I’m an ornery pain. I’m the only person in America (or possibly the world) who didn’t like Frozen, yet I adored notorious flops The Lone Ranger and John Carter. I find prestige Oscar-winners like Crash or Birdman overrated messes, but I can watch Xanadu in an endless loop. (Though even I admit Xanadu stretches the acceptable limits of “guilty pleasure.”) When most of humanity flocks to something or flees from it, I’m always headed in the opposite direction. Hell, I even kinda liked Jonah Hex. You probably should just stop reading … now.
And it is with this context that we come to Chronicle-director Josh Trank’s reboot of Fantastic Four, admittedly a film that we, as a downward spiraling culture, did not need, given that the “First Family of Marvel Comics” already hit the silver screen twice in the past ten years in a pair of much campier, candy-colored offerings.
I suppose, given all of the hyperventilating sky-is-falling press over this late summer entry, I expected this new Fantastic Four to be a laugh-out-loud howler of a train wreck, not unlike that last Transformers movie (a movie I might add that nobody liked but still made a billion dollars). It wasn’t … at least not to me and the two other people in last night’s screening room.
I was pleasantly surprised that I actually, sort of, enjoyed myself. Word of warning: it is a very somber affair, but with zero gravitas and even less fun. However, the smart play Josh Trank makes (that is, before he completely disavowed his work on the flick in a Twitter rant a few weeks back) is in staging his film in a creepy, David Cronenberg-lite horror universe, where, say, being turned into a man on fire or a man made of rubber or a man made of orange rocks or a woman who can’t see her own hand is not necessarily a whimsical day at the park. It’s a logical approach, and Trank has cast his film with some of the best young talents in Hollywood, all acquitting themselves nicely.
Yet, it’s not the glib August superhero escapist fare anyone expected in a post-Guardians of the Galaxymoment, not does it have the courage to be full-blown creep-fest either, so Fantastic Four just sort of floats dormant in some audience-confounding, foggy nether realm. In short, I liked the movie’s tone directionally and the cast in concept and the unrealized potential best, which is strange praise indeed.
Playing the titular heroes are Whiplash‘s Miles Teller (“Reed Richards”), House of Cards‘ Kate Mara (‘Susan Storm”), Fruitvale Station‘s Michael B. Jordan (“Johnny Storm”), and Turn‘s Jamie Bell (“Ben Grimm”). The cast’s standout, Bell has a criminal dearth of screen-time, but, in his few stoic minutes, he sets a beautifully glowering tone of disaffected youth that propels and enriches what passes for character development in the movie’s relatively brisk running time.
All that said, much of the film is a drag, but, for some reason, I found its dreary sensibility and general mopiness compelling. Nope, we did not need yet another origin story of these heroes, but that’s what we get. This time instead of rocketing into space, our intrepid foursome explore another dimension (where they gain their amazing abilities … er … deformities) while attending the Baxter Institute, a kind of Hogwarts for Science Geeks in Midtown Manhattan.
By far, the weakest part of the film is its villain Victor Von Doom, a Draco Malfoy without the charm or the pretty platinum hair. In the comics (goofy name notwithstanding), this is a character who can be so fascinating with his Oedipal complex, inferiority complex, God complex, and all around prissy pissiness. For the life of me, I can’t figure out why filmmakers haven’t figured out he is the proto-Darth Vader and deserves a film of his very own. Ah well. At this rate, between Toby Kebbell’s not-ready-for-The-CW posturing in this iteration and Julian McMahon’s pretty boy voguing in the prior films, we will be lucky if we see Dr. Doom selling mouthwash and toothpaste during Saturday morning cartoons.
The film is nothing but 90 minutes of set-up, which would be fine if there was a payoff, but the proceedings completely fall apart in the final act, a clutch of computer-generated nonsense in the “other dimension,” the “otherness” being some billowing clouds, a lot of steam, and goofy floating rocks. Our heroes have to stop Doom from blowing up our world or throwing us all into a black hole or giving us gas from cheap popcorn … or something. Wait, what was this movie about again?
And that’s a shame, because until the film’s final moments, I actually dug it. Maybe Fantastic Four will find a second life as a pleasant, dreary televised diversion on rainy Sunday afternoons, and maybe (one day) someone will finally give this classic family of four-color misfits the smart but zippy movie treatment they deserve. Or not.
Early in Fantastic Four, Reg E. Cathey – playing Franklin Richards, the stony-faced scientist father of Susan and Johnny Storm – rumbles ominously, “The failures of my generation are the opportunities of yours.” And, dammit, the Fantastic Four film franchise is giving us nothing but opportunities. Sigh.
Nina Kaur (thanks to fellow Farmington PlayerAmy Lauter for connecting us!) asked me to contribute a guest blog entry to her fun and interesting blog Thirty Something Years in Ninaland. Here’s what she wrote about me – “Every Monday I will have a guest blogger. Today I am featuring a wonderful Movie Reviewer named Roy Sexton. He is witty, charming and great critic! Enjoy reading about his journey!” Wow! Thanks, Nina! Click here for the original post on her blog.
By yours truly …
Movies have always been an important part of my life.
I like to read books (more accurately comic books these days, as I seem to now have the attention span of a tsetse fly), and I adore music. Television is fine, and I’ve spent many hours traipsing the boards of theatres across the Midwest. But movies transport me.
I love the fact that a film is an encapsulated medium. Whether 90 minutes or three hours, a movie tells one story – beginning, middle, and end – introducing you to new friends and enemies and locales in an efficiently designed delivery mechanism. With a good film, you get the experience of reading a novel (whether or not the film is in fact based on any work of literature) in a highly compressed fashion.
Your brain leaves your body for a bit, you take a mini-vacation to places you might not otherwise ever see, and you return to your regularly scheduled life a bit changed, perhaps enlightened, and hopefully re-energized.
I stop reading email, answering calls, or monitoring social media…and just blessedly check out…for a bit.
My parents cultivated appreciation for the arts by filling our home with movies and music and books and love. I’ve groused in the past about wanting, as a child, to play with my Star Wars action figures in the solitude of my toy-lined room and being forced instead to sit in our den with my parents and watch some creaky B&W classic movie on Fort Wayne’s Channel 55. And I am so grateful now for that.
My appreciation for classic cinema resulted from these years basking in the glow of our old RCA color TV. And when we could finally afford a VCR and could now watch any movie of our choosing, I was already hooked on the story-telling of vintage movies with their requisite arch wit, dramatic stakes, whimsical joys, and belief that anything was possible.
However, not everything was high art in our house. The advent of HBO in the early 80s and its repetitive showings of whatever junk Hollywood had most recently cranked out shaped my tastes for better or worse as well. I’m a sucker for the movie train wreck – the more star-studded, over-budget, under-written, and garish the better. Some of my most beloved films are among the most notoriously awful of all time: Xanadu, Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, The Wiz, Popeye, Flash Gordon. The Black Hole, Raggedy Ann and Andy’s Musical Adventure, Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, Return to Oz, Battle Beyond the Stars, Krull, The Neverending Story, and so on.
If it was a flop and it was shown ad nauseum one mid-afternoon following another on HBO in the 1980s, then I fell in love with it. Like self-imposed water torture on my nascent aesthetic.
As time went by and I stomped through my high school and college know-it-all years (some might argue I’m still stuck in them), I learned from both my parents and some wonderful teachers the tools of critique and criticism. What is the intent of the piece? What is the context for its creation? How effective is its structure, composition, impact? Where did it go awry or where did it cross over into something classic?
It’s all highly subjective and a bit arrogant, I suppose, but I can’t help it. I’m entertained by the act of analysis.
In more recent years, Facebook gave me an outlet to connect with my inner-Ebert. I started posting status statements summarizing in glib, condensed fashion my take on whatever flick we had just enjoyed … or endured. My kind-hearted and patient partner John has suffered through a lot of movies over the years, many he enjoyed … and even more he did not.
At wonderful Jim and Lyn’s beautiful wedding
We still bicker about his departure from Moulin Rouge after twenty minutes with nary an explanation. I found him after the movie in the lobby reading a newspaper – I don’t know what is more telling: that he was too kind to want to ruin the movie for me by alerting me how much he hated it, or the fact that I stayed to the end without checking on his safety and security!
My friends and colleagues enjoyed these little “squibs” I posted on social media. I suppose I was aspiring to capture the grace and insight of Leonard Maltin’s “micro reviews” that I consumed voraciously as a child every January when we bought his latest edition. (The paper on those early volumes was always of some strange newspaper-esque stock prone to smudging and was pulpily aromatic. I will never forget that musty, fabulous smell.)
John always asks plaintively, “Didn’t they know this movie was bad when they were making it?!”
Perhaps I keep trying to solve that riddle, with the false confidence that my $10 movie ticket entitles me to a shot at armchair quarterbacking. Perhaps the failed actor in me is still trying to reclaim some artistic glory. Or perhaps I’m just a wise-ass with too many opinions and without the good sense to keep them respectfully to myself.
My pals told me, “Set up a blog. Capture these Facebook reviews for future reference. They’re great; they’re fun! Blah blah blah.” I have to admit that eventually my ego got the better of me, and, one late night, I explored the wonders that WordPress holds (albeit not that many) and set up ReelRoyReviews as a diary of sorts, detailing my adventures in the cinema.
Here’s the funny thing. Nobody read them. Nobody. At least for quite a while.
Well, that’s not entirely true. My mom was an avid reader and supporter and was always the first to offer an encouraging comment: “My son writes the best reviews and everyone should love them.” So there!
But you know what? Something interesting happened along the way. I stopped caring and just started writing for myself. And I started having fun. And people started reading.
Life is way too short (and exasperating) to get too intense about entertainment, so I try to take a light and conversational approach with my reviews. And I try to respect that (for the most part) these are show business professionals putting (ideally) their best feet forward and that they are human beings with hearts and souls and feelings. I hope I never seem cruel. I don’t mean to be. These writings are off-the-cuff and journal-style and come from as positive a place as I can muster.
Approach everything and everyone honestly and with positive intent and offer candid feedback with an open heart and as much kindness as possible.
Please check out my latest reviews here … Dawn of the Planet of the Apes, Transformers: Age of Extinction, Edge of Tomorrow, 22 Jump Street, The Fault in our Stars, and Tammy and more …
With references to forgotten Broadway musicals and even more forgotten films (Buckaroo Banzai or Time Bandits, anyone?), analysis of my ongoing “war” with the Cher-army, many funny asides, boffo binge-book-buying by all in attendance, and a whole lot of zany fun, yesterday’s book signing/singing event was a hit!
With Peter Blackshear [Photo by Don Sexton]
Magic to do [Photo by Don Sexton]
[Image Source: Wikipedia]
Songs were sung: “Corner of the Sky” from Pippin, “Pure Imagination” from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, “Send in the Clowns” from A Little Night Music, “My Funny Valentine” from Pal Joey, and “This is the Life” from Golden Boy.
Film musings were read: both entries from the book on the beautiful black and white comic weepie Penny Serenade – one by my mom, author and columnist Susie Duncan Sexton and one by yours truly.
And we got to catch up with some wonderful, kind, supportive friends (photos here)…
[Photo by Megan Blackshear]
With accompanist Rebecca Biber [Photo by Don Sexton]
John Mola, Susie and Don Sexton, Sean Murphy, Jim Lynch, Melynee Weber, Lauren M. London and the London kids, Angie Choe and Sean and kids, Matthew Theunick, Zaida Hernandez, Karen Southworth, Beth Kennedy, Jenna Jacota Anderson, Sarah Rauen, Marjorie and Patricia Lesko.
Thanks to Rebecca Biber for the wonderful accompaniment and witticisms. And thanks again to Bookbound and Peter Blackshear and Megan Andrews Blackshear (and Chester!) for hosting such a fun event.
[Thanks to BroadwayWorld for this coverage – click here to view.]
With actress Sarah Rauen [Photo by Megan Blackshear]
[Image Source: Wikipedia]
Here is Bookbound’s write-up:
“Bookbound (1729 Plymouth Road, Ann Arbor) hosted local community theater actor, blogger, and author Roy Sexton for an afternoon of laughs and music. He read from his new book of cheeky movie reviews, Reel Roy Reviews, and entertained with movie themes and show tunes with Rebecca Biber accompanying.”
[Image Source: Wikipedia]
Finally, what an honor and a privilege for us to be included in dear and talented and beautiful Beth Kennedy’s fantastic blog I Didn’t Have My Glasses On.
Here’s a quote: “there were so many sextons, so little time……and i was so happy to be a part of it all, and in awe of the heartfelt and mutual support shared by all.” We love you, Beth! Read the rest by clicking here.
ReelRoyReviews is officially launched, y’all! Time for me to collapse…
Wow! What a night! I may be recovering from last night’s book launch at Common Languagefor weeks (which is going to be tough ’cause there is another fun event scheduled for April 26 at 3 pm at Bookbound in Ann Arbor – I may need to get in some power naps before then).
Enjoy these photos from last night, courtesy of expert presenter and photographer John Mola. (You can view more pics here and here.)
Thanks to Keith Orr and Martin Contreras, owners of Common Language, for their generosity as our hosts for the evening. They are wonderful souls! Go now (right now!) to their store and buy lots of stuff. And meet their beautiful, happy, sweet canine rescue mascot Duke.
Thanks to my guinea pigs … er … amazing readers who took part in presenting some of my wilder reviews. Yes, there were accents, cartoon voices, Mad Libs-esque games, saucy asides aplenty, laughter, editorializing, aural mimicry of John Barry’s hypnotically bizarro Black Hole score, and spot-on Xanadu roller boogie choreography.
After a lovely intro by Keith who had some very encouraging things to say about me being a reviewer who blends the personal and professional in a humorous and (more or less) kind-hearted way (I’m paraphrasing shamelessly!), the rogues gallery rundown of readers (who pretty much unraveled any good will achieved by Keith’s remarks) included the following folks …
Rachel Murphy with “Did you read the book first? Life of Pi“; Lyn Weber with “Never trust a movie with a colon in the title … The Mortal Instruments: City of Bones“; John Mola with “Whatever the hell that is supposed to mean … HBO’s Behind the Candelabra“; Rebecca Biber with “Twerking, tongue all a-twangle: Miley Cyrus’ Bangerz“; Nick Oliverio with “A psychedelic fever dream … for kids! Disney’s The Black Hole“; and Barbara Bruno with “Gene Kelly, sir, you owe us an apology: Xanadu.”
I love my talented friends, who made me feel so very special reading these crazy musings of mine. My mom once told me that Quentin Tarantino will show up at friends’ homes and make them listen to his scripts (in development), read aloud by the maestro himself. I totally get that now, as last night I realized (while listening intently, of course!) that I have a tendency to overuse the terms “heebie jeebies,” “balsa wood,” and “skeezy.” I’ll leave it to you to figure out where and how!
Thanks again to Keith and Martin for a fun night – they are now carrying copies of Reel Roy Reviews in the store as well as my mom’s Secrets of an Old Typewriter essay collections. (Read her latest Homeward Angle column here.)
And my deepest appreciation for the friends who participated and who attended.
Speaking of friends, while I’m in this giddily self-promotional haze, thanks to new friend Gina Furia Rubel for the following comments about the book. (Gina’s Twitter bio describes her as “CEO of FuriaRubel, a Legal Marketing, Web & Public Relations Agency; media source, speaker, blogger, & attorney who loves travel and photography” … all true! But she is also a warm, very witty, and delightful soul who loves animals and movies. My kind of person!)
Gina writes, “If you love movies, wit, snarky commentary and humor as much as me, you will love reading Roy Sexton‘s book, Reel Roy Reviews. Perhaps, Roy, you will solve the riddle of how the $10+ movie ticket and $8 popcorn entitles many of us to ‘armchair quarterbacking’ or answer why the movie Xanadu was ever filmed….”
The countdown continues! Just 8 days left until the official release of ReelRoyReviews, a book of film, music, and theatre reviews, by Roy Sexton!
Mindy Roth Edgar
More nice comments from folks who have received copies early…
Liz Berry Schatzlein: “Dad always said Roy Sexton was the best student he ever had. How proud he would have been to have seen this book that just came out – and to see himself thanked in the introduction! Y’all pick up a copy of Roy’s new book – when it comes to movies, he tells it like it is! Congrats, Roy!”
Mindy Roth Edgar: “Lovin’ the book. Your description of movies on [Fort Wayne’s] Channel 55 made me laugh out loud (does anyone type that out any more?). You have enticed me to see some movies that I had passed on before. Congrats!”
Joni Deufel: “Your wonderful book just arrived from Amazon, Roy!!! I am beyond excited to receive it! You put sparkle into everyone’s life that knows you.”
Carole Craft: “Roy, I found your book on my doorstep this morning! I brought it to work so if I have any free time I can sneak a peek! Roy, you are just about the nicest person I know, and I am so pleased with all your accomplishments. I love you dearly. I will read every word, just as I do anything you or Susie write. You are two talented people, and I am proud of you both!”
Tina Braid: “My whole family was standing around admiring the book (and your name on it). My son said, ‘Isn’t that your fun friend, Roy?’ Pretty cool. Brought it in to work to show around!”
Robin Plasterer: “I just bought this book. Can’t wait to get it autographed. Can’t wait to read it and share with all of my friends, via coffee table.”
Because it is Throwback Thursday, here is a snippet of a review from one of Roy’s favorite childhood movies, Xanadu: “Lord, Xanadu, the 1980 roller disco musical starring Olivia Newton-John and Gene Kelly (!) is awful. I wish I could have back the hundreds of hours I spent as a child watching it over and over and over again.”