Wicked (Part 1)

Galindafied and Elphabatized
or

Defying Gravitas ("Well, That's a Little Perky...")

 

I didn't know from "Wicked". Never saw the show. Never read the book. The only thing I knew was from YouTube videos watching Idina Menzel and Kristen Chenoweth doing songs from the show. That doesn't give you any sense of what the show is and what the story is about. You can glean that it's a "ret-con" origin story for the Wicked Witch of the West (played by Margaret Hamilton in the version of The Wizard of Oz that everybody knows and loves).

 

It's a trend. As I wrote in my review of Maleficent: "I don't mind when a villain gets his just desserts, but I don't want to "feel for" them when they receive it. I want no sympathy for villainy, no matter the lawyering of its arguments. The fact is I don't care why the Grinch stole Christmas, why the Wicked Witches terrorize Oz, or why Booth shot Lincoln or Oswald shot Kennedy. I don't care why the creep killed those people at USC. Some things cannot be explained away, or understood for their motivations. God help me when I do understand the terrible actions in this world. They are acts of evil, un-pure and simple."

"It is a tragedy that we even have the opportunity to ponder them at all."

 

"Making Maleficent sympathetic diminishes us...and diminishes her."

I haven't changed much in my thinking. Other than to suppose that argument is a little heavy for something like "Wicked". And it does a good job of making the black-and-white/good-and-evil extremes of L. Frank Baum's stories more complex and nuanced. (So, calm down, you musical-theater students! I'm just pondering here and I wouldn't do that if "Wicked" didn't have some significance). I felt the need to see it, anyway, because, after seeing all the corporate tie-ins involved with the thing ubiquitously on television commercials, I began to think that not seeing it might make the economy collapse. I had to do my part.

So, here's John M. Chu's version of Wicked (Part 1 it should be emphasized, this part ends right at the intermission of the play, with the rest of it to be released next year), and it takes full advantage of green-screens and movie-magic (just as the 1939 The Wizard of Oz made the most of the special effects technology of its day*) and is choreographed, production-designed, and cinematographed within an inch of its stage-life, except now taking advantage of the new camera technologies that give you a flying-monkey's perspective of Ozian landscapes.

The film begins in media res of events of The Wizard of Oz with the camera gliding over the homicide scene of the Wicked Witch of the West's watery demise, with its sodden floor, the empty robes and the unadorned hat the only signs of what had gone before. We're whisked—past the figures of Dorothy and her companions making their way to the Emerald City to present the witch's broom to the Great and Powerful Oz—to Munchkinland where the decidedly un-heighth-challenged citizens celebrate the death of the one remaining bad witch when Glinda the good witch (Ariana Grande) confirms that, indeed, the Wicked Witch of the West has been liquidated, and her muted reaction to the news is muted. She reveals that she knew the Wicked Witch and reveals that, yes, they were even friends.

She recalls that the Witch (Cynthia Erivo) was named Elphaba Thropp—conceived as a result of an affair between the Munchkinland Mayor's wife and a traveling salesman and disowned by the Mayor when she is born with green skin-tones, making her an outcast. They have a second child, Nessarose (Marissa Bode), who is born paraplegic and so the parents' affection and care gravitate to her with Elphaba seen as merely a caretaker. When the Mayor has Nessarose enrolled at Shiz University, Elphaba accompanies her, but when things get a little dire, she displays unbridled magical powers that attract the attention of Shiz's Dean of Sorcery Studies, Madame Morrible (Michelle Yeoh). She is enrolled over the Mayor's protestations with Morrible becoming her private tutor and is roomed with Galinda Upland (Grande), the perpetually bubbly social queen of Shiz.

They do not get along. Galinda sees Elphaba as a drag and Elphaba sees Galinda as...typical. But, the two do see moments of value in the other, especially when Elphaba begins to stick up for animal rights at Shiz—talking animals being the legacy instructors at the University. But, the animal professors are being replaced by biped instructors by order of the Wizard of Oz (Jeff Goldblum) and that they be prohibited from talking, instructionally or otherwise, and to the ostracized Elphaba that feels more than specist, it feels authoritarian and she's had enough of that in her personal life, thank you. It's not nearly bad or merely bad, but really and sincerely bad.

That's the gist—The growing trust between Galinda and Elphaba and the growing distrust between Elphaba and the Wizard, and what to do about it. Oh, there's boyfriends, too (Jonathan Bailey and Ethan Slater) just to complicate things, and lots and lots of ancillary characters on the fringes because they have to have dancers. It's a musical, after all.

I'm hot-or-cold with musicals. The form always makes me suspicious, even while understanding that breaking into song is a better expression of feeling than "talking it out." But, those songs and those feelings have to be really strong to earn their place in the narrative. Anything less and you're wasting story-telling time and just harmonizing-in-place. Here, that number is "Dancing Through Life" which is just a pace-killer (although it serves as the intro piece to Prince Heartthrob, Fiyero). The thing just goes on forever and had me thinking of P.L.Travers' critique of Disney films with their "cavorting, twinkling, and prancing to a happy ending like a kamikaze." Fortunately, that's the only point where, if I had a watch, I'd be checking it. The rest of the film sails right on by with something always entering frame to goggle at or enjoy a vocal performance.

And let's face it, the show is a bit of a two-hander between the characters of Elphaba and Galinda/Glinda and that's where Wicked is at its best. Grande is a natural for Glinda although the performance is leavened somewhat by the introduction of a cool aloofness that helps solve the problem of Glinda perky-power-housing through the show to the detriment of the more austere Elphaba character. The movie transfers some of that energy to the chorus of characters surrounding the two and it allows you to really appreciate one thing.

And that's the concentrated subtlety of Cynthias Erivo's performance. While the rest of the movie is "twinkling and cavorting" she earns every slight tilt of the head, wry pull of the mouth, and doesn't waste anything. And she acts through her songs, so even through context, you know exactly what she's singing about—from everybody else, a lot of the lyrics get lost in the jumble. And when she tornadoes through a power-ballad, it shakes the theater-speakers and pummels the heart-strings. I dropped a tear or two during that "Defying Gravity" finale, and that's probably a little threatening to the character.

 

But, it made me want to see Part 2—and not just for the sake of the economy. I have to admit, it did cast a spell.

* The book, of course, didn't have to hew to any visual conception. The stage-musical leaned heavily into the 1939 movie version of things.

Underdog

Underdog (Frederik Du Chau, 2007) Cute little adaptation of the humorous (which is the polite word when something is not funny) cartoon show of the 60's that featured Wally Cox as the voice of the anthropomorphic pooch, "Shoeshine Boy," who becomes the crusading canine of courage whenever Society is threatened by the Forces of Evil--personified by the mad scientist Simon Bar Sinister. "Underdog" was limited animation of the "Rocky and Bullwinkle" codec, and one would have mistaken "U-dog" as a Jay Ward Production if it had managed to produce even a half-hearted chuckle or two.

As it is the film struggles mightily to work as a live action quickie--the effects work starting with Babe and continuing on with every talking animal movie since probably convinced the producers to not go the expensive CGI animation route. Plus, they'd miss another opportunity to star Jim Belushi in a lackluster movie. I kid, but actually...okay, I don't like Jim Belushi. But casting is not the film's problem. As the designated audience surrogate Alex Neuberger isn't all that bad--he does have to play most of his scenes with a dog (that, hate to break it to you, isn't really talking), but there is much joy to be had in the way the villains have been cast. As Simon Bar Sinister, Peter Dinklage gets to show off his comedy chops, and given that his sidekick is played by the dry as dust Patrick Warburton, one begins to pine whenever this mutt-and-jeff act is not on-screen.

Along the way, the filmmakers do some nice little parodies of Superman's greatest hits--scaring a cat-burglar off his suction cups, taking a flight among the stars with his favorite bitch (look, sorry, it's accurate), and because it's Disney, even throw in a plug for Lady and the Tramp. With Jason Lee providing U-Dog's voice and the ubiquitous Amy Adams as gal-pal Polly, it's pretty good for a talking dog movie, and quite good for a flying, talking dog movie.

As anything else...well, there's a need to fear.

 

Cyrano (2021)

The Longing and the Short of It

or

The Wright Stuff
 

Cyrano is a movie I've been wanting to watch for awhile—it did come out in 2021, after all, but it's release, outside of the two major American markets and the Festival circuit, was delayed until 2022—and what attracted me to it was 1) Peter Dinklage, and 2) Joe Wright directed it, and 3) they're not depending on "the nose" thing, which I always found to be...let's say "problematic" when what I really mean is anti-Semitic. French origins and all-that. One suspects coded language going on for the character's "ugly man" persona and why a beautiful Parisienne might refuse to marry him. Reading about the REAL Cyrano de Bergerac only complicates things and brings up what might have been issues in the man's life that original author Edmond Rostand glossed over to create a traditional romance.

 

The film started as a 2018 stage production of the classic play, adapted and directed by Dinklage's wife, Erica Schmidt with songs by "The National". The production moved to Off-Broadway in 2019, and Wright attached himself to direct in the stylized, theatrical proscenium style which has been customary for him when dealing with well-worn period subjects like his Pride and Prejudice, Anna Karenina, and Pan.

It's well-worn enough that you probably already know the story: Roxanne (Haley Bennett) is a beautiful, eligible woman being pursued by many suitors, all of whom are rich and practical choices (like the Duke De Guiche—played by Ben Mendelsohn, who really needs to get himself out of his villain-rut), but she wants love, the kind of love that inspires her heart and inflames her loins. She falls instantly in love with soldier Christian de Neuvillette (Kelvin Harrison Jr.) while at a theater performance during which Cyrano (Dinklage) offends and upstages a foppish stage-thumper. Roxanne and Cyrano are childhood friends, which has blossomed into his unrequited reverence for her. She confesses her love for Christian to him, and he is heart-broken, but upon meeting Christian he finds enough of value in him, that he serves as the young man's mouthpiece in his pursuit of Roxanne. Christian has the looks and the dash, but Cyrano has the lover's soul encased in a less-than-love-inspiring frame. He is doubly cursed watching his heart's desire falling for another man (using his own inspiration).

And that's the dynamic—superficial-love versus unanswered desire. Roxanne only sees the surface of Christian and not the depths of Cyrano (so, is she worth his devotion?). Both paramours find themselves inadequate and punish themselves for their failings (Cyrano that he's not handsome and Christian that he is not eloquent), but, at the least, Christian has a pleasing veneer that gives him the edge in her affections, even if she swoons at Cyrano's words. Yet, Cyrano is never open about his affections, deceiving Roxanne that she can "have it all" even though, at her first meeting with Christian, she finds him lacking in the words and emotions she has come to depend on. Cyrano isn't handsome. Christian isn't eloquent. Roxanne is shallow. Talk about a twisted triangle. M.C. Escher might have been her perfect man.

This isn't a romance, it's a tragedy. And, as with "Hamlet"—or (Disney...) "The Hunchback of Notre Dame", putting it to music would seem perverse. But, songs are inserted—Roxanne has the de rigeur "I want" song right off the bat. And while they're not terrible, they're not sweepingly romantic, either—the Dessner's, Berninger and Besser's are no Cyrano's. The best of them, "Wherever I Fall," concerns the last thoughts of soldiers at war. And for all the choreographed dancing and prancing, there is nothing useful added to a story of three imperfect people looking for the perfect.

It's the acting that sells it. Bennett makes Roxanne an object of desire, despite her flaws and sells the vacuity of the character as having a spine in a world where women are assumed to depend on the considerable undercarriage of their garments to have them. Dinklage, of course, is the star-player here. He's played very few romantic leads—The Station Agent?—and has usually underplayed things to the point of stoicism. There's a bit of that here—when Cyrano is sure he's doing the right thing but not wallowing in self-pity. But, the rest of the time, Dinklage wears his heart on his short sleeve—the face crumples, the eyes squint in pain even as a brave smile erupts across his face. Cyrano may suffer in silence but his face does all the talking, thanks to Dinklage. It's a wonder no one tumbles to his secret, as it's as plain...(no, "as the nose on his face" doesn't apply)...it's obviously apparent given Dinklage's face in turmoil.

Wright's direction and location work (in Sicily) is masterful, throwing in lovely sub-texts in images that the story doesn't imply, bringing sensuality to Roxanne's cloistered world, or the bleakness of the battlefield, turning the location vaults and bridges into proscenium arches and making all the city seem a stage. At the same time—as in Richard Lester's Rome in A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum—Wright's France seems realistic in squalor, overrun by cats, open-air markets properly fetid, and a sense of crumbling dirt everywhere. It makes the scenario go down a little easier when things feel so rough to the touch. In fact, one can say that Wright's direction and sense of the story is as good as it could possibly be. The best presentation, even if the result is a tad mediocre.

File it under "Disappointing Romance"; "Love is a form of Insanity" sub-section.

Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri

Mutiny and Rage
or
"You're So Pretty. But She's Still Dead."

A line from Seven Psychopaths might be a good preamble for Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri: "An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind."

A timely film about the dangers of acting without filters, Martin McDonagh's new film (after In Bruges and Seven Psychopaths) shows what can happen when the thirst for revenge overruns your life: it escalates, creates consequences, and expands in ever-increasing ripples of cause and effect. You want revenge? Don't stop at digging two graves.

Three Billboards defies pigeon-holing and genre-fication. It's too commonplace to be a thriller. It's too intense to be a drama. It's too dark to be a comedy. But it's all of those things at one time (the comedy being more of the Black-Irish variety). It is too sunny and rural to be a noir, but it does share one quality with that type of film: there is no merciful God in evidence in Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri.

Driving on the seldom-used road by her house, Mildred Hayes (Frances McDormand) sees three billboards in disrepair that haven't been used in decades. She stops, backs up and takes in all three of them and the impact they'd have driving past them—1...2...3. And something sparks her. She takes five thousand in cash and strides into the local marketing agency and announces she wants to rent those billboards. After going what can't be on the signs ("Well, I think I'll be alright then" she says), she signs the contract and soon, the billboards are up, and their message is provocative.

The first person to see them is Deputy Dixon (Sam Rockwell), a not-too-competent law officer, who drives by one night and is shocked, angered and his first reaction is to call the Ebbing chief of police Bill Willoughby (Woody Harrelson) as the billboards are a direct challenge to him. The chief is trying to have dinner with his family and Dixon's a hot-head that, for some reason, Willoughby keeps on the force, but his a cooler head and not nearly as reactionary. He'll wait and talk to Mildred in the morning.

News of the billboards has now spread throughout Ebbing and the subject is divisive. The chief has a lot of friends and Mildred has made a few enemies because of them. But a visit from the Chief to try and mollify the situation does help things any much. The Chief wants the billboards down, but he understands the situation; it's been seven months since Mildred's daughter Angela (Kathryn Newton) was raped and murdered, her body burned in the very area of the billboards, and, as they accuse, no arrests have been made in the case. Angela is dead and buried, but Mildred and her son Robbie (Lucas Hedges) have been living with the consequences and their own consciences ever since. Mildred's abusive husband (John Hawkes) has moved out and taken up with a 19 year old intern at the zoo (Samara Weaving).

The Chief is empathetic to Mildred—he has been trying to solve the case and it has been frustrating that there is no forensic evidence to follow up on and tells her that, eventually—in these cases—someone will say something out of turn, someone will slip up, some code of silence will be broken and then, they can act. And as aggrieved as he is about events, he still thinks the billboards are unnecessary. "I don't think those billboards are very fair," he says. Mildred has none of it. "The time it took you to get out here whining like a bitch, Willoughby, some other poor girl's probably out there being butchered." Even telling her that he has cancer doesn't soften her resolve or her frustration. The billboards will stay, come what will.

Dixon is pissed. He wants something done. But, he's under a bureaucratic cloud for beating up an African-American while in custody. He's the loudest and crudest of the local constabulary and has very little anger-management skills—something he probably learned from his mother (Sandy Martin), with whom he still lives. Willoughby can barely contain him during a visit to the ad office—across from the police station—to pressure them to take the signs down, but don't press the point when they realize that they really have no justification within the law to do it. Willoughby, however, starts to re-examine the evidence and crime scene to see if there is something—anything—he might have missed in the initial investigation. 

Confrontations with Dixon (at a bar where he regularly drinks himself into a stupor) and some of the locals causes Mildred to be arrested, but she remains committed to keeping the signs up and the pressure on. Neither side is going to budge, and it's only Willoughby's keeping things from escalating that keeps the town from exploding or Dixon from doing something stupid...or more stupid than is typical for him.

It is that constant, simmering feel of menace that makes Three Billboards a thriller. It is the unblinking directness of everybody's words and actions (and their inability to hedge anything) that makes it funny. It is the utter helplessness and casual brutality that makes it a noir. You begin to wonder if anybody has a shred of decency in the whole thing, but they're inhabiting an indecent uncaring world and the posturing, the implied threats, the "scorched Earth" unequivocation, and the tit-for-tat intensification of hostilities has to come to a head. Before the movie's over, things will flare up to a combustible heat, leaving behind devastation in its wake, if not entirely due to the actions/reactions taken, even if, in the circle outside the fire, it's perceived to be.

Three Billboards is a great movie and, dare I say it, a sign of our times. It is tough—it is not for the blue-hairs and the easily offended (because there is something to offend just about everybody). It has the huevos to to put a lie to the phrase "profound rage." There is nothing "profound" about it (perhaps another word should be found to be paired with it, lest there be any confusion), certainly not in this context. A terrible wrong committed by arrogance has occurred, in the quest for vengeance it gets compounded, and then compounded and then compounded again. We as a people (urged on by simplistic morality plays, such as can be found at the movies) are spoon-fed viscerally satisfying revenge-scenarios that make us think such a thing is commonplace and normal in a philosophy that is based on "an eye for an eye." If we could stop with just an eye, maybe it could work, but the instinct is escalate and with no end in our cyclopean sight.

The performances in this things are brilliant. McDormand is totally unafraid to make her Mildred ugly, both in spirit and face. Keeping her chin up has solidified it to granite, and cocked it forward with a invitation to, go ahead, take a swipe at it...at your peril. A monologue planting flowers near the billboards where her daughter was murdered reveals a person so consumed by grief and guilt and anger that nothing in this world, no miracle, could pull her out of her single-minded need to see somebody pay...and it can be anyone, so far as she's concerned. Thought has left the building. The un-nuanced need for revenge has replaced it. Interestingly, an inspiration for her performance came from John Ford's The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance. Every morning, McDormand sat in her make-up chair staring at pictures of John Wayne, while Rockwell's mirror was covered by pictures of Lee Marvin...and Barney Fife (from "The Andy Griffith Show"). Apt.

I've listened to some hand-wringing on public radio about the movie being insensitive to some issues—like spousal abuse and race-baiting—and being caustic in its humor, which is mostly ironic in nature (folks don't know what they're saying is innately absurd) and that "there is no one to root for." Well, no shit, Sherlock. This isn't a super-hero movie (which, by the way, are based on the notion of crowd-pleasing revenge at any costs). This is about people so burning with anger and self-righteousness that they believe they can do anything, within or without the borders of lawfulness or decency, in the pursuit of their personal cause, effects be damned. We're seeing a lot of that in the world today—letting the world burn because the "cause" is right, without the foresight to see what might be the consequence. If anything, the movie is closer to the "Incredible Mess" version of comedy, where people just dig themselves a deeper hole for themselves without the perspective to see that things are getting more dire the harder they pursue it. In that realm, there is very little to distinguish between comedy and tragedy.

Even it's ending is maddeningly ambiguous, as the most unlikely of partners go off in pursuit of the most tenuous of missions, leaving the audience with (if they're of the mind) only the most thread-bare of hope that someone will come to their senses. But, it's a bit like hoping you can convince someone to consider that they might be wrong. It doesn't work for ideologues, Trump-voters, Nazi's, the PC-GI's...Hell, it doesn't even work for film-critics. Ahab must be led to the whirlpool, and fools hoisted on their own petard. Because doubt is perceived to be weakness in a patriarchy, as opposed to being thought of as open-mindedness and thoughtfulness.

So it goes. Until we can find something better.

X-Men: Days of Future Past

Class-Reunion
or
"Well, It's Complicated..." (All My X's Live in Excess)

Bryan Singer returns to the super-hero franchise he started 14 years ago, and abandoned to make the almost fetishistic Superman Returns leaving "The X-men" in the hands of director Brett Ratner to the series' detriment. It was given a shot of mutated adrenaline a couple years back with Matthew Vaughn's spirited re-boot, X-Men: First Class, which had fun re-tooling the series' DNA, featured some inspired re-casting, and also had a bit of fun poking fun at the film's 60's setting .

Now, as if to atone, Singer is back and has combined both versions of the X-men series (Vaughn was going to direct, but begged off to helm previous collaborator Mark Millar's new The Secret Service adaptation) in X-Men: Days of Future Past—somewhat based on the storyline by writer Chris Claremont and artist John Byrne (the major difference being that Kitty Pryde (Ellen Page) does not go back into the past to set things right, Wolverine (Hugh Jackman) does, presumably because the character is so popular—popular enough to have his own rather unexciting film series—that the film-makers hedge their bets by using their "big gun." Page's Pryde merely provides the transportation, spending the entire movie hovering over Jackman in what seems like a waste of the character and the actress.

"I see bell-bottom pants!!"

The movie revolves around events that we've not been privy to in the previous "X-men" movies. Since 1973, the American government has had a program in place to take care of the "mutant" problem; an American industrialist, Bolivar Trask (Peter Dinklage, at rather low wattage) has designed a squad of robots, the Sentinels, to eradicate all "muties," using information he's acquired studying the blood of one mutant in particular, "Mystique," the shape-shifting assassin Raven Darkhölme, originally played by Rebecca Romijn, and for the past played by Jennifer Lawrence.  Her murder of Trask in '73 accelerated the program, and has led to a genocide of all mutants...and quite a few humans suspected of it. 

Pres. Nixon (Mark Camacho) rolls out the Sentinels in 1973

Now, in the present day, when the Earth is devastated by the results of the Sentinel war, only a solid paragraph of them are left, led by Professor X (Patrick Stewart), Magneto (Ian McKellan), Storm (Halle Berry), Wolverine, Pryde, as well as previously seen X'ers Collossus (Daniel Cudmore), Iceman (Shawn Ashmore), Sunspot (Adan Canto), Warpath (Booboo Stewart), Blink (Bingbing Fan) and a new member, Bishop (Omar Sy). We watch as most of them are taken out by Sentinels with the ability to absorb mutant powers, giving Kitty and Bishop enough time to transport their consciousnesses back in time to warn their younger selves that the attack will take place to avoid it.

Sunspot takes on a Sentinel: Forget this ever happened because it didn't.

A neat trick that.  But one wonders where the duplicate Kitty's and Bishop's are. (Answer: there aren't any, their consciousnesses only went back and erases all presence of their existence at that point in time and place, but then the Sentinels shouldn't be there, either, as there's no reason for them to be). One wonders, also, why we've never heard of any Sentinels in the previous X-movies, considering they've been around since 1973. One can explain it away by saying, it only happened because X-Men: First Class happened—even though it should have happened, anyway—or one can presume that each movie is its own pocket universe, separate and distinct from the others, except that we've seen events from this series affect other events in subsequent films (they're even reprised here in flash-backs) and...

Well, it's about this time that one should suffer a headache like you have an adamantium claw stabbing through your skull—I began to ponder why Daniel Craig has never run into Sean Connery, but that's another series and another alternate universe—and one should really focus on the film, despite the fact it has worm-holes and fluctuations in the space-time-film continuum you could drive a Sentinel transport through.

This did happen in X-Men: First Class because they mention it in X: DOFP

Besides, you could miss some neat stuff. Let's just say that Wolverine goes back in time (his consciousness, katra, ch'i, whatever) to try and talk some sense into Charles Xavier/Professor X (James McAvoy) and Erik Lehnsherr/Magneto (Michael Fassbender) and maybe knock Mystique's Trask-targeted bullet out of the air, to stop the Sentinels before they start. Going back to the overgrown School for Gifted Youngsters, he finds a disengaged Charles Xavier, giving up his powers for the use of his legs by way of a serum taken from the blood of the Beast (Nicholas Hoult), who is care-taking him. Wolverine being Wolverine, this leads to a fight—he seems to fight with everybody here—before persuading Xavier, Beast and a young mutant named Peter Maximoff (Evan Peters) to break Magneto out of a non-metal high-security prison deep underneath the Pentagon. This leads to the best sequence of the film: Maximoff is "Quicksilver," a teen-aged speedster who does everything very, very fast; in the blink of an eye, he can do dozens of things while we, the normally-paced, are just starting the thought of it.

The Quicksilver messenger service

In the midst of the Magneto-break, Pentagon guards burst in with their plastic guns (which Magneto can't manipulate). As Maximoff puts the ear-buds of his Walkman (not invented until 1978, but then he's very quick) into his ears, the guards fire, and Maximoff takes off, running around the room, literally around the circular room, the images super-slowed down, so we can see everything he's doing to foil the guards. Set to a dreamily perfect song (from 1972 and I won't spoil it, although I'm not so sure Maximoff would listen to it), the scene is perfect and may be the best representation of super-speed put on film (and hey, I was a fan of The Flash, growing up), done with a reckless glee and amusing execution. 

The nearly-nude Mystique's action scenes need to be very carefully 
choreographed, even in the Nixon Oval Office.

Would that the rest of the film live up to that sequence. But, as you can guess from earlier in the review, there's a lot of stuff going on, some of it rather arcane, a lot of which we have to take on faith. And Singer is not the most reliable director for that, quite deliberately. His M.O. is to withhold information, to disguise intentions, and, often, to go for the highly dramatic just to pull the plug on it, ramp up the tension...and needlessly. Watch how he handles Wolverine's slashing and stabbing of victims (off-screen), how he shows the nearly naked Mystique in battle (mostly from the top, and if any leg action is required, everything waist-level is kept in darkness (even in well-lighted rooms—one can't veer from a PG-13 rating) Time-travel is his perfect trick, because he can do something over-the-top and then say "see, it never happened." 

Meeting of the X-minds: McAvoy and Stewart play the same role in different times.

Which leads me to suspect the motivation for doing this film—and this story—to begin with. Why this one, and why now? The answer must be with Singer's presence directing. It's been stated that this one is the "last hurrah" for the original "X-men" cast (they'll continue with the "First Class" McAvoy, Fassbender and Lawrence) and one must admit that Ian McKellen is indeed getting a little long-in-the-tooth to be cavorting around and levitating. I suspect that this was Singer's chance to "make things right," using the time-travel scenario as the catalyst to tweak the X-men Universe. He does more than that, for this film and the entire series, in a coda that cures all sorts of Wolverine's flash-backs from this film. Maybe it is atonement, after all.*  

But, in its sloppy rush to a satisfying ending, it left me with a bunch of questions. Does Wolverine have his metal claws back (he had the adamantium sucked out of him in the last "Wolverine" movie, and has bone claws throughout this one)? Is this the last we've seen of the Sentinels? Did Magneto cause the gaps in Nixon's secret tapes? Just how many people can they pack into an X-men movie (including cameo's?) Do I toss the old X-men movies in my DVD collection since this one makes them mute..uh, moot? 

To paraphrase The Usual Suspects: Is the greatest trick Bryan Singer ever pulled to convince the world they don't exist?**

Roll-call (L->R): Colossus, Blink, Sunspot, Quicksilver, Rogue, Charles Xavier (the younger), Iceman, Magneto, Wolverine, 
Magneto (the younger), Mystique, Professor X, Beast (the younger), Storm, Kitty Pryde, Warpath, Bishop
 (and believe it or not, they left "a couple" out).
Clip and save for reference in the theater.

* Which makes it doubly appropriate that James McAvoy is here.

** And, oh yes, there is an "End-Credits coda" but unless you brought a "Marvel-zombie" to the theater with you, there is no way you will understand it.