Hello and welcome to the movie blog of author John DeFrank - FilmZ and Guy Sobriquet Malone - Researcher


Logan Review by Guy S. Malone, Researcher

One of our major gripes about movie critics is that they grade superhero movies and franchise films on a softer curve than complex, serious original films.  This is the subject of an upcoming essay I am researching, but the point today is that very few films of these types truly warrant the lofty ratings they receive.  Off the top of our head, only X-Men: Days of Future Past, Mad Max: Fury Road, Wonder Woman, and the subject of today, Logan, rate consideration as serious drama.  With the Oscars bearing down on us, FilmZ and I finally caught up with Logan On Demand.  In it, we found a film whose metaphor--fighting institutionalized racism, nefarious government eugenics experiments--is thrilling and tragic.  A warning, its "R"-rating for violence is well-earned.

It is 2029, Logan (Hugh Jackman) is making ends meet as a chauffer, trying to lay low.  Ah the best-laid plans of Wolverines and men ...  Sleeping one off in his car, drunk and sick--poisoned by adamantium, the very substance that has made him invulnerable--Logan is awakened by the racket of an armed gang stripping his car.  He takes issue, leaving a path of Wolverine carnage in his wake, thus blowing his cover.  Days later, after a funeral, a woman, Gabriela (Elizabeth Rodriguez), calls out his name and Logan flees, and soon after that a man named Pierce (Boyd Holbrook) jumps in the back seat of his limo and genially pries Logan for information about the woman who is looking for him.  His antisocial nature aside, Logan really doesn't like this guy.  Good intuition, for Boyd is the strong-arm aide to Dr. Rice (Richard E. Grant), a Nazi-like scientist running genetic experiments on Mexican children.  And Gabriela had been trying deliver a seemingly feral Laura (Dafne Keen) to Logan for protection.  Why?  Logan doesn't care.  He prefers his desert hideout where he cares for the aging and ailing Professor Charles Xavier (Patrick Stewart) and his mutant caretaker, the albino mind-tracker Caliban (Stephen Merchant).  Just as Caliban can't stand direct sunlight, Professor X, whose mind is starting to falter, needs meds to calm his seizures--to put it mildly, as befitting the most powerful mutant mind in the world, his fits can be cataclysmic.

That's the setup.  Obviously, Logan meets up with Laura; obviously, Logan, being Logan, doesn't want to take responsibility for the 11-year old; obviously, he grudgingly does so because the men who want her are so evil that there is no other option; obviously, bad guy chicanery and mutant badassery ensue.  After all, he's the Wolverine and this is an X-Men film.  But a lot is not so obvious.  While Professor X remains the patriarch of the mutants, the one they could always count on to work things out, dreadful things have happened to the X-Men, not the least of which is that the Professor and Logan, the once-great standard-bearers of the mutant population, have declined in power and will.  Proud warriors, whose bodies and minds are faltering at a time when they are most needed, if for nothing more, than for a last stand, their Alamo. And then there is Laura, a little girl with a big secret.  Who would guess that she would be the one to revitalize the X-Men, stir them to resolve, bind them as a family, and bring hope against hopeless odds?  

Director James Mangold, working on his own story, with screenwriting help from Scott Frank and Michael Green, knows his subject, for sure--Logan has earned an Academy Award nomination for Adapted Screenplay.  Has a superhero movie ever been nominated in a screenplay category?  Seriously, I'm asking.  That alone shows that Logan is more than stunts and super action; it has heart and humanity, and while it helps to have a background in X-Men lore, with just a little tweaking, this film would have worked well as, say, an original Western.  As to the cast, the acting bona fides of Patrick Stewart and Hugh Jackman go unquestioned.  Stephen Merchant as a melancholy outcast and Richard E. Grant as a latter-day Josef Mengele bring depth and texture to their roles.  But the discovery here is Dafne Keen.  She is a brewing storm on the horizon who bursts forth with such force and fury that we can only hope to see more of her in future X-Men tales.
8.5 out of 10 on an Entertainment Scale
7.5 out of 10 on an Awards Scale

Phantom Thread

Phantom Thread review by FilmZ

Paul Thomas Anderson's genre of preference is drama but drama with a twist, usually in the personalities of his main characters.  Self-aware or not, they are square pegs in a round world, a world they try to bend to their desires.  These attempts come with mixed results, and therein lies the drama, or the comedy if one takes a bit of a cockeyed look at it.  As I took in Phantom Thread, I often found myself bursting into laughter, only to receive NHL-worthy body checks from the Czarina and Guy S. Malone, Researcher.  Was I the only one who saw the black comic elements, skewering 1950s London haute couture?  Yes, it had all of the trappings of a high-end drama, especially Jonny Greenwood's lushly romantic score, period-accurate costumes and sets, and as a central focus the relationship between the artistic genius and his muse.  But that relationship--yoi!

Reynolds Woodcock (Daniel Day-Lewis) is dressmaker to the highest levels of society and royalty.  He is a perfectionist, obsessed with his work, fastidious in manner and mode, and inpatient with the imperfection of others.  We first see him at breakfast, sketching a dress.  Seated with him are his sister Cyril (Leslie Manville) and a young paramour whose every word and movement clearly irk the designer.  We see immediately that Cyril is not only the manager of the House of Woodcock, she is its protector--as the Czarina put it, "She's like Mrs. Danvers from Rebecca".  After breakfast, Cyril asks Reynolds if he would prefer that she tells the young woman to move out, and her brother says that would be best.  Cyril follows up with a suggestion that becomes most fateful for the ensuing two hours of the film: She thinks Reynolds could use a nice, relaxing stay in the country.

Cut to an upscale rural inn, where Reynolds is about to order breakfast when he spots klutzy server Alma (Vicky Krieps).  He is smitten, or as smitten as Reynolds gets because he makes it clear that he can never commit to marriage: "Marriage would make me deceitful, and I don't ever want that."  Perhaps his unresolved issues with his dead mother, his fussy perfectionism, or his egocentric worldview--all marked traits---get in the way.  But he has never met anyone like Alma; her soft voice and Mona Lisa smile conceal resources the likes of which Reynolds never had to contend.  The fussy man soon finds that even watching her eat toast repulses him, but she defends the House of Woodcock with assured fury.  She even wins over the icy Cyril.  Their relationship becomes an exercise in approach-avoidance, ever escalating, culminating in an unexpected (bizarre?) set of events.

A significant portion of the cinephile population places Paul Thomas Anderson at the top of the auteur list in Hollywood, and while we respect his oeuvre (The Master, There Will Be Blood, Boogie Nights) we really like his films rather than adore them.  His vision and his eye, though, are most impressive, and they usually place his movies in awards contention.  We already mentioned the score, but the production design and costumes immerse us in 1950s London.  Then there is his story and the cast that delivers it: PTA's screenplay is, at times, inspired, at time, not, but actors Vicky Krieps, Leslie Manville, and Daniel Day-Lewis elevate even the mundane moments.  It won't be for everyone, but Anderson is true to himself, and that's enough.
8.0 out of 10 on an Entertainment Scale
8.5 out of 10 on an Awards Scale
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