Badlands features a more human predator
A savage, alien hunter with daddy issues? A sci-fi adventure with shades of Don Quixote? Believe or not, that’s what you get with Predator: Badlands, the seventh entry in the surprisingly resilient franchise that contains one pleasant surprise after another. Credit must be given to writer/director Dan Trachtenberg who took the moribund series and snapped it out of its funk by examining the history of the titular character. His Prey (2022) took place in the 1700s pitting a Comanche warrior against the dreadlocked dreadnaught, while his animated Killer of Killers contained a trio of tales taking place during three distinct historical eras.
Badlands provides another twist in giving us a predator we sympathize with while examining the notion of family from two different perspectives. Tautly told and imaginatively rendered, the tale is so engaging you’re likely to overlook the film’s shoddy visual effects which prevent the viewer from becoming completely immersed in the entry. Be that as it may, Trachtenberg provides enough allusions to previous series entries as well as the Alien franchise to satisfy hardcore fans who will likely embrace the movie and clamor for a sequel, Trachtenberg leaving his options open with a curious conclusion.
Adhering to the notion that the weak should be culled from the herd, the yautja warrior Dek (Dimitrius Schuster Koloamatangi) has been ostracized from his clan by his unyielding father. Tradition holds he must prove himself by going on a hunt and bringing in a grisly trophy as proof of his first kill. Taking no half measures, he sets out to slay a kalisk, a fearsome creature no one has been successful in killing, that inhabits the planet Genna. If this doesn’t please his father, nothing will.
Known as the “Death Planet,” Genna likely would maintain a zero-star rating on Tripadvisor. Sporting razor grass and exploding plants with needles coated with a paralyzing toxin, the environment contains one death trap after another. Throw in flying serpents, deadly spitting snakes as well as armored bison and you have a place where even the most experienced warrior would likely be killed. Fortunately, Dek gets some much-needed assistance when he stumbles upon Thia (Elle Fanning), a synthetic being who’s still operational despite having been torn in half. Swallowing his pride, Dek throws the robot on his back and they set off together in search of a kalisk.
What ensues is a surprisingly funny and at times tender adventure. Thia is something of a chatty Cathy, dispensing unasked for information regarding Genna, its inhabitants and just about anything else that crosses her artificial mind. Needless, to say, Dek’s patience runs short with her as well as with Bud (Rohinal Nayaran), an odd creature who gloms onto the duo, tagging along, frustrating our hero at every turn.
These lighthearted moments nicely balance those concerning Tessa (Fanning, also), another synthetic who sets out to bring in Dek as a specimen for the Weyland-Yutani Corporation of “Alien” fame. Supported by an army of warrior cyborgs, she embarks on a scorched earth campaign to capture him and Thia, who has a “sisterly” affection for her. This sets up an interesting comparison regarding sibling relationships as Dek holds dear the memory of his brother, Kwei (Michael Homik), who died defending him against their father.
Pleasant third-act surprises negate the tedium of numerous action scenes, as a group of strange, cross-species bedfellows come together in battle. In the process, Dek comes to realize that caring for another being is not, contrary to what his father taught him, a weakness. Once the smoke clears, these comrades in arms emerge with a renewed sense of purpose and the understanding that loyalty is a quality to cherish.
That a life-affirming sentiment should come from a Predator movie is just one of many delights in Badlands, its tonal shift suggesting a new direction for the franchise. Is Trachtenberg laying the foundation to introduce a comedic entry or romantic episode in the series? At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised and with the filmmaker’s track record, I’d be open to either. In Theaters.
Curious Son likely to intrigue and offend
Like so many parents, Joseph is having a problem with his teenage son. The boy is unkempt, is starting to talk back and his behavior is odd. His opinions about life and society are contrary to his own and he finds himself not simply arguing with his son, but confronting his wife as well, who defends the boy. Then there’s the matter of the girl, the one the young man is spending time with. It’s obvious she’s a bad influence. Is he really interested in her or just hanging around her to get his old man’s goat? It’s gotten to the point where Joseph simply doesn’t understand his boy any longer. Who has he become and how did things turn out this way?
This is a cliched situation to be sure but it takes on new life in Lofty Nation’s The Carpenter’s Son, as the young man in question is Jesus, the mother Mary and Joseph, her beleaguered husband. Based on the non-canonical Infancy Gospel of Thomas, the movie is sure to offend the devout and intrigue the curious. There’s nothing in the filmmaker’s past work that would suggest he has a specific agenda or is a provocateur. And while the movie has a horrific bent to it, this is not meant to be a sensationalist approach. Yet, while that is the case, I’m quite sure a fervor regarding it will still arise.
Joseph (Nicolas Cage) is seen here as a troubled man, one who adheres closely to his faith, yet is prone to superstition as well. He also struggles with a healthy dose of paranoia as he knows his son (Noah Jupe) is unique, his behavior often drawing unwelcomed attention to the family, compelling them to be on the move constantly. Whether his boy comes from heaven or hell and if he is, in fact, his father, are issues that plague him. And while Mary (FKA twigs) is patient with him, there’s no question she will do anything to protect their son, even from Joseph.
As for Jesus, like every boy who goes through puberty, he’s experiencing great changes and has come to question many things. He’s aware he’s different; he knows not everyone can crush a grasshopper and then bring it back to life. Yet, it’s his interactions with a leper, who is healed by his touch, that causes him great turmoil and makes him a target for those who fear anyone who’s different. A strange girl’s (Isla Johnston) influence over him is pulling him away from his parents, portending greater rebellion on his part.
The film’s first hour is an intriguing alternate look at this period in Jesus’ life and is not unlike Martin Scorsese’s The Last Temptation of Christ in its efforts to humanize the character in a harsh, realistic environment. Denied permission to shoot in Egypt due to its “blasphemous” nature, Nation utilizes barren, Greek locations to good effect, this hardscrabble world an obvious influence on the desperate nature of the characters.
Granted, Son does come off at times as a superhero origin story in its structure, but the passionate performances and genuine setting keep it grounded, the humanistic elements of the story taking centerstage. Faith and doubt are its thematic underpinnings, and the questions it asks regarding each are sincere and worthy.
It’s unfortunate Nation’s script falters in the third act. The confrontation between Jesus and his eternal nemesis is anticlimactic while the resolution between father and son gets lost amidst a blur of confusing action. Be that as it may, Son should be commended for addressing issues of faith which continue to dog so many of us, especially in these trying times. In the end, whatever Nation’s personal feelings, we are left with a message of hope, which is something. In Theaters.
Die Features Lawrence at her most powerful and poignant
Lynne Ramsay’s Die My Love is the kind of movie you admire rather than enjoy. Unflinching in its examination of mental illness, it’s a film designed to make you uncomfortable. As such, Die puts the viewer in the shoes of a vibrant young woman awash in anger and frustration, unaware that her perception of all around her is skewed and inaccurate. And while Ramsay’s approach proves innovative, it would never have succeeded without a raw performance provided by Jennifer Lawrence, powerfully reminding us why she is one of the most daring and effective actresses of her generation.
It becomes apparent early on that Grace (Lawrence) is a woman who marches to the beat of her own drum. Akin to a force of nature, the writer is the sort that commands attention when she walks into a room, someone who dominates every situation with her mere presence. This is what initially drew her husband, and fellow artist, Jackson (a fine Robert Pattinson) to her but it’s obvious he has no real awareness as to what makes her tick or what she needs.
This becomes apparent soon after they move back to the rural town he grew up in. Having lived in the New York City, this change is a shock to Grace’s system, one that has her back on her heels once the initial charm of the place wears off. The birth of a child and Jackson’s frequent absences only exacerbate her sense of isolation, her behavior becoming erratic, causing her mother-in-law (Sissy Spacek) to take a more active role in her life. This proves futile as well, Grace’s actions becoming more extreme and alarming, her being institutionalized the only way to get her help.
The film at times is disjointed and purposely so. There are inexplicable leaps in time; characters appear, disappear and show up once more in places they shouldn’t; locales shift unexpectedly; events are replayed but from a slightly different perspective. The sense of disorientation that results is to put us in Grace’s shoes and it is brutally effective. A sense of frustration, confusion and hopelessness is shared between viewer and antagonist, the vicarious nature of this approach impossible to shake.
Lawrence’s fearless approach in bringing Grace’s illness to life is vital to the success of the film and, more importantly, our identifying and sympathizing with her. There’s never a sense of judgment; rather she embraces the actress embrace’s her character’s behavior, not to revel in it, but rather to portray it honestly so as to dispel the stigma that often surrounds such conditions. Whether displaying Grace’s oversexualized nature, her sudden anger, frequent confusion or debilitating apathy, Lawrence’s work is of the most valuable sort as it makes Grace relatable and recognized.
Perhaps the most tragic aspect of Die is in its assertion that Grace’s condition is not curable. To be sure, there are treatments that offer some relief but these are just stopgap measures. What afflicts her and millions of others is just being held at bay, waiting for the defenses to fall or, most commonly, for the afflicted to simply give up the exhausting fight and let their madness run riot. Ultimately, Die casts Grace in a courageous light, oblivious to the extent of her condition, bravely fighting that which she does not understand. The film’s final haunting image is one of inevitability. That no judgment is made toward all that occurs is a humane and sympathetic act. In Theaters.
