Last of the Monster Kids

Last of the Monster Kids
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Saturday, July 5, 2025

Director Report Card: Danny Boyle (1997)

 
 
The director, writer, and producer trio of Danny Boyle, John Hodge, and Andrew MacDonald had considerable success with their first two efforts. "Shallow Grave" and "Trainspotting" were both breakout box office successes, critically praised, and remain beloved cult classics to this day. Surely their third collaboration would be a similar hit, right? I'm sure that was the thought process everyone had when putting together "A Life Less Ordinary," especially the producers at Channel Four Films who put up much of the money for the film. Sadly, lightning would not strike a third time. "A Life Less Ordinary" would sink at the box office, receive middling reviews, and has largely been forgotten in the years since. It seems to me the only time the film comes up at all is when people are looking back on Boyle's career the way I am right now. Which begs the question: What went wrong on this third go-around between this team? 

Celine Naville is the daughter of a mega-rich businessman but she's miserable in her personal life. Her controlling father has set her up on a string of unsuccessful relationships, the latest with a mildly unhinged dentist. Robert Lewis is a janitor working for her dad's company, who dreams of becoming an author of trashy novels. Upon discovering he's been fired and replaced with a robot, Robert kidnaps Celine. Celine seems more bemused than threatened by her kidnapper's actions, seeing this as a chance to get some money from her dad, run off and live her own life. Robert proves to be an incompetent criminal and often takes pointers from his captive. The two hide out together, bicker, and slowly warm up to one another. Incensed, Celine sends two bounty hunters after the pair, giving them free range to murder the man responsible for kidnapping his rebellious daughter and to bring her back.

That sounds like a fairly standard story line, doesn't it? While I don't think the two filmmakers have much in common, Danny Boyle's previous features had attracted some comparisons to the films of Quentin Tarantino and the many imitators that followed in his wake. I suppose the focus on memorable soundtracks, stylized dialogue, and gritty stories suggest some similarities. In the abstract, "A Life Less Ordinary" does sound like one of those "Pulp Fiction" knock-offs, a hyper-verbal love story of two rogues on the run together. There are shoot-outs and car crashes and lots of colorful dialogue. More than anything else, there is an overall kind of tonal smugness from the material that suggests a desperate desire to be observed as cool by the viewer. It was 1997 and such things were still somewhat in fashion, kind of, I guess. "A Life Less Ordinary" is a film about beautiful people with trendy haircuts doing daring and exciting stuff together, with a sense of humor about itself and a level of stylish excess that seeks to impress. 

Perhaps, however, Boyle and Hodge were aware of how ordinary this script might have seen in the indie film landscape of the time. This might explain why "A Life Less Ordinary" instead veers sharply into the realm of magical realism. You see, the bounty hunters after Robert and Celine aren't ordinary enforcers. They are, in fact, angels sent from Heaven to ensure that Robert and Celine fall in love. Because, it would seem, making people fall in ever-lasting love is something angels concern themselves with. It's an insertion of a fantastical element in a film that otherwise doesn't have any fantasy elements.

Such a swerve might have successfully spiced up material that the audience had seen before but you can't start out as the new neo-noir from the director of "Shallow Grave" and "Trainspotting" and instead introduce explicitly divine intervention. You got a ease into that shit. To bring the guy up again and risk making it seem like I only know one nineties director/screenwriter, "From Dusk Till Dawn" deliberately turning from a stylized crime thriller to gory, outlandish creature feature is a tonal shift that worked. "A Life Less Ordinary" doesn't do that. It introduces the angelic conceit within its opening minutes before moving towards its more grounded elements, the otherworldly subplot weaving in and out of the story throughout.

That points towards what is probably the biggest problem with "A Life Less Ordinary." I called the film a neo-noir. It seems like a reasonable description, what with a story about kidnapping and ransom and young lovers on the run and sketchy hired guns. However, "A Life Less Ordinary" is actually a comedy. It is, in fact, an excessively wacky comedy. Characters have wildly specific personality quirks. Robert is always talking about his trashy novel idea, which everyone dismisses with the exact phrases. Celine is introduced playing William Tell with a revolver and an apple on her butler's head. (A butler who, it must be said, has a stereotypically droll British demeanor which is eventually subverted by his violent actions.) Timothy Olyphant shows up as a wide-eyed hitchhiker who does handstands. There's random appearances from an eccentric local played by Maury Chaykin, who speaks in an oddly specific manner, seems gripped by a degree of religious mania, and may or may not hear voices from his dog. There's a robot and a musical number and a game show themed dream sequence and a magic bullet that harmlessly passes through someone's heart.
 
Do you see what I'm saying here? Hodge's screenplay heaps quirks atop quirks. Heaven is depicted not as a divine afterlife full of clouds and harps, angels wearing wings and halos. Instead, it resembles something more akin to an office building under pressure from the superiors above – in this case, Yahweh himself – to make quotas. Gabriel is not a dignified archangel concerning himself with blowing the horn at the end of days. Instead, he's a frustrated, grumpy pencil pusher played by Dan Hedaya at his Dan Hedaya-iest. Oh, what a delightfully silly contrast between the fantastical and the mundane! And, ya know, that could've been funny. I actually love it when stories contrast the supernatural with otherwise normal daily drudgery. However, “A Life Less Ordinary” is trying so hard to be wild and crazy that all the ideas start to blend together. I actually think that musical number is one of the film's better moments. It stands alongside embarrassingly bad ones, like a fist fight with Stanley Tucci as that crazy dentist. I suppose, if the film's problem could be diagnosed in as few words as possible, it would be that it's trying too hard.

An overly ambitious screenplay that slingshots around multiple different zany ideas brings with it an uncertain tone. In addition to everything else, “A Life Less Ordinary” is also a self-aware example of the romantic comedy genre. From the minute Robert and Celine are thrown together by fate, we know they are going to fall in love. The movie knows that we know this too. It is the angels' mission to make sure these two get together. This acts as a self-reflective reasoning for the familiar but improbable cliches of the rom-com genre. The unlikely circumstances that bring these two together are the results of a heavenly conspiracy. The big romantic gesture Robert does to win Celine back after the end-of-the-second-act schism is a poem written by one of those same angels. This is basically the movie saying that it knows these cliches are hoary nonsense, the angels acting a bit like the writers of the screenplay trying to engineer these scenarios. However, doing a crappy old cliché while pointing out that it's a crappy old cliché isn't actually a subversion. It's the same old lazy writing with an extra hat of unearned pretensions atop it.

We all know that romantic comedies follow these silly and unlikely plot points. It comes with the territory, like the teenagers running off to have sex in a really dangerous place in the slasher movies. The best rom-coms overcome this shortcoming based on the strength and charm of their leads. The lack of suspense in knowing that the boy and the girl will end up together is made up for by the audience truly wanting to see them succeed. That might be the biggest area where “A Life Less Ordinary” fails. If we really liked Robert and Celine, it would make a lot of the other problems the film has more forgivable. Unfortunately, this is not the case. Celine remains antagonistic to Robert and everyone around her for most of the film. Robert comes across as a bullied and indecisive idiot. When the two fall into bed together, it does not feel like an natural event of the story but rather a contrivance. That's because it basically is, a manipulation from above, which is why a nudging acknowledgement of tropes is generally less desirable than an unironic embracing of them.

The lack of chemistry between Celine and Robert isn't only the fault of the script. Ewan McGregor stars as Robert and he does fine in the role. Even at this relative early stage of his career, McGregor was already a total professional. His skills are not enough to make a protagonist pushed around by the whims of the plot have more depth than he does. However, he's a reasonably entertaining lead. When paired with Cameron Diaz as Celine, something feels amiss. Diaz, an uneven talent on the best of days, hits mostly false notes here. She comes across as somewhat flat in her delivery throughout much of the movie. Her attempts to add some emotional sincerity or pathos to the material come across as forced or phony. This is most apparent in the morning after the characters sleep together for the first time. Diaz goes for sexy smoldering when a degree of vulnerability would've done a better job at making this pairing seem more natural.

Ultimately, what is a rom-com without a central couple that we can become invested in? Not that romantic and not that funny either. That makes the increasingly crazy decisions the script goes in seem all the sweatier. That same instinct is apparent in the supporting cast. “A Life Less Ordinary” actually has an impressive crop of names in its credits. Holly Hunter and Delroy Lindo are the angels on the couple's trail. Lindo's tough guy appearance is counteracted by a quiet, observational personality and the soul of a poet. Unfortunately, it comes across as yet another one of the movie's cloying bits than something more realized. Hunter, normally a reliable presence in any film, can do nothing but hopelessly ham her way through this material. That's actually the choice most of the secondary players made. Ian Holm as Celine's dad, Hedaya, Tucci and Tony Shaloub – whose role is especially inessential – grimace and flex their faces as cartoonish characters that never come across as anything more than annoying caricatures. 

Maybe it's only because so much of “A Life Less Ordinary” feels overburdened with its own desire to be wacky. However, the techniques Danny Boyle and his team utilized in his previous feature to electrifying effect come off as somehow both blander and more annoying here. Brian Tufano and Masahiro Hirakubo are back on cinematography and editing duties. The soundtrack remains hyper-specific and carefully chosen. However, the formula is off. A car chase sequence comes across as manic and overbearing, rather than energetic and captivating. The brief glimpses we get at that game show dream sequence are another excessive addition to a pot too full with ingredients already. By the end credits, where the story is resolved via stop-motion animated cartoon sequence, I was officially sick of “A Life Less Ordinary's” bullshit. The film represents the strengths of Boyle's previous two movies in a totally undisciplined and unbalanced form.
 
The first time I saw “A Life Less Ordinary,” I fucking hated it. I found its over-the-top sense of trying-too-hard whimsy unbearable. Based on how much I loved “Trainspotting” and “Shallow Grave,” perhaps I went in with overly high expectations. Either way, this was definitely not what I was expecting. Upon rewatch, I've upgraded my opinion from hatred to simply thinking the film is simply not good. Such a wild mismatch of tones and elements can still classify as only a fiasco, a wild miscalculation of all involved about what does and doesn't work together. However, that song and dance number actually isn't too bad. A quickly cut montage of Robert and Celine practicing tough-talking over the phone is pretty good. Buried, somewhere in this wild mishmash of ingredients, might have been a good film. This isn't it, however, and it would be a long time before Danny Boyle tried his hand at a romantic comedy again. [Grade: C-]

Friday, July 4, 2025

Director Report Card: Danny Boyle (1996)

 
 
In at least one interview, Danny Boyle has described himself as a punk when he was a kid, which greatly informed the kind of stories he'd go on to tell. I have no idea how insular or wide-ranging the Scottish punk scene is but it produced another notable luminary. Irvine Welsh played in bands with names like The Pubic Lice and Stairway 13 before some run-ins with the law had him changing his way. He published his first novel in 1993, a non-linear collection of episodic incident in the lives of Scottish heroin addicts called “Trainspotting.” Andrew Macdonald read the book shortly after publication. Coming right off the success of “Shallow Grave,” he quickly lined it up as the next project for Boyle and John Hodge. Welsh and Boyle had complimentary sensibilities, it turned out. “Trainspotting” would become an even bigger critical and commercial success than the director's previous film.

In the Scottish city of Leith resides Mark Renton, a full-time drug addict and part-time petty thief who steals entirely to support his heroin habit. He calls a group of junkies and lunatics his only friends: The strangely suave but didactic Sick Boy, the child-like fool Spud, the violent and unpredictable Begbie, and the straight-laced Tommy. What follows is a series of attempts by Renton to kick his addiction, none of which prove especially successful. Renton's misadventures – which includes accidentally romancing a school girl – are soon interrupted by death, a run-in with the law, a nearly fatal overdoes, and a HIV scare. After finally getting clean, Renton ends up reunited with his old pack of pals to orchestrate a drug deal that could change all their lives.

If you're an obsessive film nerd in your thirties, you probably started getting into movies in the 2000s. That's right about when “Trainspotting” cult following burned its brightest. If you were inside a dorm room between the years 2000 and 2011, you probably saw the “Choose life!” poster on a wall or two. It's not too difficult to dictate why this motion picture was popular among the same crowd that sang the praises of “A Clockwork Orange,” the films of Quentin Tarantino, “Donnie Darko,” “The Boondock Saints,” and the like. Most of the characters in “Trainspotting” are well into their twenties and thirties but, narratively, the film still functions as a coming-of-age story. Renton is a self-obsessed man-child, held in a state of arrested development by his drug dependency. He quite literally lives with his parents for long stretches of the film. The title – left unexplained in the film – refers to the kind of niche hobby mostly practiced by unemployed men with a lot of free time on their hands. He begins the film dismissing the merits of maturity before coming around to embrace it at the end. Through the course of the story, he overcomes his addiction and grows up, which includes leaving behind his band of friends. That's a universal story and one that a lot of movie-watching twenty-somethings would relate to... 

But the so-called “Film Bro” crowd probably more responded to the litany of bad behavior the gang gets into. Upon release, some critics dismissed “Trainspotting” as another indie art house flick that was simply trying to be transgressive as possible. It's a somewhat understandable instinct. Obviously, this is a movie about drug addiction but it does not approach heroin only as a life-destroying disease. Instead of operating as a dour moral lesson on why you shouldn't do drugs, it also acknowledge that, ya know, doing heroin feels nice. That's why addicts start using in the first place, something Renton acknowledges in dialogue. That's far from the only streak of antisocial behavior in a movie spattered with human excrement, random acts of extreme violence, homemade pornography, accidentally becoming a statutory rapist, a dead baby, and shooting a dog in the balls with a B.B. gun. Dismissing “Trainspotting” as only a shock value movie is ridiculously short-sighted but I do think the movie is trying to provoke a reaction a number of times. 

There's no denying that “Trainspotting” is a grimy film. It does feature the nastiest bathroom ever put to celluloid. There are close-ups of needles going into arms and detailed depictions of how heroin is cooked and injected. The squalor of a junkie's den is on-screen multiple times. However, “Trainspotting” never wastes time moralizing about its topic. Addiction informs every minute of the film yet “Trainspotting” is not that concerned with the psychology of drug abuse, about the complicated economic and social factors that push someone to use junk. It's an extremely cruel statement to say that drug addicts use because they are selfish... Mark Renton is selfish though. “Trainspotting” is, in many ways, a movie about the main character repeatedly abusing himself and those around him. He steals a home-made sex tape of Tommy and his girlfriend, directly leading to the relationship falling apart. In his despair, when Tommy asks to try heroin, Renton provides it. He steals, he lets friends take the fall for him, he does pointedly bad things for little to no reason. The main thesis of the character is summed up during a moment where he clarifies that he cooked up some horse for a friend but only after making himself a needle full first. “Trainspotting” pointedly avoids making any grand statements about addiction or drugs. It certainly acknowledges that different people do drugs for many different reasons. The film doesn't say that drug abuse is selfish but it does suggest that drug abuse makes selfish people far more selfish. 

Alright, if Mark Renton is such an asshole, then why do we like him? There's a few reasons why but the primary one is that Irvin Walsh's prose – from which “Trainspotting: The Movie” draws a good deal of its memorable lines – is so invigorating. The “Choose Life” monologue became iconic for a reason. It's a poetic chunk of dialogue that flows almost like music, book-ending the film and reprised like a song's chorus. The thick Scottish brogues all throughout – sometimes they are so thick that it becomes almost impossible to understand what is being said – certainly go a long way towards making the dialogue sounds especially musical. The dialogue is stylized, with winding discussion about Sean Connery era James Bond movies or a drug deal being described as a restaurant order. It all has such a viable spark to it, an energy that propels the entire motion picture and is impossible for the audience to resist. 

That kind of cinematic dynamism is present in almost every aspect of the movie, largely because Danny Boyle and his team make sure of it. Much like his theatrical debut, the director makes sure “Trainspotting” hits the ground running. Rather literally, as the opening scene involves the protagonists running through the streets to the tune of Iggy Pop. An utterly hip soundtrack of classic pre-punk and electronic dance music propels nearly the entire film, giving it that youthful buzz that probably isn't dissimilar to a drug high of some sort. Masahiro Hirakubo's editing is fast-paced and kinetic, often scored to the musical choices. Brian Tufano's cinematography often approaches scenes from uncommon angles, further adding to the punk rock electricity that is evident all throughout. Part of why “Trainspotting” has attracted the cult following it has is exactly because it has such a powerful youthful drive from the opening minutes.

That kind of dynamite sense of movement was present in “Shallow Grave,” where it was often contrasted with distinctive architectural touches and perfectly composed frames. The director doubles down on this approach here. Individual shots in “Trainspotting” are works of art. Renton running below an apartment building painted in multiple bright shades or standing outside the Volcano nightclub with Diane show flashes of colors in the grey, industrial sprawl of the urban setting. This is contrasted, in an important sequence, with the width and flatness of the green Scottish countryside. That kind of vastness is apparent even within the tight interiors of the film, a kitten sitting alone on an apartment floor having the same sense of stillness as the other images in the movie. 

Being a movie about drug addicts that barely function within polite society also gives Boyle and his team permission to go on several elaborate flights of fancy. The first of which occurs early-on in “Trainspotting,” when Renton notoriously dives into the worst toilet in Scotland to retrieve some opium suppositories from an expansive ocean within. Up to that point, “Trainspotting” exists in mostly realistic setting up to that point, making this first imaginative burst totally unexpected. This opens the movie up to feature further unexpected bits of visual playfulness. Such as Renton's overdose being brilliantly portrayed by him actually sinking into the floor, the audience granted his perspective from within the ground multiple times. These are not merely examples of the filmmakers flexing their muscles to show off the quirky and cool visuals they can pull off. They also put us directly into the headspace of the characters, capturing feelings that can easily be expressed on the page on the big screen instead. 

These elaborate fantasy sequences are not only used to capture drug-fueled feelings of weightlessness. “Trainspotting” also features one of the more unnerving sequences I've seen outside of a horror movie before. Scored against a thumping electronic soundtrack, that goes a long way of elevating the sense of nervous unease, the audience suffers through Renton's detox fever dreams alongside him. A single bedroom becomes a prison, Renton screaming and raving against helpless messages from friends that can't reach him. This cuts back to a game show, previously defined as the ultimate example of banality (a comparison Boyle previously made in “Shallow Grave” too) that has become reflective of Renton's fears and anxieties. All the while, a dead infant – looking and moving like an awkward puppet and all the more uncanny because of it – crawls closer and closer. It's a moment that makes me squirm in the worst way, another example of how masterfully assembled “Trainspotting” is.

Sealing “Trainspotting's” status as a modern classic are a collection of unforgettable performances. Ewan McGregor makes this shit look easy as Renton, embodying the physical squalor the character lives in. Yet McGregor is uniquely gifted in making the rambling, musical inner monologue come across as especially engrossing and unforgettable. His charm goes a long way towards making us like a character that is otherwise despicable in a natural and sympathetic manner. Jonny Lee Miller makes meandering diatribes about the James Bond franchise surprisingly engrossing, displaying a kind of easy-going charm that still can't overcome the character's obvious unseemly side. Robert Carlyle is a terrifying, raging force of violence and intimidating that still seems like an actual human being that could exist. Ewen Bremner's unforgettable physicality as Spud defines the squirrely, off-beat character. If there's any flaw in “Trainspotting,” it's that the role of women are downplayed in a disappointing way. Kelly MacDonald as Diane has an immediate magnetism that demands your attention but the character never comes to life. 

But let's go back to that scene of Renton and the gang on the Scottish moors, gasping for breath when they are being prompted to bask in the natural beauty of it all. In this scene, Renton dispels any scene of pride in his own nationality. It proceeds the characters deciding to give up on going clean and getting back on heroin. I'm not Scottish, obviously, and have hopefully made it apparent by now that I'm woefully ignorant of what makes up the Scottish national identity. However, this moment certainly does seem significant. Is “Trainspotting” a contemplation on the Scottish state of being, some sort of commentary on life in the country during the drug-fueled eighties? Perhaps. Or maybe the overwhelming Scottishness of the cast, crew, and authorial voice simply makes it reflection of intrinsically Scottish ideas. Being something like the unloved middle child of the British Isles reflects in a national identity full of self-loathing and self-destruction. Or maybe it's like that everywhere. 
 
All of which is to say that “Trainspotting's” reputation as a film school favorite is largely entirely justified. It is still a powerful piece of filmmaking, propelled by a cinematic energy that is difficult denied. The script is sharp, darkly hilarious, endlessly clever, and a keen observation on human behavior. The performances are an incredible display of talent from all involved. The soundtrack is pretty damn great and the movie chugs along with an infectious drive that is equal parts grimy and intoxicating. I've never done heroin and, from what I've read, it's a high better described as euphoric and dream-like. “Trainspotting” isn't like that at all. It's a jolt, somehow still feeling fresh and exciting nearly thirty years after it was released. [Grade: A]

Thursday, July 3, 2025

Director Report Card: Danny Boyle (1994)



Nearly 600 years before, Geoffrey Chaucer wrote “The Pardoner's Tale” as part of an unfinished little project known as “The Canterbury Tales.” The story – of travelers setting out to find Death, uncovering a treasure chest, murdering each other in their greed, and ironically fulfilling their original mission statement – would set in place one of the most timeless morals in all of literature: The love of money is the root of all evil. Countless authors have been inspired by the same premise over the centuries. One such example was John Hodge, a med student from Glasgow with ambitions of becoming a screenwriter. After running into producer Kevin Macdonald at the Edinburgh Film Festival, Hodge whipped up a script called “Shallow Grave.” The manuscript found its way to Danny Boyle, who quickly decided that this was the project that would allow him to make the leap from television to film. Upon release in 1994, “Shallow Grave” would become the highest grossing British-made film of that year, creating the foundations for the careers of its director, its stars, and its screenwriter.

In a spacious flat in Edinburgh lives three young professionals: Journalist Alex, doctor Juliet, and accountant David. They review applicants for a fourth flat mate, almost as a joke, before Juliet is charmed by the mysterious Hugo. Not long after moving in, the others find Hugo dead of a heroin overdose. They also find a large suitcase full of millions of dollars. After much debate, the decision is made to keep the money and split it amongst themselves. David is given the grisly task of dismembering Hugo's body, which is then buried in the woods. Alex and Juliet enjoy their newfound loot, while David grows increasingly paranoid about the money. He's right to be concerned, as a pair of ruthless criminals are on the trail of the cash. It's only a matter of time before the flat mates are found by the crooks, the first of several violent incidents that will tear the three friends apart and see them scheming against each other.

A year before "Shallow Grave" was released, a novel with a similar premise would be published. Scott Smith's "A Simple Plan" also concerns a trio of friends who come across millions of ill-gotten gains, their decision to share the money soon going horribly wrong. I'm not suggesting Hodge and MacDonald were ripping off Smith's book and doubt "Shallow Grave" had much influence on Sam Raimi's film adaptation four years later. Both are variations on the aforementioned themes set forth by Chaucer and "The Treasure of the Sierra Madre," a likelier inspiration for both. However, Boyle and Raimi's films are connected by a similar approach to the discovered caches of money. In a classic film noir tradition, the millions are treated almost as a cursed artifact, an object that introduces a malignant force into an otherwise functional relationship. David immediately knows the money is bad news and is reluctant to take it. The other two see an opportunity and it's a tempting one. There aren't many among us who wouldn't benefit from a suitcase full of hundred dollar bills to dropping in our laps. Money makes people do insane things and that is where the true power of stories like "Shallow Grave" or "A Simple Plan" lie. It's easy to daydream about suddenly becoming rich but it's just as easy to imagine how badly it can fuck your life up too. They say money changes people and, when combined with shaky secrets and criminal pressures, it's inevitable that this situation will go badly. 

At the same time, the stolen cash is not the Apple in the Garden of Eden, a sudden intrusion of corruption into an otherwise balanced, innocent situation. In another amusing coincidence, "Shallow Grave" would debut at festivals a few months before another program about photogenic young people somehow able to afford an improbably roomy apartment began airing. "Friends" would definitely focus more on the wish fulfilment aspect of the fantasy of being young, attractive, and living in the city with your best pals but "Shallow Graves" feels almost as unlikely at first. I don't know what rent was like in Edinburgh in the nineties but the film's central location strikes modern eyes as absurdly nice for a starter apartment. Would a journalist, an accountant, and a recent med school grad be able to afford such a place? This flat has a loft, for God's sake. That a big bundle of discovered cash is what drives the plot certainly suggests economic pressures are weighing on these three. At the same time, they treat the possibility of a fourth flat mate moving in as a grand jape. The opening montage shows the characters using the interview process more as an opportunity to mock strangers than as a chance to split the bills more evenly.

That's an establishing character moment for another reason too: These three are kind of assholes. All throughout the first act, Juliet ignores incessant phone calls from someone, the suggestion that this is some past romantic partner she's trying to avoid. The three attend a doctor's ball, Alex seeing it as a chance to raise a little hell in public. David is much, much more reserved by the other two bring out his impish side as well. Being young and hot brings with it a certain cockiness. "Shallow Grave" uses that youthful energy to skirt the misbehavior of its protagonists, allowing the film to tactilely acknowledge that these three are jerks without making them horribly unpleasant to be around the whole time. After all, if the main characters where good people, they probably wouldn't chop up a body and dump it in a freshly dug hole somewhere. The knowledge that these three are all ready willing to compromise whatever morals they have, that they mostly see other people as means to an ends, adds to the tension later in the film. 

There's another kind of tension throughout "Shallow Grave," that gives it a little more in-common with its benevolent American sitcom counterpart. The moment we are introduced to our three leads, the question hangs in the air about what kind of relationship they share exactly. There's an evident sexual tension between Alex and Juliet. She teases him by flashing her breast before taking a shower or with an enticing dance at the ball. At the same time, there are suggestions of an attraction between David and Juliet as well, her feminine wiles being used more than once to push him around. It's not only a sense of competition between the men over the sole female in the house. One scene sees Alex lounging about in a dress and make-up, showing his attitude towards his own sexuality and gender is relaxed, at the very least. Alex and David share more than a few intense looks of their own. It quickly becomes apparent that everyone in the house wants to fuck each other, with some more aware – and more willing to use that information to their advantage – than others. If the dead body and bag of money had never shown up, this situation probably would've been more like any messy roommates break-up, with lots of sexual tension and romantic entanglements. That set-up already adds a sense of suspense to the story before things start to get grisly. 

And things certainly do get grisly. Like many glossy thrillers to come out in the nineties, "Shallow Grave" hovers between the realm of Hitcockian suspense and a more blatant form of horror. From early on, the story generates the feeling of a series of chain reactions that will soon spin out of control. Small choices – opening the flat to a fourth roommate, deciding to keep the money, drawing straws to dismember the body – build atop each other until the characters find themselves in a nightmarish situation that they built for themselves with their own greed and selfishness. Tight pacing goes a long way towards making the viewer feel caught up in this cycle too. By the time the criminals have tracked down the three protagonists, terrorizing them in their own home while David lurks ominously in the shadowy loft, "Shallow Grave" has comfortably moved beyond the polite categorization of thriller and into the nastier borders of horror. There are lingering close-ups of bloody saws in the tub, frantic nightmare sequences, and red backlighting right out of a Bava movie. 

The most bracing scene in "Shallow Graves" involves the disposal of the body. The drawing of the straws is fraught with seasick tension as David, the meekest of the trio, gets stuck with doing the nastiest work. While the most graphic violence is kept off-screen, the sound of the saw working through the bones – a high-pitched squeal, like glass on glass – is grosser than any gory effects ever could be. That speaks to the level of technical skill that was put into "Shallow Grave." Boyle was clearly determined to take everything he learned from his years in television and apply it to his big screen debut. He clearly sought out the best collaborators. Nigel Galt, Colin Nicholson, and Paul Conway led the sound department so I'm going to give them credit for creating that distressing sound effect during the burial scene. It's far from the only upsetting folly work on the film. An electric drill boring through a ceiling, a whack on the kneecaps with a crowbar, a knife slicing into a body: All make you cringe, going a long way towards making "Shallow Grave" a far more disturbing picture than it probably would've been otherwise. 

While the film makes a deliberate choice on how much violence it shows you, that doesn't make it a reserved film. The first shot of "Shallow Grave" is a racing close-up of asphalt as the road speeds by. Boyle brings the same kinetic energy to the film that was notable in his later TV work, with energetic editing and a propulsive soundtrack. (Including the solid score from Simon Boswell, though electro band Leftfield contributes the propulsive main title theme.) Cinematographer Brian Tufano fills the movie with constantly surprising shots. A face thrust into a tub of red water makes for a sudden shot. The spiral staircase inside the flat becomes a shadowy, bottomless pit in one sequence. As much as "Shallow Grave" constantly feels like it is moving, there's a scene of stillness and contemplation to many of its shots as well. Colors are used exquisitely throughout, the flat being painted in bold yellows and blues that are increasingly encroached upon by blood reds and ominous darkness. The discovery of Hugo's corpse is accompanied by a shot, carefully lit and colored with a precise depth to it, that recalls classical paintings like "The Death of Chatterton." It's clear that a careful consideration was taken into every shot, every camera movement, every placement in the frame to ensure that the film made as much of an impact on its viewer as possible. 

I feel like someone who knows more about classical art history than myself would have a lot to say about "Shallow Grave." The use of architecture seems significant as well. The building chosen for the exterior shots of the flat makes it look like a medieval tower or prison. While the shape and form of the sets create a casket-like sense of enclosure, hinting at the metaphorical prison the gang will soon be building for themselves before the shit hits the fan. Close doors reoccur throughout the film as a symbol, bringing to mind the final closed door of our lives, the casket lid shutting tight before we go in the ground. Or maybe Boyle and his team were just trying their dumbest to ensure "Shallow Grave" didn't feel like a stage play. Boyle and Hodge got their start in the theater. Considering most of the film takes place in one setting and a few shots position the characters in front of the precisely designed walls, as if we are looking at the actors in stage before a backdrop, the temptation to compare "Shallow Grave" to a stage show is there. Intense editing and carefully constructed visuals ensures that the film never feels stage bound, perhaps a deliberate move by Boyle to prove that he has grown past his theatrical and television roots.

Obviously, a well chosen cast was another element to the film's success. This was only Ewan McGregor's second film credit but he already knows how to get the viewer's attention. There's a mischievous glint in McGregor's face as Alex, the character feeling like an almost fey-like mythical creature dropped into a modern setting. This is further evident in his gender fluidity and the way he repeatedly refers to everything around him as a game. He reduces the gnarly task of cutting up the body to a game of straws. He watches and guffaws at an idiotic game show in another scene. That he insists on goofing around even when things get increasingly grim further shows this aspect of the character. Alex isn't a modern Puck though. Transferring those same aspects into a regular human being reveals a charismatic and energetic troublemaker who is also a borderline sociopath, someone who is happy to screw over anyone if it amuses him and only sees other people as pawns to toy with. 

Not that Alex is alone in manipulating the people around him for his own gains. If "Shallow Grave" is a noir, then Kerry Fox as Juliet is our femme fatale. While not a classical screen bombshell, Fox has an alluring and enticing sexuality to her throughout. Her little smirks or a tilt of a head, a teasing of a sexual availability that is never actually fulfilled, makes her exactly the kind of woman that drives men crazy. Notably, the only time she actually sleeps with anyone is a blatant act of manipulation, drawing attention to the skillful way she is playing the men against each other. Caught between these two manipulators is Christopher Eccleston as the mild mannered, neurotic David. He looks the part with his pale complexion and Herbert West glasses. While Eccleston is excellent as a stiff nerd pulled around by two schemers, he is less convincing as someone who snaps and becomes a brutal killer. That represents the weakest aspect of "Shallow Grave." I never quite buy the character's transformation. It's as if the act of slicing up one body is enough to break his mind totally. It plays like a narrative shortcut, to ramp up the tension for the final act, and is one of the few artificial moves in a script that is otherwise very natural feeling. 

Considering the nineties was a boom period for classy thrillers and indie cinema, "Shallow Grave" came along at just the right time. The film was successful in theaters but would reach its true audience on video and cable television. That's where I first saw it and I imagine that's true for a lot of people. It's the kind of film with a premise that invites humble expectations, which makes it all the more impressive when it ends up punching far above its weight class. I think certain elements of the film hold up better than others. The cast works fantastically, the script is sharp, and the director brings an astonishing amount of style to the execution. I do wish some of the dramatic changes in the second half were a little less sudden. Nevertheless, "Shallow Grave" still leaves the viewer with the right kind of morbid brain rush today as it did when brand new. [Grade: A-]

Wednesday, July 2, 2025

Director Report Card: Danny Boyle (1989)



"Scout" aired on BBC2 on September 8th of 1987. Quite literally the next night after Danny Boyle officially became a director of film and television, his second "movie" also aired on the same network as part of the same program. "The Venus DeMilo Instead," about Irish school boys coping with the Troubles, ended up being the second of five "ScreenPlay" installments Boyle would direct. He contributed "The Hen House" in the fourth season, "Arise and Go Now" in the sixth season, and "Not Even God is Wise Enough" in the eighth and final season. "The Venus DeMilo Instead" appears to have been available for rent on British streaming services at one point – it's not anymore – but Boyle's other "ScreenPlay" episodes, as far as I can tell, have remained elusive in the years since they aired. This is true for a lot of his early TV work. The two episodes of "Inspector Morse" he directed and "Mr. Wroe's Virgins," a four episode series about nuns that he oversaw, can currently be found on BritBox and Tubi. 

Otherwise? "Monkeys," an intriguing sounding television movie about John DeLorean from 1989, doesn't appear to have ever been released. "For the Greater Good," a 1991 BBC mini-series about the aftermath of World War II, seems to pop up in various places from time to time. I couldn't find it as of this writing. Among the obscure projects from this stage of Boyle's career, I was able to locate "The Nightwatch." That's a late night hour-long movie, also about the Troubles and also made for the BBC, that Boyle also directed in 1989. Some helpful soul uploaded it to that sketchy Russian YouTube clone that is frequently a godsend for those seeking movies totally unavailable through any official channels. The video quality is a bit crunchy and there's a distracting time strip running along the top of the whole time. However, for pedantic film nerds like me who try to get as close to 100% on a director's Letterboxd page as possible, this hard-to-find presentation can at least be observed. 

Not that I was able to understand "The Nightwatch" much anyway. And not only because of the lack of subtitles for all the distinct elocution going on. The film is loosely inspired by the Littlejohn affair. That is, as far as I can tell from the kind of convoluted Wikipedia page, an incident that occurred in 1973. Brothers Kenneth and Keith Littlejohn, two British expats with a long history of criminal behavior, pulled off the then-biggest bank robbery in Dublin history. While being held for trial, Kenneth claimed to have been an English double agent in the Official Irish Republican Army the entire time, committing all his crimes on behalf of the British crown to destabilize the Irish rebellion. The story gets more bizarre from there, as the brothers made a daring escape from prison and went on the run, with Kenneth eventually being arrested while in his underwear. I am absolutely certain that I do not have enough of a grasp on the history of the British/Irish conflict to truly understand all the nuances of these events. However, I will say that it sounds like a pretty compelling premise for a movie. 

Unfortunately, "The Nightwatch" seems to operate with the assumption that the viewer is familiar with this true story while also understanding that a British made-for-TV movie in the late eighties certainly did not have the budget necessary to accurately portray such a tale. Instead, it heavily fictionalizes Kenneth Littlejohn's story as practically a chamber drama. It follows bank robber and MI6 asset David Smallman as he busts his brother out of prison in Northern Ireland. They relocate to Amsterdam. Four years later, Smallman is recruited by the crown again on behalf of a pair of American businessmen planning some kind of illegal activity. Smallman reassembles his band of former partners-in-crime under the pretense of them joining the operation. However, following a night of debauchery in the Dutch city, Smallman reveals that he has a far more personal matter to resolve.

I didn't know any of the above information about the true story that inspired "The Nightwatch" when I sat down to watch it. Yes, I was acting like your typical ignorant American, assuming that homework was not required to understand an obscure TV movie from 1989. This meant I was very confused almost the entire hour I was watching the film, having little familiarity with the political turmoil of the Troubles and the specific historical affair being referenced here. From the perspective of my dim, thoroughly mid-Atlantic eyes, "The Nightwatch" is almost entirely an hour of men with difficult Irish accents having conversations inside restaurants, hotel rooms, or night clubs. I would say a good seventy percent of the runtime is devoted to interior scenes, of the cast seated around a table. They argue and bicker about vague and secret plans. Sometimes they pull guns and threaten one another. Most often, they sneer hardboiled dialogue laced with resentments over long since passed events and battles. 

That "The Nightwatch" is largely devoted to a stage play-like sequence of events, of people talking about things that happened, is frustrating for another reason. The film resembles a well-known structure. Namely, any number of previous narratives about putting together a team of rough and tumble guys to seek out an objective of debatable morality. I always love a good "men on a mission" movie. Of course, "The Nightwatch" decidedly is not that kind of story. It starts and stops at the "putting together a team" step of this familiar formula. I don't think we see Smallman and the band of scumbags he gets tangled up never actually set out on their mission only because the BBC clearly didn't have the money for it. This is a movie, partially anyway, about frustration. It is purposely an extended first act. These guys hate each other and wouldn't make a good team anyway. The idea, I suspect, is to subvert expectations by showing that a group of hardened criminals are exactly the kind of people who don't play well with others. 

It's an interesting idea but that doesn't mean it's a pleasant one to watch. "The Nightwatch" produces an overall mood of cruelty and bitterness. Leslie Grantham plays Smallman as someone who is constantly scowling and griping. James Cosmo, as the first associate recruited for the job, plays a character who is a dead-eyed, racist psychopath that has no problem reminding others of the violent acts he has performed in the past and has no qualms about performing in the future. Tony Doyle as the second recruit is more outwardly obnoxious and confrontational. Don Fellows is the American businessman who regales the others with his stories of sexually abusing women in Vietnam. Once the gang gets together, they visit a brothel and beat a homeless man in an alleyway. These are deeply terrible people and spending time with them is not exactly rewarding, interesting, or compelling. 

I do think there is a point here. Smallman's MI6 recruiter is a pathetic figure, an alcoholic who whines and moans at the agent he's watching over more like he's an old drinking buddy than a spy in his employ. This is not an exciting call to adventure for the protagonist but a humiliating obligation. The final act takes place in a brothel, where Smallman begins to rant to a prostitute about power and control while also humiliating and threatening her. That is where the heart of the movie is, I think. This is a story about power and control, about a desperate need to reclaim power from the system that controls. "The Nightwatch" has neither the runtime nor the interest to fully explore these ideas. It ends rather abruptly not long after this thematically establishing moment. In the espionage genre, where spies are usually action heroes, a film that considers how assets are at the beck-and-call of their masters, in a twisted power play that recalls the same systems of control that direct international affairs, is an interesting approach. 

However, I'll say this much about "The Nightwatch:" You can tell Danny Boyle directed it. Since I'm currently unable to see the missing films between "Scout" and this one, I can only speculate on how it happened. However, the director had definitely developed his own style by this point. New Wave music plays throughout the film, with notable needle drops from the Art of Noise and The Cure. (Not to mention a cameo from the memorably bizarre video for New Order's "True Faith.") A few times, these musical choices are paired with quickly edited montages. The descent into depravity that occurs before the final third, where our characters explore the Amsterdam red light district while becoming more unhinged, is easily the highlight of the film. If only because it allows some of the nervous energy, confined to the tight interiors for most of the runtime, a release. 

By the way, here in reality, the Official IRA would disavow the Littlejohn brothers as ever being members of their outfit, calling some of the details of their story into question. Kenneth would serve six years in prison for another bank robbery in 1981. The current whereabouts of the notorious figure doesn't seem to be public knowledge and I doubt we'll know all the details of his story for a long time. "The Nightwatch" has a much more permanent, far more downbeat ending, unsurprisingly. The true story is probably a good degree more interesting than this fictionalized account, which is clearly compromised by a lack of budget and resources and a decision to play too many of its details close to its chest. Not the best work of the burgeoning filmmaker behind it, though it does present some interesting – if ultimately unfulfilled – opportunities. [Grade: C-]

Tuesday, July 1, 2025

Director Report Card: Danny Boyle (1987)


I've debated about this for years. When I first became a wannabe film nerd, Danny Boyle was one of the directors whose work I admired. By which I mean I loved “Trainspotting.” Of course I did. That's one of the movies they give you in the Film Bro starter pack, as widely circulated and beloved back in the day as “Pulp Fiction” or “Fight Club.” “28 Days Later” had also made a huge impact when I was in high school, repolarizing zombies shortly after the turn of the millennium. However, by the time Boyle won several Oscars, it felt like something had changed about him. He wasn't one of Our Guys anymore. As his subsequent projects interested me les and less, I took his name off my list of directors to do Report Cards for some day. When Boyle seemed like he was genuinely going to make a James Bond movie, I put him back on my list with some resignation. That didn't happen, the movie he made instead really didn't excite me, and he fell off my list again. Twenty-three years later, Boyle has returned to the horror series that first made me a fan. Alright, I guess there's no avoiding this now. The time has come for me to fulfil the destiny I've long put off and decide whether Danny Boyle is still cool or not.



Danny Boyle was born to a working-class Irish family living in England. His parents were devout Catholics and hoped he'd become a priest. Instead, as a teenager, Boyle became interested in theater. While at university, he directed several student productions. He soon found professional work directing stage plays, including working five times with the Royal Shakespeare Company. His theater work must have impressed somebody at the Northern Ireland wing of the BBC. That's where he started working as a producer and director in the late eighties. Most of Boyle's early television work was for “ScreenPlay,” an anthology of one hour long dramatic presentations that aired on the BBC from 1986 to 1993. Such programs straddled the line between television episodes – which I normally wouldn't write about – and made-for-TV movies, which fall within my typical coverage. It's a moot point anyway, as most of Boyle's “ScreenPlay” installments have not surfaced in many years. If you weren't watching British television at the time, you probably haven't seen them. One of the few to pop up on the internet is “Scout,” which aired as the seventh installment of “ScreenPlay's” 1987 season. It also so happens to be the first bit of filmed media Boyle would directed, his de-facto debut.

Loosely inspired by Bob Bishop, a renown talent scout for Manchester United, “Scout” centers in on Mr. Palmer. He arrives in Helen's Bay, County Down to meet with six young men, all of whom dream of playing football for Manchester United. Over the course of a single weekend, the group will live together in a dingy home on the Irish countryside, often training and playing ball together. At the end of the weekend, Palmer will only choose one to become his next star player. Among the group is Marshall, a former protegee who has repeatedly failed in his attempts to join the big leagues. Growing older and resentful, and starting to drink too much, Marshall has one last chance to impress Palmer. 

Yes, “Scout” is a motion picture about that most European of obsessions: What we call soccer and what they call association football, or simply football, over in the British isles. As an American, I know nothing about soccer. Nor do I care to know any more about it. Terms like Manchester, goalie, and a whole litany of specific player names used within “Scout” mean nothing to me. Not content to alienate any international viewers on the subject of sports, “Scout” is also about other topics that are extremely important over there and which I am extremely ignorant about. Three of the would-be recruits are Catholic and the other three are Protestant. Obviously, the Troubles cast a shadow over this story, informing the boundaries and rivalries between the players. When paired with the extremely thick Irish accents displayed by almost all the actors, both of these topics make it even harder for me to get into “Scout.” Ireland certainly is another country, let there be no doubt about that.

From what I can parse out of the culturally specific topics and sometimes indecipherable brogues is that “Scout” is a movie mostly about failure and compromise. There is an inevitable quality floating over the story. No matter how hard all of the players work, most of whom are still teenage boys, only one of them is going to be selected. Marshall is thirty years old, considered quite long in the tooth for an athlete. Through his own screw-ups and plain bad luck, he's failed to make it beyond this stage. Throughout the story, he has to struggle with accepting his fate, that he's never going to become a professional ball player. However, “Scout” can never quite form this idea into a properly poignant theme. We never learn enough about the group of boys and men, about what the potential of reaching sports stardom, means to them. Like most sports dramas, we can assume the path to the big leagues represents an escape from a modest, if not desperate, way of life. We never see nor hear much about the character's back story however. It leaves “Scout” feeling a bit half-formed at times.

“Scout” was written by Frank McGuinness, an Irish playwright and poet who would also go on to a certain degree of acclaim. He clearly makes an attempt to add depth to the collection of characters. The boys have other interest beyond soccer. One does little sketches of the other players. Another has an interest in poetry. Girls are a topic that comes up from time to time too, unsurprisingly. At the very least, this gives us some insight into who these guys are beyond their passion for sports. Being made for television, “Scout” can't get into the raging masculine egos and bad behavior you would expect from young men isolated in the countryside like this. That's just one example of how the film ultimately falls short of making its cast of characters feel truly fleshed out though. 

Given that he has the title role, it's entirely possible that the talent scout is meant to be the main character of this television play. Ray McAnally stars as Palmer, a stern and serious man who looks down at everything the potential recruits do with a shrewd eye. Late into “Scout,” Palmer reveals that he's never been a footballer himself. That he merely has an eye for talent. This parallels Marshall's journey, as someone desperately trying to break into this game despite repeatedly failing to do so. There is an old adage: “Those who can't do, teach.” In the world of professional sports, perhaps, that can be changed to “Those who can't play, recruit.” The idea squirms throughout that the role of talent scout is a compromise, perhaps even a way for a failed athlete to take some resentment out on people who are much like they used to be. Again, this is all suggested, never formulating into a solid idea within the hour.

“Scout” does indeed have a recognizable face in it. Stephen Rea stars as Marshall. He was around thirty at the time and already looks much older. In fact, he looks way too old to be an in-training football player. This was no doubt intentional, calling attention to how out of place the character is among these literal boys. Rea is one of those actors that have always looked fifty years old and hung-over, making him a good choice for this role. Truthfully, the scenes of Rea sitting in his car, getting drunk, reflecting on his wasted life while verbally repeating the names of various famous soccer players is some of the best scenes in “Scout.” Rea's sad, forlorn eyes suggest a lifetime of regrets and pain. When that rage finally comes to the surface, it's one of the few moments of catharsis in the pinned-up, quiet movie. 

Of the little bit of BBC programming from way back in the day that I've seen, it seems largely united by a sense of quiet and isolation. That is very apparent in “Scout.” The Irish countryside is wide and green, fresh fields and hills of grass stretching in all direction. The boys stay in a shadowy, dingy house out on the empty field, feeling even more apart from wider civilization. As the camera slowly moves around a dinner table, nothing on the soundtrack except for the sounds of the conversation, the sense of quiet desolation becomes unavoidable. Maybe that's why “Scout” never feels as if it actually comes together. The anger of the protagonist, the unnerving stillness of the location, and the simmering resentment underneath the set-up suggests this will eventually build towards some sort of pay-off that ultimately never arrives. 

Obviously, the only reason I watched “Scout” is to see how it reflects on Danny Boyle's overall career. You can certainly see some of the signs of what the director would get up to later down the line. There's a fast paced montage of the boys playing football, one of the few scenes in the film set to a pop soundtrack. This is proceeded by a sequence of Marshall drinking and driving, intercut with vintage soccer footage. Other than that, this is a chamber drama largely set in the cramped confines of the main building and on the weirdly empty feeling green fields outside. When combined with the far from ideal video quality that the hour presentation survives in, it furthers the sense that we are only getting fleeting glimpses of Boyle's talent in its embryonic stage. 

Ultimately, I'm glad that “Scout” still exists and that we can watch it with relative ease. It's an interesting film that never reaches its potential, batting – or perhaps “kicking” would be the more fitting metaphor – around bigger ideas that only float under the surface as suggestion. I'm glad that the movie doesn't require you to know or care about soccer, or else I would have been truly lost while watching it. As it is, there is some fine pathos to be found in Rea and McAnally's performance. If allowed to explore the feelings of failure and longing within its story more, “Scout” could have been something more impressive. As it is now, the film is an occasionally interesting but never fully compelling sketch, of its own ideas and of the talent that would grow out of it. [Grade: B-]

Wednesday, May 14, 2025

Director Report Card: Jake Schreier (2025)



When it was announced that Jake Schreier would be the next director to join the Marvel Cinematic Universe family, most people responded with a simple "Who?" Which isn't to say that Schreier hadn't been busy since "Paper Towns" established him as an up-and-comer, just that he hadn't become especially well known. His Francis and the Lights connection got him music video gigs for superstars like Kanye, Justin Bieber, Selena Gomez, Haim, and Kendrick Lamar. That's presumably how he ended up directing the concert film, "Chance the Rapper's Magnificent Coloring World." Out of my completist compulsions, and not because I'm familiar at all with Mr. the Rapper's music, I tried to locate that one for this Report Card but it doesn't seem to be available since its 2021 theatrical run. Probably most importantly to Disney/Marvel, who produce movies a lot like how they produce TV shows, Schreier had also proven himself as a reliable television director. He had multi-episode runs on critically acclaimed series like "Lodge 49," "Brand New Cherry Flavor," and "Beef," among spots on other edgy cable/streaming shows I've never heard of. Being long time friends with the guy who made Marvel some "Spider-Mans" probably didn't hurt either. Whatever convinced them, Schreier is the latest indie director plucked out of obscurity by the big budget superhero factory. 

The project he would be asked to steer was the Thunderbolts. In the comics, the Thunderbolts were originally a group of B-list supervillains who – after the Avengers disappeared into a crossover event singularity – began masquerading as heroes. They soon discover that doing good feels good and quickly take their con legit. That probably would've made for a pretty fun movie, with the current Avenger-less state of the MCU and traditional team leader Baron Zemo already existing in-universe presenting an easy set-up. Despite the clever premise, the team has been subjected to a constantly shifting line-up and frequent changes in direction. Eventually, they would mutate into something like Marvel's answer to DC's Suicide Squad, a group of supervillains seeking redemption alongside other ragtag misfits. That's the direction the movie seemed to take, drawing its roster mostly from the forgettable "Black Widow" movie, alongside Bucky, the antagonist from "Ant-Man and the Wasp," and a guy who debuted in one of the streaming series. 

It was, in other words, not the most promising set-up for a blockbuster. "Thunderbolts" felt a lot like superhero table scraps to me, a remnant of Marvel's assumption that the general public was way more invested in spin-offs about minor supporting characters than they truly were. Unsurprisingly, the cinematic "Thunderbolts*" – the title hassled with an asterisk for easily foreseen reasons – was subjected to extensive reshoots and repeated delays. This did little to raise my expectations for the latest entry into a once-ubiquitous pop culture force that seems to be floundering in recent years. Nor did it change the perception that Jake Schreier was another young, pliable, powerless director chosen by the Marvel Machine because he could be pushed around by the producers who actually make these movies. Well, "Thunderbolts*" is out now. People seem to actually like it, so either I was wrong or the studio managed to build up enough buzz to slightly re-inflate the superhero bubble.

Former Black Widow Yelena Belova works as an assassin for openly corrupt CIA director, Valentina Allegra de Fontaine. Yelena, depressed since the death of her sister and alienated from superhero father figure Alexei/Red Guardian, seeks a change in her life. She accepts one last job from Val, repelling into a underground lab called the Vault. There, she runs into disgraced would-be Captain America John Walker and matter-shifting supervillainess Ghost. They quickly deduce that they have all been sent to kill each other and then be incinerated. See, Val is facing impeachment from her dealings with shifty bioweapons corp the O.X.E. Group and she hopes to clean up all loose ends. That includes Bob, a mysterious and seemingly mundane guy Yelena discovers in the Vault. Bob, however, is the lone survivor of O.X.E. Group's program to engineer their own superhero and soon reveals threateningly vast powers. Yelena, Walker, Ghost and the summoned Alexei get scooped up by Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier turned senator seeking to put Val behind bars. The makeshift team realizes how dangerous Valentina's plans for Bob – now positioned as a mega-powerful "hero" called the Sentry – are and set out to stop them before disaster occurs. 

Shortly after completing the first “Guardians of the Galaxy,” James Gunn mentioned the Thunderbolts as another Marvel title he might be interested in. Supposedly, he scratched that itch after making “The Suicide Squad.” This information will do nothing to dissuade those who claim all of Gunn's superhero movies are the same. Despite the fact that he's running the Distinguished Competition now, Gunn's fingerprints are all over “Thunderbolts*.” This is another story of a group of misfits, thrown together by fate. Most of them dislike each other at first but soon learn to see their good sides. They're up against a threat way more powerful than them but prove uniquely suited to the challenge. By the end, you can already sees the threads of a make-shift family forming. I don't mind Marvel trying to recreate “Guardians of the Galaxy's” formula but it is a little disappointing to see these very different characters fit inside that same mold. For example, it would've been cool if “Thunderbolts*” had touched upon the Sentry's main gimmick in the comics. That he appears as if he's always been there, a new character that everyone remembers being a great hero for years. One imagines scenes from past Marvel movies with the Sentry hastily added into them, for example. 

Despite the obvious debt “Thunderbolts*” owes to to the “Guardians of the Galaxy” movies, this superhero project eventually finds its own approach. The Guardians were anti-heroes and outcast. This gang is much more dysfunctional. Yelena is deeply depressed and nursing a drinking problem. Alexei lives in a crappy apartment and has a day job driving a crappy cab. Walker doom-scrolls articles about his own failures, his self-pity causing his wife to leave him and take their kid. Bob is the biggest fuck-up yet, thoroughly traumatized by a shitty childhood with drug abuse and constant instability in his past. Bucky Barnes is, by far, the most stable of the group... And he's depicted as living alone, socially awkward, bad at his day job, and forced to do mundane chores like put his robot arm in the dish washer. This approach leans into what was one of my concerns about the film, that its cast of characters were underwhelming cast-offs. To paraphrase an earlier film about an idiosyncratic team of crimefighters: They are not your classic superheroes, not the favorites, the ones nobody bets on. They're the other guys. 

The ensemble being connected by their mutual statuses as depressed, former or not-so-former substance abusers, with no personal lives does something else unexpected. It makes “Thunderbolts*” a snap-shot of the national mood. Alexei and Walker cling to past successes, in order to protect their fragile egos from the inadequacies they are all too aware of. This behavior alienates those they love, despite a desperation to connect with them. Bob doesn't even have a family to be alienated from, left mentally crippled from a lifetime of mistakes. A past full of pain have left them all unable to function as adults. Yelena's squalor, boozing, and constantly messy appearance brings internet lingo like “girl-rotting” to mind. In other words: These guys are typical millennials. They are well into adulthood without having acquired any of the status signifiers their parents had at this age. Demeaning jobs they resent are all that keep them going. Here in 2025, a lot of us feel like man-children and femcels, or at least have in the past. It's unusual to see this feeling reflected in a big budget superhero movie.

That unresolved trauma, and their stubborn refusal to resolve it, deserves most of the blame for our motley crew of heroes being like this. However, it's also not totally their faults. They were born into a world they had no control over. It's the same world where they are powerless against the whims of tyrannical politicians. Those in power openly break the law without fear of repercussions. If consequences – such as the lingering threat of impeachment – do appear, what's to stop these leaders from wiggling free of punishment simply by breaking more laws? If the Thunderbolts are heroes of our time, than slimy, condescending, possibly insane, strangely magnetic, and utterly petty Valentina Allegra de Fontaine is a stand-in for the political leaders of our time. It's difficult not to be an emotionally arrested fuck-up when our president is a conniving crook invested only in his own money and power.  

While Val is the manipulator behind these events, she's ultimately less dangerous than the threat she unleashes. Rather than the spectre of fascism or disease, the big bad in “Thunderbolts*” Is The Void: In the comics, that's the alternate personality of the Sentry, the antithesis of an ultimate hero. Here, the Void becomes a symbol of the depression dragging Bob – and all the protagonists – down. He's depicted as a suffocating blackness, that makes people disappear as they are sucked into its depth. Once within, they are surrounded by painful memories that they can't escape. They are repeatedly reminded of all the mistakes they can't forgive themselves for. It's a potent metaphor for clinical depression. And intrusive thoughts and OCD and anxiety and every other chemical imbalance in our brains that tells us we aren't good enough, that makes you feel like non-existence is preferable to living.

If it feels like the film is getting into pop-psychology territory here, “Thunderbolts*” does not resist such tendencies. A scene where Yelena has an intense conversation/breakdown with her dad utilizes some therapy-speech clichés. Bob can't defeat his Void by physically confronting it. That only leads to self-destruction. Instead, the crushing loneliness can only be held at bay with friends, family, a support net of people who love and support and teach you how to love and support yourself. The metaphor gets a little overly literal by the climax. If “Thunderbolts*” is overly reliant on our modern pandemic of being too analyzed and no less neurotic, this is at least also reflective of the generational condition it seeks to capture.

“Thunderbolts*” isn't only seeking to stretch millennial self-doubt across larger-than-life superhero metaphors. It also represents the Marvel Cinematic Universe in a very self-aware mood. Valentina's end game is to engineer a perfect hero, the ultimate one-man Avenger team that is personally at her beck-and-call. She thinks Bob's history of mental illness will make him easier to control, underestimating the power of the Void. But there's a more obvious truth here: You can't build a hero in a laboratory. The last five years has seen Disney/Marvel take an especially mercenary approach to expanding its cinematic universe, attempting to create a new wave of Avengers that could take the place of the first generation of charismatic, beloved characters and keep those billions rolling in. It hasn't exactly worked out and it remains to be seen how many of the future storylines the studio has set-up will now be paid off on. The Sentry appearing as a made-by-committee do-gooder that proves to be a monstrous failure feels like a commentary on this tactic. 

While I'm sure “Thunderbolts*” was as designed in a boardroom as much as any of Marvel Studios' other capeshit, it does try and resist the overly work-shopped and dissected feeling the last few MCU flicks have had. In fact, the plot here is refreshingly ramshackle in a lot of ways. Nearly the entire first half of the movie is devoted to Yelena and her new team mates simply trying to escape the Vault. The characters truly do feel thrown together by coincidence, including a seventh cast member that is quickly disposed of. (If another example of the MCU tossing away another iconic comic character.) From here on out, the plot almost plays out in real time, feeling like the cast is flying by the seat of their pants as they desperately race against time. This allows the film to zero in on its ensemble and to create a propulsive story that is always moving forward. 

When writing about “Paper Towns,” I asked if any of the style Jake Schreier showed in “Robot & Frank” was evident in a more studio-driven project. That question is far more pertinent to a big budget action movie from a company somewhat notorious for bland looking motion pictures. I don't think Schreier and cinematographer Andrew Droz Palermo go especially far distinguishing the film visually from previous superhero shenanigans. The action sequence suggest that Schreier might have been a little out of his depth here. Some of the scuffles and gun-fights are either a little too chaotic or too stationary, such as a moment where the Sentry deflects the entire team in one held shot. Some scenes do look solid, such as an explosion filled car chase, but I'd probably describe “Thunderbolts*” as a passable action flick, at best. 

However, I do think Jake Schreier potential has decent chops as a horror movie director. The most striking visual of the film is how the Void is depicted, as a totally detail-free shadow save for a pair of pin-point lights at the eyes. That's a creepy, memorable image. It is accompanied by the sight of people vanishing into the spreading cloud of depression in a puff of smoke that burns their shadows into the ground. By the time the heroes have plunged into the Void themselves, they are reliving their worst memories. They grow increasingly surreal, such as when Yelena finds herself unable to escape her most shameful recollection. To the point that the scenery comes to life and holds her there. These moments are well-done and mildly creepy too, suggesting that Schreier was probably more at home crafting these scenes than the explosions and shoot-outs. 

Say what you will about Marvel Studios but they are usually good at casting their films. “Thunderbolts*” has a lovable cast, built-up over the course of the previous installments, and lets them mostly bounce off each other in amusing ways. Florence Pugh manages to bring a pathos and patheticness to Yelena, while never having us doubt her abilities as a competent warrior. David Harbour's goofball father act is expanded on from “Black Widow,” being a little more personable and a little less silly while still utilizing the actor's avuncular charm. Sebastian Stan becomes a likeably dead-pan straight man to the antics around him, approaching most of what happens with resigned shock and a lack of surprise. Wyatt Russell walks a fine line with John Walker, the U.S. Agent being both an asshole and a broken person that slowly wins the audience over. Lewis Pullman – that's Bill's son, by the way – proves surprisingly likable and relatable as Bob, his flaws all too human. The only member of the Thunderbolts that feels shortened is Hannah john-Kamen as Ghost. She's mostly merely there, getting a handful of moments to herself without being allowed too many chances to shine on her own. 

It is also to “Thunderbolts*'” benefit that the film feels surprisingly stand-alone. Despite being the follow-up to at least seven previous movies and two streaming mini-series, the film never feels burdened by continuity and past events too much. As long as you've seen “Black Widow” and know who Bucky is, you'll probably be able to follow this one. The weight of being the latest cog in a massive corporate franchise does eventually drag the film down. Right before the credits start rolling, the film ends abruptly and leaves its main antagonist off the hook, to make way for further adventures. Still, compared to the bland universe-weaving of “The Marvels” and the hopelessly reshuffled “Captain America: Brave New World,” “Thunderbolts*” is both a lot of fun and heartfelt. Schreier is already being courted for more Marvel movies, based on the strengths of this one. I'd hate to see him totally consumed by these kind of theatrics but “Thunderbolts*” is a good time at the movies nevertheless. [Grade: B]