Spider-Man: Across the Spider-verse

Whenever There's a Gang-Up/You'll Find the Spider-Man/Woman/Thing/Concept

or

Every Spider-Thing Everywhere All at Once

At the end of Spider-Man: Across the Spider-verse, I imagined a camera floating up to the theater-rafters, while I looked heavenward, my hands gripped into fists and screaming: "Noooooooooooo!"

It didn't come out of nowhere. During the last 45 minutes of the film (it's 2 hours, 20 minutes), I felt a mild panic coming on; the movie didn't feel like it was rounding third and starting to wrap things up—if anything, it was getting MORE complicated without any impending resolution. The reason? There isn't one. The movie ends with a terrible situation for hero Miles Morales (Shameik Moore), who's left beside himself, and the formation of a new Spider-group to save the day—led by Gwen Stacy (Hailee Steinfeld)—and another group—led by Spider-man 2099 (Oscar Isaac) hunting him with the intent to...well, I don't know what their intent is, but the very presence of Miles Morales and the events from the previous film put everything (and I mean everything) in danger. 

 

Then there's a "To Be Continued" graphic.

DAMN!

My absolute love for the previous film, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-verse, is readily apparent to anyone who read that review. I still maintain that it's the best Spider-Man movie brought to the screen*, and (unfortunately) I still do.

Oh, not that this new one is bad. It still has the verve and the audacity of its eclectic visual style, its almost brilliant vision of blending-in classic comic-book traditions in its story-telling, as well as exceptional voice-acting, and at a slightly quicker pace than its predecessor (as we've come to expect the visual tricks that are second-nature in this new one). It also is very smart, thinking outside the box-frames, while also slightly dismissive of standard super-hero tropes and jabbing (lightly) at them. It knows that you can't have a Spider-man film without the shadow of soap opera looming over it and that tragedy is attracted to the character, like, well, like goofy super-villains.

So, what is the tangled web of Across the Spider-verse? It starts out with a challenging thesis statement: "Let's do things differently this time. So differently." It's Gwen Stacy, the Spider-Woman/Ghost-Spider/Spider-Gwen of alternate Earth-65, contemplating her back-story of her gifted life being over-turned by being bitten by a radio-active spider giving her spider-powers, shouldering "great responsibility," vilified by the press and the police (one of whom is her father) and how her crime-fighting career led to the death of her best friend, the brilliant student Peter Parker (Earth-65's Peter Parker). Parallel universes have pretty narrow parallels. While fighting an alternate-Universe version of the Vulture at her New York's Guggenheim Museum, she is aided by two other spider-heroes: Miquel O'Hara (Isaac)—Spider-man 2099 of Earth-928 and Jessica Drew (Issa Rae), the Spider-woman of Earth-616. O'Hara is in charge of an elite corps, the "Spider-society" whose mandate is to keep a stable multi-verse. With me so far? Good, let's go to Earth-1610.

Earth-1610 is where "The Ultimate" Spider-man, Miles Morales, lives. It's been a year since the events of Into the Spider-verse, and the experience has changed him. He's an established Spider-man in his New York—even the police (including Miles' father) like him. He is the epitome of a friendly, neighborhood Spider-man, but his folks—despite his high grades at school—think he's a bit of a flake and are worried about him and his future. For example, he's late for everything, his attendance in class is kind of spotty despite the high grades, and they're really thinking about whether he should move home rather than applying for that big fancy New Jersey college to learn about particle physics. They want him to be more "grounded"—and he does get grounded in ever-increasing amounts throughout the movie.

And speaking of "spotty" there's a weird new super-villain in town. He's Dr. Jonathon Ohnn (Jason Schwartzman), who got caught up in the big particle accelerator/collider explosion of Into the Spider-verse and has turned into a being who can create holes—or "spots"—in space in order to transport himself to other locations on Earth-1610. Spidey encounters him trying to transport an ATM from a convenience store while on his way to his college evaluation with his folks and leads Miles on a "holey" confusing and disorienting fight throughout New York-1610 before making one trip to many and transporting him self to a "void"—let's call it "The Holy Sea" like in Yellow Submarine—where he plots his escape by using another collider to increase his powers across space...and other dimensions.

Such a being can be quite a disruption to the fabric of time and space, so the "Spider-Society" recruits Spider-Gwen to travel to Earth-1610 to track this "Spot" guy and capture him before he can do any significant damage. Gwen (rather unwisely) shirks her duties as "spot-remover" to set up some automatic detector-gizmo, and instead goes to see the neighborhood Spider-man, whom she knows is "friendly." As Miles and Gwen have feelings for each other that haven't been awkwardly expressed yet, it's a "best of/worst of both worlds" parallel universe situation.

Well, Gwen's negligence causes an emergency and Jessica Drew contacts her to get her spider-self to Earth-50101—and the island of Mumbattan—where Spider-man Pavitr Prabhakar (Karan Soni) and the Spider-Punk Hobie Brown (Daniel Kaluuya) have their hands full while The Spot successfully increases his powers with that Earth's particle accelerator. Unbeknownst to Gwen, Miles hitches a ride on her dimensional transport.

So, how are you doing so far? Head hurt a little? Getting a little tough to tell Spider-person from Spider-person and Earth from Earth? Okay, I'm going easy on you, because here's where it gets really difficult to parse: Miles' transport-hitching causes an anomaly, as he saves an important personage who would have died if he wasn't there, and that created something called a "Canon Alert" (which I found hysterical) over at Earth-928 with the "Spider-League".

Miles disrupted a key event that's supposed to happen to every Spider-man—a personal loss that will define their character—and poor Spider-India is set on a parallel track that is essential for every Spider-man story (and apparently they can't just go rogue and kill Pavitr's Aunt Maalai (or whatever) in order to set the trajectory right. This is not good, and it gets worse...and more complicated.

But, I'll spare you, and not spoil anything else. Believe me, there are a load of surprises in Across the Spider-verse from cameos and funny details to just the whole concept of the thing that takes a lot of Into the Spider-verse and re-weaves its web into something quite beyond the standard Spider-fare...although I do suspect that Miles is going to have a "Spider-man No More" moment (but against his will this time). I mean...it's "canon!"

That whole "Canon Alert" concept is just mind-bogglingly funny (even if it's treated so seriously). There are certain comic-book stories and ideas that creators just don't touch because they are "canon"—Krypton exploded (you can't bring it back), Bruce Wayne's parents were shot in an alley (you can't say "just a flesh wound"), and Uncle Ben and Gwen Stacy have to die...and stay dead. Oh, they can be "cloned" (when the comic publishers get desperate), but you can't have Peter Parker (or what-Spider-ever) wake up one day, hold his aching head and go "it was all just a horrible dream" and go have a breakfast of Uncle Ben's converted rice. After all, these things take place in Manhattan, not "Dallas."

But, as you can tell, this thing is complicated. In fact, it's so complicated, it's almost an assault, and when you add in the creators' visual dynamism, their tendency to throw a joke into every dead space, and general pace of the thing, your brain could approach synaptic anarchy. It might have to contain a warning—not the "flashing lights" one, but the "do not see while pregnant" "may cause seizures" "do not see if allergic to spiders" warnings on TV (or movie, for that matter) pharmaceutical commercials.

I'm just saying that the experience is in-to-the-tense, and not for the faint of heart or the faint of sight. It is a certainty that one is going to miss a lot on the first viewing in a theater, and although it sounds heretical for me to say, I think that both Across the Spider-verse and its predecessor are more intended (by their creators) for repeat-viewing by disc or streaming than in the theater (although one can't discount the level of detail that can one can appreciate in the massive viewing experience**). I say that reluctantly, as I think the theater experience for watching a film can't be topped, despite noisy neighbors, restless kids, and rattling food-wrappers.***

So...I say "go." Guardedly. Just don't come back in the comments section blaming me for the migraine or PTS-ADHD or the adrenal jitters—or your "spidey-sense" on over-tingle—as a result of seeing this (my reaction was to crave a hamburger). Blame it on the tangled web woven by Spider-Man: Across the Spider-verse.

 

 As usual, with these animated sorts of things, I just have to share some frames from the film 

that just stuck out at me as particularly beautiful and that I didn't have room for in the text.

*...and one of the best super-hero movies ever.

 

** I saw it in XD, which was impressive, especially if one is appreciating things like the weave in Miles' Spidey-mask, or the half-tone shading of colors simulating the look of old comic-books.

*** Oh. And Maria Menounos. She really annoys me.

Dune (Part 1)

As the Worm Turns

or

"So, It's Done?" "It Is Done." (No, It's Not)

 

There have been two previous versions of Frank Herbert's classic novel "Dune"—the 1984 David Lynch version* which tried to be trippy and kinky and ended up looking like any other Dino DeLaurentiis sci-fi movie and the Syfy Channel did a mini-series in 2000, which had a bit more of a bead on Herbert's novel, but looked cheap and seemed mis-cast. And there's the legendary Alexandro Jonorowsky version that cost two million dollars while never getting out of the design phase. "Dune" has a considerable history in both the science-fiction and literary circles (which don't intersect too deeply) and has passed through the minds of many directors and scenarists who have considered cracking it, distilling it, trying to fold it into a manageable narrative. No one's been able to do it, especially the folks who made the ones that exist. 

 

The problem with both of them is those versions were so...white! I'm not being a Social Warrior saying this, because "Dune" was not concerned about race in the story, so much as it was with the politics of imperialism and the pivotal moment when indigenous people rise up against their occupiers. It's also concerned with taking back the resources for which that tribe's land is plundered. And it's about the pressures of a charismatic leader, especially when there is a zealotry aspect to it. And it's about evolution. And ecology. And power. And religion. And myth. And a few other things all mixed into the big sandbox. There is too much of Planet Earth in "Dune" for the cast to be solely Aryan. For it to work, there has to be a clash of textures...and I'm not talking about in the production design.

Paul Atreides (Timothée Chalamet) has been having bad dreams. He is the scion of the House of Atreides, led by Duke Leto (Oscar Isaac) and his concubine (Rebecca Ferguson), a priestess of the secretive and influential Bene Gesserit sect, which has been tasked by the Galactic Emperor to take over the fiefdom of the planet Arrakis, the source of the spice "melange", which has made its way throughout the societies as an essential mineral, allowing faster than light space-travel, hyper-sensitive senses, and higher cognitive abilities. Without melange, the gears of humans among the stars grinds to a halt. The spice must be mined, and the House of Atreides has been given the planet's charge to increase production.

Actually, the whole thing is a manipulation by the Galactic Emperor to destabilize the most powerful houses, the Atreides' and the Harkonnen's who have been the previous exploiters of Arrakis, a role they have undertaken brutally. With both houses fighting to the death, wasting their resources while doing so, the only winner would be the Emperor, who would be that much more powerful with no threats to his primacy. But, for Duke Leto it is an opportunity too tantalizing to resist—melange is the oil by which so much of the infrastructure of the Galaxy depends, and if he can successfully increase its harvest, his House will become very powerful, indeed. Possibly bigger than the powers of the Emperor to interfere with. Duke Leto is trying to buy his House's future, but even he doesn't know—couldn't fathom—that it has already been determined, pre-destined, as long as the will to sacrifice to achieve it is followed through. But, that is out of his control.

This version of Dune concentrates on the political manipulation that sets these events in motion, and it is the only failure of the movie that it decides to keep the run-time down to a hefty feature length (although one never feels it's too long). But, it is also the film's strength in that it doesn't scrimp on the detail that makes the story-telling so rich. One feels that this is the first true adaptation of Frank Herbert's vision of things (it has "'thopters"!—he said geekily) with a genuine-looking epic scale. Spaces are vast and the functionally-designed ships seem like they have weight.** At the same time, it manages to convey the vulnerability of little objects—like people—caught up in those expanses.

The cast is top-notch, putting more emphasis on the characters who will disappear (temporarily) like Josh Brolin's Gurney Halleck and Jason Momoa's Duncan Idaho, and focusing on the character of Paul (Timothée Chalamet—I've never seen him less than interesting), at first a callow youth unsure of his place in things, then becoming more of the "man of the house" when they get dicey. And for his limited time on-screen, Javier Bardem makes the most of his role as Stilgar, the leader of the indigenous Fremen (the film ends during a pivotal moment when Paul meets the tribe—a scene that wasn't even IN Lynch's theatrical cut). These flashes of characters will (hopefully) be expanded in any continuation, making one want to cross fingers in anticipation. It's a frustrating business not knowing the future.

That the actors stand out in the epic-ness of Villeneuve's frames (with the masterly expertise of DP Greig Fraser) and don't get lost in it all is a testament to their abilities. You have to be on your "A"-game to compete when Villeneuve gets caught up in his production design, leaving you strolling for minutes enjoying the sumptuousness of the scenery and lighting. He has overplayed that hand in the past, but, here, it all works and works well. No crippling exposition. No favoring the scenery over the characters. The people are figures in the director's landscape, a part of it, and not just walking through it.

And what a landscape it is. This is a beautiful film, whether it's the glittering of "spice" wafting among the grits of the Arrakis sand, or the alligator grills on the sand-worms, or the insectoid nature of some of the tools, the snap of the uniforms, or the vast horizons that bisect the screen, this is world-building and story-telling at its best and most compelling (for a nice sampler of shots check out the video below from the "Amazing Shots" channel at YouTube). 

 

This is the adaptation of "Dune" has been waiting for.

 

 

* Lynch turned down directing Return of the Jedi to make this film. Can you even imagine what that might have looked like?

 

** And if I can add an "anti-advertisement" here for HBOMax. I don't care how big your home-screen is, this film deserves to be seen in a theater! 

The Card Counter

Defying All Expiations

or

God's Lonely Flagellant (You Want Hearts and Diamonds, But Get Clubs and Spades)

 

I take a journal to movies; I write notes in the dark while the film is playing, scribbling down some nice turn of dialog, diagramming a frame, noting performances and trying to suss out relationships, plot-lines and actors and sometimes highlighting possible "Don't Make a Scene" material (and there's a couple, one after the other, in this one). I usually spend a good hour after the movie trying to make head-way out of the indecipherable ink-spots I put on the page.

 

The thing is, it's one of those college ruled composition books, exactly like the one into which Oscar Isaac's character, William Tell, etches his thoughts in Paul Schrader's new film, The Card Counter. Having it under my arm as I was exiting the theater earned me a couple of worried looks from the other patrons and I wanted to say "nothing to see her, everyone go home, let the people do their work." I don't think it would have helped.

Because William Tell (real name Tillich) is another one of Schrader's existential loners, like Taxi Driver's Travis Bickle or American Gigolo's Julian Kay or Light Sleeper's John Le Tor or Pastor Toller in First Reformed, who are all closed off men whose closest relationship is locked up inside their heads and only spills out in the form of a journal that they keep for themselves or for some kind of self-therapy. They live simply, apart, and are somewhat ascetic in their habits and disciplines, in part due to some deep-seated guilt that they can only erase through some long-in-gestation act...or by writing those deepest, most private (and twisted) thoughts in their composition books. The journal only delays the inevitable.

Tell ticks off all the boxes. A wandering gambler, he's ascetic because, while traveling from casino to casino, he takes two valises—one for his clothes and the other for sheets and twine, so he can cover all the furniture in his motel room (for one night only, paid in cash). Disciplined in his lack of expression and the limited pallet of his wardrobe, he has the perfect poker face, while sitting at the table with the trademark strategem—wait, wait, wait, until something happens to take advantage of. Tell writes that he likes having a routine...a regimen—it's why he adapted to his eight years in prison better than he expected.

Wait a minute. He was in prison? Yes, technically a military prison, for his part in the Abu Ghraib prisoner abuse scandal. He realizes that he did wrong and totally accepts his punishment, but that doesn't stop the guilt for his responsibility in it or the nightmares that squirm through his brain at night (Schrader's depiction of which utilizes a lens-arrangement that wouldn't work for anything except a horror film). His affinity for isolation and his tamping down of emotions is also a strategy—it keeps the bitterness that his senior officers, specifically one (played by Willem Dafoe) walked away from Abu Ghraib scot-free, while Tell (being one of the ones with his face in front of the camera) is court-martialed and sent to his own form of Guantanamo.

There, with so much time, he learned card-tricks and the discipline of counting cards. It's why he does well at the casino. Blackjack, poker—he recommends only betting black or red on the wheel to those without skills, given the casino's odds—he wins just enough to not give anything away or arouse suspicion from the surveillance suits. Then, he moves on to the next stop, those two valises his only companions.

But, he has been noticed. Le Linda (Tiffany Haddish, serious this time, but her comedy background plays nicely) runs a "stable" of gamblers and she offers to stake Tell if he's willing to do some professional gambling tournaments, which he rejects. It's too conspicuous. He has a face and he doesn't like the scrutiny. But, in Atlantic City, he comes across a security-industry seminar, one of the guest speakers he recognizes—his old Abu Ghraib commander. He watches, but he leaves and quickly. But, he's followed by a kid, Cirk—"with a c"—(played by Tye Sheridan of Ready Player One), who gives him his number and says they should talk.

It takes awhile, but eventually Tell calls him and they meet. Cirk's story is an obsessed one—his Dad was at Abu Ghraib, too, and it broke him. Mom left. Dad abused the kid. And the kid did his research and wants to make that commanding officer pay—which disturbs Tell, and so much so that he comes out of his shell a bit—telling Le Linda he's all in for tournament poker, and taking the kid under his wing, driving him around, telling him to watch and learn. At least, it gets the kid out of his apartment and out of his own head.

Writer-director Paul Schrader has always done good work, but it's never been complacent work. His protagonists are always withdrawn outsiders—much like you'd imagine a writer to be—who are sparked (and often ignited) out of their self-imposed head-space into taking action, turning from hermit to Hamlet by whatever incentive they might have. And his Calvinist upbringing makes him one of those rare film-makers who know right from wrong, and makes sure that the audience sees it, too, not turning a blind eye to the evil of the world. Actually, he sorta revels in it, like dangling the threat of Hell over a Catholic student...and enjoying it. He and Scorsese are linked in that way—Marty set up the bankrolling entity for the film and "presents"—and it makes for an interesting antidote to the casual carnage of other films. Oh, there's carnage here, but Schrader doesn't dwell on it, skirting over it in a camera move, or simply staging it off-camera with sounds and letting your imagination do the work.

 

It's tough stuff, with a bit of a righteous indignation thrown in, and won't be everybody's sure bet for entertainment, but I was all in.

 

The Addams Family 2

Oh, *Snap* *Snap*

or

National Lampoon Addams Family Family Vacation Negation

 

I've made plain my life-long love of "The Addams Family" especially the TV-series based on the macabre New Yorker cartoons of Charles Addams (not the worst source for a TV show...), which, for its short two year run, did a running black satire of family sitcoms—credit to Nat Perrin, who'd worked with the Marx Brothers and who knew "funny."

Attempts to revive the characters have been monstrously uneven whether in film, TV revivals or cartoon series. The best result was Barry Sonenfeld's film Addams Family Values, which managed to combine satire—and not sitcom-satire, real satire—and clever writing to make a wicked little movie on many levels. 

 

The same could not be said for 2019's The Addams Family, a CGI-animation version that knew exactly what it was supposed to do...but couldn't make it funny. With that title, you could immediately guess that cleverness was not going to be the spark that animated the thing to life.

 

Well, now everybody's back with...The Addams Family 2. Its biggest joke might be the "Submitted for Your Consideration" ad come Oscar-time.

Oh, technically, it's all fine. CGI being what it is these days, something (like, say, a waterfall) has to be really dodgy for it to be noticed. It's just that there is a sense of rote-ness to this, a feeling that the ambitions are so slim, the characters so known, that any effort besides the obvious isn't attempted, and in fact is avoided, lest it fall out of a PG category and betray the lack of sophistication expected in animated films. There's no shock, no envelope-pushing, and no sense of the black humor emblematic of the original Addams work in The New Yorker.

This one, like the last, focuses on Wednesday Addams (Chloë Grace Moretz), who is going through all sorts of growing pains. For her school's science project, she's developed a way to transfer tendencies from one being to another (ala Freaky Friday (both of them) and God knows how many other films and television shows)—in this case, she transfers her pet octopus' higher brain functions to her sweet but diminished Uncle Fester (Nick Kroll). Fester will, as the film progresses, take on more and more octo-tendencies, which the family doesn't really notice too much (which is odd but not funny). Wednesday's work is noticed by a mad scientist named Cyrus Strange (Bill Hader, surprisingly uneffective) who would like to know her methodology, which she refuses to divulge as "a family secret." 

This starts a plot where Strange sets up a plot to convince the Addams Family that Wednesday was switched at birth with another child (as the joke that Addams used for Wednesday was that she resembled her mother this makes little sense and they have to do extra work to get past DNA issues). As Wednesday is already feeling estranged from her family, this sets too well with her, but not the others, and Gomez suggests they go on a family road trip to see the worst of America (planned stops are Salem, Sleepy Hollow, Miami, San Antonio, The Grand Canyon, Death Valley, and...Sausalito). If one did a little more research—or just had the cajones to risk offending people—they could have found a LOT of places to go.

It's not a lot of fun—there were two lines that made me laugh: When the family sits down to dinner, Fester starts to dig in and Morticia chastises him: "Fester, wait for the children..." to which he replies "I thought we were having CHICKEN!" And at a detour to Niagara Falls, Morticia asks Wednesday "Having fun, dear?" To which she replies "I'm looking at Canada, if that answers your question..." (just the phrasing of that I liked). There's also a nice shot of Gomez being so depressed, he can't even cradle his head on his hands. "Thing" has to do it. It's at the bottom of the review, as it graphically encapsulates how I feel about the film.

The cast does a good job for all they're asked to do: Oscar Isaac is the proper amount of latin dash as Gomez, but Charlize Theron seems to be under the impression that Morticia went to Bryn Mawr. Chloë Grace Moretz has the largest role as Wednesday, but doesn't do much to sell the humor of her depressed daughter, and Nick Kroll does a fine imitation of Jackie Coogan's TV Uncle Fester, but with considerably more saliva. And why the producers thought the sonorous butler Lurch would, when he sings (!!!), have a high singing voice I have no idea, but they do it. He sings "I Will Survive" which isn't funny and makes little sense story-wise.

But, then, that passes for the best you can expect from this milquetoast Addams Family series, which is the wrong format for the wrong audience and betrays and negates the peculiar charms of Addams' original work. It should be staked, coffined, chained, and buried 12 feet deep in salted, sanctified Earth never to materialize in this incarnation again.