In Annihilation, a strange shimmer is growing around a Florida lighthouse. Anyone who goes inside doesn’t return. The only person who does comes back terribly sick — so his wife, who thought he was dead, decides to enter the shimmer and find out what happened to him.

The movie Annihilation is an adaptation of a book by Jeff VanderMeer which I haven’t read. I’m given to understand that it’s dramatically different from the movie, and Annihilation (the movie) has become so precious to me, I’m not really interested in another version of it. (I’m weird about this kind of thing.)

So when I’m talking about the movie, it’s with zero information from the book. I don’t think that the book and the movie are about the same thing anyway. Alex Garland’s adaptation is its own story. And one thing I love so fiercely about Annihilation is how the story is entirely metaphoric.

I like to assert my Sara’s Unified Theory of Annihilation to anyone who will listen. You ready for it?

All of the woman characters are Lena, the biologist.

DETAILED SPOILERS FROM HERE ONWARD.

Early in the movie, Lena shows her students video of cervical cancer cells dividing. She identifies them as belonging to a woman in her early thirties. I think these cancer cells came from Lena herself. This cancer is the vortex around which the entire plot revolves: Lena’s internal journey through grief and self-destruction, the trauma of the sickness, ruining her marriage, and — eventually — chemotherapy that saves her life.

The first woman to die is the softest, gentlest, sweetest of all the women. She lost her daughter to leukemia. In fact, I think Lena lost the *idea* of the daughter she wanted to have when she got cancer. Cervical cancer meant hysterectomy; she would never have children. At the same time, Lena lost the softer, gentler, sweeter version of herself. What remained were the likes of Anya (a heavy-drinking soldier quick to anger) and Josie (broken and self-harming).

Ventress, then, is representative of Lena’s overarching side as a biologist: the cold, scientific mind who can’t help but be fascinated by the cancer. Ventress is identified as having terminal cancer, in fact.

A lot of the dialogue in the movie feels sort of strange and prosey for this reason. They aren’t real people talking. They’re the sides of the same person engaged with one another in grief over the same problem.

One of the many ways Lena annihilated herself was by entering into an affair, and this is one of the things that drove Kane’s annihilation. His team, too, was likely just a collection of his own sides. Remember how tenderly Kane cuts open his other teammate, as if performing a c-section? And there is life inside of him? Kane had to grapple with the idea he’d never have kids with Lena as well. Kane had to deal with his wife’s sickness, pulling away from him, and cheating on him with a colleague. No wonder he vanished and took on this suicide mission.

The faceless being that Lena confronts at the end is herself. The cancer is Lena. It’s her own cells.

You will also note that the tunnel under the lighthouse is distinctively vaginal in shape. The cave is the womb. Instead of birthing a child, Lena births cancer — a hostile piece of herself.

When we wonder whether Lena and Kane are clones at the end of the movie, we’re kind of missing the point. Both of them are dramatically transformed versions of themselves. They are simply post-trauma Lena and Kane who annihilated, almost to completion, then came out the other side. It’s actually a really happy ending: forgiveness, healing, and moving on as their altered selves.

The Last Starfighter is an 80s science fiction movie about a teenage boy who gets a high score on a video game that is meant to recruit people to an actual war in space. His big score leads to an alien abduction and joining a small class of others destined to pilot a Gunstar for the Star League. He’s a reluctant hero, but he does become a hero. The eponymous Last Starfighter.

It’s a fun concept, and it works great for kids. I loved this one when I was young. So did my mom, who was barely out of teenagehood when it released. There’s something near-universally appealing about the fantasy of being swept out of your ordinary (crappy) life into a bigger world. The hero, Alex, is very much a chosen one: it’s believed humans can’t even have the aptitude for piloting Gunstars, yet he’s the one who stops the Zur and the Ko-Dan Armada.

The Last Starfighter is obviously coming for Star Wars’s wig, using a lot of the same mechanisms. It’s an extremely straightforward Hero’s Journey screenplay. The humble hero comes from a humble trailer park rather than a dead-end moisture farm on Tattooine. The grand score absolutely competes with that of Star Wars. And the 3D graphics — among the first extensive uses of them in a movie — are more sophisticated than the miniatures and film etchings used for Star Wars.

What TLS misses is that much of the Star Wars charm comes from the quality of the writing, not its use of tropes. You really can’t undervalue what Marcia Lucas did to that original screenplay. It radiates humanity and adventure. TLS mostly focuses on hitting the beats of the Hero’s Journey, and it relies on (admittedly wonderful) charming actor performances to give it life.

But it feels like it’s missing a whole act. Remember how Luke Skywalker needs to develop his skills with Obi-Wan Kenobi? How he’s defeated but rebounds? How Bilbo Baggins takes on side quests so we can actually see him develop? The time Katniss Everdeen takes to repeatedly fail before she develops enough to figure out survival?

Here, Alex isn’t given that time, and what time he gets is spent on Earth — a total misfire that loses the opportunity to develop the Star League beyond a few brief, shallow scenes. The focus on his Beta replacement is funny, but does no good for the story whatsoever.

I think the screenplay is so anemic because of the limited imagination of the filmmakers. See, they blew their load on about a half hour of spectacular CGI, which was only matched in its era by Tron. There are a couple of simple science fiction sets we only see for a short time elsewhere. They can’t imagine any other way to utilize those spaces to work around lacking more Gunstar and combat, so with the budget expended, they just return the story to the trailer park. Even when Alex is being rewarded for his victory at the end, it’s done on a bare black screen, rather than with the grand matte painting of Leia bestowing medals on Luke, Han, and Chewie.

The trailer park just isn’t the right place to spend time in a movie that’s about escaping the drudgery of life for a space adventure. It’s a really nice depiction of a trailer park, though. I mean it! Can you think of another time that a trailer park is painted with such warmth and sentimentality, without even a hint of classist sneer? We just shouldn’t have seen it between his abduction and his return at the end. There’s no sense that Alex has grown bigger and changed and can’t go back home anymore. He’s barely left.

Absent of an act really letting him develop out in a great big galaxy, The Last Starfighter feels like a hollow grasp for Star Wars-like fame. It’s not an adventure so much as a bunch of conversations, and then also some pretty excellent early CGI.

If you love all the character stuff, you might love this movie. A lot of people still do. It’s an extremely polished cult classic. My 13yo found it adequate. My mom still giggles adorably through it. I was less impressed with it now than when I was a kid, and I wish we could do some reshoots on some cheap sets to flesh out the middle. I can think of so much science fiction that taped together great stories from very paltry budgets. What’s the excuse here?

The score is still one of the absolute greats, they’ve got a good Gandalf/Obi-Wan, and this is another fun use of a Delorean. But there are much better, cheaper science fiction movies worth your time than this, and the contemporary box office numbers agreed. Show it to your kids, though.

(image credit: Universal Pictures)

I have nothing but biased opinions about Lord of the Rings. I think of this as the greatest movie trilogy of all time, and I won’t listen to any opinions that say otherwise.

Of the three movies, whichever one I’m watching at the moment is my favorite. Today, The Two Towers was my favorite. It’s got some of my favorite parts of the trilogy, anyway: great speeches surrounding Helm’s Deep, the most amazing satisfying battle, gorgeous goth Arwen, a score that makes me cry evry tiem, the Dead Marshes, po-ta-toes, “What Do Your Elf Eyes See?”, Faramir proving himself stronger than Boromir, and on and on and on.

It’s difficult to review any individual part of the trilogy without the rest, since they’re a cohesive unit. Nine to twelve hours of flawless filmmaking, depending on what edition you’re watching. (I always watch the Extended Edition.)

You’d expect the middle movie to be the saggiest entry, since you’ll find saggy middles throughout most movies, series, books, and media in general. There’s definitely some parts that stretch out longer than they need to. I’m not exactly bolted to my chair with all the Ent stuff — even though I love the Ent stuff too! — and everything with freeing Rohan from Wormtongue’s sway feels a little bit like a side quest you don’t *really* want to do in the game. I also feel like things slow down a lot once Frodo is with Faramir. It’s more of a jarring moment of quiet than a moment of needed respite from the high energy of the fighting going on elsewhere.

But I’m really straining here to find something balanced to say, and also kind of lying, because I love every moment of this.

I mean, c’mon. This movie starts with Gandalf fighting the Balrog and ends with Gandalf bringing Eomer’s men to rescue Helm’s Deep from the brink of death. It’s incredible. Why don’t I have a fell beast? I deserve a fell beast.

It’s awesome to see the effects after more than twenty years too. Nothing looks as realistic as it felt at the time (I was 14), but it doesn’t matter. There’s a really cohesive artistic vision happening here. Everyone was given space to do their jobs right, and that means the bigatures, nascent mo-cap, photo composition, and other CG all come together to look *right* even as it ages.

Truly this is amazing cinema, amazing fantasy, and I think I could rewatch this trilogy every week for the rest of my life without losing the excitement. I get such chills throughout Helm’s Deep, it almost hurts. It’s that good.

(image credit: New Line Cinema)

How the heck do you review a movie like Martyrs?

The story is this: a ten-year-old girl escapes extreme torture, and nobody knows why she was being tortured in such a way. She meets another girl at an orphanage. The two of them grow up together and become extremely close. Fifteen years after her escape, she seeks revenge, and things…don’t go great.

As part of the French New Extremist movement in cinema, Martyrs (2008) is intended to be unpleasant to watch. The director said it himself. The plot of the movie involves subjecting young women to so much pain that they transcend it and become martyrs (witnesses) to the afterlife. To paraphrase the director, simply watching the movie is meant to somewhat turn viewers into martyrs too. It’s that kind of unpleasant. Cruelty is the point.

I often review movies based on my enjoyment, so how do you review something you’re not meant to enjoy?

Certainly I found the project thought-provoking, though not in all good ways. It seems terribly convenient that a man would write a script claiming young women are the best martyrs, which then lets him make a whole movie where beautiful young (often mostly naked) women are pantomiming extreme suffering. I’ve come across way too many men who get their jollies off on women who suffer — but also women who *transcend* the suffering, giving the men a sense of benevolence, because the women are better than being broken by it. I’ve got a particular loathing for this kind of misogyny. It’s all over Martyrs…and horror in general, honestly.

You’ll hear fans (is anyone a fan, really?) say that Martyrs is making a point about the way society uses women and their pain — or horror itself uses them — but if it’s meant to be criticism, then it’s the kind of criticism where they do exactly the thing they criticize. You know? How much of a critical leg does someone have to stand upon when they do the thing they say is bad? Why would you do it if you *really* think it’s bad? Creators are in full control of their message and its execution, after all. He could have said this in a way that didn’t involve a bunch of attractive naked actresses acting extreme suffering. But he did. So he must bear the same criticism ~fans claim the movie is making, in my opinion.

That said, it’s kind of naive to expect horror (especially of this movement) to do anything else. I feel like I have to set aside the above because Martyrs is what it is.

Once I get over all that, I’m left with the impression of a masterfully made movie. It’s shot beautifully, sorta, as much as a gory movie can be beautiful. The sound design (mostly a lot of screaming) is more impactful than the visuals, and the visual effects are beyond impressive. The editing is great. The score is lovely. The tender relationship between characters is genuinely touching, and they didn’t have to center such loving relationships in such a shocker of a film.

Very little is explicitly stated in Martyrs, which leaves ample room for interpretation. I always enjoy that. Why did Mademoiselle do what she did at the end, for instance? You have to comb back through the movie and watch the actress closely to draw your own conclusions about the motivations from character, plot, and theme. There is a sense of meaning — albeit possibly illusory meaning — to all the pain, and the way it demands time for analysis manages to make the film itself transcend torture porn to become actual art.

This is why I’m left giving it a four star review, even though I might wanna fight the director if we ever ate dinner at the same restaurant, and it wasn’t fun to watch, and I’m not sure I’ll watch it again. Martyrs is really skillfully made and it’s worth thinking about.

All the above said, I might actually watch it again because I think I missed whole levels to the flick. For instance: I didn’t realize the two main women would be considered nonwhite by the French filmmakers. I’m an American, and we absolutely have tons of racist biases, but I honestly just registered them as French. I feel so silly typing that out! But it means there is not just a gendered element to the people chosen as Martyrs, but also a racial element I didn’t begin considering. I mostly thought about gender, Catholicism, and the creator’s desperate need for therapy (said lovingly).

It makes me wonder if I even have enough context on French culture and cinema to really crack this movie. I’ve got to be missing tons of nuance. And I do think there’s lots of nuance.

Martyrs is the kind of movie you can’t really recommend to anyone, but if you think you can stomach extremely bleak and violent horror, it’s good to swing by at least once. Don’t watch it. I think I have to tell you not to watch it just in case.

(image credit: Wild Bunch)

In The Wedding Singer, the titular character gets left at the altar at his own wedding, then falls in love with a woman about to walk down the aisle with her jerk fiance. But make it 80s! In 1985, CD players are brand-new exotic technology, hair is enormous, and all fabrics look like they belong on Barbie dolls. The Wedding Singer is Adam Sandler’s romcom love letter to perms and synths. But also an extremely adorable Drew Barrymore.

This is easily my favorite Adam Sandler movie. It’s heartfelt, sincere, and has some of the funniest delivery of the simplest lines.

He plays Robbie Hart, who’s completely out-of-step with the Greed Is Good attitudes of the 1980s. Since leaving his high school era hair metal band, he’s been mostly making money by singing at weddings. He also teaches music locally in the community. But he’s not really someone who invoices others, so he gets paid in, say, meatballs dumped directly into his palms.

It’s not that he’s without ambition; he still writes songs and cares passionately about music. He just doesn’t desire grand financial gain. He does it for the love of music and the love of making people happy. His fiancee, Linda, can’t understand this; she leaves him at the altar. But a waitress who works the same weddings, Julia, finds this extremely charming.

Unfortunately Julia is with the biggest d-bag on the planet. He’s got a Delorean, popped collars, and a penchant for cheating. He’s marrying Julia only because he doesn’t want to break up and he trusts that she isn’t after his money.

Robbie helps Julia plan her wedding instead, since the evil fiance is disinterested, and Robbie and Julia fall for each other. Hard. Thanks to Billy Idol, they get a happily-ever-after.

You know what’s surreal about The Wedding Singer in this, the year of our Lord 2024? It was only thirteen years between the movie’s setting and its release (1985 vs 1998), so an equivalent movie now would take place in 2011. They wouldn’t be singing Boy George. They’d be banging hits by The Black Eyed Peas. They’d wear those glasses with the slats in them, business casual everywhere, and modeling themselves after Disco Stick-era Lady Gaga.

Now we’re almost 40 years away from 1985, which is the same distance that 1985 was from 1945 (the immediate postwar period). Isn’t that weird? Isn’t time’s slippery nature strange and unsettling? Don’t worry about it! Robbie just wrote a really cute song for Julia! They have similar values! They’re practicing the altar kiss!

I love this movie so much. My only regret is that streaming-era versions of the movie don’t have the post-credits karaoke, like the VHS did. Wait, how old am I?

(image credit: New Line Cinema)

You know when you watch a movie, and they’re making a parody movie within the movie, a la Notting Hill or The Fall Guy? This is the parody movie.

Welcome to the JLonaissance! Here, JLo is an analyst named Atlas who has dedicated her life to searching for the rogue AI who killed her mom and like three billion other people. Stuffy plotty things happen and she ends up piloting a mech suit.

“JLo in a mech suit??” you ask excitedly, if by “you” I mean “me.” Me asked this very excitedly upon seeing the trailer. I’m delighted to inform you all that this is exactly the movie you thought when you watched the trailer. It’s JLo in a mech suit, baby! What else do you need? Narrative tension? A sense of urgency? The main character’s development feeling hard-earned? A coherent message? Get outta here.

There are absolutely no surprises in Atlas. It’s a 2-hour-long video game cinematic starring a lot of actors you recognize, sort of like Death Stranding, except it’s shorter than most of the Death Stranding cinematics and Death Stranding has something to say.

The entire point of the movie is JLo neurotically saying, “I don’t trust AI!!!!” until she does. She becomes besties with an AI, hot guys die, she defeats the bad AI because she unlocks a few upgrade slots, and she’s improbably rescued at the last minute. This doesn’t feel like a spoiler to me. You already knew the ending was gonna just kinda be like “shrug, she survives.” Look within your heart. The truth is there.

But I’m gonna tell you, this movie really could have been a whole lot worse. Mark Strong’s expressions imply a subplot that wasn’t written. JLo is so committed to the material! Simu Liu is hunky and he wisely made ten thousand hunky Abraham Popoolas for me to thirst over. Sterling K Brown does a great job (like he ever does a bad job, pff). Everyone’s hot, the CGI was fine, and the script hit all the most basic Save the Cat beats. Hey, that’s not a guarantee in modern screenwriting.

Sure, it would have been better with a lot less talking and a lot more plot, action, or cool sci-fi stuff. Atlas’s emotional growth had the psychological feeling of an on-rails shooter. It’s kinda stunning how little imagination they could employ in a science fiction setting where they got to put JLo in a mech suit. What a boring planet! What prosaic world building!

Yet I really think the screenwriting is the worst part of this (by far), and the screenwriting is *mostly* dispassionate and mediocre.

I kinda think I’d have enjoyed this movie when I was a kid, though it’s not intended as a kid’s movie (who the hell is this intended for? who would be happy with slow conversations between JLo and Siri?). I’d have loved watching it intercut with lengthy toy-themed commercial breaks on TBS.

Call me a JLo simp ever since her whole “I love love” megaproject made it clear exactly how unhinged she is (~I could fix her~), but I have been more annoyed by vastly more prestigious movies. This is extremely low-grade watch-it-while-doing-something-else sci-fi-themed schlock, and gosh darnit, I love sci-fi schlock.

Come to this movie for JLo looking adorable with frizzy hair and giant glasses; stay for the video game vibes because hey, you might as well, you’re probably folding laundry or vacuuming the floor or something anyway.

(image credit: Netflix)

Furiosa is another entry into the Mad Max series of movies. This one serves as prequel to Fury Road, filling in the origin details of the titular character: stolen as a girl from a woman-friendly sanctuary, raised among the War Rig’s building and operation, seeking a way to get revenge and go home.

This is an extremely solid Mad Max entry. It lacks the symmetric narrative elegance of Fury Road, but it’s a respectable prequel that doesn’t feel inessential, either. I wasn’t sure how much they could really add that I’d care about. Of course, George Miller is the king of detail-oriented world building. He found places to elaborate.

Thanks to the convincing performance of a young Alyla Browne, I was riveted for a full half of the movie, and I genuinely believed the Furiosa she created. I also really enjoyed Chris Hemsworth (prosthetic nose aside) as a sick and charismatic Dementus. He hit all the right notes, which I understand to be challenging while working under a director as exacting as Miller.

Come to this movie for the vibes more than the set pieces. There is little of that tactile grandeur that made Fury Road such a blast to watch, but the process for making that feels like a once-in-a-lifetime experience. This is a more standard Mad Max. I think anyone who likes the broader Mad Max world will like this anyway.

On a more critical note, I just didn’t care for Anya Taylor-Joy as Furiosa. I can’t quite put my finger on it. Her delivery in the last dialogue wasn’t especially compelling, which might have been the dialogue at large (it really dragged). But I also didn’t love watching her at any other point, either. She didn’t pull me in the way that the younger or older actresses did while playing the same character. I’m not sure what’s happening there — maybe she’s just a little too obviously Anya Taylor-Joy the whole time, maybe the difficulty of the shoot didn’t bring out her best performance… Who knows?

The movie is a post-apocalyptic pleasure to watch, and just the experience is enough. But Furiosa as a character is better without the added context. I tend to think we got everything we need to know about her in Fury Road. Miller and Max are best with less text. His props, costumes, and overall design are packed with visuals that offer plenty subtextually for people who want to know more about what’s going on. Adding more story doesn’t necessarily improve anything. And it nukes some of the mystery that makes Fury Road such a vibe.

Still, this movie would be entirely watchable as a double feature with Fury Road, and I think it would be pretty satisfying if you like the way George Miller does his world building. If for some reason you can only watch one, you should still watch Fury Road — it’s a truly great movie. Furiosa is a good movie.

(image credit: Warner Bros. Pictures)