style, to Michael Keaton’s electric comedic performance, to Danny Elfman’s outstanding score, to the stop-motion visuals, fun and freaky makeup effects, and you had a madcap movie that felt like a unique discovery. Recreating that is near impossible, but if Beetlejuice Beetlejuice can recreate some of the elements and feelings that made the original what it was, then it can be considered a modestly successful late-stage sequel.
Lyrdia Deetz (Wynona Ryder) has become a long-running host of a paranormal TV talk show connecting people with messages from loved ones from beyond the grave. Her teenage daughter, Astrid (Jenna Ortega), is moody and embarrassed by her mother, feeling that she “sold out.” Mother and daughter return back to Connecticut to attend the funeral of Charles Deetz, Lyrdia’s father. Her pretentious and snippy stepmother, Delia (Catherine O’Hara), is trying to better commune with his spirit, and the entire town has become famous for its spooky seasonal history. Meanwhile, Beetlejuice (Keaton) is trying to avoid his former wife, Delores (Monica Bellucci), who naturally is seeking to obliterate him to ectoplasm. He’s still got his sights set on Lydia, who spurned his marriage hopes, and might be able to manipulate the Deetz family back into his control.
Beetlejuice Beetlejuice gets the closest to rekindling that lightning-in-a-bottle alchemy from the 1988 original, serving as an appealing and enjoyable sequel. Nothing will ever be as original and wild and such a discovery as that first movie, which serves as a point of entry for many a Millennial fan who discovered that irresistible Tim Burton Neo-Gothic aesthetic. However, it recreates enough of the qualities that stood out about the original. The skewed sense of humor and surreal visuals, as well as goofy slapstick and vibrant imagination about life after death, it’s all such a fertile playground for Burton’s visual charms. The genius of the original was telling a ghost story from the ghost perspective as they learned about how to be better ghosts to try and scare their new living owners away. Given the world of the dead, there’s such tremendous storytelling and world-building possibilities here, explored richly in the animated 90s series for kids. Further stories in this universe have an automatically appealing power, and it’s just nice to watch Burton apply his specific aesthetic again, something fans haven’t really seen since 2007’s Sweeney Todd. I appreciated the weird morbid details and the practical production values; the Alice in Wonderland movies have shown that the “Burton look” isn’t best complimented by massive green screen sets. Having Burton, the “Burton look,” the original actors, with some exceptions (more on that later), and enough of that offbeat, chaotic, morbid tone return is a victory.
Beetlejuice Beetlejuice doesn’t so much alter our understanding of the world of the dead as established; it doesn’t radically rethink the landscape but it doesn’t repeat the same plot events either. I really liked the evolution of the adult Lydia as a jaded TV host. There’s a real dramatic punch to the reality that she sees the dead but has yet to see her deceased husband. She is incapable of reuniting with the man she misses the most, and she doesn’t know why. That yearning, paired with a lingering thematic mystery, can be a palpable storyline to explore. Pair that with some three generations of Deetz women trying to understand one another and work through personal resentments and we have fertile narrative ground. The three women were my favorite part of the movie, and their interactions and reflections on parenting and the challenges of trying to better understand one another are the foundation of the movie’s sense of heart. I really enjoyed the dynamic between the three, significantly upping Delia’s screen time and finding room to give her more dimension, an artist struggling in the wake of her grief. I’m a bit surprised that Ortega’s character isn’t more central to the drama. For all intents and purposes, she’s Lydia 2.0, so butting heads with Lydia 1.0 I guess feels redundant, so the story sends her off to find a cute boy in town and use that as an excuse for several unexpected needle-drop song use. There’s something inherently wrong watching a Tim Burton movie and hearing contemporary music. Imagine the Beetlejuice “Day-O” singalong but to, say, Sabrina Carpenter instead. No.
Beetlejuice, as a character, is such an exciting agent of chaos, a horny ghost who operates on the same tonal wavelength as a Looney Tunes cartoon character. Even though the original movie is named after the guy, he’s only in the film for approximately twenty percent. Keaton was absolutely incredible in his comedic bravado, creating much of the character through his ad-libs and hair and makeup choices. Keaton is still fantastic in this go-for-broke sort of performance, a performance we’ve seen far less as he’s settled into a respectable dramatic acting career. It’s hard to remember, dear reader, but when Keaton was initially cast for Burton’s Batman, the fan base at the time was up in arms, considering Keaton more of an un-serious funnyman. It would have been easy to have Beetlejuice front and center for the movie, so it’s admirable that Burton and Keaton decided to keep his on-screen appearances short, leaving people wanting more. There’s a late turn of events that pairs Lydia and Beetlejuice together, and I wish this fractious pairing had been the bulk of the movie. The whole enemies-to-uneasy-allies would have put much more emphasis on their character dynamic and the comic combustibility. Still, seeing these characters come back and retain their appeal and personality without obnoxious pandering is welcomed.
The screenwriters find a clever solution for the Jeffrey Jones Dilemma. For those unaware, Jones, who portrayed Lydia’s father in the original, and best known for pugnacious supporting roles in movies like Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Howard the Duck, and HBO’s Deadwood, was charged with soliciting a child for sexual exploitation. The movie continues with the character of Charles Deetz but without the involvement of Jones. The character gets his top eaten by a shark, so for the rest of the movie he’s a walking half of a corpse with a mumbly voice. It’s a clever way to include the character without the need for the actor.
With that decision to limit the Beetlejuice quotient of Beetlejuice Beetlejuice, it makes for a sloppier movie juggling a few underwritten subplots and side characters. The biggest non-factor is the return of Mrs. Beetlejuice. Here is a powerful antagonist who has the literal ability to suck out the souls of the recently dead and turn them into shriveled husks. She’s seeking vengeance against her ex and tracking him down through the netherworld. And yet, she could be completely eliminated from the movie without really affecting the other storylines. The whole Mrs. Beetlejuice/vengeful ex-wife character feels like a holdover from a different sequel script, clumsily grafted onto this other project, a vestigial artifact of another path not taken. There’s plenty of potential with the concept of the past victims of Beetlejuice coming back to seek retribution, and especially a trail of angry former lovers. It would explore the character’s history more meaningfully than an albeit amusing silent film interlude about how he married her during the era of the Bubonic Plague. We see how he died as a human, but there’s hundreds of years that can be illuminated from his failed schemes and odd jobs. Certainly there could be a whole club of ax-grinding malcontents sharing their mutual hatred of the Ghost with the Most. This character should better reflect Beetlejuice, and instead she’s just a monster on the prowl that eventually gets indifferently cast aside. It feels like Burton was looking for something for Bellucci to portray (Burton and Bellucci have officially been dating since 2023).
She’s not alone as an antagonistic villain that pops up to provide momentary danger but is also hastily resolved to the point that it raises the question why they were even involved. There are three antagonists, not counting Beetlejuice, that appear throughout to threaten our Deetz family members in Act Three, each of them individually interesting and targeting a different member of the family for ill-gotten gain. Yet each one of these characters is conquered so easily that it nullifies their importance and overall threat. If Beetlejuice could, at any moment, just open a trapdoor to hellfire at a moment’s notice, what danger does any other character pose then? If a sand worm can just appear from nowhere and consume our pesky antagonist, then why can’t this be a convenient solution earlier? The defeats feel arbitrary, which make the antagonists feel arbitrary, which is disappointing considering that we have the full supernatural arsenal of undead possibilities to tap into. I enjoyed these characters for the most part, but it’s hard not to feel like they’re tacked-on and underwritten. The same can be said about Willem Dafoe’s police chief, a former actor who played a chief on TV and now tries to fill the role for real after death. I’m always glad to have more Dafoe in my movies (woefully underrepresented in rom-coms, you cowards!) but he’s just mugging in the corner, waiting for some greater significance or, at minimum, more memorably morbid oddity to perform.
Beetlejuice Beetlejuice is better than a desperate sequel cash-grab, though there are elements, ideas, characters, and jokes that could have been smoothed out, better incorporated, and developed to maximize the potential of the undead setting. It’s an enjoyable throwback for the fans of the original that does manage to tap into enough of those potent elements that made the original so memorable. It’s definitely less edgy and transgressive, maybe even a little too safe given the territory of spooky specters; the entire Soul Train bit felt like a bad Saturday Night Live sketch from the 1980. However, it’s still got enough of the charm and silliness to leave fans, old and new, smiling and wondering where it might go next in its wild world.
Nate’s Grade: B
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IF (2024)/ The Imaginary (2024)/ Imaginary (2024)
Every so often, I find myself drawn to reviewing movies in pairs, whether it’s because of the same source material (the 2022 Pinoochios), similar perspectives (2018’s BlackkKlansman and Sorry to Bother You), or even diametrically opposed artistic responses to a similar theme (2016’s Manchester by the Sea and Collateral Beauty). However, in my twenty-five years as a fledgling film critic, I don’t think I’ve ever reviewed three movies at the same time for whatever relevancy, yet that is what I find most appropriate for this trio of exceedingly similar films about imaginary friends. Earlier in the year, Blumhouse released Imaginary, their horror-thriller take on an imaginary friend refusing to go away. At the start of the summer, writer/director John Krasinski gave us IF, a live-action fantasy/comedy about imaginary friends finding their former children as adults. And recently, Netflix released an anime movie The Imaginary, a Studio Ghibli-esque fantasy about forgotten imaginary friends trying to find new kids and new homes. I’ve elected to review all three at once and, much like the Pinnochios, declare a winner through different categories.
Begin the critical gauntlet! Bring on the (imaginary) bloodshed!
- PREMISE
Two of these movies went in a sweetly sentimental direction and the other went in the horror direction, so let’s tackle that one first. Imaginary gets at a rarely spoken truth: children can be super creepy. Watch a child hold an involved conversation with some entity that isn’t there, or just stare into the dark and say, so plainly, “That’s where the eyes are watching me,” or any number of personal anecdotes to make you shudder, and you’ll understand the significant horror potential with a malevolent creature that the child can communicate with that adults cannot see. This also lends itself to a low-budget film production as so much of the wicked entity is implicit and unseen. It’s a cost-saving genius when you can just use your, wait for it, imagination. Now Imaginary isn’t the first horror version of this premise, but it deserves points for taking a childhood concept and thinking of an effective way to transform it into a diseased and malignant antagonist, haunting its adult child Jessica (DeWanda Wise) and seeking a new child, likely her youngest step-daughter Alice (Pyper Braun). It then presents its conflict like a curse that the past generation is trying to spare the next generation from suffering through. Of course this also includes getting adults to recognize the threat as they are often dismissing it. Nobody wants to believe that Chauncey the teddy bear is the one urging you to self-harm.
The other two movies take a far more family-friendly approach to their imaginary premises. There’s a lot of shared real estate between The Imaginary and IF. Both are about outdated imaginary friends finding refuge together in a sort of halfway house, a… foster home for imaginary friends (someone should make a cartoon series about that). Both of the movies follow imaginary friends trying to find new children who will accept them and give them a new life. IF briefly follows the possibility of reuniting the forgotten imaginary friends (a.k.a. IFs) with their former owners now grown up into adulthood. This is actually the movie at its best, as the creatures find a renewed sense of purpose and reconnect with a person they cherished but had to let go. For a strange reason, Krasinski only dabbles with this poignant story direction, switching gears to find them new homes with new kids, which serves as another story direction that is also quickly ditched. IF seems to be trying on so many different versions of its premise and then discarding them like the IFs themselves. The Imaginary has more focus on its central predicament, finding new homes before these characters fade away, or worse, get eaten by a cannibalistic imaginary fiend looking to gain more years of his own existence by consuming the life force of his imaginary peers. It also has the urgency of its main character, an imaginary boy named Rudger, hoping that his child wakes up from a car accident, and if so, that she’ll still need him. The other characters are trying to set Rudger up for a life after his child, since they’ve all experienced the same fate and are trying to help him adjust to not just letting go but also being open to a new child. It’s simplified but has plenty to still explore, plus a creepy super villain.
Winner: The Imaginary
2. WORLD-BUILDING
This is what really separates IF from The Imaginary. The world of imaginary figures populated in Kransinski’s movie are cute but their larger world context is unfortunately underdeveloped. This is likely because much of the movie is connected to the personal journey of one twelve-year-old girl, Bea (Cailley Fleming), trying to keep herself busy while her father (Krasinski) undergoes vague “heart surgery.” The IF Coney Island respite feels like a secret nursing home where the discarded friends just kind of hang out. There’s even swimming and painting lessons. There’s no further examination on whether these are only the IFs from this zip code, though Bradley Cooper voices a talking glass of ice water whose child originated in Arizona, so that’s undetermined. I was also hoping for an imaginary friend from decades back, like Franklin Roosevelt or Alexander Hamilton’s imaginary friend, or from other countries. Each character design can say something inherently about their past child creator, what they regarded as fulfilling or lacking from their present. Alas, the world-building is mostly one little girl’s discovery of her new friends and then how they ultimately support her with her family predicament looming over every scene. Seriously, for a father going through major surgery, the family in IF is pretty blase about Bea’s whereabouts. Her grandmother (Fiona Shaw) doesn’t seem too pressed about letting an unattended adolescent run around New York City for hours. Bea’s experience with helping the IFs are reflections of her optimism and hope. It all comes back to her, so the movie chooses to ignore the larger possibilities of its magical unseen world.
The Imaginary feels modeled after the Studio Ghibli movies that have delighted children and adults for generations. Its main character is Rudger, an imaginary friend, and not the child who birthed the imaginary friend, Amanda. That creates a different sense of discovery, as Rudger also learns about the hidden library housing other imaginary friends and the rules. He’s to stare at a bulletin board and await a prospective child he feels a connection to, then holds onto a picture of them to transport into the child’s imaginative play where they can contribute to the creative adventure. However, there are dangers like if you die in the imaginary world, you can die for real, which is never fully explored as a real threat. The imaginary characters are told to stay indoors at night, as they don’t want to run into Mr. Bunting, the cannibalistic antagonist. I got a little lost with the different rules, some of which seemed to be emphasized more or canceling out previous rules, but I appreciated the level of thought given to making its world alive.
This is also where Imaginary begins to get lost in its own hazy imagination. Imagine the bedroom door-hopping mechanic from Monsters Inc. but with the narrative formula of Insidious, and there you have Imaginary. The world of imagination is treated very similarly to a hellish dimensional getaway, much like what happens in Insidious where dad had to retrieve his son in the demon’s phantasmagorical realm. Because the spooky imaginary world relates back to the main character’s childhood, we have a few other characters that have history with this trauma. Jessica’s father Ben has been committed to a hospital and seemed mentally ill, until you realize he rescued his little girl from evil Chauncey and lost his mind in the process. He’s not some lost cause, he’s a hero. Also, there’s a former neighbor and babysitter (Betty Buckely, always welcomed) who is obsessed with childhood psychology and willing to do some extreme things to continue her obsession with Chauncey. It’s at least widening the scope to look at how these traumatic events have impacted other people, not just the little girl bottling up those nightmares. However, beyond the simple explanation of Chauncey existing as a parasite feasting on the imaginative power of children, little else is established about the creature or its own world. At one point, a character relishes the possibility of imagination as a wish-fulfillment service, but why would this evil creature delegate its power? It reminds me of all sorts of other movies where characters side with some apocalyptic power thinking they’ll somehow be the lucky exception.
Winner: The Imaginary
3. CHARACTERS
This is where IF shined the brightest. The little girl is cute and optimistic, a fitting tonal foil to Ryan Reynolds being such a loquaciously sardonic naysayer. She wants to be so helpful, though keeping herself so busy might just be her coping mechanism to try and stop her dreadful encroaching thoughts about the possibility of losing her second parent. Her taking the lead to help the IFs then allows for little episodic asides for the different characters to share their stories and their former creators. Having a protagonist be so driven at being empathetic is a natural conduit for championing the feelings and triumphs of others. It works. Reynolds is still doing his fast-talking cynical schtick, so your mileage will vary how well it continues to appeal. Curiously, I don’t think the character of Blue (voiced by Steve Carell) is fully utilized. He’s a more childlike exaggeration of the character features already provided by Bea’s involvement. Blue resembles the McDonalds’ Grimace, and is outwardly friendly, unafraid of big emotions, and a bit silly, but his elevation in the script as being the primary IF sidekick is arbitrary. The same story could have afforded tapping, say, the excitable unicorn (voiced by Emily Blunt) as the primary sidekick and produce similar results. Again, I think there’s so much that could have been further explored as to the existential requirement of the different imaginary characters, how they represented what their former kids felt they needed. Their exact existence was what a child yearned for (the strong IF to protect the child who is afraid, the squishy lovable IF to comfort a lonely child, etc.).
The characters from The Imaginary fall into general archetypes that any Miyazaki fan will be familiar with. There’s the bossy know-it-all, the excitable goof, the silent contemplative, the wise and warm-hearted authority figure, the dangerous rogue. They all work but it’s the larger themes that resonate more than any specific individual character. Mostly, the conflict is whether Rudger decides to move on from his creator and find a new child/home. He has loyalty and emotional attachment to little Amanda but the reality is that, at some point, she will grow up and he’ll be left behind. Whether that happens now, because she passes away, or years later through becoming an adult, there will be a parting and he will need to consider a new life. The loneliness and melancholy of this existence is ignored through the kooky characters, strange worlds, and pressing points of danger, so the reality of Rudger’s eventual loss is thematically sidelined.
With the Blumhouse Imaginary, the characters are relatively stock types for a supernatural horror mystery. There’s some effort to make it about Jessica trying to ingratiate herself with her new step-children, the oldest who looks at the new mom with great suspicion and resentment. At one point, the old mom serves as a jump scare, hiding in the house; the old mom is mentally ill but the stepdaughter thought, erroneously, that mom was “getting better.” Jessica is trying her best to rise to the challenges of being a parent, but it’s hard when there’s a sneaky ghost trying to emotionally manipulate your youngest to hurt herself. I don’t know why Jessica decided to move her new family back into her childhood home, the source of her trauma, except if you looked at the real estate market, it might have been by far the best deal she could swing. What’s some reawakened childhood trauma when it comes to skipping ballooning mortgage payments? Have you seen interest rates and the price of houses post-pandemic? That’s the real terror for adults.
Winner: IF
4. EMOTIONAL INVOLVEMENT/CONCLUSIONS
Despite what Pixar may have set in stone, it’s not a requirement for a children’s movie to make you cry. I did end up tearing up from two of these movies, and it should likely be obvious which of the three was the outlier. Krasinski’s movie is designed as a big warm hug, complete with soothing, milky light pouring in from every setting. I thought it looked very similar to how Steven Spielberg’s preferred cinematographer, Janusz Kaminski, shoots natural light, and lo and behold Kaminski was the cinematographer for IF (excuse my pat on the back here). Bea’s big emotional moment where she tells her story of adventure to her unconscious father in his hospital bed pulled some heartstrings, but what I felt even more emotionally cathartic were the asides where Bea helps the IFs reunite with their former kids. When an IF is being thought about, they start to glow from within, like happiness radiating out. It was these little moments, like Blossom (voiced by Phoebe Waller-Bridge) getting to dance with Bea’s grandmother like they used to, or the simple act of Blue wishing good feelings to his nervous former-child with a silent shoulder touch and world-clarifying exhale. It was the acknowledgement that these friends, while gone, are still fondly remembered, and that they will always have that connection even if their exact relationship has changed through the years. The Imaginary operates on a similar emotional wave of adults reuniting with their former childhood friends, and it’s that sweet acknowledgement of appreciation and love that hits hardest. It reminded me a little bit of 2001’s Amelie where she’s on a mission to help strangers remember beloved items from the past. The overarching worry about losing her father seems unnecessary as a complication, especially how “heart surgery” is kept so purposely vague and seemingly uneventful until that bedside chat. There is a difference between wanting to protect your kid from the possible trauma and downplaying it to the point where it becomes a strangely superfluous plot device.
I won’t pretend there’s much to get emotional over with the Blumhouse Imaginary, though there is one Act Two twist I thought was simply astounding, but in order to explain I will need to go into spoilers, so you have been warned, dear reader. For a solid hour, we watch Alice play with a teddy bear that she calls Chauncey, the embodiment of her imaginary friend. So far so good. Then after a disturbing session with a child psychologist, the professional shows Jessica her recorded session. This is where we discover that Chauncey the bear… has never been there. Alice has been talking to the unseen entity of Chauncey and Jessica has been the only person who was seeing a teddy bear. That’s right, the twist is that the bear was never there. Bam.
Winner: IF
Three imaginary friend movies and the exploration of the meaning these figures have to children and adults after years removed. I had my quibbles with each movie, but with adjusted expectations, each movie can supply a degree of entertainment. The animation in The Imaginary is gorgeously fluid, so that alone will prove a draw to hand-drawn animation fans such as myself. Krasinski’s family film is gooey at its well-meaning core though it has underdeveloped avenues I wish had been given more articulation and exploration. The Blumhouse Imaginary movie is fairly formulaic but has a couple enjoyable twists and turns, even if they’re ridiculous. There is a potent storytelling reservoir with imaginary friends, both benevolent and malevolent, so I imagine (no pun intended) this won’t be the end of these stories making their way to the big screen.
Nate’s Grades:
Imaginary: C
IF: B
The Imaginary: B
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Inside Out 2 (2024)
Of all the Pixar hits, 2015’s Inside Out is one of the better movies to develop a sequel for, and thankfully Inside Out 2 is a solid extension from the original. The internal world of Riley’s burgeoning sense of self is so deeply imaginative and creatively rewarding, balancing slapstick and broad humor with a deeper examination of abstract concepts and human psychology (Freud would have loved this movie… or hated it… or just thought about his mother). The unique setting was made so accessible by the nimble screenplay that the viewer was able to learn the rules of this setting and how interconnected the various parts are. While not being as marvelously inventive as its predecessor, nor as poignant (R.I.P. Bing Bong), Inside Out 2 is a heartwarming and reaffirming animated movie that will work for all ages.
Riley is now turning thirteen years old and in the midst of puberty. That means new emotions, and Joy (voiced by Amy Poehler) has to learn to work well with her co-workers, such as Envy, Embarassment, and Ennui. The biggest new addition is Anxiety (voiced by Maya Hawke) who wants to prepare Riley for her life ahead, which seems especially rocky now that Riley knows her two best friends will be going to a different school. A weekend trip to hockey camp becomes Riley’s opportunity to test drive the “new Riley,” the one who impresses the cool older kids and gains their acceptance. This will force Riley to have to determine which set of friends to prioritize, the new or the old, and whether the goofy, kind version can survive to middle school or needs to be snuffed out.
With the sequel, there aren’t any dramatically new wrinkles to the world building already established. We don’t exactly discover any new portions of Riley’s mind, instead choosing to place most of the plot’s emphasis on another long journey back to home base. This time the other core emotions get to stick around with Joy, each of them proving useful during a key moment on the adventure. The externalization of the emotions invites the viewer to feel something toward feelings themselves. When Joy, at her lowest, laments that maybe a hard realization about growing up is that life will simply have less joy, it really hit me. Part of it was just the sad contemplation that accepting adulthood means accepting a life with less happiness, but a big part was teaching this concept to children and being unable to provide them the joy they deserve. Since the 2015 original, my life has gone through different changes and now I watch these movies not just as an individual viewer recalling life as a former adolescent figuring things out, but now I also come from the perspective of a parent with young children, including one turning thirteen. The development of the mind of this little growing person is a heavy responsibility given to people who are, hopefully, up to that very herculean task. We can all try our best, but recognizing limitations is also key. The kids have to have the freedom to be themselves and not pint-sized facsimiles of a parent.
The emotions inside Riley’s mind are featured like internal surrogate parents, tending to the development of Riley’s emotions, morals, and personality. They presumably want what’s best for her, there just happen to be opposing interpretations of what that exactly means, which leads to the majority of conflict with Anxiety. However, there’s also an understanding that Riley has to do things on her own and be able to make mistakes and learn from them. Inside Out 2 is ultimately about accepting the limitations of providing guidance. Joy and Anxiety are both trying to steer Riley down a deliberate path they think is best, but Riley needs to discover her own path rather than have it programmed for her. I appreciated that Anxiety is not treated as some dangerous one-dimensional villain hijacking Riley’s brain. Much like sadness, there is a real psychological purpose for anxiety, to keep us alert and prepared. Now that can certainly go into overdrive, as demonstrated throughout Inside Out 2, including a realistic depiction of a panic attack. It’s about finding balance, though one person’s balance will be inordinately different from another. The stakes may be intentionally low in this movie, all about making the hockey team and being welcomed by the popular girl she may or may not be crushing over (more on that later), but the focus is on the sense of who Riley chooses to be through her life’s inevitable ups and downs. It’s about our response to change as much as it is our response to the presence of anxiety.
Inside Out 2 also answers a thorny world-building question that the original creators never thought to go into greater detail. It’s established in the 2015 original that even the adults have the same five core emotions manning their brain battle stations: Disgust, Fear, Sadness, Anger, and Joy. So if adults only see these same emotions, what happens to those new puberty emotions? Do they go away? As an adult, do we gradually work through anxiety and embarrassment to the point where they are no longer present (this is where every adult can wryly laugh)? There’s an emotion introduced as Nostalgia, depicted as a kindly grandmother so eager to remember the ways things were. Joy tells Nostalgia to leave, as it’s not time for her to be developed yet until Riley is older. This one moment clears up the world-building question; the emotions don’t leave, they just sit out for periods of time like bench players waiting to be called into the big game. And just like that, it all works and makes sense. I wonder what other new emotions make their appearances later in life. Resentment? Choosing to rather die in authority rather than give up an iota of power to a younger generation? Sorry, that last one was more directed at those stubborn folks clinging to Congressional offices.
There is some sight narrative and thematic redundancy here. The first movie was about learning the importance of accepting sadness as a vital part of the human condition and how we can process our emotional states. It was about Joy learning that not every moment in life can or should be dominated by joy, and that the other emotions are also necessary functions. With the sequel, we have a starting point where Joy is picking and choosing what memories are worthy of being remembered, banishing the “bad moments” to the back of Riley’s mind, forming a cavernous landfill of junked memories. It’s treading some pretty similar ground, prioritizing one set of memories or emotions over others wherein the ultimate lesson is that repression in all forms is unhealthy and robbing one of the necessary tools for self-acceptance and growth. This is further epitomized by a trip to one of these memory vaults where Riley’s Deep Dark Secret is willfully imprisoned. The movie proper never comes back to this self-loathing figure, and the revelation could have really supported the overall message of self-acceptance. Pixar could have done something really special here, like having Riley coming to terms with being bisexual/queer, and that perhaps something we may personally agonize over as a horrifying secret could, once shared, be far from the dreaded life-destroying culprit our minds make it out to be. This would have really worked with the perceived lower stakes of the movie, naturally elevating the ordinary to the profound, as life can often unexpectedly become. Alas, the Deep Dark Secret is just a setup to an underwhelming post-credits joke – womp womp. That’s it? Again, if you’re going to tread the familiar thematic grounds about the dangers of repression, at least give us something bigger to reach than the same lesson that all emotions have a place.
The first Inside Out was a masterpiece. That’s a hard act to follow. This sequel, of which we can all assume there will be more given its billion-dollar box-office, is a solid double to the original’s home run of entertainment. It’s not among their best but it’s one of their better non-Toy Story sequels. Inside Out 2 is a heartwarming winner.
Nate’s Grade: B
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Van Helsing (2004) [Review Re-View]
Originally released May 7, 2004:
Crossover movies have a distasteful history in the world of cinema. Some movie exec gets the notion, “Hey, why can’t two great tastes taste great together?” But what we’re left with is usually uninspired (The Flintstones Meet the Jetsons notwithstanding). Crossovers for horror movies are the worst of the lot. For every Freddy vs. Jason there’s a dud, like 1966’s Jesse James meets Frankenstein’s Daughter. That year went down in the annals of cinematic history, however, as it also gave us Billy the Kid versus Dracula, marking two entries in the expanding genre of cowboys battling famous monsters (as far as I know, this genre still stands at two movies). So what can one expect from Van Helsing, a big-budget creature feature that includes Dracula, Frankenstein, and the Wolfman?
Van Helsing (Hugh Jackman and a really big hat) is a secret soldier for a covert order of the Vatican. This covert order dispatches monsters and creepy-crawlies the world over. He’s been ordered to assist Anna Valerious (Kate Beckinsale), the last in a Romanian family line that has sought to kill the infamous Dracula (Richard Roxburgh). It seems that their family line is dwindling. And Anna’s brother being turned into a werewolf doesn’t help the situation. If her family line dies before Dracula then they cannot enter heaven. Van Helsing comes to town to help out the locals who are terrorized by Dracula’s flying brides. Van Helsing effectively kills one of the vamp ladies and is celebrated as a hero by the village. As he gets closer to Anna he also learns more about his own mysterious past and his connection to a certain figure with big teeth.
The Big D has a dastardly plan. He wants to find Frankenstein’s monster (Shuler Hensley) to channel enough power through him to awaken zillions of goo-sacks harboring the vamp’s undead brood. Of course, Frankenstein’s monster isn’t too keen on this. Together, he and Van Helsing, with the help of Anna as well as a comic relief monk, battle to stop Dracula from unleashing his children of the night.
Van Helsing is stupid, stupid, stupid. Director Stephen Sommers exists in his own indulgent world where bigger is better and some CGI spackle will fix any plot holes. He makes check-your-brain-at-the-door popcorn movies, but a “popcorn movie” is no excuse to forgive a rambling, incoherent, loud, stupid mess. I liked the first Mummy flick and even found some good with the second, but Van Helsing is Sommers at his rock-bottom worst, gorging on a trough of special effects and vomiting the results onto the big screen. Sommers’ idea of character development is knocking people through walls like they were in a Looney Tunes cartoon.
Van Helsing raises some interesting questions, like why do Dracula’s brides morph into flying demons that are conveniently genitalia-free? Why does a werewolf rolling over the top of a carriage somehow cause it to catch on fire? Why does Dracula keep his magic lycanthropy cure in the open? It doesn’t matter. Van Helsing is so straight-laced about its absurdities that questioning them will just get tiresome.
Not that you would expect much, but the acting in Van Helsing is bad. Beckinsale’s accent couldn’t be less convincing if her role were played by Charo. The trio of Dracula’s brides are played by swimsuit models and let me just say their performance is on par with what you would expect from swimsuit models. Roxburgh is quite possibly the worst vampire in the modern history of vampires, and that includes Blacula, Count Chocula and Tom Cruise. He couldn’t look any less sinister if he was in a diaper and bonnet. What’s up with those strands of hair that dangle in his face? Why do the Van Helsing creators want their Prince of Evil and son of Satan to look like he was the keyboardist for some 80s pop synth band?
This overly long film feels like a seven-year-old’s book report that he hasn’t read: it’s like a child is making this up as they go. “And then … a werewolf pops up … and then Dracula’s flying brides … and then they all need Frankenstein’s monster ….” Seriously, were the penning this script on the fly? It’s a $150 million improv film. The reels of the film could be switched around and no one would be able to tell the difference. Van Helsing is one long, exasperated action sequence that drags its heels instead of wowing. It beats the audience into submission with its stupidity and redundancy.
The entertainment level of Van Helsing is exceedingly weak. It runs an eternity, which wouldn’t be a problem if one were intrigued by the story, the characters, or the action sequences. The action could have been suitable but Sommers has gotten less reliant on the physical and more superfluous with his CGI. Watching a CGI monstrosity smash into a CGI monstrosity before a CGI background where no semblance of reality is present grows tiresome after 130 minutes. The effects are passable, but they overload the viewer and numb whatever slight interest may have existed for the classic monsters.
What should have been a clever homage turns instead into a hollow marketing ploy that’s so frenetic and tireless with its manic pacing and bad special effects. Even the many attempts at humor are flat. It has to be some kind of apocalyptic sign that Hellboy and now Van Helsing have been unleashed unto the innocents of this world. Some will find Van Helsing decent popcorn entertainment, but most will grow weary of its sloppy design and wafer-thin substance. For me, this is one to avoid, period. There isn’t an ounce of fun to be had while sitting through the painful pair of hours that is Van Helsing. This is one monster mash that’s a real monster mess.
Nate’s Grade: D
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WRITER REFLECTIONS 20 YEARS LATER
In 2004, Van Helsing was being primed to be not just a blockbuster but the forerunner for a new interconnected franchise revitalizing the classic Universal horror icons. Director Stephen Sommers was hot off the success of the first two Mummy movies, Hugh Jackman had become a household name playing everyone’s favorite growling superhero, and Kate Beckinsale had proven her own box-office mettle fighting vampires and werewolves in the Underworld series. The studio was expecting so much that it planned a sequel, a TV series on NBC called Transylvania, an animated prequel, a clothing line, a video game, maybe even theme park additions, and to maintain the Eastern European sets so that they could be utilized for the eventual show and sequels. Obviously, this never came to pass, and Sommers’ last big Hollywood action movie was the 2009 G.I. Joe movie, and he hasn’t directed a movie since 2013’s Odd Thomas adaptation. He chose not to direct the third Mummy movie in 2008, but it seems like this man’s career has never been the same since Van Helsing cratered in the summer of 2004. It began as the studio asking Sommers for even more monster movies, Sommers pitching them all together as an Avengers-style super movie, the studio getting carried away with larger plans of franchise dominance, and then when it didn’t materialize, a promising popcorn filmmaker in the highest blockbuster sphere just vanished in a poof of overzealous CGI.
Me wife’s crush circa 2004
In 2004, I did not like Van Helsing. That might be too charitable a description. I wrote in my original review, “Van Helsing is stupid, stupid, stupid. [Sommers] exists in his own indulgent world where bigger is better and some CGI spackle will fix any plot holes. He makes check-your-brain-at-the-door popcorn movies, but a ‘popcorn movie’ is no excuse to forgive a rambling, incoherent, loud, stupid mess.” It was one of my worst movies of 2004, and twenty years later, I’ve mostly come around on the movie. I won’t tell you that it’s a great movie, or even achieves that same magic alchemy of action-adventure swash buckle that The Mummy brought back to major studio filmmaking in 1999, but Van Helsing is enjoyably ridiculous schlock nonsense. It was also one of my wife’s favorite movies growing up, and she reminded me that her teenage self had a big crush on Richard Roxburgh’s version of Dracula, not Hugh.
I now view Van Helsing less as a horror monster action vehicle and more of a spy vehicle in a strange world. The titular Van Helsing is our secret agent complete with spy gadgets with his comedic relief sidekick, and he’s got his important missions and the sexy Bond Girl, and the villains and betrayals and added back-story that doesn’t seem even necessary. It’s Sommers taking the structure of a spy thriller and supplanting it onto a Victorian-era monster steampunk universe of demons and centuries-old church conspiracies. Jackman is enjoyably suave as the Vatican’s favorite killing machine learning his own life lessons about the nature of legacy. I even enjoyed the villain’s motivation for Dracula; he’s trying to learn the secrets of Dr. Frankenstein’s reanimation to ensure that his vampy babies survive. Here is a Dracula who is bereft because he cannot father living children. I suppose there could be further discussion over the different forms of life as converting humans into vampires is itself a rebirth. Perhaps the distinction is like the difference between having biological children and adopted children. Maybe dear old Drac just wants to have a bundle of joy he can call his own. That’s more interesting than versions that make him out to be some stalker ex-boyfriend. Likewise, the role of Anna (Beckinsale) is given more pathos than simply being the Strong Romani Badass. While her wardrobe consists of corsets and teased hair to appeal to a young male demo, her character’s mission is powerful and personal. Anna needs to kill Dracula not to save herself but to ensure the rest of her deceased family members can enter heaven. Talk about cumulative family guilt. That’s heavy. When her face appears in the clouds at the end like Mufasa, it’s a confirmation of generational rest. That’s an arc that’s more fulfilling than being any love interest that would be discarded later.
As soon as it got rolling, I said to my wife that this was going to go one of two ways: Van Helsing will learn that his organization is not as righteous as he believed them to be, manipulating him to eliminate threats to the organization’s standing rather than threats to humanity; or Dracula and Van Helsing have a personal connection that hasn’t been fully examined. Dear reader, it went in both directions because Sommers is slapping so many plot elements to make this movie feel full to bursting like a bloated tick. There’s ideas stacked upon ideas here, references and unexplored plot points for an untapped universe (vampires started werewolves?). An hour in, all of Dracula’s bats, a.k.a. his children have been slain, and you may erroneously think the movie is over. Well, there’s a whole other castle to explore with even more baby bats to kill. The last hour operates on pure video game mechanics of, go here, grab this item, battle this mini-boss. There’s definitely a level of redundancy and a “more is more” kitchen sink excess philosophy, but the bombast is part of his general appeal. There’s a touch of Sam Raimi here, a touch of Michael Bay; schlock with sheen. Maybe it was my nostalgia goggles, or maybe I was just attuning to Sommers’ wavelength, but the movie worked for me much better in 2024 as I was now charmed by its goofball sensibilities and less irritated by its over-plotted script.
You feel the admirable passion that Sommers has for this universe, adopting stylish pastiches to celebrate the older movies and lore, but definitely bringing his more modern sensibilities to the forefront. There’s a certain chaotic energy that animates Sommers big movies, bringing these classic characters together to run amok and crash into each other. That little kid’s imagination given the whole sandbox to play in can be enviable and lively, and it can also lead into unexpected directions that unexpectedly go nowhere. The incorporation of Frankenstein’s monster (Shuler Hensely) is more a plot device than a thoughtful character to bring to the team. He’s the magical MacGuffin both sides are fighting to claim for their own. Van Helsing’s major crime is trying too much and being too straight-laced about its silly. It’s not winking to the audience, it’s not self-commenting on its absurdities, it’s just living them lavishly. In 2004, I couldn’t appreciate that and this movie, and now I can find a place in my heart for such fun.
My original review in 2004 is scathing, with ready-to-blurb snark trying to communicate the intensity of my distaste. The line that Sommers is “gorging on a trough of special effects and vomiting the results onto the big screen” sticks with me. I’m surprised I restrained myself from making a “Van Helsing sucks” comment. Several of my criticisms about the acting, the confusing rules, the convoluted storytelling are entirely valid, but they just don’t bother me enough twenty years later. I can relax and enjoy the movie because it is a mess. That doesn’t mean every flawed movie deserves kindly dismissing its faults if it doesn’t aspire to anything other than mass entertainment. Big movies for big audiences can still be big bad. I think Van Helsing’s appeal is how sloppy it is and how excessive every element plays. In another universe, a… “dark universe” to borrow a phrase that came to me for no reason, this could have kicked off the interconnected Universal monster movies (any reference to Egyptian mummies is absent, implying perhaps that Sommers earlier movies exist in a shared world). It was not to be, and Sommers’ career has never been the same since, which is a real shame. The blockbuster space needs a filmmaker like Sommers, a man nimble enough to juggle tones and childlike glee with darker humor. Come back, Stephen Sommers, and maybe try your hand at the Creature From the Black Lagoon while you’re at it.
Nate’s Grade: C+
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Damsel (2024)
After a decade of having a creative partner who literally has compiled over 4,000 pitches for possible movie and TV concepts, it was inevitable that Hollywood would eventually get close to some of them. This has happened before a few times, again given the significant library of my friend’s imagination, but never has it gotten as close as Damsel, Netflix’s new action fantasy film flipping the script of the shrinking violet being sacrificed to the clutches of a monster. In my friend’s pitch, the young girl is presented to a dragon with the implication that this regular offering will spare her small town from angry dragon fire. Just as she’s waiting to be eaten, the dragon undoes her bindings and they talk, because the dragon can talk, and he’s very curious why these people keep leaving him young girls every so many years. The revelation is that the dragon is not savage but intelligent, and the two bond, forming a partnership where she brings the dragon back to her community and shows them the error of their long-standing prejudices. Of course it all gets bigger from there, with warring kingdoms wanting to harness the last dragon to capture this unparalleled weapon of mass destruction. There was even a budding romance between the dragon and the young woman, with the possibility of the dragon turning into a human Beauty and the Beast-style. The title: Damsel. While my friend’s Damsel and Netflix’s Damsel have some core similarities, they do tell different stories built upon the same premise of the virgin sacrifice and the killer creature being more than what they seem.
Unfortunately, Netflix’s version is too narrow to be fully satisfying with its fairy tale script flip. We have Millie Bobby Brown as our titular damsel, Elodie, a woman trying to do well for her family, notably her father (Ray Winstone), stepmother (Angela Bassett), and younger sister. The young prince needs a bride, and the Queen (Robin Wright) isn’t too shy to still turn up her nose at her new in-laws that she sees as merely a means to an end, nothing more. Of course it’s revealed that this end is as “human sacrifice” to a dragon that has reportedly stalked the kingdom for centuries. Elodie is thrown down a vast canyon into the lair of an angry dragon (voiced by the unmistakable Shohreh Aghdashloo). From there, Elodie must use her wits to survive the dragon, escape above ground, and save her younger sister from being doomed to a similar fate.
The premise is so strong, upending ages-old tropes of the female sacrifice and the monstrous creature, as even with Netflix’s Damsel the dragon is a victim of historical slander. There’s so many places you can go with this, especially building upon the dynamic of the two of these discarded outcasts banding together to push back against the cruelty of society. However, that’s not the movie Netflix’s Damsel becomes. It sort of is, at the very end in resolution, with a latent promise of possible further adventures, but it’s mostly a locked-in survival thriller.
I was not expecting the majority of Damsel to be Elodie’s basic survival once she’s been hurled into the pit by her recently dearly beloved (just following orders from mom, he says). It works, but it feels very constrained creatively. Now, I am generally a fan of these kinds of stories, the step-by-step survival tales where we are thinking alongside the plucky protagonist. I find them fun and follow a satisfying structure of amassing payoffs. It’s naturally enjoyable to watch a character tackle problems and succeed. However, it’s also vital that the audience understands the problem to know the challenge. In a fantasy setting, this requires more time to establish new rules and circumstances. Here we have a few sequences like when Elodie discovers bio-luminescent slugs and uses them as a light source for exploring her captivity (bonus: their sticky slime is healing). The timeline is relatively short, maybe a day at most, so it’s not like Elodie has to think about long-term survival; it’s much more immediate about escaping from the wrath of the predator. Just finding a safe hiding spot is enough. It’s engaging but by limiting the focus to an almost real-time survival cat-and-mouse game, it caps the movie’s creative possibility. I was far more interested in the prospect of eventually moving beyond the initial amity between Elodie and the dragon, where they could share their royal rage together. I kept waiting for this initial battle to give way into a different level of understanding, something to deepen and alter this relationship, but this doesn’t arrive until the very resolution of an hour after Elodie first hides from the fearsome dragon.
While I was never bored by watching Elodie think how to get over a crevasse, or how to navigate a treacherous pass, I was reminded of 2022’s The Princess, a spirited and gleefully violent feminist romp with a similar starting point of a damsel taking matters into her own hands and fighting for her freedom. With that film, the upturned premise was simple, but each new floor down the tower revealed something about our heroine, each new challenge was different and relied upon a different skill or tactic. Unfortunately, that movie was “deleted” from the Disney/Fox/Hulu library for tax purposes, though you can still rent or purchase it on Amazon but, as of now, no physical media exists. This is an excellent example of a movie with a limited scope that knows how to play to the limitations of story while still revealing character through action. While that movie lost some momentum and clarity when the princess was kicked out of her tower imprisonment, I found much to celebrate with the movie’s ingenuity and spirit. With Netflix’s Damsel, I was getting antsy to leave the cave and move things along. The twist about the true nature of the dragon, and her past with the legendary royal hero, should be obvious to most.
Let it be said that this is where Brown (Enola Holmes) graduated to being a steely and capable adult actress. She’s the star of the movie and has to command our attention and hold it for long stretches on her own. Brown throws herself into the physicality of the role with a relish that only makes her eventual triumph feel that much more worthy. The side characters don’t amount to much but have reliably winning actors to draw our attention. Aghdashloo (The Expanse) is a wonderful scene companion even with only a smoky voice. Wright (Wonder Woman) is haughty to the point of thin-lipped camp. Although this is a criminal under-utilization of the talents of Bassett (Black Panther: Wakanda Forever), who plays the concerned stepmother. That’s what happens when most of your movie is about one girl in a cave. The other characters are confined to the opening and closing of your survival thriller.
I suppose I’m being cheeky by referring to the movie as “Netflix’s Damsel” considering there isn’t any other version out there. I’m not accusing Netflix or screenwriter Dan Mazeau (Wrath of the Titans, Fast X) of ripping off my friend; it’s more an example of parallel thinking playing around with old fantasy tropes and giving them a new spin for modern times. I mostly enjoyed Netflix’s Damsel but couldn’t help but wonder what might have been, not just with my friend’s competing take on the material but with the story possibilities not taken here thanks to its limited scope. As a survival thriller in a fantasy setting, it works. There was just more that could have been, and while I should judge the movie that exists rather than the movie that could have been, Netflix’s Damsel is a fantasy action vehicle that swings its sword ably but had so much more potential to slay.
Nate’s Grade: B-
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Spencer + Penny, Forever (2023)
In the best way, Spencer + Penny feels like a Pixar short, something sweet and subtly profound that then suckerpunches you into a mess of feelings that you didn’t think were possible given the abbreviated length as well as the subject matter. You may ask yourself, “Am I really about to cry over some pencils?” and I’m here to tell you yes, and it’s okay to cry. In just a matter of seconds, this Ohio-made short film gets you to think from a different perspective, that of a mechanical pencil named Spencer (voiced by writer/director Eric Boso), and through that object we will feel all-too familiar human traits. There’s elation at aligning with one’s purpose, but also a melancholy that comes when we feel spent, empty, and rundown, needing to be replenished. Because of Spencer’s unique identity, his lead can be replaced, though this also causes him to feel hollow at times. Then one day he meets a friend, a traditional wooden pencil named Penny (voiced by Samantha Martin). She’s chipper and unflappable in her enthusiasm and optimism, lifting Spencer’s spirits. And then this relationship rapidly changes through a simple and elegant visual means of montage, and all at once this cute film about two pencils, and thematically about mental health, has transformed into one about mortality and legacy. It works so well that I was shocked to be feeling urgent emotions, begging a muted pencil to speak back. That’s quite a creative coup for Boso (Bong of the Living Dead). The short itself is visually lean and clean, given to presenting the story like it was a writing utensil catalog. The sparse visual arrangements further made Spencer + Penny, Forever feel like a children’s storybook come to whimsical life. I enjoyed the emphasis given to erasers and the disappointment we feel at making mistakes but the acknowledgement that mistakes are also a part of life, a big idea but made easily digestible for all ages through the carefully crafted writing style of a bittersweet child’s storybook.
I won’t delve into detailed spoilers but I think the ending concept is fitting but we needed a different path to finally wind up there. It’s sweet but feels like a different story starting, which may well be the point. I also think the metaphysical and eschatological implications are rather large to try and make this work, so I think something more practical with the in-universe setting and a direct connection would have felt like a more appropriate thematic conclusion. Still, it works, I just quibble with the means we reached this ending.
Spencer + Penny, Forever was produced for the 2023 Winterfilm Festival in Ohio and won several awards, including Best Writing, Audience Award, Best Music (the music does have a definite Jon Brion-esque quality of deceptive whimsy that blends into heartache), and Best Film. It’s easy to see the movie as a crowd-pleaser and an unassuming charmer, able to delicately hit weightier themes with cute observational quirk (a.k.a. The Hidden Life of Writing Utensils). It will be entering the festival circuit shortly and I’m sure I won’t be the last person walking away from Spencer and Penny and shaking my head and smiling that an eight-minute short made me think differently about my pen.
Nate’s Grade: B+
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Wonka (2023)
Was there anyone out there wondering how a young Willy Wonka could have gotten his start as a cutting-edge candy maven? It’s an unnecessary back-story for a kooky character that most will just accept as is. The invented story of Wonka is one of an upstart entrepreneur (Timothee Chalamet) proving a danger to the established corporate oligarchy’s vice-grip on the local confectionery industry. They use the levels of corrupt power to scheme and block Wonka from getting started, but his charms and optimism are just too much, and he wins over the town with his candied delights that provide revelry to the people’s humdrum lives. As a candy-colored musical following an underdog triumphing from the power of friendship and integrity and imagination and good will, it mostly works on a fizzy cloud of its own manufactured whimsy. It’s all highly silly stuff and working very hard to be light-footed and whimsical. There are moments that made me smile and tohers that made me chuckle, like one rich man who gags whenever somebody ever says the word “poor.” The new songs are fairly forgettable except when they’re making you remember the dreamy 1971 numbers. I also think Chalamet (Bones and All) is painfully miscast as our young Wonka. I don’t think his broody-moody acting style works shifting over to manufactured quirk. His performance is just so off from the beginning. Wonka would have been exceedingly better as an original musical without trying to retrofit into the world of Willy Wonka, although that would mean losing Hugh Grant as our first specimen of Oompa Loompa, and he is a droll delight. It’s just weird for a movie to work this hard to tell us how Wonka got his start and to end on uplift when we know in the future he grows up to be a sad middle-aged loner who has to resort to a scam to find a successor, as well as the town becoming an impoverished slum to Wonka’s oppressive factory. My pal Ben Bailey reasoned it would be like a prequel to Death of a Salesman where a younger Willy Loman starts his career as a door-to-door salesman, so chipper and eager to make a name for himself. Wonka is a sugar rush designed as an origin story.
Nate’s Grade: B-
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