ATTITUDE WITHOUT ALTITUDE

 

MOVIE
Supergirl
Director Craig Gillespie
Review Ray Chan

The film begins with a super-powered dog relieving itself in spectacular fashion, setting the anarchic tone for the second film in James Gunn’s rebooted DC Universe.
   Supergirl makes its intentions abundantly clear. This isn't the wholesome, wide-eyed cousin of Superman that comic readers grew up with. Instead, this is Kara Zor-El as an intergalactic teenager with an attitude problem, a short fuse and an eye-roll permanently set to maximum. It's a bold reinvention, even if it seems to replace irreverence for personality.
   Two Aussies are at the helm of this movie. Director Craig Gillespie embraces chaos from the outset, sending Kara hurtling across a universe teeming with bizarre alien life forms. Every corner of the galaxy seems populated by strange species, eccentric bounty hunter or peculiar creature, giving the film an almost Guardians of the Galaxy-style sense of visual excess.
   Sydneysider Milly Alcock throws herself into lead the role with conviction, playing Supergirl less as an earnest symbol of hope than as a reluctant cosmic delinquent. This version drinks, swears, picks fights and generally behaves like someone who's only reluctantly accepted the burden of saving the universe.
Whether that makes her more relatable or simply less recognisable will depend on how attached you are to the source material.
   Interestingly, Kryptonian biology apparently now accommodates intoxication. Watching someone who can survive explosions, lasers and interstellar travel become gloriously drunk raises questions the script never bothers answering. If alcohol can affect an otherwise invulnerable alien, perhaps the real superpower is an exceptionally potent space cocktail.
   That carefree disregard for logic largely defines the movie. The plot exists mainly as connective tissue between action sequences, jokes and colourful encounters with the galaxy's many oddball inhabitants. The pacing rarely slows long enough to let emotional moments breathe, and several characters drift in and out before they've made much of an impression.
   Case in point: bounty hunter Lobo, whose arrival promises glorious mayhem. Jason Momoa bridges two eras of DC filmmaking by depicting the spacefaring mercenary, after defining the heroic Arthur Curry (Aquaman) in the DC Extended Universe (DCEU).
   Unfortunately, after all the anticipation, he contributes almost nothing to the plot. He's essentially an expensive cameo with muscles: a character who appears, looks imposing and then politely steps aside while everyone else finishes the movie.
   The rest of the supporting cast is a mixed bag. The young girl Ruthye, intent on avenging her family’s death, is intended to provide the emotional heart of the story, but instead at times proves more irritating than endearing. Much of her dialogue is difficult to decipher, making it surprisingly hard to connect with a character who occupies so much screen time.
   Meanwhile, villain Krem makes the baffling decision to drift into what sounds like a Russian accent. Whether this was a deliberate acting choice, or simply a mannerism that wandered off during production, remains anyone's guess.
   David Corenswet’s short cameos as an avuncular Superman in the form of a mentor and guiding light for Kara are, however, a delight. It reaffirm’s Gunn’s selection of him as the perfect actor for the new man of steel.
   Supergirl has enough charm to avoid becoming a complete misfire. It’s entertaining without ever becoming particularly memorable. It's eager to prove that its heroine isn't the polite, naive Kryptonian of old, but spends so much energy rebelling against expectations that it forgets to establish who she actually is.
   Is this heroine flying high? It’s more grounded by its own inability to decide what kind of adventure it wants to be. It's energetic, colourful and packed with spectacle, yet somehow never quite escapes orbit.

 #supergirl2026 #universal

HE'S MASTER'S VOICE RESOUNDS

 

MOVIE
Masters of the Universe
Director Travis Knight
Review Ray Chan

For a property that began life as a line of action figures designed to separate children from their pocket money, Masters of the Universe arrives with an unexpectedly earnest heart. Under the direction of Travis Knight, whose Bumblebee demonstrated an ability to eke out emotion amid toy-based corporate filmmaking, this trip to the world of Eternia aims for something more substantial than mere nostalgia exploitation.
    The plot follows Prince Adam (Nicholas Galitzine), a well-meaning if occasionally accident-prone young royal who discovers that he is destined to wield the Power Sword and become He-Man, champion of Castle Grayskull and protector of a kingdom of immense magic and advanced technology. Standing in his way is the evil Skeletor, played by Jared Leto with a theatrical abandon that ignores any semblance of subtlety.
    He-Man's iconic look is a blend of sword-and-sorcery fantasy and futuristic space warrior: a towering, heavily-sinewed, blonde barbarian wearing a fur-lined loincloth and tall, furry brown boots. He is most recognisable by his polished iron chest harness with a gray cross emblem.
    Galitzine proves an engaging centrepiece. Rather than presenting Adam as a pre-packaged hero, the film allows him moments of uncertainty and awkwardness before he grows into the role. His He-Man remains noble and brave, but refreshingly human beneath the mountains of muscle.
    The film's tone is perhaps its greatest surprise. The dialogue is knowingly corny, packed with grand declarations, melodramatic threats and enough questionable one-liners to fill an entire Saturday morning cartoon schedule. Yet it rarely feels cynical. Knight appears to understand that the material only works if everyone commits completely to its inherent absurdity.
    No one commits harder than Leto. His Skeletor is gloriously overcooked, complete with maniacal laughter that should sound ridiculous but somehow emerges as strangely convincing. It is the performance of a man who understands that an immortal skull-faced sorcerer is not the place to exercise restraint.
    If the film occasionally stumbles, it is under the weight of its own mythology. Callbacks, characters, and Easter eggs arrive with machine-gun frequency. Longtime devotees of Eternia's lore will likely spend much of the running time nudging companions and whispering explanations. Casual viewers may occasionally feel as though they have wandered into the middle of a reunion party where everyone else knows the in-jokes.
    Still, the spectacle is hard to resist. The production design embraces the colourful weirdness of it all, delivering monstrous creatures, oversized weapons and fantasy landscapes with considerable flair. Fans will especially love watching Adam’s cowardly green pet tiger, Cringer, transform into Battle Cat, a massive, armoured feline that serves as his steed in combat.
    And yes, there are post-credit scenes. The absence of two major characters throughout the main feature proves conspicuous enough that even newcomers may suspect something is being held back. Their eventual appearance all but confirms that the studio hopes this is merely the first chapter in a larger saga.
    Masters of the Universe is an entertaining, good-natured adventure powered by strong performances, impressive visuals, and an admirable willingness to embrace the delightful silliness of its source material. It may leave non-fans scratching their heads at some of the references, but for audiences willing to surrender to its peculiar wavelength, the Power of Grayskull remains surprisingly potent.

#mastersoftheuniverse #heman

THE FORCE IS JUST OK WITH THIS ONE

 

MOVIE
Star Wars: The Mandalorian and Grogu
Director Jon Favreau
Review Ray Chan
 
Jon Favreau’s cinematic rendition of the next Star Wars chapter — The Mandalorian and Grogu — is less a bold leap to the big screen than a lovingly stitched-together remix album of the Disney+ series’ greatest hits.
   Entire stretches feel as though they could have been expanded from abandoned episodic plots: the protagonist Din Djarin trudging through another dusty settlement, Grogu stealing food while staring soulfully into the middle distance, and assorted alien weirdos turning up for quests that seem designed mainly to get Pedro Pascal from one effects showcase to the next.
   Yet somehow, against the odds, it mostly works. This is the way.
   The film’s greatest strength is its visual imagination. The special effects are superb throughout, finally giving the franchise the epic scale that television budgets could only hint at.
   Giant alien beasts snarl, slither and stampede above ground and in water with convincing weight. One sequence involving assorted reptilian monsters in a pit feels gloriously reminiscent of classic Star Wars creature-feature chaos, and the film wisely understands that audiences will happily forgive storytelling repetition if they are shown enough bizarre wildlife trying to eat somebody.
   Grogu remains an irresistibly marketable little gremlin. The movie leans heavily into his comic timing, and while some viewers may tire of the endless cooing and reaction shots, the character still earns genuine laughs simply by waddling around causing low-level havoc.
   Pascal, meanwhile, continues the tradition of acting intensely through a helmet while sounding mildly exhausted … or is it a stand-in? One wonders how many of the scenes actually feature Hollywood’s resident daddy thespian, whose face is only shown briefly.
   Not everything lands. The script echoes better moments from the television show without quite matching them emotionally.
   Action scenes arrive with dependable regularity, but few feel especially consequential. And an interlude between those arcs, when Grogu has to help an injured Djarin, breaks up the narrative thrust so much it feels like a different movie.
   And then there are the accents. For a galaxy supposedly filled with exotic species and ancient civilizations, an alarming number of extraterrestrials sound as though they just wandered in from the Bronx.
   The worst offender is the bulked-up Rotta the Hutt, son of Jabba — the slug-like villain who tormented Princess Leia — and who Djarin is commissioned to track down. His astonishingly thick American accent, courtesy of The Bear’s Jeremy Allen White, makes him sound less like an intergalactic crime prince and more like somebody loudly ordering ribs at an American sports bar. It’s difficult to maintain mystical space-opera grandeur when the muscly mussel sounds ready to sell used pickup trucks on local television.

   All things considered though, The Mandalorian and Grogu delivers enough charm, spectacle, wonderfully grotesque creature mayhem, as well as enough recurring characters to satisfy fans of the series. 
   It may not expand the mythology in meaningful ways, but it understands exactly what audiences came for: shiny armour, cute puppetry, laser blasts, and behemoths with far too many teeth.
 

#starwars #mandalorianandgrogu

MARTIAL MAYHEM MARCHES ON

MOVIE
Mortal Kombat II
Director Simon McQuoid
Review Ray Chan

Nobody  is turning up to a movie called Mortal Kombat II hoping for restrained character studies and tasteful emotional subtlety. 
   They’re here to watch impossibly-good-looking or grotesque gnarly-faced characters punch each other through walls, tear spines out with varying degrees of theatrical flourish, and exchange one-liners that sound like they were forged in a 1993 gaming cabinet. On that level, the film delivers a flawless victory.
   Structurally, it is very much more of the same as the 2021 movie, and the interactive entertainment upon which it is based — Earthrealm versus Outworld, grim prophecies, escalating tournaments, and enough slow-motion grimacing to power a small hydroelectric dam. 
   But the producer/director team of Perth boys Simon McQuoid and James Wan are fully aware that the plot is mostly connective tissue between acts of gleeful dismemberment. The audience — most of whom would have known the game and characters intimately — came for imaginative gore, and the film serves it up with the enthusiasm of a chef unveiling a degustation menu made entirely of severed limbs.
   Like the first instalment, the movie leans hard into playful genre riffing, with several sequences being obvious affectionate nods to the 1986 classic Big Trouble in Little China — especially whenever mystical alleyways, ancient sorcerers in wide conical hats, and bewildered wisecracking Americans collide in gloriously neon-lit chaos. 
   There are also unmistakable visual winks toward the TV show Squid Game, as certain tournament arenas resemble death tournaments staged by someone who clearly has a Pinterest board labelled “Murder, But Make It Fashion”. 
   Rather than feeling lazy, these cultural references become part of the film’s charm: Mortal Kombat II knows it exists in the same gaming-pop soup as every cult action movie and streaming phenomenon of the last 40 years, and it enjoys tossing in cheeky little acknowledgements.
   The Easter eggs come flying almost as quickly as the body parts. Longtime fans will spot familiar game moves, classic sound effects, arena callbacks, hidden character cameos, and even sly references to the original games and 1995 film adaptations. Several scenes recreate signature attacks almost frame-for-frame, while background details reward anyone who spent their childhood pumping coins into an arcade machine instead of developing social skills. 
   Karl Urban’s Johnny Cage swaggers into the franchise like he was genetically engineered in a laboratory devoted entirely to smug B-movie charisma, but fellow Amtipodean Josh Lawson once again steals scenes as Kano — largely because the Australian ruffian treats every life-or-death situation like he’s midway through his fourth beer at a suburban barbecue. 
   His resurrection is absurd, completely unnecessary, but absolutely the correct decision. Even the writers have admitted they simply couldn’t resist bringing him back because he was too entertaining to lose. 
   In fairness, this is Mortal Kombat lore: death is less a permanent condition and more a temporary scheduling inconvenience.
   But this creates one lingering problem for future sequels. Once a necromancer like Quan Chi can simply wave his hands and revive fan favourites whenever the script requires another crowd-pleasing entrance, the stakes start feeling delightfully flimsy. 
   Characters can now die in sprays of arterial fireworks, only to wander back into the next movie looking mildly inconvenienced. It is tremendous fun for now, but there is a risk the franchise eventually turns into supernatural Whac-a-Mole, where no fatality is truly fatal anymore.

#universal #mortalkombatII

GIVE THE DEVIL ITS DUES

 

Movie
The Devil Wears Prada 2
Director David Frankel
Review Ray Chan

Somewhere between a Paris Runway and a corporate boardroom apocalypse, The Devil Wears Prada finally receives its anticipated sequel — and like a pair of stilettos found at the back of a closet, it somehow still fits.
   The Devil Wears Prada 2 reunites the icy volcanic force of Meryl Streep as Miranda Priestly, who now prowls the media landscape like a silk-swathed velociraptor trying to outrun the masses. Anne Hathaway returns as Andy Sachs, no longer the bewildered assistant in chunky sweaters, but a polished media executive whose calm competence hides the same existential panic simmering beneath her bangs 20 years ago.
   Emily Blunt also storms back into the film with sharpened cheekbones and enough deadpan venom to qualify as chemical warfare, her namesake ascending from abused assistant to terrifying luxury conglomerate titan. Meanwhile, Stanley Tucci returns as Nigel, still dispensing emotional support and scarves in equal measure, gliding through the film like the patron saint of exhausted creative directors.
   This time, Miranda fights to preserve the relevance of her Runway magazine in a world dominated by influencers, AI branding consultants, and 20-somethings reviewing couture from their bedrooms.  Most women’s glossy publications have all closed or gone digital-only. As she grimly puts it, “the September issue’s already so thin you could floss with it”. 
   Then things get complicated after publisher Irv Ravitz dies, leaving the future of Runway in the hands of his son: a Silicon Valley-coded doofus who dreams of replacing editors and models with AI. 
   Andy, naturally, becomes tangled between loyalty, ambition, and the horrifying possibility that she may actually be turning into Miranda. Again.
   The film stuffs itself with cameos like a designer handbag packed for Milan Fashion Week. There are appearances by celebrities from in and outside the fashion world, including Lady Gaga, Donatella Versace, Domenico Dolce, Stefano Gabbana, and supermodels Naomi Campbell and Heidi Klum.
   And yet — despite all the glamour, all the couture trench coats, all the exquisitely tailored insults — it doesn’t quite hit the heights of the original and its superficial sarcasm.
   The first movie succeeded because of its sharpness, a sadness, and a perfectly balanced cruelty beneath its glossy surface. The follow-up is grander, more self-aware, and occasionally very funny, but it lacks the original film’s delicious surprise.
   But maybe it’s because the novelty factor is lost. Back in 2006, nobody expected a movie about handbags and magazine deadlines to become a modern workplace myth. Now the second part arrives already wearing its own legacy like an expensive coat — beautiful, tailored, and just a little heavy.
   Still, spending two more hours in Miranda Priestly’s orbit remains deeply entertaining, and a twist ending wraps up the story satisfactorily. Florals for spring may not be groundbreaking, but watching Miranda reduce a tech billionaire to ash with a single glance certainly is.

 #devilwearsprada2

DIVINE RESURRECTION

 

MOVIE
Dogma (2025 release)
Director Kevin Smith
Review Ray Chan

It's hard to believe that Dogma just turned 25. Still relevant today as when it was accused of heresy back in 1999, it's a brilliant exposition of what happens when Christian theology skips Sunday service, grabs a beer, and starts asking uncomfortable questions with a grin.
   On the surface, it’s a road-trip comedy littered with angels, demons, prophets, and profanity. But beneath the irreverence, it’s a surprisingly thoughtful meditation on belief — less interested in what you believe than how tightly you cling to it. The film gleefully pokes holes in rigid doctrine, suggesting that faith, when stripped of curiosity, becomes less divine truth and more bureaucratic loophole.
   Director Kevin Smith knew what hot water he’d be getting into with this deliberate introspection of a religion he clearly has no time for: so much so that he felt compelled to insert an apologetic note to viewers at the start and end of the movie.
   The central premise — a pair of fallen angels exploiting a technicality to re-enter Heaven — works as a sly metaphor for institutional religion itself. Rules, the film argues, can become so convoluted that they undermine the very principles they’re meant to uphold. It’s a study of scripture as fine print, salvation as a contractual oversight. Divine grace is reduced to something you might accidentally redeem, like a supermarket coupon.
   There's a cast stacked with stars: Ben Affleck, Matt Damon, Chris Rock, Salma Hayek, Alan Rickman, Alanis Morissette, George Carlin. And Smith himself.
   But what makes Dogma stand out and land its punches is its satire, which is sharp but rarely cruel. It doesn’t attack spirituality so much as it skewers the human tendency to systematise it into something rigid, exclusionary, and oddly corporate. The Church, in this universe, feels less like a sacred space and more like a brand in need of a re-launch, complete with marketing campaigns and focus-group-friendly iconography.
   There are some scenes already rendered iconic in pop culture:

Buddy Christ: Cardinal Glick introduces a rebranded Jesus who winks and gives a thumbs-up. This satirises the Church's attempts to market itself to contemporary youth through a more palatable yet hollow image.

Ideas vs. Beliefs: Rufus, the 13th Apostle, argues that ideas are superior to beliefs because beliefs are rigid and lead to conflict, whereas ideas can grow and change.

The Glass of Water: Faith is compared to a glass of water that is easy to fill when you are young. As one grows, the vessel becomes larger, and the same amount of water (faith) no longer fills it, necessitating a refill through new spiritual experiences.

The Golgathan (Shit Demon): This monster, comprised of the excrement of those executed at Calvary, serves as a literal and metaphorical representation of human sin and the waste produced by the darker side of religious history.

   And yet, for all its irreverence, the film isn’t cynical. There’s an underlying warmth to its chaos, a suggestion that belief is messy because people are messy.
   The characters stumble, argue, and swear their way through existential crises, but they’re all searching for something genuine. Even the divine figures are flawed, implying that perfection might be less important than intention.
   In that sense, Dogma is less a takedown of religion than a plea for humility within it. It asks: what if faith wasn’t about certainty, but about openness? What if questioning wasn’t sacrilegious, but devotion?
   Of course, it delivers all this wrapped in crude jokes and absurd set pieces, as if to say: if you’re going to wrestle with the meaning of existence, you might as well laugh while doing it.

 

CASH AND CONSCIENCE

 

MOVIE
Good Fortune
Director Aziz Ansari
Review Ray Chan

Aziz Ansari steps confidently into the director’s chair with this feature movie, having the good fortune indeed to assemble a comedic dream team in Seth Rogen, Keanu Reeves and Sandra Oh for an engaging, light-on-its-feet meditation on fate, friendship and finding happiness amidst everyday mess.
    Ansari’s signature blend of sharp wit and gentle vulnerability — traits which helped him win two Emmys and a Golden Globe — powers the film’s comedic engine, and his onscreen partnership with Rogen crackles with easy chemistry and plenty of unscripted affections and emotions.​
    Rogen, as a tech boss with abundant wealth, is in warm and riotous form, bringing a lovable brand of chaos to every scene, his timing complementing Ansari’s more neurotic, philosophical musings as he ponders his homeless, jobless life.
    But Reeves steals the show as guardian angel Gabriel, tasked with protecting people who text while driving. Delivering a delightfully self-aware turn as a zen-like mentor with more eccentric wisdom than sense, he gently spoofs his own serenity as he guides (and derails) the leads on their path to “good fortune”.
    It’s a role that lets Reeves lean into deadpan comedy and sparkle with understated charm, making him truly difficult to dislike.
    The issues the film addresses are hardly subtle, highlighting financial stress, labour exploitation in gig economies, and income inequality. What makes the production stand out is Ansari’s focus on the small, awkward moments as it is in big gags, gently poking fun at contemporary culture without tipping into cynicism.
    Forget over-extravagant cinematic spectacle, Good Fortune is exactly what its title promises — a stroke of luck for viewers seeking joy, relatable confusion, and comedy with a side of heart. Fortune may favour the bold, and it certainly also works well for the funny.

​
#goodfortune #goodfortunemovie #azizansari

MORE LIVE ROUNDS THAN BLANKS

 

MOVIE 
Naked Gun (2025)
Director Akiva Schaffer
Review Ray Chan

In many ways, the manic movies of David Zucker, Jim Abrahams, and Jerry Zucker were products of their time.
    Side-splitting offerings like Kentucky Fried Movie, Top Secret, and the Flying High and Naked Gun series offered a fresh take on parody, and were guaranteed crowd-pullers.
    Mixing straight-faced performances with sight gags and ditzy double entendres, the productions managed to reach out to a wide-ranging section of the community because of the cultural ubiquity of the genres they mocked.
    Now fast forward more than 30 years to current times, in a woke environment when comedic restrictions are far less loose. Modern filmmakers trying to recreate that formula of in-your-face ridiculousness face a tougher task because the art of farce has evolved, audiences are more fragmented, and boundaries are tighter.
    But if anybody could manage to capture that lightning in a bottle again, you’d be hard-pressed to think of anyone more suitable than Family Guy creator Seth MacFarlane, whose successes with Ted and A Million Ways to Die in the West briefly hoisted him as the saviour of big screen comedy.
    However, it took so long to put the puzzle pieces together that MacFarlane himself stepped back to merely produce, with new director Akiva Schaffer brought in to create this brave follow-up to the adventures of the klutzy Frank Drebin (who Leslie Nielsen portrayed with deadpan dash) … or in this case, Frank’s son Frank Jr, played by Liam Neeson.
    Indeed, this familial nod-of-the-hat is used as a running gag in the movie … with the sons of former Naked Gun members Ed Hocking (played by Paul Walter Hauser, hot off Fantastic Four) and Nordberg also working in Drebins’ squad.
    The original genre certainly worked a treat, because most of the jokes and pratfalls came thick, fast, and in pretty much every form available, from subtle to silly.
    I’m pleased to report that The Naked Gun (2025) captures that essence well, and it’s a tribute to the writers — Schaffer, Dan Gregor and Doug Mand — that they so successfully captured the formula.
    The opening sequence is smart and well worthy of the introductions to the previous Naked Gun episodes, but it’s a pity that some of the impact has been lost because the punchline has been revealed in one of the film’s promotional trailers.
    Nevertheless, it’s a valiant attempt at reviving that comedic sweet spot. Neeson captures the essence of Nielsen perfectly, delivering absurd lines with absolute sincerity.
    Some jokes work better than others, but if you sit back with no misconceptions of whether the movie will fit with modern expectations, you’ll find this gets the laughs it goes for - and this gun shoots for a damn lot.
    Perhaps the best performer in the ensemble, somewhat surprisingly, is Pamela Anderson, looking absolutely stunning for her 58 years. Stealing the show with razor-sharp timing, her portrayal of  Beth Davenport is a memorable high point, reemphasising her status not only as a veritable icon, but as a skilled comedic performer with a modern flair.
    There is also a clear chemistry between her and Neeson, an affection that has seemingly progressed both on and off the screen.
    The credits are a tribute to the Police Squad TV series that spawned the whole Zucker-Abrahams line of motion picture madness, embedded with the odd quips and wisecracks for those hardy enough to go through every word. And the payoff right at the end features a character who would certainly not feel out of place in any sequel to this particular film.
    Naked Gun (2025) is proof that old-school, cheesy humour still works. You’ll certainly go home in a happier mood than if you watched any of the modern milk-soppish comedies trying too hard to be clever with their in-jokes and pretentious narratives.

#nakedgun #nakedgunmovie #paramountau

ALL BARK AND NO BITE

 

MOVIE
Superman (2025)
Director James Gunn
Review Ray Chan

The first of the offerings in DC’s new cinematic universe was much-anticipated, thanks in no small part to effective teaser trailers that foreshadowed some of the characters that were to be included.
   Long-time DC aficionados literally wept in excitement. Krypto the Super-Dog! Guy Gardner, the rogue Green Lantern! Mr Terrific and his T-spheres! And of course, a new actor in the lead role (David Corenswet).
   And it’s these very fans who will be swept away by director James Gunn’s no-recap take on the man of steel. But sadly, if you come in from the cold, you may feel lost, and certainly could be forgiven for not knowing how a mutt has super-powers or why it wears a cape.
   Gunn surmises that the viewers who pack the seats in the cinema are already familiar with parts of the Superman lore. Here, Superman is already a champion, his Clark Kent identity already established, his Daily Planet cohorts Lois Land and Jimmy Olsen already reporting on news pieces, and Luthor already hanging around as the villain. Fellow heroes have already been established as the Justice Gang, ensconced in a Hall of Justice inspired by the animated Super-Friends TV series.
   Ergo, this movie feels more like a sequel than the first block of what promises to be a skyscraper of super-hero fare. If you want an origin story, move on.
   But once you get into the groove of things, it’s not difficult to work out who’s on the sides of good and evil. Our hero is tricked by his bald-headed nemesis into thinking that his parents wanted him to be more a sinner than a saviour, and as a result also manages to turn many countries against him.
   There are no real complex sub-plots, and the story chugs along relatively linearly so it’s easy to follow. It’s not hard to recognise the sort of fresh dialogue, comedic banter and light-hearted scenes that Gunn suffused his Marvel productions with. (Although perhaps, Gunn goes too far by portraying the aforementioned Justice Gang members as preening layabouts backed by corporate sponsorship, presumably for laughs.)
   However, look harder and there are far more serious undertones at the heart of Superman (2025).
   It’s a tale about belonging. Now a more introspective and culturally aware figure, Clark is caught between two worlds — his homeworld Krypton and Earth.
   The film uses Superman’s alien origin as a potent metaphor for the experience of immigrants in the land of truth, justice and the American way (as we used to know it). His very presence becomes a political flashpoint: is he here to help or to replace?
   Certainly, Clark’s quiet dignity in the face of hostility mirrors the perseverance of countless real-life migrants.
   Owing more to fate than design, the movie is released while this very issue has raised its head in the midst of the current political unrest in the country the story is set in.
   And there’s even more irony. The plot ventures into allegorical territory that unintentionally touches on one of the world’s most volatile conflicts: the Israel-Palestine crisis. Through the fictional stand-in of a disputed borderland — home to two peoples with historical, cultural, and religious claims — the picture touches on the ethics of occupation, resistance, and identity.
   Superman finds himself trying to mediate peace in a land where compromise is seen as betrayal and justice is weaponised by both sides.
   The hero’s attempts at neutrality are challenged, his power becomes a double-edged sword, and his hope for peace begins to feel like naïveté.   
   Corenswet is a solid performer in the tights, and also out of them. His Superman is more of moral weight than muscle, and when he puts on the glasses and civilian clothes, he does enough to deflect any suspicion that there’s steel behind the suit.
   A word on the special effects: in 1978, when the first Superman movie came out, viewers were challenged to believe that a man could fly.
   In 2025, with CGI used by practically every studio, the challenge is to believe how well a man can fly. Characters flitting through the skies is now commonplace, and yet in several scenes, some of the choreography is clumsy as actors try to manoeuvre while dangled on invisible strings.
   All in all though, for much of the viewing, the new Superman film does soar like its titular character — but maybe just not as high as one would have hoped. Yet, like Icarus who flew too close to the sun, that may be just for the best; DC would do well not to aim for spectacular peaks with this new franchise, for fear of losing sight of the ground beneath its feet.
   The lingering question is whether we need another version of the champion. In an era where drawn-out and destructive superhero fight scenes are now actually more ho-hum than hair-raising, Superman’s relevance hinges not just on nostalgia but on cultural resonance.
   While he remains one of the most iconic and enduring figures in pop culture, his cinematic legacy has been uneven — oscillating between awe-inspiring grandeur and underwhelming reinventions.
   What makes this new chapter significantly different to others that came before? More Superman interpretations will continue to draw interest only if directors like Gunn reimagine the character in a way that speaks to today’s world while respecting his mythic roots.

#Superman2025  #UniversalPicsAU

MISSION STATEMENT

 

MOVIE
Mission Impossible: The Final Reckoning
Director Christopher McQuarrie
Review Ray Chan

You don’t really need to have seen the last 30 years’ worth of Mission Impossible movies featuring Tom Cruise to comprehend this current offering: the eighth, and purportedly, last of the series.
    And, indeed, it’s almost as impossible as the flick’s name to believe that the toothy thespian made his first appearance for  the Impossible Mission Force (IMF) ─ a special-agent unit loyal to no-one but weirdly always at the beck and call of the USA ─ back in 1996. My daughter, now the mother of four kids, was born not long before then, and she’s practically grown up with each instalment.
    Annoyingly for many of us dad-bodied denizens, Tom has not let age weary him. He looks great for 62, understandably a bit fuller in the face, but still retaining an Adonis-esque appearance.
    As Ethan Hunt, the beleaguered spy’s modus operandi seems to be shooting, sprinting and skydiving in attempts to rescue the world, often in adventures with espionage plots so byzantine and convoluted that  they’re really not worth wasting time pondering over.
    What makes viewers come back to these spectacles is the desire to watch this actor’s adrenaline-junkie pursuit of action-cinema realism, in which he shuns stand-ins and prefers performing the acrobatics and athletics himself.
    At a time when CGI-laden adaptations and mega-blockbusters have dulled even the most extraordinary superhuman feats on screen, Tom's fanatic insistence on performing the most extravagant stunts adds just that bit more spice the films, daring audiences to look away as real blood, flesh and bones are risked for their entertainment. 
    And so, don’t expect any surprises from Final Reckoning. The complex storyline is as inscrutable  as they come, involving a malevolent and pseudo-sentient AI program, while pulling in elements from previous chapters in what seems to be an effort to neatly tie up any loose threads hanging around.
    But as mentioned before, none of it matters. All you need to know is that Hunt and his crew work to overcome insurmountable odds (more than once) to grab an object, fire an object, cut the wires to an object, or shove an object into another object at exactly the right moment.
    It's visual storytelling, and it's the same song the franchise has been singing since our hero was rock climbing or fighting on tops of trains which fell over edges in the first film. You don't have to understand it to get it. 
    The showstoppers are impressive: one involves Hunt navigating freezing waters to infiltrate a sunken Russian submarine (in a sequence that really takes far too long), and the other a well-publicised duel in which the agent gets thrown around like a ragdoll on a biplane.
    And if you want a reason for watching this movie, then that’s the clincher. If this is indeed Tom's swansong, it's the last chance to be enthralled by his antics on the big screen.
    It’s not too much a spoiler to say that Hunt survives the ordeals. So is Final Reckoning truly final? Who can say?
    Hunt has been almost hilariously  described by his peers as "the living manifestation of destiny", but not even his Optimus Prime platitudes about fate and determination can eradicate villainy, which is bound to rear its head again.
    Who will the President call next time? Perhaps it’s something to contemplate while having a roast dinner.

#missionimpossible #finalreckoning #paramountpicturesAus

COULROPHOBIC CORNY-COPIA

 

MOVIE
Clown in a Cornfield
Director Eli Craig
Review Ray Chan

About 20 minutes into this movie, viewers can be forgiven for twitching in their seats … not out of fright, but perhaps of boredom at the usual tropes and gruesome gore expected of typical slasher spectacles.
    During this introductory period, the plot’s pretty basic. 17-year-old Quinn Maybrook (Katie Douglas) and her single father (Aaron Abrams) have moved into rural Kettle Springs, Missouri, where Quinn befriends a group of teens her age and finds that her fun-loving cohort appear to be generally frowned upon by the older generation in the town, who prefer the quieter life of yore.
    Then a killing spree by someone wearing a clown costume drenches the community in a sea of blood. It turns out that the jester is a facsimile of Frendo, a mascot of the local corn syrup factory which burned down years ago, an incident which many of the elderly folks believe was caused by the young ‘uns.
    Ho-hum, you might think. But then, in the hands of director Eli Craig, all of this is intentional and referential to the history of slashers, down to the point where Quinn quips that the massacres remind her of something out of an 80’s splatter show. 
    Craig is best known for co-writing and directing Tucker and Dale vs Evil. In the years since that film’s release, no other self-parodying scare production has even come close to snatching the crown off of its trucker-hatted head. Its genius is rooted in simultaneously inhabiting and satirising the genre, without sacrificing either the jokes or the terrors lurking round the corner. 
    And so, in a blink of an eye, this movie picks up, revealing not just some clever and inventive scenes, witty dialogue and plenty of red herrings as to the identity of the villain, but also some incredibly solid kills, like the gnarly chainsaw slaughter in the middle of the cornfield, a barbell incident that sees a severed head dispatched into a bin, and a brutal pitchfork sequence that results in two deaths.
    Kevin Durand is the unexpected delight of the cast, and looks so much like Elon Musk that he must be a shoo-in for the lead if a doco-pic of the businessman were ever made.
    In this picture, as Arthur Hill, Durand initially comes off as a stereotypical father who is part of a lucrative family that founded the town. But he evolves into something else entirely that is wholly crucial to the circus-themed massacre.
    Metaphorically, the theme of Clown .. is of a feud between the older and younger contemporaries. The divide is amplified by incidents such Quinn not being able to drive an old-fashioned stickshift car, her disgust at the absence of a strong wi-fi signal, or her school friends being stumped by a rotary phone, unable to call for help. The high school students are sneered at, looked down on for simply having a good time, and judged for things they didn’t ever do or think about doing. The sheriff seems to make his own laws, and teachers dish out detention for no reason.
    Craig and co-writer Carter Blanchard treat the movie with moments of coulrophobic greatness. Frendo is a brutal psychopath whose weird devotion to the harlequin art form (like his big shoes that squeak when he walks during the tensest moments of stalking his prey) makes the audience snigger through the slaughter.
    One particular confrontation in the cornfield is particularly well-choreographed: Quinn and two girl friends are hiding in panic from a chainsaw-wielding Frendo, when one of them inadvertently gasps in fear. Her pal alongside clasps her hand over her mouth to silence her, only for the would-be-saviour herself to also start to yell out in fright. Quinn completes the sequence by covering this girl’s mouth, but then gets her own face grasped by the white glove of Frendo.  
    One can’t help but notice that the film is overflowing with palpable teenage energy. But the constant barrage of “adults just don’t understand us” and the nonstop desire to drink themselves stupid at every opportunity becomes predictable and tiresome.
    Still, the movie is refreshingly different to straight-out fright flicks because of the whimsiness and wit strewn in among the clownish carnage. The playful campy tone only adds to the entertainment, deftly balancing the comedy and horror elements. This is not The Terrifier, and Frendo is no Art.
    There are a couple of plot twists along the way to wrap things up nicely. One involves the unmasking of Frendo, the other a neat development between two of Quinn’s friends that can be picked up earlier in the story if one were astute enough.

#clowninacornfield #studiocanal