Mad Max: Fury Road (George Miller, 2015)

Grappling with the thought of heaping more praise upon George Miller’s long-gestating brainchild, let it be known that to not articulate anything about it would be blasphemous. Indiscernibly placing itself along its predecessors’ timeline, Fury Road finds our titular hero (Tom Hardy) alone and at odds with the tyrannical Immortan Joe and his kamikaze army of terminally ill War Boys. Crossing paths with the comparably battle-hardened Furiosa (Charlize Theron) – Joe’s prized Five Wives in tow – the duo forms a necessary bond as they traverse a desolate wasteland in pursuit of liberation and redemption.

Having just reacquainted myself with the low-budget 1979 original, my expectations of Fury Road were tempered but remained high given a string of nigh-operatic teasers and considerable critical hype-in-advance. Given the apt-enough singularity of the first film, it’s breathtaking to see what two sequels and years of continued development have done for Miller’s ingenious end result. Effortlessly thriving by way of unfettered creativity, the sensibilities on display are truly unparalleled.

Revelling in deranged yet controlled chaos from the get-go, Fury Road unapologetically thrusts us into the immediate thick of things. In avoiding needless expository fringe, dialogue remains sparse as key elements speak for themselves. Immortan Joe as the resource-hoarding domineer amid troves of impoverished subordinates, Max reprising his role as the reluctant hero – the script’s simplicity is tangible but fails to hinder the enthralling depravity of what ensues. Each sequence just clicks thanks to the layer of assured bombast coating the film’s primary attributes as a triumphant genre benchmark.

As the most unique, arresting and assured action film to come about in recent memory, Mad Max: Fury Road truly epitomizes creative freedom within the medium. Finding continued sanctuary among a barrage of kinetic crescendos and lack of gender bias, the film’s personality, corresponding bleakness and steadfastness of narrative are all something to behold. Miller’s opus is one of unparalleled mastery – a dystopian, sand-bathed wasteland steeped in an attention to world-building to be unrivaled by unavoidable imitators in years to come.

The Drop (Michaël R. Roskam, 2014)

Employed by a so-called “drop bar,” everyman Bob Saginowski (Tom Hardy) knows a thing or two about a thing or two in the local mob scene. Slyly remarking that he only slings the establishment’s booze, Bob’s role remains mysteriously self-restricted despite what he may or may not contribute in the grand scheme. Following the foolhardy robbery of his place of work, tensions mount as quickly as debts whilst truths are unveiled and trust among colleagues is compromised. From then on, allegiances remain questionable as a shady unstable character enters and threatens to further uproot Bob’s life in a way none of us can perceive.

Mistakenly marketed as typically mob-centric genre fare, The Drop‘s deliberate plotting and general strangeness brand it as more of an odd duck – one that tries a bit too hard but fails to fully break from the mold cast by assumed inspirations. While a mob presence is felt, seen and occasionally dominates certain situations, Lehane’s script rings rather humanistic as Hardy’s deceitfully mild-mannered Bob remains the primary focus. After plucking an abused puppy from a trash can, Bob’s life changes almost immediately as two individuals, of whom are linked in some mysterious capacity, enter and affect his life in different ways. It’s from here on that the narrative awkwardly blends familiarity with the unconventional as light is slowly but surely shed on our supposed protagonist’s shady past.

As tensions mount and time winds down for Bob and his on-the-outs Cousin Marv (James Gandolfini), the looming threats present don’t carry with them a sense of urgency that keeps things interesting. Even despite a smattering of twists and mandatory conflictual cruxes, involvement is often absent as performances – Hardy’s specifically – compliment Lehane’s dialogue that’s pervasive yet appealingly down-to-earth as the agreeably unique story unfolds. For the patient, what this ultimately presents is The Drop‘s possibly purposeful exploitation of our expectations, of which are abruptly uprooted as a rousing latter act reveal partially compensates for banality brought on by police procedural nonsense and the like.

As it stands tall among the normally stilted genre trappings it’s forced to embrace, The Drop‘s solace resides solely within a few key moments that happen to be benchmarked by the well-portrayed individuals at its core. It does a fine enough job leading us astray for unpredictability’s sake, however the road we’re led down is one of only intermittent engagement and quality. In summary, it all adds up to be one serviceable chunk of seedy intrigue – it’s just a shame that the intended whole isn’t greater than the sum of its parts.

Lawless (John Hillcoat, 2012)

Based on Matt Bondurant’s “The Wettest County in the World,” Lawless tells the tale of the infamous bootleggin’ Bondurant Brothers – prohibition-era heroes that fought authorities and rival factions alike to continue peddling their alcoholic moonshine to neighboring regions. Focusing explicitly on a rather precarious run-in with a corrupt, pompous Chicago deputy (Guy Pearce), the trio of brothers bands together amid countless hardships to maintain their good name and keep living the American Dream. Although this sounds like the stuff legends are made of, Lawless is, unfortunately, far from legendary as a few trip-ups keep it from being a wholly compelling piece of storytelling.

Partially falling victim to the true story aspect of it all, Hillcoat’s latest suffers from an incomprehensibly sparse narrative, moreover one that relies a bit too heavily on a wonderfully realized late-Twenties aesthetic and not much else. Outside of the brutal punch-for-punch that ensues between the Bondurants and Deputy Rakes and his lackeys, there’s not much of a story to be told outside of something we’ve seen from similar entries into the ultraviolent gangster subgenre. This in mind, the striking and warranted violence successfully emulates the tumultuous exchanges of the era quite well in spite of how periodically scatterbrained the proceedings are, and above all, there’s nothing like Tom Hardy going to town on a guy’s jaw with a pair of brass knuckles.

Putting aside the archetypal central characters, Lawless‘ beautiful locales, set pieces and costume design do wonders for our involvement’s sake, and at the end of the day, it’s easy to appreciate the film’s primary source of conflict more than anything else. Sure, people will gravitate toward the budding romances that blossom between individuals and so forth, but in the end, it’s all fluff that caters to staying true to the film’s source material. Thanks to some pretty stellar production values and solid performances though, Lawless at least has two sturdy legs to stand on.

The Dark Knight Rises (Christopher Nolan, 2012)

Well, here we are, folks. The defining cinematic event of the year 2012 barring The Avengers, and it comes in the form of the third and final installment in Christopher Nolan’s Dark Knight trilogy, The Dark Knight Rises. You’d be hard-pressed to find someone not overjoyed by the thought of the film premiering tonight at midnight, with my local theater having already sold over 1,800 tickets and counting. For all its bells and whistles, most of you will happy to know that the film carries its weight everywhere it counts, even though it can’t quite live up to the outrageously high expectations of those waiting patiently for the better part of four years for this very moment.

Where to begin? Although it needs no introduction, Nolan’s gritty, exceedingly seedy vision of Batman’s native Gotham City is ever-present as what seems like a dozen characters are gradually implemented into TDKR‘s script, providing us with enough build-up and backstory to fill the Atlantic Ocean if somehow transformed into liquid. Granted, The Dark Knight had a penchant for messiness when it came to balancing human emotion with the balls-out, grandiose action set pieces it set the bar rather high with, but it was all forgivable on account of how thoroughly involving the film was at any given turn.

The same goes for this particular entry into the franchise, with its structuring being about as sloppy as a poorly made sandwich, implementing various lulls and lunges forward in the narrative so as to alternately introduce new individuals (i.e. Cotillard’s Miranda Tate and Hathaway’s Selina Kyle) and chronicle Bruce Wayne’s rise from the (figurative) grave as the misunderstood caped vigilante forced to go on the lam for eight years. Gotham’s new, infinitely more realized threat Bane (Tom Hardy) is as menacing as ever, fully bringing to life his predecessors’ dreams of a riotous criminal takeover as terrorist plot after terrorist plot unfolds without a hitch. This technique on Nolan’s behalf works to amplify the tension, although Batman’s lack of screen time just makes him look like a chump, using a battered physique to serve as the groundwork for what he’ll inevitably have to clean up later, but on a much larger scale than what he’s used to.

Despite its length, The Dark Knight Rises has an uncanny ability to keep you emotionally invested in literally everyone’s goings-on, whether it’s the truth behind Bane’s disfigurement or Alfred’s undying devotion to protect the last remaining piece of the Wayne legacy. Coupled with wildly explosive (no pun intended) action set pieces, the film’s climax is essentially worth the price of admission alone, stuffing as much as it can into the last thirty to forty-five minutes to satisfy any filmgoer, casual or cinephile alike.

Providing you’re willing to forgive its occasional missteps, it’s easy to appreciate literally everything The Dark Knight Rises has to offer, from its relentless air of tension and knockout performances to its appreciable emotional underbelly and eye-popping, over-the-top action. Its final moments are agreeably tearjerking, on account of both us realizing the franchise’s end and the subject matter itself, but one thing’s for sure: TDKR certainly “rises” to the occasion, going out with not a whimper, but a gaudy, if a focally jarring bang that’s sure to deliver everywhere fans will expect it to.

Top 10: Best Career Turns

With That’s My Boy looking anything but your typical “I’ve clearly stopped giving a shit” Adam Sandler fare, I find that it’s quite sad to see someone who’s exuded his talent as a dramatic actor squander any and all potential by reverting back to his roots in the worst possible way. Jack & Jill, of which I first thought to be a joke, proved that certain individuals, Sandler especially, fail to realize the depths to which they’ll stoop for the sake of a paycheck and shunning the public’s increasingly unfavorable opinion of them. This in mind, it’s always refreshing to look back upon those actors and actresses that have admirably broken free from their respective character molds, playing against type to prove to us that there’s more to them than meets the eye. Agree or disagree, I’ve concocted a list of those still working today that have successfully tackled such a daunting task.

Inception (Christopher Nolan, 2010)

There’s isn’t a whole lot to say about Christopher Nolan’s mesmerizing sci-fi epic that hasn’t already been said, but not expressing my thoughts about one of the year’s best cinematic experiences would be doing myself an injustice. Centering around “extractor” Dom Cobb and several specialists as they attempt Inception: a process that involves actually implanting a memory into an individual’s subconscious; something that’s far riskier than the typical run-and-gun extractions Cobb and the gang are used to. While the thought of even attempting a job like this wouldn’t have crossed their minds otherwise, it turns out that Cobb, already on the lam for the supposed murder of his wife, has a chance at a fresh start and to finally reunite with his children thanks to their employer, Saito.

The screenplay for Inception, having took over 8 years for Nolan to complete, is quite literally one of the most complex, engaging and flat-out ingenious pieces of work I’ve ever had the pleasure of witnessing play out before my eyes. Redundancy aside, the visuals that accompany the perpetual dreamlike state a vast majority of the script is presented in are simply unmatched, allowing me to revel in copious amounts of shock and awe as one dream sequence after another bored their way into my brain and remained there firm until the film’s breathtaking climax.

While most of what I’ve just said can easily be classified as hyperbolic, I assure you that the ideas Inception puts forth as a fully engrossing piece of science-fiction are wholly original to the point where it’d be hard to mimic them even far into the future. Nolan does a superb job in creating for us this alternate reality in which Cobb and these other professionals really do possess the ability to either extract valuable information from one’s mind or, in this case, plant an idea into their subconscious that wasn’t there in the first place. Plausibility, obviously, takes a backseat as the main characters begin to create the multi-layered dream within a dream within a dream scenario that would ultimately aid them in completing their current objective. While the aforementioned ideas and overly appreciable aura of intelligence kick into full gear at this point, it’s safe to say that the only flaws Inception actually does have manage to rise to the surface as well.

Although an easily perceived emphasis on mind-blowing action and the countless details surrounding the central characters’ current objective remain front and center, the subplot involving Cobb and the truth surrounding his wife’s death end up evolving into the solitary inkling of character development Inception provides us with. As the film hurls towards its latter act, it’s interesting to see how her perpetual involvement within Cobb’s subconscious alters his and his team’s ongoing predicament, thus throwing a proverbial wrench in the works and tossing a heaping dose of suspense and additional intrigue into the mix. What this brings forth is the idea that every other character begins to simply exist for the sake of just doing their part, and previously interesting individuals such as the architect Ariadne and Cobb’s right-hand man Arthur end up being reduced to nothing more than worker bees. Seeing as how Inception‘s overwhelming visuals and increasingly complex and oft bewildering narrative are generally more appealing, I reckon most people may not even pick up on this without it first being brought to their attention.

An excellent ensemble cast further aids Nolan’s mammoth achievement in living up to the hype, and while DiCaprio’s becoming peculiarly “one mode” as of late, his efforts as the film’s protagonist are exceptionally noteworthy. Being a huge Joseph Gordon-Levitt fan, I was also interested to see how big of an involvement his character would have and, seeing as how his involvement with films of this scale is sparse, how he would adapt to such an environment. Thankfully, he does so just fine, as does Ellen Page as the young architecture student Ariadne whose job it is to essentially design the subconscious environments the team traverses whilst fulfilling their objectives. Tom Hardy and the rest of the supporting cast display palpable chemistry with all involved, and while these characters do lose but a smidgen of relevance during Inception‘s latter act, their efforts surely aren’t forgettable in the slightest.

Merely labeling Inception as a film that managed to live up to the standards of eager moviegoers everywhere would be partially inaccurate. Instead, it’s a masterfully intricate, intelligent and visually stunning cinematic achievement that’s easily the best of the year and possibly the past few. It isn’t perfect, but those not looking to nitpick will have a hard time finding anything unfavorable to say about Nolan’s blockbuster outside of what I mentioned previously. If you’re looking for an acceptable reason to spend your hard-earned dollars at the theater this summer, I highly recommend you do so for Inception.

RocknRolla (Guy Ritchie, 2008)

Mob boss Lenny Cole and his most-valued henchman, Archie, have successfully dominated London’s real estate market for years. When a wealthy Russian businessman by the name of Uri comes to Cole with hopes of collaborating on a new project, he is happy to oblige in exchange for a fat stack of cash. Shortly thereafter, Uri decides to lend Cole his “lucky painting” as a gesture of good faith, and to ensure that everything will go off without a hitch. When the painting is stolen however, those involved don’t hesitate to point a finger at rock star (and notorious drug addict) Johnny Quid, who’s presumed dead by the public, but Cole knows better. Further still, the money meant for Cole in exchange for his services is intercepted by a group of ragtag thugs, with the help of Uri’s accountant. What ensues is essentially a tale of corruption, greed, and above all, violence as everyone struggles to reclaim what’s rightfully theirs.

Having not understood a majority of what I just typed, I can assure you I felt the same way when I was watching these events play out onscreen. From start to finish, Guy Ritchie’s latest effort had me scratching my head, wondering, at various intervals, what exactly I should be getting from each obscure, fast-paced interaction between characters. Not to say I didn’t enjoy myself; I did to an extent, but RocknRolla shouldn’t necessarily be deemed as a full-blown “return to form” for the writer/director in question.

To begin, Ritchie incorporates the ultra-stylistic approach characteristic of everything he’s ever been associated with; something that has its fair share of ups and downs. On the positive side of things, it’s everything we’ve come to expect from him, with elements ranging from eccentric, over-the-top characters and a superbly clever script to some frenetic, fast-paced editing when appropriate. As a matter of fact, the only thing really wrong here is that those who deem themselves too familiar with Ritchie’s earlier work will find absolutely nothing of interest in this respect; it’s all become rather trite and quite frankly, he’ll need to broaden his horizons soon enough to procure any type of interest from anyone, myself included of course.

Such a flaw is forgivable to an extent, thanks to some above average performances offered by way of just about the entire cast. With this in mind, their characters often offer some much needed comedic diversions from the incredible amount of information I was forced to swallow throughout the film’s two hour duration. Despite this, those characters not credited with carrying out such a task are more or less forgettable whenever they’re not onscreen, especially since any form of development for each is more or less nonexistent.

To conclude, RocknRolla is indeed a “return to form” for Ritchie in some ways, but no so much in others. It’s often convoluted plot and hackneyed stylistic approach proved to be its biggest turnoffs, with a few redeeming qualities sneaking themselves into the mix thanks to an always clever script and some notable performances. However, those familiar with Ritchie’s work will indeed look past these things in search of something more beneath the hood; a search that will undoubtedly end in disappointment. Not to say I had a bad time watching this film though; I somewhat enjoyed myself, but all in all, it misses the mark.