Tag Archives: D


Grade: D

Moving from the sublime to the ridiculous, Guillermo del Toro follows up his well-deserved Oscar winner “The Shape of Water” by acting as one of the producers of this laughable sequel to his bloated 2013 “Power Rangers”-meets-“Transformers” ripoff, “Pacific Rim.” His direct responsibility is minimal: the script was written by others, and he handed over directorial duties to feature neophyte (and co-writer) Steven S. DeKnight, whose earlier claim to fame rests on his contributions to television, including various incarnations of the Starz “Spartacus” series. DeKnight’s efforts are workmanlike, but he’s no del Toro—or even a Michael Bay.

And del Toro still bears the burden of having conceived the nutty premise in the first place. Of course, it can be argued that the premise to “Water” is no less nutty, perhaps even more so. Presumably the secret is all in the telling. If so, it’s not told especially well in this case.

The time is a decade after the battle between the alternate-dimension kaijus, giant lizards unleashed from breaches in the ocean floor, and the two-pilot giant robots, the jaegers, that humans build to defeat them, with ultimate success. A rogue jaeger appears in Australia just as a decision is taken by the Pan Pacific Defense Force to replace the pilot-bearing jaegers with drones controlled by overseers back in a control room, and the old jaegers must be called back into action. Eventually the lizards reappear as well, and city-destroying action is once again on the menu. The locus of the big finale is none other than Mount Fuji, which is a kaiju target for reasons that are explained in typical meaningless gobbledygook.

Within that larger context the script focuses on Jake Pentecost (John Boyega), the son of Stacker (played by Idris Elba in the previous film), one of the heroes in the first war (and an ex-pilot himself) who’s turned criminal. After a job gone wrong, he encounters a spunky orphan named Amara (Cailee Spaeny, irritatingly shrill) who’s rebuilt a jaeger she calls Scrapper, and after a skirmish with a larger robot the two of them are taken into custody by the authorities. To avoid jail he reluctantly joins the pilot force again, and she enthusiastically becomes a cadet.

The other cadets are a pretty colorless lot, but there is one other pilot of note: Nate (Scott Eastwood), Jake’s old partner, who urges him to recapture his old sense of duty. Naturally they will become comrades-in-jaeger again as the battle starts, while Amara, though at once point expelled for insubordination, will be recalled to service and ultimately prove central to victory.

But there is a serious issue about that rogue jaeger and the new breaches for the kaijus to come through. They suggest that there is a human traitor assisting the enemy. Who might it be? The imperious head of the Shao Corporation (Jing Tian), who’s implementing the drone program? Or her loud-mouth lackey Newt (Charlie Day), the right-hand man in its development? Certainly it couldn’t be Jake’s half-sister Mako Mori (Rinko Kikuchi), a stalwart of the defense force, or Jules (Adria Arjona), the pretty pilot both Jake and Nate look at longingly, or Hermann Gottlieb (Burn Gorman), chief PPDF scientist and a genius at coming up with innovations just when they’re needed. Or could it? If you don’t care for any of those choices, there are plenty of other suspects—pilots, cadets, commanders, politicians and corporate types—lurking in the background to choose from.

As it is, the movie reveals the culprit pretty early on, and while there will be no spoilers here, rest assured it isn’t Jake, whose transition from antihero to pure hero Boyega limns with lots of bluster but surprisingly little charisma. It’s not really his fault, though: Jake is the sort of fellow who proclaims that he’s not going to give a stem-winding speech to his fellow pilots before the life-or-death battle, but then does just that, and then closes his spiel with the words “Let’s do this!”—an injunction that by now should be banished from every screenwriter’s lexicon.

At that Boyega is still miles ahead of Eastwood, the second syllable of whose surname is all too apt, or Day, whose animated ranting grows tiresome after only a few minutes, or Gorman, whose mugging would have been out of place in the days of the silents. Jing’s icily officious corporate mogul is only one of the picture’s efforts to appeal to the huge China market, which was instrumental in the financial success of the first movie and will obviously be crucial this time around as well.

On the technical side the most notable aspect of “Uprising” is the ear-blasting mix of Lorne Balfe’s score and the sound design. Dan Mindel’s cinematography is okay, but blighted by an avalanche of CGI that’s frequently murky and, even at its best, distinctly second-rate. Then there’s the frenetic tempo, courtesy of a trio of editors—Zach Staenberg, Dylan Highsmith and Josh Schaeffer. At least they bring the thing in under two hours.

A postscript to the movie threatens another sequel. The returns from China, of course, will be decisive in determining whether that’s just another fantasy.



There’s a difference between raunchy and tawdry, and it’s a line that this unsavory rom. com crosses all too often. It wants to be sweet and cheeky but comes off sour and tasteless instead.

Irritatingly chirpy Anna Faris plays Ally Darling, a young Boston professional dumped by her latest live-in boyfriend (Zachary Quinto) and fired from her job in advertising by a finger-sniffing boss (Joel McHale) in the first reel. But she seems much more bothered by the fact that a test in one of those ubiquitous women’s magazines indicates that she’s way beyond the average number of “lays” a typical woman has had before linking up with Mr. Right (she’s at 19 as opposed to the average of 10.5). So in a drunken moment of decision at her sister’s pre-wedding reception, she vows to curb her slutty promiscuity and not to get to twenty sexual encounters before finding her soul mate.

Her solution? Find all her previous nineteen “friends” and “re-audition” the ones who weren’t total rejects. To assist her she recruits her randy cross-the-hallway neighbor Colin (Chris Evans), a musician by trade but womanizer by choice, who as a policeman’s son claims to be expert at finding people. In return she’ll let him use her apartment as a hiding place in the mornings when he wants to disappear while his latest conquest dresses and departs.

It’s obvious that these two will eventually bring out the best in one another and prove to be the perfect match. But along the way to this foreordained conclusion we have to deal with multiple flashbacks to the younger Ally’s various encounters, lots of scenes featuring the wedding preparations of her sister (Ari Graynor) and the prodding of her divorced, pushy mother (Blythe Danner) to find the right kind of man for herself, and a few interludes with her more pleasant father (Ed Begley, Jr.). There are also a few cringe-worthy sequences showing her re-connecting with some of those nineteen “possibles,” including two featuring Chris Pratt and Anthony Mackie and a third, the longest, coupling her with a rich, handsome fellow (Dave Annable) her mother considers the perfect catch but she decides is not the one.

But most of the picture, flabbily directed by Mark Mylod, consists of the Ally-Colin relationship, and it’s peppered with sequences that are carefully manipulated to show one or both of them strip down to only the essentials—the dumbest involving a ridiculous game of “strip horse” the two play at the deserted TD Garden one night. Both Faris and the post-“Captain America” Evans certainly boast attractive physiques, but after a while the movie comes to resemble nothing more than an extended striptease.

The two leads get to show off their other talents too, of course. As far as Faris is concerned, that involves “I Love Lucy”-style slapstick, including one scene in which her hair extension abruptly catches on fire and another when she falls on her face, picks herself up, dusts herself off and speeds away to find Colin. She’s game enough, but the shtick comes off pretty weak. Evans gets to show off his ability to sing and strum guitar, but the result doesn’t suggest that a musical career is in the offing. Graynor is treated merely as a limp foil to Faris, but Danner makes the girls’ mother genuinely nasty—something that adds to the picture’s overall unpleasant tone. As to the other “suitors,” Annable is a stiff bore, and neither Pratt nor Mackie is handed much of anything to do. McHale is stuck in a particularly humiliating part, though Quinto fares little better (and is made to look rather like Adam Goldberg’s younger brother).

Visually the picture is okay, but nothing special. The basketball sequence may be dumb, but the setting is nice, and presumably the Celtics franchise got a substantial sum for allowing filming at the location. A major wag of the finger to music supervisor Julia Michels, whose choices for the incredibly large number of musical montages stuffed into the narrative by Mylod come across as especially lame.

Even in a genre notorious for its low quality, “What’s Your Number?” earns a zero.