Deadpool
by Hope Madden, MaddWolf.com
R-rated super hero movies are few and far between, but there are some subjects that would be so neutered with a teen-friendly rating that the hero would cease to be. Like Deadpool.
A thug with a quick wit, foul mouth, a like-minded girl, and quite possibly a ring pop where it doesn’t belong, Wade Wilson has it all – including inoperable cancer, which sends him into the arms of some very bad doctors. The rest of the film – in energetically non-chronological order – is the revenge plot.
Directing newcomer (longtime video game FX guy) Tim Miller gets the nod with this off-season but still highly anticipated Marvel flick, and he does two things quite well. He knows how to stage an action sequence – which is key, obviously. But more importantly, he understands the tone needed to pull this film off.
Deadpool was introduced onscreen back in 2009 in X-Men Origins: Wolverine, but those films are so serious. Miller understands that, to make the most of this character, humor is the name of the game.
An utterly unbridled Ryan Reynolds returns as the titular Super (yes) Hero (no), and though the actor’s reserve of talent has long been debated, few disagree that his brand of self-referential sarcasm and quippage beautifully suits this character.
T.J. Miller and Morena Baccarin go toe to toe with Reynolds, and Leslie Uggams gets a couple of good lines, too. Leslie Uggams!
Penned by Rhett Reese and Paul Wernick – scribes behind the brilliant and hilarious genre mash up Zombieland – Deadpool is a nasty piece of fun from the opening credits (as magnificent a gag as any you’ll see for the entire 108 minute run time).
Even the sloppy and slow pieces – the inevitable X-Men tie ins, for instance – are sent up mercilessly, as if the writers and Reynolds himself know what the audience is thinking, which is: Who are these two lamos and why are they in this movie? Seriously, where’s Mystique?
All the sarcastic cuteness can wear thin, but Deadpool does not stoop to hard won lessons or self-sacrificing victories. It flips the bird at the Marvel formula, turns Ryan Reynolds into an avocado, and offers the most agreeably childish R-rated film of the young year.
Where to Invade Next
by George Wolf, MaddWolf.com
If dashed hopes and broken dreams have a face, you’ll see it early in Michael Moore’s Where to Invade Next.
While Moore talks to an Italian couple, we see a montage of holiday pics as they happily discuss the many weeks of paid vacation they’re allotted. When the man explains that he and many of his friends dream of one day living in America, Moore drops the bomb.
“You know how many paid weeks you get, by law? Zero.”
So, two hours of America-bashing, then? Only if that’s what you’re looking for.
Italy is just the first stop on Moore’s crusade to crisscross the globe and plant the American flag wherever he finds ideas worth claiming for the betterment of life back home.
He travels to Finland to uncover a once broken education system that is now thriving, speaks with Portuguese officials about how they combat drug abuse, outlines the historical successes of the women’s rights movement in Tunisia, and more.
These aren’t zero-sum proposals, just ideas that are making people’s lives better, and that don’t seem hard to emulate. Would copying France’s school lunch program turn us all into surrender monkeys? No, but it would probably make for healthier kids who understood more about nutrition.
Moore’s self-important tactics can be grating enough to sometimes derail his ambitions, but here he’s at his most affable and sincere. Though a less than healthy appearance makes the news of his recent hospital stay unsurprising, Moore is funny, self-deprecating and downright charming as he chats up the locals across various foreign borders.
That’s not to say Moore only tries on the kid gloves. Some segments do hit hard, such as one on Germany’s approach to addressing its shameful past, and a Portuguese police officer’s advice on keeping “human dignity” above all.
Where to Invade Next is not only a nice rebound from the rambling cynicism of Moore’s Capitalism: A Love Story, it stands as one of his best films to date. Focused, engaging and undeniably hopeful, it delivers shots of common sense that sound a lot like a rallying cry.
How to Be Single
by Hope Madden, MaddWolf.com
Upending rom-com clichés has become its own cliché, and yet, with the right minds and talent, it can still be a fresh and funny experience. Please see Trainwreck.
Seriously. Please see it.
How to Be Single makes a valiant attempt to send up genre clichés as it follows four ladies and a handful of gentlemen, each failing to make that love connection with the Manhattan backdrop. It tries too hard, honestly, but it does get off a few good lines along the way.
Dakota Johnson anchors the ensemble as Alice, our everygirl, a new college grad ready to take a break from her longtime beau, head to the Big Apple, and find herself.
Alice’s circle includes her workaholic sister (Leslie Mann) and a wild new BFF (Rebel Wilson). Both comic veterans deliver some genuine laughs – thanks to an occasionally insightful script by Abby Kohn, Marc Silverstein, and Dana Fox – but Wilson, in particular, needs to find a new gimmick.
A revolving door of male characters includes one kooky performance by Jason Mantzoukas (a bright spot in this film, as he was in Dirty Grandpa). Ken Lacy also makes an appearance as basically the exact same character he played in the far superior film Obvious Child.
Which is one of the weirdest things about How to Be Single – it brazenly borrows from other, better films. Leslie Mann has a conversation that is almost identical to one from This Is 40, while her storyline steals an awful lot – including the boyfriend – from Obvious Child. Add to that the fact that Wilson’s boozy party girl schtick was lifted wholesale from Trainwreck, and you start to wonder if the film’s title should be How to Commit Larceny.
This is not to say the movie is bereft of humor. It does offer a handful of laughs, and it often lulls you into believing that characters are about to follow a formula, only to have that tiresome trope cleverly undermined.
It’s not that the film is bad, it’s just that it’s not as good as many other films and it knows it.
(Trailer NSFW-ish)