'The Big Short' Is Smartest Movie of Year

Well, it’s happened. The man most famous for being a frequent Will Ferrell collaborator, Adam McKay, has made (arguably) the smartest movie of 2015. The Big Short is a derisive satire based on the 2010 best-selling non-fiction book of the same name, focusing on a handful of key players on Wall Street and across the country who not only predicted the inevitable housing crisis of 2008, but looked to capitalize on the looming crash quite handsomely.

McKay and Charles Randolph adapted the screenplay from the Michael Lewis’ book that chronicles the real life series of events that lead to a respective group of money managers (Steve Carell and his motley crew), investors (Christian Bale and Brad Pitt), and Wall Street types (Ryan Gosling) who looked to bet against the wildly profitable sub-prime mortgage industry. Seems like a tough sell, right? A movie that revolves around a bunch of rich white guys in their offices outsmarting all the other rich white guys sounds hardly interesting, or original (see: Gordon Gecko). That’s where the combination of McKay’s comedic prowess and ingénue along with the A-list arsenal of acting immersion lift The Big Short into unparalleled satirical standing.

The Big Short is grimly funny – opening with an uncanny (and later on, intermittent) fourth-wall break a la Wolf Of Wall Street from Ryan Gosling, whoops, in the movie he’s Jared Vennett, a hotshot Deutsche banker. Vennett takes the viewer through a brief montage on the history of the real estate, mortgage, and various other large-scale financial industries in a fun and expository manner. Despite the light and playful nature of Vennett’s historical run down, the overall sardonic tone is established, allowing the film to become much darker and fuel itself with clever wit and rage.

The players introduced in Vennett’s expository homily are as follows: all around acting chameleon Christian Bale as the glass-eyed, hermitic M.D. turned San Jose investing consultant with a penchant for drumming, Michael Burry, Steve Carell as the New York corporation-condemning neurotic misanthrope Michael Baum and his troupe of equally maladjusted money managers (one of the films truly unexpected highlights) portrayed by Hamish Linklater, Rafe Spall, and Jeremy Strong. Brad Pitt not only stars as Ben Rickert, a despondent Wall Street banker turned political activist/guiding light to a couple young gunners from Denver (Finn Wittrock and John Magaro), but also lends a hand as a producer on the film. Finally, the film’s pseudo narrator, docent, fit fanatic, Jordan Belfort-lite, antagonistic protagonist, resident “burn” distributor, Jared Vennett, played by Ryan Gosling in a jerry curl.

Due to the magnificent People magazine fodder the exceptional cast actually is, the film takes a couple beats to fully commit to the characters within the story. That being said, Bale disappears into Burry’s anti-social, atypical nature seamlessly almost instantaneously, with Carell’s well-intentioned, yet cynical portrayal of Michael Baum not far behind.

Rather than give a full recount of the film’s synopsis, the reader may be better served with focuses on the unique and clever aspects of the film instead. The film operates in multiple parts - documentary, farce, drama, satire, etc. – with each aspect being highlighted in various capacities. Gosling’s Vennett serves as a wonderful narrator for the more historical, expository asides, while Carell and Bale offer more dramatic performances within the film. Pitt’s role in the film is mostly ancillary, but provides a lens that inevitably makes the viewer question the protagonists’ moral standing as a whole.

The A-list cast certainly carries the film, but perhaps the most notable aspect of the film as a whole is the manner of which complex real estate and mortgage terms are explained in layman’s terms by the likes of Margot Robbie, Anthony Bourdain, Richard Thaler, and Selena Gomez.  When key terms and complex mortgage phrases are introduced, Gosling inevitably throws a quick cut to a cameo. Each cameo is essentially an informational vignette that gives both a humorous and informative explanation of the term. Again, instead of reproducing each individual informative vignette, just know that one involves Margot Robbie in a bathtub (eerily similar to Wolf of Wall Street), Anthony Bourdain in a kitchen, and arguably the best of the three, economist Richard Thaler and pop star Selena Gomez explaining synthetic CDO’s (Collateralized Debt Obligations) and the “Hot Hand Fallacy” over a game of blackjack.

The Big Short is the smartest movie in 2015. It’s sharp, divisive, engaging, and humorous, without sacrificing any ounce of information in the name of Hollywood dramatics. It is a movie that focuses on subprime loans, something so complex, even the banks that doled them out failed to fully grasp exactly what they entailed. McKay manages to take a bewildering piece in history and craft it into a digestible package that does not sacrifice any wit or edge so audiences can understand more clearly. The Big Short observes and utilizes the events (24-hour celebrity news cycle) that obfuscated the eventual recession, and in turn illuminates the situation so viewers can make their own decisions on what went wrong, and who (if anyone) is to blame.

From the outrageous mind of director Adam Mckay comes THE BIG SHORT. Starring Christian Bale, Steve Carell, Ryan Gosling and Brad Pitt, in theaters Christmas. When four outsiders saw what the big banks, media and government refused to, the global collapse of the economy, they had an idea: The Big Short.

[Spoilers] 'The Force Awakens' Is Worthy Rebirth of Beloved Star Wars Universe

[This review contains spoilers]

From the moment the opening crawl began there was a palpable, tingling excitement permeating the theater, as only the most cold-hearted can avoid at least a small burst of childlike wonder at the sight of those golden letters that signal the beginning of a new Star Wars film hurtling across space. This one, the JJ Abrams-directed Episode VII: The Force Awakens, did not disappoint.

Introducing the Rebellion-turned-Resistance's golden-hearted flyboy Poe Dameron (Oscar Isaac) as well as new droid friend BB-8 (Bill Hader & Ben Schwartz), we’re quickly connected with an instantly likable young cast capable of moving the now open-ended series forward. The real stars, though, are Empire splinter group First Order's determined yet often unsure (importantly non-clone) ex-Stormtrooper turncoat, FN-2187 (a reference to Princess Leia’s A New Hope cell number), better known as Finn (John Boyega), and the plucky and self-sufficient Rey (Daisy Ridley), a lone scavenger of unclear heritage on the desert world of Jakku. 

Despite how tiring it must be still fighting a somehow larger power three decades years later, the original cast members have aged well. Princess Leia (Carrie Fisher) is a general in the New Republic now, Han Solo (Harrison Ford) is just as charming and fun a scoundrel as before, and Chewbacca (Peter Mayhew) still doesn't show a single grey hair. C-3PO (Anthony Daniels) now has a (mysterious or mundane?) red arm, and R2-D2 (Kenny Baker) comes around eventually. Even Admiral Ackbar (Tim Rose) remains at the helm of the navy’s controls.

A big fear leading up to Awakens was that the new and old characters would not mesh well as the two worlds collide, or that Abrams would struggle to utilize the returnees without making it too much about them or kick them aside almost entirely, though this concern abated almost as soon as Rey and Finn seamlessly banded together with Han and Chewie after being captured by the latter. It never feels like an outdated babysitting even when Rey displays round-eyed admiration upon meeting them, much like the fans themselves sitting beyond the fourth wall.

The looming foil to these heroes, Kylo Ren (Adam Driver), is soon revealed to be Leia and Han’s son Ben, an official canon replacement of the expanded universe’s Jacen, Jaina, and Anakin Solo, as well as a nice nod to EU's Ben Skywalker, son of Luke (both, of course, named in memory of Obi-Wan “Ben” Kenobi). Beginning as one of Luke Skywalker’s (Mark Hamill) protégés, he derailed his former master’s attempt at regrowing the Jedi by turning to the Dark Side. It is this background that sets the scene for Luke’s disappearance, as our protagonists spend the most of the film in search of him.

Overall, the plot line runs largely like glorified reboot of A New Hope with strong parallels throughout: a young, apparently orphaned and force sensitive individual escapes their desolate desert home planet (Jakku serving as Tatooine II) before being thrust far out of their depth and into intergalactic conflict. But many of these parallels are turned on their heads, such as the father-son dynamic; just as Luke once dangled over a bottomless pit at the mercy of his Dark Side dad, Kylo Ren flips the script and ushers in the end of an era by throwing his own benevolent parent Han into the abyss with a ruthless - and heartbreaking - fatal stab. One can argue it was predictable, but you’d be lying (or quite cold) if you didn’t feel at least a twinge of hope as the lovable hero tried to save his own son face to face at his own peril.

Sporting the much discussed lightsaber with twin exhaust ports near the hilt, Kylo Ren’s unstable but powerful blade is of course a symbolic representation of the anger and erraticism associated with the Dark Side itself. (It is also, interestingly, the first uniquely built lightsaber we see since Darth Maul and Count Dooku’s modified weapons in the prequels.) Not quite the archetypical ne’er-do-well, Kylo Ren exhibits emotional complexity the absence of which was often bemoaned in the prequels. It’s clear he has raw talent and certainly the pedigree, but he needs training, and it's interesting to see a Star Wars villain not fully formed and brooding over a storied past for once, but rather vulnerable, raw, and growing. Despite his cocksureness he even admits to Han he is struggling with the pressure before killing him, and it's a key facet to Kylo Ren’s character that we observe his insecurity and volatility.

Kylo Ren aspires to emulate his grandfather, Darth Vader, even wearing a mask in the same style and praying to his idol’s damaged helmet at one point. It’s here when one can’t help but recall how Anakin, Yoda, Ben, and even Qui-Gon Jinn were able to communicate with their followers from the afterlife through the force, and wonder if - and if not, why not - Kylo Ren has done so with his inspiration. And would there not be a disconnect as Anakin had turned back to the light at his latest living point? (It also begs the question if this what Luke has been up to in his exile, though with Alec Guinness unfortunately passing away in 2000 it raises the issue of who would play Ben’s ghost.)

And who is this mysterious larger-than-life hologram of Supreme Leader Snoke (Andy Serkis) that he reports to? His ancient appearance implies he is new only to us, but where would that place him during the events transpiring only 30 years before? With the Banite Line of Sith finally dying out with Vader's last breath, neither Snoke nor Kylo Ren hold the Sith title of Darth, so what are they really? Is it possible that Snoke is somehow a return of Darth Plagueis, Darth Sidious’ immortality obsessed late master? We have until May 2017 to speculate.

Throughout Awakens, many of the same classic Star Wars motifs are expanded upon, like the vaguely UK-accented bad guys parading around, now even more overtly fascist than ever before with Nazi-reminiscent rallies in front of their new genocidal super weapon. Despite being only a rogue faction of the disbanded Empire, their technological ability appears even more powerful with a Death Star-esque sun-sucking death ray (of questionable physics) embedded in a planet called Starkiller Base, which is capable of evaporating multiple worlds at once. That’s no moon, it is literally an entire planet this time, and the classic mission impossible to lower shields and destroy it from the inside repeats for the third, somewhat self-aggrandizing but still nevertheless wholly enjoyable, time. Combined with subtle expansions on the awe-inspiring little things, like Darth Vader’s force pull on Han's blaster evolving into Kylo Ren's force freeze of a blaster bolt itself, Abrams furthers the narrative as sort of a love letter to the original trilogy.

Despite these developments the militaries of both sides seemed to have changed little over the elapsed time (X-Wings and TIE Fighters are still not obsolete, apparently, despite the stark changes in weaponry between the first two trilogies and the archaic appearance of dead vessels on Jakku), though there is the small but notable addition of some sort of sword capable of sparring with a lightsaber, brandished by a Stormtrooper against Finn in his first lightsaber battle on the luscious Takodan. It’s the only time we see our galactic enemies smart enough to invest in lightsaber-resistant melee weapons besides General Grevious’ electrostaff-wielding MagnaGuards in Revenge of the Sith; for all their ineptitude at firing and seemingly little tactical or uniform changes, at least they now have enough sense to realize maybe they should designate at least one individual capable of countering their main threat. Still, in a series always revered for amazing us by introducing us to something new every episode, it did seem the growth in that area was a bit stunted.

Staying true to the original vision, The Force Awakens employs puppets over CGI whenever possible, and, barring the ravenous tentacle monsters on Han’s other ship, everything seems real enough to make you forget about fantastical digital editing. The 3D showings added depth without being overbearing exaggerations, and the overall visual representations ranging from lightsaber duels in the snow to riveting dogfights over gorgeous planetary displays were stimulating feats of beauty.

This is not to say there are still scenes which require at least some suspension of disbelief, such as, how did Rey and Finn find the Millennium Falcon unlocked, why do evil bases still not install security cameras in their hallways to better find escaped prisoners, why was there only one guard left with a force sensitive prisoner, and why was it one so susceptible that even a completely untrained Rey could seduce him? Not to mention the subtly strange implications of R2-D2 conveniently powering on with the rest of the map when the plot needed to advance, and Rey and Finn overpowering a trained and experienced Kylo Ren with little more than heart. But Abrams keeps things moving along at such pace and with such coursing excitement it’s impossible to linger on these detractions.

The film is also not without playful moments, though they’re thankfully created without a character anywhere near the often hilariously maligned and dreaded Jar Jar Binks, which seems especially pandering and silly in the light of our two new main characters' effortless chemistry and natural comic relief intertwined with real human emotion and dialogue.

Even at its most self-indulgent, The Force Awakens earns the hype by being a genuinely enthralling experience built through deft character development and plot drive mixed with authentic nostalgia derived simply through the Star Wars brand. Moving forward it is perhaps best to think of this as the first of three as opposed to the latest of the OT, though Abrams’ intent in crafting a beginning, middle, and end does make it a satisfying film in its own right, despite the near-literal cliff hanger of Rey handing a lightsaber (that chose her over Kylo Ren) back to Luke (who could potentially turn out to be her father or uncle) on a mountaintop, with Kylo Ren’s life status unknown.

From the quintessential opening scene in the dark of space to the ending that felt too soon despite a 136 minute runtime, The Force Awakens was one of the rare films for which the theater applause didn’t seem tacky, as it truly brought us at least a few parsecs closer to the beloved magical home we left a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away.

'Spotlight' Offers an Authentic Portrait of 21st Century Hysteria

Being quite young during the onset of 9/11 paranoia, my own memory of the world during my adolescence is but a cluttered news reel of towers burning, Scott Peterson testimonies, and pastors sidestepping news crews on courthouse steps. But Tom McCarthy’s Spotlight clarifies this childhood as it authentically replicates America’s unraveling sense of security in the early 21st century. 

Spotlight follows the Boston Globe’s exposure of the child molestation conducted by the Catholic priests of the Boston Archdiocese since the early 1980s, and the Vatican’s subsequent cover-up of a scandal that proved to be more widespread than the endemic it was initially perceived to be. Michael Keaton plays Walter “Robby” Robinson, head of the Boston Globe’s “Spotlight” investigative team comprised of four “lapsed” Catholics: Mike Rezendes (Mark Ruffalo), Sacha Pfeiffer (Rachael McAdams), and Matt Carroll (Brian d’Arcy James). 

Upon first impression, the Spotlight team is highly unremarkable – white collar reporters investigating city scandals at a leisurely pace from the confines of a windowless office space saturated with the mundane. But once the air of ordinariness is established, tension persistently intensifies. With each successive step made closer to the truth, Spotlight is increasingly unnerved by its cognizance of the Church’s grave immorality, evident in how Rezendes’s internal torment steers him further and further away from his initial comical vibrancy. 

Spotlight’s cast delivers. Keaton’s rendition of Robinson’s professionalism is unflinching and Leiv Schreiber is uncomfortably distant as the new incoming editor Marty Baron. The cast does not surpass expectation, but it does not need to, since this is a film whose organic complexity and relevance will undoubtedly shake the religious foundations of even its most pious audience.

This film is best described as a white-washed neo-noire, a nice counterpoint to David Fincher’s brand of dark and disturbing. Its camera techniques are engagingly varied and while its symbolism can be as on-the-nose as a shot of a churchyard playground, consideration of that landscape’s normality begs questions of whether such imagery is on-the-nose enough. 

Spotlight captures a complex cultural moment made problematic by how intricately knotted it is in religious, legal, cultural, and economic difficulties. It examines society through every scope, covering ground between institutional responsibility to maintain the communal welfare and the role of faith in a hard knock blue-collar community. This is a film that will rustle inside you at the most unexpected moment, and - I think it is important to note - as I was leaving the theater, every elderly viewer present seemed incapable of leaving their seat.

'Brooklyn' Is a Subtly Sweet Oscar Contender

Oscar season is upon us, and so comes the more unique (Anamolisa), unnerving (The Revenant), and unapologetic (The Danish Girl) film releases from studios both large and small, all in hopes of gaining more fiscal and critical glory within Hollywood.

One of the earliest released, small(er) budget Oscar contenders, Brooklyn, is really none of the aforementioned descriptors; if anything it is unassuming – a film that offers no real cultural dissonance, dialogue, or distress – and therein lies the film’s true beauty. It is soft, sweet, thoughtful and tender.   

Brooklyn (adapted from the 2009 Colm Tóibín novel) is a period piece chronicling a young Irish girl, Eilis Lacey (Saoirse Ronan), and her journey emigrating from Ireland to the United States, and assimilating into American society in the early 1950s.

At its core, Brookyln is a coming of age story, in which Eilis is faced with a variety of obstacles, modest in nature, but altogether riveting with their realism. The subtle reality of Ronan’s performance offers much more depth than the average coming of age story:

We witness Eilis learning (the hard way) how to operate on an trans-Atlantic voyage – through a particularly graphic bout of food poisoning mixed with sea sickness, in what will surely be one of the more graphic Oscar-worthy performances in years past.  

Ronan deftly presents courting in 1952 Brooklyn with the same subtle anxiety and palpable emotion not uncommon in today’s dating scene - at a dance put on by the local church, Eilis eventually meets her husband to be, Tony Fiorello (Emory Cohen). Tony, an Italian boy, shows much more interest than Eilis, but chips away at her hardened exterior in hopes of one day winning her heart. They meet every night to walk home from Eilis’ night classes at Brooklyn College, where she studies to become a bookkeeper. Their exchanges become more intimate and earnest, talking about raising their kids to be Brooklyn Dodger fans, as Tony helps Eilis find a sense of belonging in America.

Just when it seems that Eilis has finally carved herself a place in Brooklyn, and life was beginning to look up, there is wretched moment in the film’s third act. Eilis, still working at Bartocci’s Department Store, is informed by Father Flood (Jim Broadbent) and Miss Fortini (Jessica Pare) that her biggest supporter and beloved older sister, Rose (Fiona Glascott), who gave up the chance of a life of her own in order for Eilis to chart a path to America, has died.

Eilis’ sister’s death catalyzes the film’s ultimate dilemma. Being called back to Ireland to put her sister to rest, familiar faces come back with great reverence and regard for the Americanized Eilis, including one Mr. Jim Farrell (continuing an already impressive year for Domhnall Gleeson). For the rest of the film, Eilis is tasked with choosing which life suits her best, framed by delicate moments of painstaking decisions between the familiarity of home or her responsibility for her life lead in America.

More understated in tone than its source material, screenwriter Nick Hornsby and director John Crowley masterfully transport an already charming story to screen in a hyperrealistic manner. Dramatically speaking, the conflict in the film moves at a glacial pace, but therein lies one of the greatest aspects of Brooklyn – the film reflects the subtlety of charting one’s own course in life. An film that is sure to be a career defining moment for Saoirse Ronan, as well as an Academy Awards 2016 darkhorse – Brooklyn reminds us that there is no debt to one’s past, and the greatest moments in life are not owed to others, but rather, shared.

Aziz Ansari's Sharp 'Master of None' Tactfully Fills Culture Gap

Aziz Ansari’s Netflix original series Master of None is an urban romantic comedy in the mode of an early-thirties, American-Indian actor’s exploration of what it takes to satisfy a young man in twenty-first century New York City. Ansari shines in his leading role as Dev, navigating bad dates, workplace disappointments, and a progressing relationship with his signature enthusiasm and sharp humor throughout the first 10 episodes. 

We learn about Dev through dialogue comprised mostly of questions he poses to his friends Denise (Lena Waithe) – the voice of reason, Arnold (Eric Wareheim) – the quirk, and Brian (Kelvin Yu) – Dev’s fellow first-gen American. Each presents his and herself as an expert on the topic of inquiry, giving Dev unique answers that speak to their personalities. While Dev’s friendships set up the show’s most interesting narratives, much of the show’s appeal is owed to Dev’s relationship with Rachel (Noël Wells). 

Though Rachel’s introduction is ambiguous and awkward, chemistry builds quickly between her and Dev. Ansari and Wells are natural complements to each other on screen, authenticating their characters’ playful humor. We are made to believe that these two were made to laugh together. Their jokes, while obviously methodical, are so intimate and endearing that we elevate their comedic interplay to an ideal. We aspire to their shared laughs and imagine ourselves within their vibrant and seamless relationship. 

Master of None engages itself in contemporary arguments regarding underrepresentation (typecasting in particular), feminism, and the generational culture gap between immigrant parents and their American-born children. The series is not condemning in presenting its case, but makes its point through instances of absurdist humor that offer poignant criticisms from minority perspectives. The gravity and relevance of the topics Ansari and co-creator Alan Yang have chosen to take on seem to have overshadowed the show’s merits in early reviews, but Master of None is undeniably tactful in how it addresses these issues and revolutionary in how it combats the discriminatory practices addressed in the show by how it conducts business in real life.  

Where the show does seem to falter is in its transitions between the aforementioned absurdist humor and its more realistic humor founded in common experience. There is no middle-ground comedy bridging the downturn of Dev’s romantic endeavors with a pitch to rebrand the Washington Redskins as “the Washington Breadsticks.” Like Ansari’s stand-up material, the show can sometimes be overly dependent on its battle-tested humor (racial jokes, Ansari’s mannerisms), but each cast member brings a personalized comedic sensibility that resonates with its audience by nature of its distinctiveness. 

Master of None's debut season features full-bodied storylines whose humor is at all times conscious of what has already happened. Case in point: “You cut in line in front of me at the ice cream store.” “So you fucked my wife?” The narratives demonstrate equal retrospective reach. Interlocking themes reappear five episodes later, developing Dev and Rachel’s relationship as fully as the brevity of ten episodes allows and making the show perfect for the binge-watching exploits of both religious and casual fans to romantic sit-coms. An impressive first production by Ansari, Master of None walks you through the cultural moment with insightful humor and criticism that only its dynamic multicultural cast can provide.

'Steve Jobs' Is Dynamic Fire-Cracker of a Biopic

Earlier this year I had the pleasure of reading Walter Isaacson's incredible portrait of the tech icon Steve Jobs in preparation for this very movie and I found myself simply unable to put it down. I had always been fascinated by Jobs as a CEO unlike any other, a man I saw as responsible for products that completely revolutionized how I viewed computers, telephones and music.

But Isaacson's book also helped me grasp Jobs' incredibly difficult nature. He was one of the most stubborn and irritable people to work with and often had fractured relationships with many people due to his arrogant and driven nature. But as insufferable as he was, Jobs was wholly dedicated to creating some of the world's greatest ever products. Jobs didn't believe that art and products has to be independent of each other and in fact considered himself an artist above all, just as his idol Bob Dylan whose music is accurately prominent in this latest attempt to capture Jobs onscreen.

Isaacson's biography is an intricate and intimate examination of a very complex individual and probably comes as close as we'll ever get to knowing everything there was to know about the complicated visionary and the demons that drove him.

So of course something is immediately lost in the translation to the screen as the level of detail that is compiled in such a comprehensive overview of Jobs' life would be impossible. And instead of even attempting to cover such an eventful life in just two hours, screenwriter Aaron Sorkin chooses to focus on three of the most important product launches in Jobs' life: the unveiling of the Macintosh, his NeXT cube after he left Apple, and culminating with the launch of the iMac.

This is certainly a clever idea because if there was anything Steve Jobs’ life revolved around it was the launch of his products, but the fact that Sorkin now must pack in all the drama and relationships formed over a person’s life into three very specific events does get a bit maddening at times. Steve Jobs certainly didn’t have three life-defining conversations with CEO John Sculley, marketing director Joanna Hoffman, co-founder Steve Wozniak, and his estranged daughter Lisa Brennan at each of them, but I can understand why they were all included. This is a biopic after all, and Sorkin needs some human drama at the center of these tech talks. So while the bold new format to this biopic is certainly novel, it does require a bit of truth-stretching.

Luckily though, Steve Jobs is helped massively by scene after scene of predictably zippy and clever dialogue from Aaron Sorkin, all delivered by a massively talented cast. Michael Fassbender proves once again he is arguably the best actor working today, imitating Jobs’ high-pitched nasal voice but still managing to fully inhabit Jobs’ arrogant and calculating nature. Jeff Daniels is also an excellent casting as tepid CEO John Sculley, Jobs’ reluctant father figure in his turbulent time at Apple, and Seth Rogen is surprisingly confident as Apple co-founder Steve Wozniak.

And while the film wants to explore Jobs’ up-and-down relationships with Sculley and Wozniak among others, ultimately this attempt to capture Jobs onscreen is about his fractured relationship with his illegitimate daughter Lisa, whom Jobs famously denied ever fathering for a number of years. It’s a relationship that is of course rife with potential for human drama, and Sorkin chooses to explore it as the biggest contradiction of Jobs’ life: that he himself likely felt rejected by his birth parents, but ultimately it took him a very long time to grasp that he was rejecting his own daughter in a similar way. It’s certainly the script’s most compelling element, even if I personally would’ve liked to see Jobs’ ultimately more important relationships with his wife and other children explored at least to a certain degree.

For such a dialogue-heavy film, Steve Jobs certainly needed some solid direction and Danny Boyle absolutely excels. Though its events take place entirely before the year 2000, Boyle's sensibilities lie fully in the 21st century, full of color and life that give so many scenes of backstage exchanges between two characters a crackling dynamism. Beautifully photographed by Boyle’s former Sunshine collaborator Alwin H. Küchler, Boyle’s direction gives Sorkin’s script the zip that it needs to separate itself from the pack. His use of frame inserts to invoke flashbacks, the brisk but clever transitions between all three acts, and his use of visuals to both convey information and illustrate Sorkin’s dialogue all turn what would’ve essentially been a well-acted stage play into something that’s gripping and totally cinematic.

I recommend that if you want the more real and nuanced portrait of the enigma that was Steve Jobs, pick up Walter Isaacson's excellent biography upon which this movie is supposedly based. But Steve Jobs the film is a vibrant fire-cracker take on the Hollywood biopic. Decidedly brisk but somehow managing to pack in a compelling amount of human drama into product launches, it's easily the most worthy portrayal of Jobs yet and probably the best we're going to get committed to screen. Confident direction from Boyle combined with a sizzling Sorkin script allows sparks to fly, even if some parts fizz out instead.

'Crimson Peak' Proves a Delightful House of Horrors

The creak of a wooden stair. The bump in the night. The chill on the back of your neck. As cliche as it sounds, these are the tiny but powerfully unsettling things that master director Guillermo del Toro seeks to turn into your worst nightmare. The most terrifying parts of Crimson Peak are in its eerie silence and candlelit amblings down decrepit hallways, when you never know quite what is lurking around the corner.

Although the fantastic Crimson Peak is being marketed as a straightforward horror film (and it certainly has its scares), Del Toro himself correctly pointed out that this is far more of a love letter to Victorian romance stories and Gothic horror than it is a ghost story.

Mia Wasikowska stars as Edith, an impressionable young American swept off her feet by the dashing Sir Thomas Sharpe (Tom Hiddleston) after the mysterious death of her entrepreneur father. Whisking her away to his family's estate across the pond where he lives with his colder-than-ice sister Lucille, the ghostly warnings Edith has been receiving all her life begin to come to fruition as she learns to truly "Beware of Crimson Peak."

There are truly very few horror filmmakers out there who can still craft a truly incredible sense of atmosphere, and Guillermo del Toro is one of the absolute greats. His unique style of production design is perfectly suited for a Victorian fairy tale and the incredible set of Allerdale Hall just allows Del Toro's imagination to run wild. Applying his signature creature design to these horrific specters, their bones crack and creak as they loom through the dark hallways and it's simply awe-inspiring.

As A-list a cast as Del Toro recruits here, their commitment to an old-school kind of campiness in their delivery is admirable. Some of what the script gives them could be considered groaners but Hiddleston, Chastain and Wasikowka's delivery is excellent as they are fully committed to the kind of story Del Toro wanted to tell. Particularly excellent is Jessica Chastain as the menacing sister Lucille, perfecting the chill in that deep-seated evil that boils under the surface, and absolutely reveling in the madness that's revealed as the plot unfolds.

In any other director's hands a lot of Crimson Peak probably would've fallen flat, but Del Toro's strength is that he plays all of it completely straight. He fully believes in the power of atmosphere and his attention to detail in his craft helps to fully immerse the audience in some truly fantastic tales. His penchant for gore is certainly still on display, and the fact that Del Toro carefully chooses when to unleash the brutality only makes these moments more powerful, especially in the requisite bloodbath finale

It's an old school kind of horror told with unapologetic camp, and aside from some faulty pacing in the end, it is without a doubt one of the best theatrical experiences of the year, one of Del Toro's finest films, and a highly recommended Halloween treat.

Drug War Epic 'Sicario' Is Gripping and Intense Filmmaking

Since making the translation to English-language films, director Denis Villeneuve dropped one of the most viscerally gripping crime films of the past few years with Prisoners and one of the most thought-provoking thrillers starring a Hollywood actor with Enemy. And with his latest, Sicario, Villeneuve brings his excellent grasp of cerebral tension to a very timely drama about the Mexican Drug War. Reuniting with the incomparable Roger Deakins as his cinematographer, Villeneuve tries to dig deep into a struggle that has defined a region for decades now.

Sicario manages a very rare thing in Hollywood in that it happens to be a movie completely of its time. The conflict being portrayed is still very much happening and is still taking lives on both sides of the border. Even though most Americans aren't truly aware of the day-to-day skirmishes, the cartels and the agencies of both governments are still fighting for control.

Our window as an audience into this frankly terrifying new world is Special Agent Kate Macer (Emily Blunt), newly assigned to a Department of Defense task force to take down some high-level cartel members. But the more she works towards making things right the more she begins to realize that she may be in over her head and nothing is as black and white as she thought.

But if Kate is our protagonist and supposed to be the audience's viewpoint into this unfamiliar world, she is interestingly kept at arm's length from most of the film's action. She is always shown to be at a distance or just out of earshot when her superiors are discussing operations or explaining tactics. Therefore she's kept in the dark and so are we as viewers. It’s more than a little intimidating for both audience and character because if we are kept in the dark, that means we have no idea of the potential danger that lies ahead.

This is the film's way of carefully doling out information piece by piece, and the more that Kate tries to pry into what’s really happening, the more horrified she is to learn of the implications of it all. Josh Brolin plays up his bravado as the DoD man Matt Graver who reluctantly yet unabashedly reveals to Kate and the audience that their view of morality is simply nonexistent in this underworld. And that gray morality comes into full view with Benicio del Toro’s Alejandro Gillick, in a role that has to be a frontrunner for this year’s Best Supporting Actor Oscar. Del Toro is mysteriously aloof for the first hour in the middle of so much mayhem but as the action escalates his portrayal of menace and determination was an absolute revelation.

Boasting setpiece after intense setpiece, the realizations come very slowly and the tension builds to a fever pitch with another wallop of an ending from Villeneuve. It will have you gripping your seat from start to fantastic finish.

But the most important thing is the film doesn't offer any easy answers because there simply aren't any. Morality is a mess of grays; "good guys" and "bad guys" simply don't exist in this universe. Families are torn apart every day by this drug war, and Sicario acknowledges that we are near helpless to stop it as innocent bystanders, as the gut-punch ending makes very clear.

Boosted by a tight script from Taylor Sheridan, a searingly intense score from composer Jóhann Jóhannsson, some absolutely beautiful shots from Roger Deakins(the shot where the assault team disappears under the Mexican horizon as if they are descending into hell is one of the year’s best) and some truly Oscar-worthy performances especially from Benicio del Toro, Sicario is yet another overwhelming experience from Denis Villeneuve and one of the year’s must-see films.

'The Martian': NASA’s Kickstarter Trailer

When you watch movies like Apollo 13, Lincoln, Argo, or any other movie based on a real event, you always end up thinking, “It’s pretty amazing that this actually happened.” Stories carry a grander emotional weight when you become aware that they’re a part of your own history. But as I watched Ridley Scott’s, The Martian -- a movie about a stranded astronaut who attempts to survive on Mars -- I had to repeatedly remind myself that this story is fictitious.

Thanks to the source novel by Andy Weir, the attention to accurate problem solving alone will have you feeling like you could survive on a foreign planet. But on a emotional level, Ridley Scott’s ensemble directing makes this story not just about isolation, but really a collective of humans working together to achieve impossible tasks. It’s a clear and bright vision of what our space program can become, provided that we continue to fund it. A depressing thought when you consider that we’ve only sent robots to the red planet.

While I enjoyed the emotional pacing of the piece, I thought the filmmakers could have done more with the Martian planet itself. Mars is a place that used to be flooded with water, and might have even harbored organic life. But now it’s clutching to the last of its atmosphere, as if someone left it behind like the stranded astronaut, Mark Watney (Matt Damon). The mix of practical and special effects to simulate Mars makes you feel as if you are there, but the editing during the scenic shots is too quick. The audience isn’t allowed enough time to let their eyes wander in a shot.

The story jumps through Sols (a day on Mars) fairly quickly too, so the pressure of Watney’s time in isolation is minimized. I think by extending these scenic shots, the audience would have more time to stare off into the Martian horizon and think about the planet, exactly as Watney does every Sol to plan his survival. Overall the editing was well executed, it’s just at certain points the planet feels more like a prop than an actual location where Watney is stuck.

I’ve seen this type of rushed editing a lot in recent sci-fi flicks, most popularly in Christopher Nolan’s Interstellar. Every time they show a shot of Saturn, or any kind of space scenic, they cut to something else. It makes me long for the editing style in Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey, or the opening shots in The Coen Brother’s No Country For Old Men. I understand the need to keep the runtime low, but adding two minutes of Mars scenic shots would have done the trick. There actually could be an interesting way to link virtual reality (VR) headsets, and movies here. Imagine that every time the movie stops to show you a scenic shot of Mars, you could wander the planet in VR, as if you’re Mark Watney, and this is your free time to explore.

For a survival story that manages to stay light-hearted, Watney's ultimate fate is never made too obvious, which makes the movie extremely enjoyable to watch. The experience is similar to watching Apollo 13 as a kid before any one told you about the outcome of the mission. So go see it, or instead donate your $14 to NASA so you can see Mars with your own eyes in this lifetime. Either way, this movie will inspire you to become a fan of supporting the U.S. space program. #NASAKickstarter

Shot in a Single Take, 'Victoria' Will Send You Anxiously Exploring the Streets of Berlin

Here's the deal: your flatmate just killed himself by accident. The problem is that it doesn't look quite like an accident. He lies in the kitchen floor with a knife in his back. A knife that you just used a few seconds ago. Your fingerprints are all over the place. The fact that you two had a really big argument last night and that all of his friends (which absolutely don't like you) know about it just adds more fuel to the fire. 

Knock Knock. Someone is at the door. Apparently the neighbor, an old lady who loves drama, heard some screaming. Cops must be on their way. Fuck.

Quick, think of the implications: If you go to prison, you won't be able to be with the person you deeply love for decades. But there's more. You won't be able to hug your parents. To touch their hands. Or continue your life together with your best friends, or even see their cheeks move while they eat fried chicken.

Within seconds your entire life as you know it will completely change for the worst. The American justice system will hunt you down. The prosecutor will try as hard as she can to put you in jail. It's her job, and having no mercy pays well. The knocking on the door persists. It's time to make a decision.

But that's not exactly the premise of Victoria. For your best interest, I don't recommend watching the trailer, nor reading the synopsis. The less you know, the better you will enjoy the unexpected chain of events. This German independent film aspires to claustrophobically portray the process of someone's life – someone like you and I – falling down like a Jenga tower. And it does it well.

One of the factors that makes this film different from the rest is that it was shot in one single long take, which might sound like a banal filmmaking choice, but it is actually brilliant due to the nature of the story. It couldn't have been used any better, and here's why: nowadays, most psychological thrillers create tension by giving the audience information that the characters in the film don't know yet, an approach that Hitchcock pretty much forged back with the classics. However, in Victoria, the audience and the characters truly learn and progress along together. You will never know more than our protagonist. There are no cuts. You are constantly with her, living the present, and this provides a very refreshing experience.

Now, not everything is perfect about this film. Many might consider certain plot details and some character decisions in particular situations not very realistic, and the first half of the film might be slow for some, but taking into account the promise that things eventually do escalate quickly to a genuinely anxious climax – particularly during the last thirty minutes of the film– it is very much worth the wait.

 Victoria will be released in the US on October 9.