Tag Archives: harrison ford

“This is where I’m from, but you’re where I belong.” Paddington in Peru and Captain America: Brave New World

27 February 2025

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Advanced warning, this will be a short one. I admit, I escaped to the movie theater today, my place of comfort and retreat, while mover men clambered all around our house packing up all of our worldly possessions. (Side note: today and tomorrow are vacation days for me, although given all that activity it’s hardly what I would call a rejuvenating 48 hours.)

Yesterday, I stayed in the house on conference calls, while the movers were doing their work, and I just couldn’t take it again today. I’m so excited about the future, but it feels like the end of an era to be honest, watching as 20+ years of beloved possessions are packed away by very nice, but complete strangers, seeing a house we have loved so much look increasingly like a war zone. Plus, if one more worker came around the corner and said to me, “Gosh, there sure is a lot more stuff than was in the estimate,” I was likely to scream bloody murder.

So how did I pass the time? By catching up with a double feature of sequel entries in beloved franchises, two films that are perfectly serviceable, completely entertaining, but don’t hold the luster of their predecessors: Paddington in Peru and Captain America: Brave New World.

Surprising no one who has seen the previous two Paddington films, that one was the stronger entry here. It doesn’t quite have the arch, scruffy wit of its forebears, but it still retains all of the warmth and sweetness. I may have cried some ugly tears at the end. It could simply be from exhaustion with this move, but I was deeply affected as Paddington rediscovered his roots in deepest, darkest Peru. The little CGI bear is ably supported by a wonderful cast, including new additions, Olivia Colman, as a literal singing, slightly devious nun and Antonio Banderas, as a non-singing, slightly devious boat captain. Both have a hell of a time, chewing every bit of scenery in their wake, and it works very well.

But the secret weapon of these films remains Paddington, so winsomely voiced by Ben Whishaw. All it takes is one melty glance from the little bear and the film has you in the palm of its hand. When Paddington explains to his adopted human family – The Browns – “This is where I’m from [Peru], but you’re where I belong,” I dare your heart not to pang. It’s worth your time if looking for a late February escape.

Captain America: Brave New World is fine, but seems like a shadow of the superhero spy, clockwork genius of Captain America: Winter Soldier or even Captain America: Civil War. Brave New World fills in all the expected story beats smoothly, but still feels like a diet soda, full of fizz and empty calories. The cast is uniformly excellent and deserves a better script, notably, a gruff and flinty Harrison Ford – is there any other kind of Harrison Ford at this point? Anthony Mackie is terrific as the new Captain America, full of steely swagger and enough side-eyed bewilderment to keep his character interesting. I hope the Marvel machine makes better use of him in the future.

I should also admit that I had to field about four work calls and two calls from the movers during Brave New World so it’s quite possible I missed something integral to the plot, but it says something about the film that every time I returned it didn’t feel like I’d actually missed much at all.

“Yesterday belongs to us, Mr. Jones.” Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny

5 July 2023

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Now is the winter of our discontent

Made glorious summer by this sun of York;

And all the clouds that lour’d upon our house

In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.

Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths;

Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;

Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings,

Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.

William Shakespeare from the play Richard III

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One could argue, looking at the themes and box office performance of this year’s would-be summer blockbusters that actually we are in the “summer of our discontent.” Of course, I’m intentionally missing the point of this famous speech which observes that, in peace, those who’ve found power in the chaos of war long to return to those ugly moments that made them successful. Or maybe I’m not missing the point after all.

Much like The Flash (and as I understand a number of other big box office swings this summer), Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny is not simply a nostalgic cash grab, but a film focused on the corrosive nature of time and of nostalgia itself. Blessedly, there are no “multiverses” to be navigated here, but we do see time travel used as a metaphor, a rather effective one, for the regrettable state of our present world. Central to the conceit of the film: how some seek the golden glow of remembered peace and adventure as a balm; how others seek a return to darker, even more chaotic moments as their salve for the inexorable passage of time; and how some (Indy) try to deny any of it ever happened at all.

As directed by James Mangold (who swam in similar “past is prologue” waters with Logan), Dial of Destiny is a loving, if overlong, capstone on the storied careers of both Indiana Jones and Harrison Ford. It’s quite impossible at this point to separate the two. Yes, Ford has crafted similarly iconic hero figures in other silver screen franchises, but Indy (at least to this lay-viewer) has always dovetailed spectacularly with Ford’s apparent “curmudgeon with a heart of gold” real life persona.

The film would have benefited from about 2.5 fewer car/horse/boat/motorcycle/train chases. It’s a lot. And for a film ostensibly about the emotional collateral damage of a long life (mostly) well lived, it’s a bit hard to accept so much wanton destruction of personal property and commuters’ sojourns for sheer entertainment value.

Much like The Flash, the film truly shines in its quieter character-driven moments. Fleabag’s Phoebe Waller-Bridge (making quite a name for herself in the action genre) is a welcome addition. Her winsome brand of cynical, pleading snark as Indy’s ne’er-do-well goddaughter is a nice juxtaposition to Ford’s rock-ribbed “not this again” comic exasperation. They play very well off one another, although a few too many lines get lost in, yes, all the car/horse/boat/motorcycle/train chases.

Mads Mikkelsen adds another notch on his (shiny black leather) belt of playing icy Teutonic baddies. This time a full-on Nazi. (I do hope America remembers we don’t like Nazis.) Mikkelsen plays all the grace notes of sly sociopolitical critique in the early moments of the film when he “seems” to be a reformed Nazi helping America win its much-vaunted space race. (The film is set in 1969.) Given that such things actually did (and do) happen in America, it’s a pointedly clever reminder that the great U.S. of A. is not above reproach in its opportunism and global empire building.

We quickly find out he ain’t reformed. They never are. (Remember that, America, at the voting booth, mmkay?) His hope is to find two parts of an ancient dial, crafted by ancient mathemagician Archimedes, that will allow him to, yes, time travel and help MAGAfy World War II. More or less. “Yesterday belongs to us, Mr. Jones,” Mikkelsen hisses at one point. Kander and Ebb wept.

And thus kicks off a 2.5 hour rollercoaster ride (remember the cars, horses, boats, motorcycles, trains?) for multiple parties to find the dial and avert/create disaster (but mostly it’s just Indy vs. the Nazis).

Along the way, we meet friends old and new from prior entries in the series. Much like Mangold did so effectively with Logan, we watch a man (Indy) come to grips (arguably peace) with the tumultuous threads of his life, the disappointment of looking back on it all and realizing all he has to show is a (literal) retirement clock, ultimately warily acknowledging he wouldn’t change one bit of it, even if he could.

Admittedly, watching one’s childhood screen idol wrestling with the emotional and physical storm of aging is haunting, mixed as it is with my own awareness of how quickly time travels. I sat there, gazing at the screen at fifty years old, with the same awe I had when I was nine soaking up Raiders of the Lost Ark for the first time, thinking, “Wait, is Han Solo allowed to be in another movie!?” Indeed, he was and is little Roy … and we have been all the better for it.

Tempus fugit.

“Family is not an ‘f’-word.” Deadpool 2 and Solo: A Star Wars Story

28 May 2018

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[Image Source: Wikipedia]

Ah, summer. The time we all look forward to all year long … until it’s actually here. We get to be outside. We get to do back-breaking yard-work. We get to enjoy the sun. We get to sweat through our dress clothes every day at work. We get to escape our troubles watching one blockbuster movie after another in the soothingly air-conditioned multiplex. We get to pay through the nose to be bombarded by an unyielding series of overblown, unwatchable chase scenes as latex-clad superheroes and blaster-wielding space-farers (most of them now owned in whole or in part by Disney) battle for the hearts and minds of John Q. Public.

[Image Source: Wikipedia]

Here we are, 2018. We’ve already witnessed Marvel’s Avengers storm cinemas, and I’m still a bit shell-shocked by what I did (and didn’t) see. Now, we steel ourselves for the one-two punch of Deadpool 2 (produced by 20th Century Fox in affiliation with Marvel Entertainment … though as Wall Street tells us Fox is soon to be owned outright by Marvel/Disney) and Solo: A Star Wars Story (released by Disney’s LucasFilm studio, less than six months after The Last Jedi underwhelmed some and thrilled a few more). I was prepared for the worst, and I was pleasantly surprised by both.

I thought the original Deadpoolwas a breath of fresh (raunchy) air, a genius bit of commerce that simultaneously lampooned the superhero genre (in the broadest Tex Avery-style possible) while laughing its red-and-black-ski-masked head all the way to the bank. I feared Deadpool 2 would be a stultifying, self-indulgent, self-satisfied, bloated, and unnecessary money-grab. The brainchild of producer and star Ryan Reynolds, Deadpool 2 welcomes a new director David Leitch (Atomic Blonde, John Wick) and a new raison d’etre. After burning the cape-and-cowl zeitgeist to the ground with the first flick, this latest chapter imbues our titular anti-hero with a compelling backstory and a heartbreaking new frenemy (Josh Brolin’s superb-I-won’t-break-character-for-any-bit-of-tomfoolery “Cable”) … while still frying our retinas and shaming us for any adoration we may still hold for these kind of films. And, yeah, admittedly it’s still kind of an unnecessary and bloated money-grab.

[Image Source: Wikipedia]

Nonetheless, I had a ball. I would have loved to have had 30 minutes of my life back from its lengthy run-time, but I had a ball.

(What happened to the fine art of the perfectly paced 90 minute or 1 hour 45 minute movie? Have filmmakers forgotten the time-tested strategy of “leaving the audience wanting more”? Asking for a friend …)

[Image Source: Wikipedia]

Similarly, I was wary that Solo: A Star Wars Story, with its troubled production history, would be a bust. LEGO Movie and 22 Jump Streethelmers Phil Lord and Christopher Miller had filmed nearly 90% of the movie when they were unceremoniously booted in the 11th hour and replaced with Ron Howard. Further, there is much hand-wringing this weekend in the House of Mouse that the latest Star Wars installment only broke $100 million domestic. Boo hoo.

Well, Solo is pretty damn fun and utterly heartfelt and overall a delight … and also would greatly benefit from having a tighter running time.

[Image Source: Wikipedia]

I’ll be blasphemous for a moment (I can’t wait for the comments). I actually like Alden Ehrenreich’s take on the title role. Solo details the “origin story” of this legendary character first portrayed by Harrison Ford, detailing Solo’s misspent youth meeting cute with Chewbacca, Lando Calrissian (Donald Glover, running rings around Billy Dee Williams), and, um, the Millennium Falcon. I thought Ford was gangbusters as Indiana Jones, but his Han Solo was occasionally too aloof, too smug for the “scruffy nerf-herder” he actually was purported to be. Ehrenreich brings a refreshing “little boy lost” quality to the role, not dissimilar to Chris Pine’s blessed de-Shatnerizing of the iconic role of Captain Kirk in the recent Star Trek reboot. My two cents. Let the hateration commence.

[Image Source: Wikipedia]

Both Deadpool 2 and Solo are glorified heist movies, employing the “building the perfect team to complete the perfect job” conceit as an excuse to explore what it means to be a family.  The best heist flicks (Channing Tatum’s Logan Lucky a great recent example) present us a collection of colorful, misdirected ne’er-do-wells who discover a higher reason for being – the fellowship of man – on their way to doing something truly despicable. Deadpool even offers us the poetic bon mot “family is not an ‘f’-word” as our favorite mutant mercenary loses his true love (a luminous Morena Bacarin) and fills his broken heart with a collection of wackadoodle buddies (the aforementioned Brolin as “Cable,” Stefan Kapičić as a comically CGI’d “Colossus,” Zazie Beetz as a dynamite take-no-prisoners “Domino,” and Leslie Uggams as Deadpool’s cantankerous roommate “Blind Al”).

[Image Source: Wikipedia]

Likewise, Solo is populated with a rogues’ gallery of character players. Woody Harrelson, Thandie Newton, Phoebe Waller-Bridge (her feisty, feminist, rabble-rousing ‘droid L3-37 deserves her own outing ASAP), Paul Bettany, Jon Favreau, Joonas Suotamo, and aforementioned Donald Glover all turn in standout moments in an otherwise overstuffed enterprise. Emilia Clarke is particularly impactful as Han Solo’s hometown love Qi’ra, resisting “femme fatale” cliches and presenting a conflict-ridden soul who will persevere by golly, despite a galaxy-full of misogynistic roadblocks.  (I also must note that the train-robbing scene in Solo is one of the crispest staged action sequences in the Star Wars series in quite a while.)

Neither film is perfect, nor does either need to be. We have become a film-going culture that consumes its heroes in episodic narrative gulps – as if Charles Dickens had written in less prosaic terms about people who wore tight pants and could bend steel with their bare hands. Wait, he didn’t?

Deadpool 2 and Solo are way-stations in their respective decades-long cinematic franchises: X-Men and Star Wars. The fact that both offer a bit of humanistic allegory – some nutrition along with their empty popcorn calories – is quite remarkable and welcome.The fact that they will both sell truckloads of overpriced action figures and smirkingly ironic t-shirts is a given. Welcome to 21st century America.

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Reel Roy Reviews is now TWO books! You can purchase your copies by clicking here (print and digital). In addition to online ordering at Amazon or from the publisher Open Books, the first book is currently is being carried by Bookbound, Common Language Bookstore, and Crazy Wisdom Bookstore and Tea Room in Ann Arbor, Michigan and by Green Brain Comics in Dearborn, Michigan. My mom Susie Duncan Sexton’s Secrets of an Old Typewriter series is also available on Amazon and at Bookbound and Common Language.