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At the end of the day, Indiana Jones is Harrison Ford. You know what I mean? It's one of those characters that dies with the actor. It's not like James Bond. I don't think we'll get another Indiana Jones. We'll get similar movies. Nathan Drake is Indiana Jones, Tomb Raider is Indiana Jones, but with different lead characters. They're not walking around with fedoras and whips. Indiana Jones is a very specific, very alive personality that is tied to this miserly, curmudgeonly Harrison Ford. There are points where you can really tell the man's almost 80. But who cares? Let old guys do action movies. It rules.
I’m not sure if you told me ten years ago the best piece of Spider-Man fiction would be an animated series of films I would have believed you. But here I am, two films in, and I can not stop thinking about how mind-bogglingly perfect these damn movies are. The folks behind Miles Morales and his journey as Spider-Man, not only have the courage to attempt to make lightning strike the same place twice, they’ve figured out how to make lightning…better.
The Guardians of the Galaxy were a middling comic hero team devised in the late 60s. One that never really reached any amount of wide acclaim. To this day, the first Guardians of the Galaxy movie is one of the closest things to a perfect execution in establishing a relationship with unknown characters. After the first movie the names Starlord, Gamora, Rocket, Groot, Drax, and Nebula became household names. Now, nearly ten years later, Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 seeks to remind us why we cared, show us we were right to care, and make us root for our beloved misfits one last time. Ya’ll…it fucking rules.
Honestly, this movie is a blast. The action is incredible, the choreography and cinematography are on point. The characters remain believable and motivated. I just wish, when it was all done, we were in a different place. There is resolution here, and I don’t mean to take away from that, but the resolution feels like it lacks impact. Largely because despite all John does, at the end of the film, the world is more or less unchanged.
The magic of Monkey Man, doesn’t come from its incredible fight scenes, or it’s brilliant choreography or it’s smart and intelligent cinematography. Instead, it comes from an obvious struggle. You can see, throughout this movie, that Dev Patel’s blood is everywhere. There’s no part of this film that doesn’t scream like something trying to rip its way up through an artist's chest, and out of their mouth.