The thing about Paul Thomas Anderson is that his talent is so great that even his bad movies are, well, pretty good. His technique and craft are such that his worst movie still has plenty worth noting and considering. Inherent Vice was, by most accounts, not a great movie. And yet there was something about his style that made it, if nothing else, interesting to watch. 

Licorice Pizza, the auteur’s latest, is a far better movie than Inherent Vice (which I guess isn’t saying much) and a far worse movie than the rest of his canon. It lacks the gravitas of There Will Be Blood; the pathos of Boogie Nights; the sheer bizarre interest of Magnolia. And yet, disappointing as that was, it’s hard to deny the movie its charms, few as they might be.

Largely plotless, Licorice Pizza plays out as a series of interconnected, slice of life vignettes about child actor-slash-entrepreneur Gary Valentine (Cooper Hoffman, son of late actor Philip Seymour Hoffman) and the woman he has a crush on, Alana (Alana Haim). Together and separate, the two navigate the simpler world of 1970’s Los Angeles searching for some semblance of love and meaning in their day to day.

The film has a kind of haphazard construction, often feeling as though the scenes that comprise it were ideas for scenes that Anderson had no other use for. There’s little narrative throughway between the scenes as they exist, to the point where, by the end, it kind of just feels as though they’re stacked on top of each other, precariously balanced to ensure the film meets its runtime. 

That said, there’s no denying that the scenes are all extremely well written and performed. Haphazard and slapdash though it often feels, Hoffman and Haim both give standout introductory performances that each deserve awards. Haim, especially, carries the emotional weight of the film, proving herself to be a talented multi-hyphenate who is just as intoxicating on screen as she is behind the guitar or keyboards. And Hoffman very often displays hints of the charm and talent of his father, no small feat to be sure.

Still, it’s difficult to get over the fact that the narrative thrust that does exist in Licorice Pizza is a love story between a 15-year-old boy and a 25-year-old woman. Watching the film, I kept wondering how it would be received had the roles been reversed and I can’t really imagine a film being given this much acclaim had this been the case. The love story is presented as tender and nostalgic, but it’s also undeniably creepy and uncomfortable. Which would be fine had the film acknowledged this fact. But it does not. Instead, it just lingers there, hovering over the narrative like a dark, pedophilic cloud.

Beyond that, the film also does precious little to justify its narrative decisions. Gary, for example, is left pretty unexplored. We’re given no reason why or how he’s a star and it plays almost no role in his character. So, too, with his entrepreneurial endeavors. They just seem to exist as an excuse for Anderson to play around in a late-70s sandbox. Look! He’s selling water beds! Remember water beds? That’s cool huh? And hey! Here’s a pinball arcade? Remember those? It’s the 70s!

Taken individually, the scenes that makeup Licorice Pizza are all intoxicatingly cinematic, but the sum of these scenes adds up to nothing special. Even with the great dialog and amazing performances (including a brief, glorified cameo from Bradley Cooper that is earning Oscar buzz), there’s just not enough there to make it entirely worthwhile. Ultimately, the whole thing is about as appetizing as the title and, like licorice, leaves a bad flavor in its wake.

Licorice Pizza is now playing in theaters everywhere.

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It’s difficult to make a compelling narrative from terrible people. We tend to want to like our protagonists and watch them succeed. Constructing a story from awful people we want nothing to do with and whom we hope to fail takes a special kind of talent that’s rare to come by. Which is the bread and butter of Sean Baker’s career. 

Baker makes films exploring the sides of American society we tend to, at best, ignore. The characters that populate his stories as the forgotten, the butt of every joke, and the dirty mass of hard luck and bad decisions that we use as cautionary tales. In his hands, however, we find the basic humanity and commonality that unites the lowest with the rest of us. 

Red Rocket, the latest from the director of The Florida Project, is, perhaps, the zenith of the writer/director’s character study attempts so far. Here, he has created a character that is all at once so despicable and so charming that we can’t help rooting for him or hating ourselves when we do. It is a bitterly funny, verité look at the lives of those we would dismiss as white trash.

Simon Rex stars as Mikey Saber, a down on his luck porn star who returns to his tiny hometown of Texas City in an attempt to reconcile with his estranged wife and mother-in-law (Bree Elrod and Brenda Deiss). With nothing to his name, he attempts to hustle up enough money to earn his way back into the adult film elite (or, at the very least, scam his way back into his wife’s life). He thinks he’s found just what he needs in donut store employee/high school senior, Strawberry (Suzanna Son). Hoping he’s discovered the next big star in adult entertainment, he’s just got to earn enough to get back to Los Angeles, a prospect made difficult by the fact that everyone hates him.

Rex, a former VJ turned C-lister following a 90’s porn scandal of his own, is as shockingly amazing as Mikey. Growing up in Texas, I’ve met no shortage of failed-dream hustlers struggling to try and break out of their small town. Rex (as with Baker’s script) captures this dynamic beautifully. This is a guy doing the best he can to build bridges out of the burning mass of wood he left last time he was in town, preying on the weaker and simple-minded with surface-level charms meant to mask his predatory designs.

Mikey’s quick-talking hustle is equal parts horrific and hilarious; Baker’s script paints a picture of a guy who is, ultimately, just too stupid and lazy to get what he wants from life, even though what he wants is objectively awful. In Rex’s hands, we’re able to see past the pathos of the character and into his humanity, allowing understanding and empathy with his trashy plight.

While not as good or compelling as The Florida Project, Red Rocket feels like an interesting companion to that film. Both take us deep into the humanity of the forgotten rejects of society, showing us a side of life we so often try to deny and hide ourselves from. Though at times it is a deeply uncomfortable prospect, Baker forces us out of our comfort zones in order to craft a tale that allows us to see ourselves in those we would scoff at and ignore. It’s an interesting and amazing tight rope that Baker is walking, and let’s just hope he keeps walking it for as far as it can take him.

Red Rocket is now playing in theaters everywhere. 

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Strictly speaking, no, we did not need another Matrix.

That’s arguably been true since 1999 when the first movie came and blew everyone’s minds with its reality-bending story, mind-melting effects, and evolution of the cyberpunk aesthetic that felt perfect for the turn of the century milieu in which it existed. The next two movies kind of proved that assertion, with The Matrix Reloaded and The Matrix Revolutions sinking deeper and deeper into a quagmire of needlessness that sullied the reputation of the first, groundbreaking film.

And we are, two decades later, and another Matrix to talk about. Just as much as the previous two entries into the franchise, there’s no real reason for The Matrix Resurrections to exist. Yet, unlike the movies directly preceding it, this film remembers that The Matrix, with all its philosophy and pondering, was meant to be fun.

Which isn’t to discount the philosophy and pondering inherent in the original film. You can’t really separate the narrative from the questions it’s trying to ask. But most people can’t stomach philosophy in major doses. It helps to make it entertaining. The sequels leaned too hard on convoluted narratives and silly premises and, unfortunately, missed the boat.

Which I guess makes The Matrix Resurrections the second-best movie in the series, not that this means much. The goodwill built by the first movie was pretty swiftly destroyed by the next, so much so that, these days, the second two movies are rarely talked about and have yet to be given a critical re-evaluation. But maybe that’s unfair. And maybe that’s the best thing Resurrections could do for the franchise.

Director Lana Wachowski, who co-wrote the film with David Mitchell and Alexsander Hemon, has, yes, resurrected The Matrix, crafting a film that’s part sequel, part reboot, and part remake in order to bring The Matrix into a new era and give it new relevance. It is, put simply, the sequel to The Matrix that we always deserved.

In this version of the story, Thomas Anderson (Keanu Reeves) is a successful video game developer who, two decades ago, rose to fame with his beloved trilogy, The Matrix. Now his studio’s parent company, Warner Brothers, is forcing him to make a sequel, which they plan to do with or without his help. Meanwhile, in the real world, Captain Bugs (Jessica Henwick) is searching for Neo, the former hero of humanity who is said to have been Resurrections in the matrix. 

This setup is an interesting way to explore the concepts of reality that the first film toyed with all the way back in 1999. Anderson has spent the last decades of his life fighting against mental illness and the belief that his game world was real and actually happened. The Warner Brothers nod is a nice meta-acknowledgment of the circumstances surrounding the development of this film and leads to some interesting analysis of not only what The Matrix is but also how it’s remembered. This creates a recursive look at the original movie, the franchise, and its appeal that forms the foundation of the new story.

And it somehow all works. Sure, it’s not as mind-blowing as the original and there is a definite feeling of futility about its existence, but Wachowski (working here without her sister Lily) somehow manages to make a film that is both nostalgic and new all at once. As tired as we all are of remakes and reboots, it makes a kind of sense that The Matrix would find a way to do to it that acknowledges that fact and subverts the standards.

As much as it doesn’t need to exist, The Matrix Resurrections embraces its position and makes a movie that’s entertaining and updates the narrative for a new age. There are a billion different ways that this could have gone, most of them disastrous. Instead, Wachowski manages to thread the need to create a movie that’s both fun and respectful of its lineage without feeling too terribly needless. Update, reboot, sequel…whatever you want to call it, The Matrix Resurrections is still a pretty good time at the movies. The Matrix Resurrections is now playing in theaters everywhere and is available to stream on HBOMax.

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The one thing you know for sure when going into a Guillermo Del Toro film is that he does not give a fuck about the standards of cinematic convention. He, perhaps more than any other filmmaker working today, makes movies precisely for an audience of one. Whether or not anyone is on board with him beyond that is none of his concern.

This is probably about what you can expect from a guy who crafted a beautiful love story between a deaf woman and a fish (and won Best Picture for it) and realized the dream of an elevated superhero story decades before the concept was part of the cultural discourse. Del Toro is a filmmaker of singular vision and we’re all just lucky that his vision is so damn brilliant.

So it is with his latest work, Nightmare Alley. Based on a book of the same name by author William Lindsey Gresham (which was previously filmed in 1947 by director Edmund Goulding), del Toro has created a work of powerful vision and vibrant humanity. Haunting and glorious, the film represents a bold direction for a filmmaker who thrives in playing in untapped sandboxes.

Bradley Cooper stars as Stanton Carlisle, a man on the run from his past and the law by taking work with a traveling carnival. Happy with grunt work, he soon learns the tricks of mind-reading trade, becoming something of a talented spiritualist in the process. With big dreams, he and fellow carnie Molly (Rooney Mara) strike out on their own with a mentalism act, conning crowds with deft displays of spiritual conning. Soon, however, the pair runs into Dr. Lilith Ritter (Cate Blanchett), a psychologist with some tricks of her own who seems determined to knock Stan down a few pegs. 

A carnival is the perfect setting for a director like del Toro. Under his vision, the old-timey carnival is brought to vivid life. You can almost smell the popcorn and taffy wafting through the screen as the director takes us through the bevy of attractions of rides. He’s helped in his efforts by one of the best support casts assembled in recent memory, including Ron Perlman, Willem Dafoe, and Toni Collette. The carnival imagery is strong and intoxicating.

That said, del Toro’s real talent is in creating human stories. Whether it’s making us believe in the romance between a woman and a sea creature or making us believe that a young girl is escaping fascism through a fairy tale world, del Toro makes movies that, for all their darkness and bold imagination, focus on humans and human issues. Nightmare Alley is no different.

Del Toro and co-writer Kim Morgan have concocted a brilliant, noir-tinged script that ultimately explores the darkest corners of the human soul. Cooper does a phenomenal job of piercing this heart of darkness, giving us an incredible view of the highs and lows of human existence. Much has already been made of his brief performance in the upcoming Licorice Pizza, but here we see Cooper at his absolute best. 

At times, Nightmare Alley feels like a timeless classic from a bygone era of filmmaking. Del Toro pulls equally from the golden age of film now and modern techniques, creating a uniquely gorgeous film that revels in its artistry. While it probably won’t convert any del Toro naysayers it is sure to give fans everything they want from a del Toro film. Shock, despair, beauty, and brilliance, Nightmare Alley never stops delivering on its promises.Nightmare Alley is now playing in theaters everywhere.

The post Guillermo Del Toro Returns with Stunning ‘Nightmare Alley’ (FILM REVIEW) appeared first on Glide Magazine.

It isn’t difficult to understand why director Steven Spielberg wanted to remake West Side Story. The original film adaptation of the Steven Sondheim musical is, perhaps, one of the most influential movies of Spielberg’s generation. That film, from directors Jerome Robbins and Robert Wise, set a gold standard for both musical films and film in general that has been upheld for 60 years now. Spielberg, easily the most influential and consequential director of his generation, was probably the man best equipped to pull it off. If anyone was going to top that 1961 version of West Side Story, Spielberg was gonna be the guy to do it.

That’s certainly his intent with his vision of West Side Story, though I can’t quite say he succeeded in his aim. What he has succeeded in is capturing the spectacle of the musical experience, crafting a grand, massive scale extravaganza that recalls the golden age of the Hollywood musical. Taken on its own, absent any consideration of the original film, that means that Spielberg’s vision of the classic tragedy is a great entry point for potential newcomers to the tale of Tony and Maria. 

At least in terms of spectacle. There’s no denying that Spielberg knows how to finesse spectacle into something extraordinarily cinematic. Spectacle is what Spielberg does best. That translates well into the massive song and dance numbers that define much of West Side Story. Classic numbers like “Dance At the Gym” and “America” are envisioned and executed brilliantly. “Gee Officer Krupke,” meanwhile, might be the best version of the scene ever presented. No doubt, West Side Story is often a joy to watch.

But the heart of the story, the young love felt between Tony (Ansel Elgort) and Maria (Rachel Zegler) is what truly makes West Side Story such a memorable tale and, unfortunately, doesn’t work here. Well, mostly it’s Elgort. The Baby Driver star never quite manages to make Tony’s feelings for Maria seem genuine, making for a stiff performance that doesn’t sell the central conceit in a meaningful way. As a result, the rest of the film is dragged down, often to the point of tedium.

Which is difficult to reconcile with the vision Spielberg has for the film as a whole. The director teases out the changing face of New York City as a kind of wasteland caught between the world as it used to be and the world that it’s becoming. That creates an interesting subtext to the story beyond the racial strife that’s been central to West Side Story since its debut on Broadway. It gives the audience plenty of beautifully shot urban landscapes to enjoy and makes the tension between the Jets and the Sharks all the more palpable.

It’s just a shame that it all outshines the love story that sets the story in motion. Zegler is great as Maria, playing up her young naivete and all the foolishness of young love. This is truly a star-making turn for the actress, who has already been cast as Snow White opposite Gal Gadot’s evil queen in the upcoming live-action remake of Snow White and the Seven Dwarves. As her singing voice proves here, she’s more than capable of handling the strains of that role and should be able to write her own ticket going forward.

So, too, with the rest of the supporting cast, all of whom do their level best to steal every scene they’re in. Riff, played by actor Mike Faist, is especially charismatic. So much so that I couldn’t help wondering how the movie would feel if Faist and Elgort switched roles. The actor brings new depths to Riff, suggesting a deeper pathos than was seen in the 1961 film. And so it goes with Ariana DeBose, who plays Anita. She charms her way through every scene she’s in, making her one of the film’s highlights.

It’s a shame, however, that Elgort shows so little chemistry with Zegler. The foolish love of Tony and Maria is the heartbeat of the show, and Elgort does so little to make us believe his love is real. Couple that with a third act that drags itself slowly to its conclusion and it’s hard to think of a reason one might choose to watch this version over the classic version.

Which, in the end, is the heart of the problem. While beautiful to look at and offering an enjoyable spectacle, it’s never quite clear that there’s any real reason for this film to exist. Other than, of course, that Spielberg wanted it to. That might be reason enough for Hollywood, but West Side Story never manages to make that same case to us, the audience.

West Side Story is now playing in theaters everywhere.

The post Steven Speilberg’s Take On ‘West Side Story’ Falls Short (FILM REVIEW) appeared first on Glide Magazine.

Just in time to get reacquainted before the new season of Cobra Kai drops (and, of course, Christmas), the new 4K Ultra HD box set, The Karate Kid Collection, is a must have for all 80s kids of all ages. Packed with special features and newly remastered, it’s enough to inspire everyone who ever spent their afternoons practicing crane kicks on the playground with their friends to want to break out their gi and pretend once more to be a karate master.

It’s not difficult to get why the appeal of this series has lasted as long as it has (we’re getting dangerously close to the 40^th anniversary of the first film’s release) and the new presentation ensures that the legacy of The Karate Kid will endure for another generation. It also gives us a chance to revisit and reevaluate the divisive third movie which, while still being the worst of the three, does serve bring a new angle to Daniel-san’s journey in addition to providing the context for the next season of Cobra Kai (which is slated to bring back Thomas Ian Griffin’s villainous Terry Silver).

Watching today, you’d expect for the films themselves to feel dated. After all, they were released to capitalize on the Karate trend that was taking the country by storm in the 1980s. Yet the screenplays from writer Robert Mark Kamen prove to remain strong even considering how much the world has changed since the first film was released in 1984. The language of adolescence remains constant and Kamen has crafted an enduring coming of age story that works as well today as it ever has.

That’s, of course, because Karate is merely the wrapping for what is, at its core, one of the best cinematic bildungsromans ever made. The films endure because Daniel (Ralph Macchio) and Mr. Miyagi (Pat Morita) and their relationship are so well-written that it’s almost impossible not to be drawn into their spiritual father and son story. Even as the film drop in quality, that core relationship is enough to inspire no matter what era the films are viewed in.

Loaded with special features, The Karate Kid Collection (which does not include the Hilary Swank starring The Next Karate Kid) offers plenty of behind the scenes and additional featurettes to take you deep inside the world of the story and provides new insights into the lasting legacy of the film. Perfect for the 80s man-child in your life, or just lovers of film in general, The Karate Kid Collection proves just how timeless this series actually is. The Karate Kid Collection is now available to own.

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My stepchild was obsessed with Avatar almost from the first moment I met them. One of the first few times I met them they asked me if I’d seen it and looked disheartened when I told them I had not. “That’s for kids,” I tried to explain, much to their disappointment. That was a misapprehension I held for eight years before I finally agreed to sit down and partake in their annual Avatar/Korra rewatch earlier this year. As it turns out, I was right but, also, so were they.

Yes, both Avatar: The Last Airbender and its sequel series, The Legend of Korra, are, strictly speaking, “for kids.” This is true. What I discovered, however, is that, in the grand tradition of children’s cartoons, they’re both so much richer than I had given them credit for. 

The Ultimate Aang & Korra Collection, out today on Blu-ray, is a great gift for families or for young adults who grew up watching the series and don’t already own the collections. As it stands, this set is merely a repackaging of the previously collected individual series, making it less necessary for anyone who already owns both previous sets. That said, anyone who has put off purchasing them now has the perfect excuse to add them to their home movie collection.

That said, the new packaging is gorgeous, even if the box is merely a newly printed way to hold both the previous collected editions. Additionally, it does come with a new bonus disc that features an exploration of the Avatar universe with series creators Michael Dante DiMartino and Bryan Konietzko as well as a conversation between series stars Janet Varney and Dante Brasco. 

Beyond that, however, everything else is simply the previous two collected editions. Which of course includes all the bonus features and commentary tracks they were previously loaded with. All in all, it’s not a bad collection, but the new set offers nothing for fans who already own both series.

As disappointing as that is, it’s nice to be able to own both Avatar and Korra with only a single purchase. And with Christmas coming up it’s not only a great gift but also the perfect time to gather the family around for some quality and wholesome entertainment that digs a lot deeper than you might think. Both Aang and Korra serve as delightful role models for kids (and, really, understanding those characters goes a long way towards understanding the newer generation) and its easy to see why the series has endured for as long as it can.

With the upcoming Netflix live action adaptation of Avatar, now really is a great time to catch up on what might be the biggest television release of 2022. If you’re like me and dismissed it as just kid’s fare for all these years, or even if you’re a long time fan, The Ultimate Aang and Korra Collection is ultimately a great way to experience the legends, whether by yourself or with the family. The Ultimate Aang and Korra Collection is now available on Blu-ray.

The post ‘The Ultimate Aang & Korra Collection’ Proves It Aint Just For Kids (FILM REVIEW) appeared first on Glide Magazine.

The last couple of decades have really forced a reconsideration of what the western is as a genre. As we creep further and further into the 21^st century, so, too, has the genre progressed. Once firmly set in a world pre-Civil War, the modern western finds itself creeping into the 20^th century, where cars and electricity sit side by side with horses and cowboys.

It’s a curious effect that, while making perfect sense, does speak to how we mythologize the past. Moreover, it speaks to what the western actually is. Gone are the days of intrepid cowboys and sheriffs; of wagon trains and raids. Once the genre of action and revenge, the modern western, with its values shifting into a new century, is contemplative and human.

This is surely the case for The Power of the Dog, the latest film by director Jane Campion (The Piano). Based on the 1968 novel of the same name by Thomas Savage, the film is a slow-paced, deliberate film that bears little in common with the western films of old. Eschewing the action and tropes that defined the genre in decades past, the story is one of human psychodrama and the push-pull of competing influences.

Benedict Cumberbatch and Jesse Plemons star as brothers Phil and George Burbank, respectively. Having run a successful ranch for years, Phil has no time for anyone outside of his family and immediate sphere of influence. Instead, he uses his domineering personality to keep the world at bay as tp try, as best he can, to live the way he was taught. His world is threatened, however, when George meets and marries Rose (Kirsten Dunst). Distrusting his brother’s new wife, Phil engages in psychological torture in an effort to drive her and her son Pete (Kodi Smit-McPhee) away. As his abuse escalates, Pete must find a way to rescue his mother that also keeps her happy.

The Power of the Dog is a film that is deeply, starkly human. Campion, who also adapted the screenplay, is known for works that are powerfully contemplative and rich with emotion. You’ll find no change here. Filled with beautiful scenery and gorgeous shots, Campion has crafted a poetic tale of human connection and misery, deepening the sense of awe that the modern western film inspires.

Cumberbatch shines as Phil Burbank, bringing the same sort of detestable asshole energy she brought to Sherlock Holmes without any of Sherlock’s inherent likability. He’s an emotional brute, bullying and terrorizing his way to success without much thought for the consequences. The actor manages to encapsulate a certain brand of toxic masculinity in a way that’s almost fun to watch. Through him we see the innate terror Phil feels about his dying way of life. He’s a bully, yes, but Cumberbatch doesn’t shy from the internal helplessness that motivates his behavior.

Plemons and Dunst, while less memorable, complement Cumberbatch well, bringing Campion’s epic vision to life. While both characters could have used a bit more screentime to really nail home the abusive terror of Cumberbatch, they each bring their best to the roles. Dunst, especially, portrays the slow descent of Rose’s madness well, capturing the nuance of subtle abuse in ways that most movies ignore.

Though far from perfect, The Power of the Dog continues the intriguing trend of modernizing the western and bringing new angles to the genre. While some audiences might balk at the film’s slow and deliberate pace, Campion has managed to capture the raw, human intensity of Savage’s novel and bring it to a vivid and beautiful life. The Power of the Dog is now available on Netflix.

The post ‘The Power of the Dog’ Brings New Angles To The Western Genre (FILM REVIEW) appeared first on Glide Magazine.

There are moments watching Bruised where it feels less like watching a movie and more like watching a series of tropes, cliches, and archetypes stacked so precariously on top of each other that its haphazard nature is almost, in itself, kind of impressive. A stiff breeze or hard thought would be all it takes to send the whole thing crashing down around itself, and yet even still the film has a certain familiar charm that makes it easy to watch without thinking about it too terribly hard.

This speaks more to the genre of sports film than it does to the movie itself. Like biopics, sports films have honed the familiar to such a degree that it’s increasingly difficult to find a place for originality. This is perhaps doubly true for boxing films. Sure you can, like Bruised, replace “boxing” with “MMA” and hope for the best, but the end result is still a hodgepodge of characters, scenes, and plots we’ve all seen countless times before.

There’s nothing in Bruised that you haven’t seen in any Rocky movie, save maybe for the fact that this narrative follows a woman. Beyond that, screenwriter Michelle Rosenfarb, making her debut as a screenwriter, hasn’t done much to try and change the formula so much as she leans into the idea that a formula exists in the first place. This is a movie that takes “checking boxes” as a challenge, seemingly endeavoring to tick as many of them as possible without bothering to explore those boxes at any meaningful level.

The film follows MMA fighter Jackie Justice (Halle Berry, who also makes her directorial debut), who has shunned the idea of fighting sense a disastrous bout several years ago. Following a brawl at an underground fight instigated by her boyfriend/manager, Desi (Adan Canto), she finds her will to enter the octagon once more. Complicating matters, however, is that the father of the son she abandoned has been murdered, and now Jackie must also learn how to be a mother while also training for a big come-back fight.

While the script is severely lacking, everyone else does a good job considering the material they have to work with. As director, Berry manages to capture a gritty intensity that suggests talents that are as yet untapped. She even does a good job with her double duty, even if the seeming 20-25-year age difference between actor and character does strain credulity. 

Bruised also manages to be able to capture the cheap excitement offered by all tales of down-on-their-luck athletes. We got training montages, life obstacles, human drama, and everything else you might expect from this type of story. If you’re willing to ignore the cookie-cutter approach to telling it, it’s not without its charms. The problem is that it’s just so hard to ignore. You know this story’s ending before the movie even begins and the path it takes to get there is equally well to trod.

While nothing special, fans of sports movies and fighting movies will no doubt find something to appreciate with Bruised. It may not offer anything particularly meaningful in approach or execution, but it certainly does get the job done. Rocky this ain’t, but it does still manage to have its charms even with its many (many) flaws. At the very least, there are worse ways to spend your post-Thanksgiving dinner than sitting down with this film, which somehow manages to be equally kind of enjoyable and forgettable all at the same time.

Bruised is now available on Netflix.

The post ‘Bruised’ Follows Cookie Cutter Sports Film Formula (FILM REVIEW) appeared first on Glide Magazine.

Jonathan Larson never lived to see his impact. The writer and creator of Rent, one of Broadway’s most enduring and beloved musicals, died suddenly the night before his play made its grand debut. He never lived to see his Tony Awards, his Pulitzer, or the worldwide acclaim he very rightly deserved. For years, he struggled to bring his vision of what musical theater could be to life, suffering from setbacks and false starts and all the obstacles that exist between an artist and their dreams. He’d never know just how wildly he would succeed.

Before Rent, however, Larson channeled his frustrations into the one-man show, tick, tick…Boom!, an autobiographical musical monologue hybrid that gave 1990 audiences a small taste of the kind of work he wanted to do. While acclaimed in its own right in its day, the show, sadly, wouldn’t receive wider attention until after his death, when playwright David Auburn restructured the monologue into a three-person show that would wind up being another worldwide hit (albeit, one with significantly less name recognition than Rent).

Director Lin-Manuel Miranda, working with writer Steven Levenson (Dear Evan Hansen), has restructured the narrative even further, turning tick, tick…Boom! into a fully cast cinematic experience. Miranda, who makes his feature directorial debut, owes no small debt to Larson for widening the possibilities for musical theater and changing the stalwart notions of what Broadway should be. That reverence oozes throughout his adaptation of Larson’s play, creating a modern musical that’s irresistible and moving.

Part adaptation and part biopic, tick, tick…Boom! is a beautiful tribute not just to Larson but also to the act of creative dreaming itself. Larson’s story is one that resonates for anyone who’s ever had the audacity to chase their goals and try to live their wildest dreams.

Andrew Garfield stars a Larson who, on the verge of his 30th birthday, is beginning to doubt whether or not he can make it as a writer. To make matters worse, his girlfriend, Susan (Alexandra Shipp), has recently gotten a job offer that will take her, and possibly him, away from the city and away from his dreams. Meanwhile, a workshop for his latest play, Superbia, which he’s been writing for eight years, is coming up and just might be the opportunity he’s looking for.

Larson originally conceived tick, tick…Boom! as a way to excise the feelings of disappointment he had over the reception to Superbia. Despite garnering interest from Broadway producers, no one stepped forward to make the play. It was an emotional exegesis, a work designed to remind himself what he was trying to do and why. It certainly worked, as it was in part the strength of his one-man show that led to the production of Rent and earned Larson his posthumous place in Broadway history.

Miranda manages to not only capture that spirit of creative desperation but also to expand the story into a full-blown musical. Unlike most musicals, which, by their nature, seem to lean into the fantastic and the bombastic, tick, tick…Boom! remains firmly grounded in reality. Even when breaking into full song and dance, we get the sensation that we’re looking into the mind of Larson and how he sees the world.

Larson’s was a world in which everything was music and no subject should be off-limits. That, really, is his lasting impact on the world of musical theater. He enabled us to view real life through the prism of the musical and vice versa. Miranda captures that well here and, as a result, we can see the influence Larson had on Miranda very well.

Garfield gives an amazing performance as Jonathan. At its core, this is a story about the existential anguish of turning 30, which the actor captures exquisitely. Even without much musical training, he brings life, hope, and anguish to Larson’s songs and translates them well for the cinematic audience. And while the songs might not be as memorable as the songs for Rent, they do allow us an insight into how Larson developed as an artist and offer us a glimpse at his evolution. In a lot of ways, the music feels a lot like the lesser-known debut of a band that broke out with their second or third album. Maybe it’s not quite there yet, but its fascinating to see the early stages of his development.

While we’re far removed from the experimental theater days of tick, tick…Boom!, the spirit is alive and well in Miranda’s directorial debut. One part adaptation and one part biopic, it’s an extraordinarily reverent and magical ode to Larson and the act of creating itself. It’s also a tragic reminder of the talent we lost with Larson’s sudden death 25 years ago. For those who know him only for Rent, the new film should serve to solidify his talents and, perhaps, remind us all that it’s okay to strive for a dream.

tick, tick…BOOM! is now available on Netflix.

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