RECENT WATCHES: Saw II (2005)

The Friday before Halloween of 2004, "Saw" was released into 2,315 theaters. Over the next three days, the film made 18 times its production budget. That Monday morning, Lions Gates greenlit "Saw II." Production was to begin immediately. James Wan and Leigh Whannell were hard at work on "Dead Silence" for Universal, meaning a different team had to be assembled for the follow-up to their breakout hit. At the same time, a guy named Darren Lynn Bousman was looking to make his professional directorial debut with his gritty horror script, "The Desperate." Investors kept telling him that it was too violent and too similar to "Saw." When cinematographer David A. Armstrong got a look at the script, however, he realized both of these attributes could be beneficial. Very quickly, Bousman was meeting Lion Gates producers and "The Desperate" became "Saw II."  Whannell rewrote it extensively – to the point that he received the sole writing credit – and filming began by April. Shooting wrapped by May and the finished sequel was delivered on September 9th, less than fifty days before the movie was set to be released. That's an impressive turn-around and it paid off, "Saw II" becoming the highest grossing opening weekend for Lions Gate at the time. 

That's all business though. What of the quality of the film itself? While investigating the aftermath of the Jigsaw Killer's latest trap, Detective Kerry discovers a taunting message to Detective Eric Matthews. They trace the lock from the crime scene to a factory, the headquarters of Jigsaw: Real name John Kramer, a terminal cancer patient seeking to teach people the value of life by brutally killing them. Monitors reveal Kramer's latest experiment. Eight people awaken in a house outfitted with booby traps and vicious challenges. Among them is Amanda, the survivor of Jigsaw's Reverse Bear Trap device, and Daniel, Officer Matthews' son. A neurotoxin is being pumped into the house and everyone within will have to play Jigsaw's twisted game if they hope to survive. Matthews attempts to get answers out of Kramer and find his son, increasingly revealing his own criminality. 

I compared the look of “Saw” to a heavy metal music video. Darren Lynn Bousman has directed videos for some growly bands with impressive spiky hair. Unsurprisingly, “Saw II” resembles a rock video more than the first. The opening trap has the camera spasmodically twirling around the victim as he freaks out about digging a key out of his eye. More or less anytime one of Jigsaw's traps take center stage, there's going to be lots of flashy edits and split second shots of people screaming and panicking. The sequel doubles down on the sickly greens and washed-out lighting present in the first film. As an insufferably pretentious teenager, I found this visual style embarrassingly lame, the worst kind of mad-at-your-stepdad manufactured edginess. I still think that's what it is but, as a slightly less pretentious adult, I can now see the camp value in this approach. “Saw II' is trying so hard to be extreme and in-your-face, you guys. It's kind of cute, honestly. 

“Saw II” seemingly takes itself very seriously, despite how utterly ridiculous a lot of it actually is. That almost charming level of doofiness is also present in the cast of characters. Detective Matthews, played by a lesser Wahlberg, is an obviously corrupt cop. He yells and swears constantly, never finding a situation he can't bluster his way out of. The prisoners in Jigsaw's trap house are similarly one-note. Xavier is a brawny and overbearingly asshole-ish drug dealer, played with all the subtly you would expect of a performer named “Franky G.” The rest of the characters range from a random teenage girl, an ex-con that can operate under stress, a less defined ex-con, and a woman who seems to be a former sex worker. All of these players are easily sorted into either generic “nice” people or obnoxious bullies. Not unlike the slasher films the sequel is clearly emulating, “Saw II” fills its story with paper thin stereotypes that exist to fall victim to elaborate acts of violence. 

During an interview with Fangoria, late producer Greg Hoffman said that they listened to fans of the first “Saw,” who didn't merely want to see the aftermath of Jigsaw's deadly games. They wanted to see the mayhem play out on-camera. Indeed, the sequel packs in the gore the original mostly hinted at. A bullet through a peep hole, a pit full of dirty hypodermic needles, metal shards digging into wrists, and someone slicing the skin off their own neck are some of the grisly highlights. Watching such obviously caricatured characters suffer through these torments truly cuts – excuse the pun – to the heart of the appeal of gory horror. Jigsaw always provides a moral assurance, twisted though they may be, that such “punishments” are somehow justified. That these are already 'bad” people, that they deserve such convoluted executions. They do it to themselves, right? “Saw II” gives us that sicko shit, guilt-free grand guignol. It's a four million dollar geek show. We are here to watch the metaphorical chickens get their heads bitten off in the sickest ways Hollywood's best special effects artists can think of. 

You can debate the value of motion pictures such as these. Maybe the cultural critics are right to some degrees, that horror fans are sadistic freaks without empathy who only want to see people torn apart. That movies like this appease our basest desires for bloodshed. However, that “Saw II” is so invested in its own self-seriousness and populated with such cartoonishly broad assholes does make it hard to be offended. Truthfully, any interior logic to “Saw II” falls apart with a moment's scrutiny. One of the people in the house is a former accomplice of Jigsaw's who helped him assemble his traps. This draws attention to the fact that John Kramer, the inventor behind these mechanically dense implements of torture, is a frail man, eaten up with cancer. How exactly does he pull off any of this shit? Much like its predecessor, “Saw II” misdirects the audience in service of a twist ending. It's a good twist too, that plays with the perspective of the medium in a fun way. Whether it makes any logical sense is a question best not interrogated, which applies to the entire movie. 

Jason Voorhees and Freddy Krueger have always been antiheroes of sorts. They are the star attractions fans go to see, not the interchangeable victims. Altering the “monster” from a cackling lunatic or a brutish physical force to someone who claims to have some philosophy, some moral high ground to those he torments, is probably the end result of this trend. There's no doubt that John Kramer is the most likable character in “Saw II.” Tobin Bell, a working actor with twenty-five years of experience by the time he got this part, has a gravelly gravitas. When he chuckles in evil victory, it's because he's outsmarted those that seek to overturn his masterpiece of twisted justice. Watching him get one over on a figure as utterly loathable as Detective Matthews makes us like him more. We get more insight into Jigsaw's background here, which does little to bring any coherence to his schemes. Watching Bell outclass every other actor in the film is still entertaining though.

In fact, “Saw II” is very entertaining. It rolls along at a quicker pace than the original, less burdened with flashbacks and exposition. Instead, it moves smoothly from violent set-piece to the next, determined to give us what we've paid for. It is very dumb, which is supported by its twitchy editing and cliché visuals. However, there is something to be said to watching dumb, evil people fall victim to their own stupidity. Morally dubious though it may be, “Saw II” is probably a smoother experience than the original, happily scratching the lizard part of the brain with breathless speed. Pretty good for the definition of a quickie sequel thrown together in less than a year. [7/10]

RECENT WATCHES: 2 Fast 2 Furious (2003)

Following the surprise success of “The Fast and the Furious,” it was evident that Universal had a new franchise on their hands. It was also extremely evident what fans of the first film wanted. Vin Diesel was the break-out star of the original and audiences were eager to see him zooming around in shiny cars once again. Diesel – either showing some long-term savvy or a superstar ego that would quickly become infamous – declined to return, focusing instead on the “xXx” and “Riddick” series. Producer Neal H. Moritz was not deterred and chose to continue the “Fast” saga with Paul Walker's Brian character instead. Given the instantly meme-able title of “2 Fast 2 Furious,” the sequel would attract a surprisingly high-profile director. Academy Award nominee John Singleton was apparently a fan of the first movie and was eager to direct part two.

Following the fall-out of the first film, O'Connor is no longer a cop. Now, he's a professional street racer in Miami. After getting busted following a race, Brian is reeled back in by the FBI. He's talked into going undercover as a driver for drug lord Carter Verone. Brian invites his former best friend, Roman Pearce, into accompanying him on this mission. Pearce doesn't trust Brian anymore, blaming his once buddy for sending him to prison. The promise of clemency lures in both men, who soon discover how dangerous Verone is. The two men attempt to take down the villain with the help of a local super-mechanic and the sexy undercover agent already embedded with him. 

It goes without saying that, on his worst day, John Singleton was a better director than Rob Cohen. He mimics some of Cohen's questionable choices from the first movie here. There's one CGI dive into the bowels of a car's engine and several shots of people pressing the Nos button and making "Wow!" faces. The story still pauses for a totally gratuitous montage of girls in bikinis. The film begins with a hilariously goofy moment, of the Universal logo turning into a spinning rim. Otherwise, Singleton displays much more confident, visually stronger filmmaking. The editing is quick-paced but coherent. The action scenes are smoothly organized. In many obvious ways, "2 Fast 2 Furious" is an improvement over the first film. 

However, the sequel is not superior to the original in at least one important way, perhaps the only facet that actually matters in this franchise: The car stunts simply aren't as good. Oh, there's a few decent peel-outs and swerves. The practical effects highlight of the movie is definitely when a muscle car gets dragged under the wheels of a trailer and pancaked. Singleton certainly goes out of his way to include as much car porn as possible, lovingly displaying the shiny chrome bodies and suped-up interiors of all the star vehicles. 

Unfortunately, the sequel relies on digital effects far more than the first "Furious." That is its downfall, as the CGI cars look like utter shit. The opening race climaxes with Brian and his rivals boosting their cars over a draw bridge, leading to a truly cartoonish shot of computer-generated cars sailing through the air. This is matched by some ghastly compositing work during the "Dukes of Hazard" inspired finale. There are several shots of the stars awkwardly blue-screened into digital cars that would've looked more at home in a PlayStation 2 game. I know this series eventually becomes, and essentially always has been, live action cartoons. The ostensibly grounded mood of this one, however, is really spoiled by such visually unappealing effects work. 

Without the thrill of real cars smashing into shit and daring stunt driving, what can "2 Fast 2 Furious" offer? The script is still extremely derivative. Brian and Rome's smart-assed rivals-turned-best-buds arc has played out in roughly a hundred other buddy cop movies. It's extremely obvious when the bad guy will uncover the heroes' deception, leaving the audience to wait until the clichés snap into place. I do think "2 Fast 2 Furious" is somewhat better written than the first. The supporting cast and various subplots – including campy roles for Ludacris and Devon Aoki – are utilized better than the first film's. Having an actual villain this time, played by an amusingly hammy Cole Hauser, also improved the flow of the story considerably. The scene where he threatens a dirty cop with a hungry rat and a hot bucket is probably the only moment that caught me off-guard. 

The script here is still strictly of the C+ variety, goofy and uninspired in ways that are rarely charming. Which, once again, leaves the homoerotic posturing of the bro-tastic heroes the primary redeeming quality. Brian and Roman's history often plays like lovers that have fallen out. Roman seems to have an obsession with threading to beat Brian's ass, which suggests a fixation. Later, he says that Brian's weakness for pretty females gets him in trouble, as if to implied he'd be better off with another option. There's a hilarious moment where he whips his shirt off, Tyrese's pecs glistening in the Miami sun, for totally gratuitous reasons. I don't know if Tyrese Gibson is in-on-the-joke but his conceited tough guy performance is funny nevertheless. Paul Walker – who heavily seasons his dialogue with "bros" and "bruhs" – is looser than in the first film, leaning into the ditzy blonde appeal he showed last time. Unsurprisingly, Brian and Roman walk off together at the story's end, all-but-confirming the simmering subtext between them. 

If you combined the decent vehicular stunt of the first "Furious" with the forgettable but competent script of "2 Fast," you'd probably have a mildly diverting popcorn flick. The kind of thing you'd watch on a lazy Sunday afternoon, chuckling mindlessly at the doofiest parts. With those atrocious CGI car effects instead, it's difficult for me to recommend this one. Paul Walker and Tyrese's bro-mance only provides so much value to a collection of reheated action clichés like this. [5/10]

Director Report Card: James Wan (2004)

Of the horror filmmakers to achieve critical praise and mainstream hits during the early 2000s – a group some might call the Splat Pack – James Wan is undoubtedly the most successful. He's launched three separate, long-running horror series, at least one of which defined the genre for a while. He's directed two billion dollar grossing movies, making him the 17th highest grossing director of all time by current calculations. Honestly, if there's any one writer/director who can be said to have shaped the genre in a big way over the last twenty years, it's probably this guy. A question must be asked, however: Are Wan's movies actually any good? I shall attempt to provide my answer as I watch my through all of his features, as well as the many sequels and spin-offs associated with the work he's done. 

1. Saw

The child of Malaysian-Chinese immigrants, James Wan grew up in Perth, Australia. He would attend the Royal Melbourne Institute of Technology, majoring in Arts in Media. As part of a 1998 student project, Wan co-directed a 72-minute long horror movie called “Stygian.” The film has never been commercially released. From what little has been written about it, you get the impression that the filmmakers are embarrassed by their novice effort. However, at least one positive thing came out of “Stygian.” One of the actors in the movie, playing the role of “Clown / Punk Kid,” was Leigh Whannell. The two hit it off and began writing a script for a feature, inspired by their own nightmares. Wan filmed one scene from the script as a ten minute short, entitled “Saw.” It managed to attract enough attention from investors to put together a million dollar budget for a feature length version. Lion Gates Films picked the movie up, originally intending it for a straight-to-video release before deciding to put it in theaters, on the Friday before Halloween of 2004. Wan and Whannell's “Saw” became a pop culture phenomenon. The movie would spawn multiple sequels, launch several spin-offs, and popularize an entire subgenre. “Saw” and all its imitators have prompted much debate and controversy along the way. 22 years after these humble roots, how does the original “Saw” hold up today? 

A man named Adam awakens in a bathtub, a small light on a string emerging from his mouth. He realizes he's in a dingy public bathroom, his ankle chained to the wall. He's not alone. Dr. Lawrence Gordon, a surgeon he does not know, is similarly bound to the opposing wall. A corpse lies on the floor between them, a pistol in its hands. The duo discover two hand saws and a pair of audio cassette. They relay a message, that Gordon must kill Adam if he hopes to see his wife and daughter again. Similarly, Adam can only escape if he murders the other man. They both must saw through their feet for either objective to be fulfilled. Gordon quickly realize they are caught up in the latest “game” of the Jigsaw Killer: A deranged inventor who captures people – deemed guilty of some sin by him, as explained via the puppet he uses as an avatar – and forces them to escape deadly, elaborate contraptions or traps he's created. The police determine that Jigsaw always watches his victims. As Gordon and Adam struggle to escape the fatal scenario, the obsessed Detective Tapp is hot on the killer's trail.

You can't talk about "Saw" without discussing its impact on the horror genre. The film's surprise success popularized what became known by the deeply unfortunate moniker of "torture porn," gory horror films focused on elongated scenes of sadism and bodily mutilation. The fad generated a minor moral panic, marking the last time in my life I can recall horror movies actually being deemed "dangerous" by the press. You can debate the merits and negatives of this trend all you want. You can also argue about whether the first "Saw" truly qualifies as one of these movies. Most of its intense gore happens off-screen and there truly aren't any moments of physical torture. However, a more interesting question is why this hyper-grim style of horror was so popular for a brief time. "Saw" was made by two Australians, so it's hard to say how much of this was intentional. However, "Saw" captured the anxieties of post-9/11 America. The nebulous threat of "terrorism" could strike anywhere, at any time. In "Saw," the victims are always abducted from mundane locations like a parking garage or their own home. They are thrust into a sadistic scenario by a villain with motivations that they can't totally grasp, beyond knowing this is somehow their own fault. Much the same way the average American was told the terrorists – that could strike anywhere, at any time – hated us "for our freedom," despite the hard-to-repress creeping feeling that America's foreign policy gave birth to the monster that was vexing it. Meanwhile, the hyper grim visuals, of people awakening in dilapidated bathrooms or basement torture chambers, reflected the videos of journalists being beheaded distributed over the internet or briefly glimpsed on news programs. 

"Saw" also recalled images of prisoners-of-war – or illegally detained suspects – suffering through "enhanced interrogation techniques" in prisons over seas or near our own coasts. The paranoia of the post-9/11 world wasn't based only in fears of a decentralized enemy striking in public places. It was a fear of our own government, increasingly compromising our rights to personal privacy in the name of our own "protection." These Patriot Act anxieties are present in "Saw" through the villain being a constant voyeur. Jigsaw pointedly watches his victims struggle, as well as observing them for some time before they are abducted. Upon realizing they are being recorded, Adam compares their situation to a "sick reality show." This was before social media and cellphone cameras, when we truly were all being watched at all hours. However, the feeling that the surveillance state had arrived – and that this violation of privacy was already being commodified – was well in the air in 2004. Modern day "Saw" knock-offs has tortured victims being recorded, either broadcast over the Deep Web or sold as snuff films to depraved collectors. Wan and Whannall couldn't have predicted these advances in technology at the time but "Saw" preceded them anyway. It was a new millennium and our most private, vulnerable moments were no longer our own, watched by government spies or techno-perverts. 

Funnily enough, I'm doubtful Wan and Whannall were thinking about these ideas much at all when conceiving "Saw." Instead, they simply hoped to cook up the cheapest, easiest premise for a thriller that their meager budget could afford: Two guys in a room. In a lot of ways, "Saw" is a triumph of practicality and low budget creativity. Probably inspired by "Cube" – an often unspoken but obvious influence on "Saw" – the movie manages to generate some decent suspense and a compelling mystery from this extremely limited premise. The audience, at first, have exactly as much information about what's happening as Adam and Dr. Gordon. Jigsaw leaving clues and messages for his victims makes the film a game to be played and solved. (As well as the predecessor to the late 2010s popularity of "escape rooms.") The film doesn't wait long to cheat, going outside the four walls of its setting via flashbacks and other scene. A version focused solely on the guys chained up in the bathroom probably would've been tighter, smarter, shorter, more intense, and far less commercial. 

The gorier, more brutal sequels and imitators that followed in "Saw's" wake were the work of horror nerds following the intensity of fucked-up Asian movies. Wan and Whannall's influences were much more humble. These guys wanted to be the next David Fincher, drawing from the gritty, grim mood and visuals of "Seven." Much like that film, "Saw" freely exaggerates the clichés of the cop vs. killer thriller popularized by "The Silence of the Lambs." If Hannibal Lecter was the most brilliant and twisted killer the early nineties could concoct, and John Doe was his more elaborate and meticulous disciple, then Jigsaw is the apotheosis of the serial killer as a genius with a convoluted modus operandi. He's clearly gifted as an inventor and engineer but he uses that ability to fashion complex contraptions of death and agony, all in service of making some sort of sick point. Meanwhile, this first film includes a detective element. Danny Glover plays Tapp, the cop so fixated on hunting down the killer that he's gone far beyond the moral and reasonable boundaries in his pursuit. You can tell Tapp is a little obsessed because he's got an apartment with walls pasted with newspaper clippings and clues. He's given a detailed backstory, seeking out Jigsaw to avenge a dead partner. It's all stuff we've seen many times before in past films, added to pad out a script that otherwise would have been composed entirely of two guys in a room. 

"Saw's" obvious status as a regurgitation of past tropes is most evident in how the movie looks. Whenever the film peeks into any of Jigsaw's torture chambers, they are bathed in a sickly green color and grimy browns or blacks. Everything is lit in a manner to invoke a feeling of discomfort and nastiness. Especially during the infamous reverse bear trap sequence – the basis for the short film before this – this seasick coloration is paired with a jittery editing style, invoking lots of frantic montages of people panicking while the camera jerks around wildly. If you remember the nineties and early 2000s, you'll remember this visual style from roughly a hundred industrial and nu-metal music videos. It's an immediately recognizable look, that is meant to signal to the audience that you're watching something “twisted,” “sick,” or edgy. Cinematographer David A. Armstrong and editor Kevin Greutert commit fully to this approach, keeping an aesthetic that probably should've died out in 2000 alive for another decade or so. 

This points towards something else that you inevitably notice about “Saw,” here in the future year of 2025: This movie is kind of goofy, isn't it? Not only because the visual style is trying so hard to be freaky and extreme that it immediately becomes antiquated, though that is a big factor why. Not simply because the movie assigns things like barb wire, ventriloquist dummies, and hooded executioners – clichés even at the time – an unearned degree of seriousness, though this too makes the film play more like camp than it did in 2004. Largely, the performances strike me as rather over-the-top. Leigh Whannall gets all the silliest dialogue, his delivery proving that he was probably better suited to being behind a keyboard than in-front of a camera. Cary Elwes grotesquely overacts as Dr. Lawrence, most prominently in the final act, as things get more desperate. Danny Glover also spends most of his screen time staring wide-eyed and sweaty-skinned, playing the character as obsessed and hammering that one note as hard as he can. 

Once you notice the gulf between the seriousness “Saw” is clearly striving for and the evident camp in its execution, it becomes difficult not to notice a lot of the silly things about this grisly motion picture. Namely, the Jigsaw Killer's attempts to justify his grotesque actions. Supposedly inspired by a moment in Whannell's life when he feared having a brain tumor, the franchise's villain puts people through Hell – almost always killing them in the process – out of some twisted desire to punish those who have “wasted” their lives. Among his victims we see are a drug addict and a man who attempted suicide despite seemingly having no problems in his life. Which, ya know, does not show an especially nuanced understanding of depression or addiction. Since the Jigsaw Killer is a sadistic maniac, I don't think we're meant to take his justifications seriously. At the same time, the film obviously considers some of these ideas novel, if not “deep.” When it is so blatantly a threadbare justification for the elaborate traps the script cooks up. Jigsaw could have merely been a psycho and “Saw's” premise probably would have made more sense if he was. However, a desire to mark him as another great cinematic madman or to grapple with some sort of real world topics saddled the budding franchise with the goofiest of backgrounds. 

Credit where it is due: As dumb-ass stupid as lots of “Saw's” story is, Whannall's script does do many things well. Aside from the catchiness of the “two guys in a room” premise, the story does successfully play a long game of misdirection with the audience. Throughout the film, bug-eyed and fittingly sketchy looking character actor Michael Emerson is seemingly presented as our villain. This is a red herring and the actual culprit is a lot closer to his prisoners than they realize. Watching the film now, when we are all well-aware of the Jigsaw Killer's identity, makes that twist less potent. Back in 2004 though, watching the body rise from the bathroom floor, as Charlie Clouser's immediately iconic theme music kicks in, and all the clues the film laid down throughout slid into place... Yeah, that was pretty cool. It's still a decent moment today.

Scenes like that suggest, despite the many ways in which “Saw” tries too hard or overestimates its own seriousness, there is some genuine cleverness on-display here as well. Wan and Armstrong do engineer some striking visuals once or twice. A shot of Glover and his partner stepping up through a staircase, as smoke billows around their ankles, is cool. The notorious Reverse Trap Mask is a genuinely nightmarish idea. Once you divorce the premise from any real world logic, it is indeed a pretty fucked-up way to kill someone that nobody would want to be stuck in. The huge iron lips and rusty rivets of the device are probably one of the few times the film's ultra-grungy visual approach actually works the way the film's creators clearly intended. 

That elaborate gizmo is one of several images from the first “Saw” that went on to become very famous. Maybe that's another reason why Wan's film comes off as sillier now than it did in 2004. In retrospect, “Saw” seems very aware of its own franchise potential. Calling its villain "The Jigsaw Killer" – justified by his unimportant calling card of taking a jigsaw puzzle piece shaped bit of skin from his victims – is the kind of catchy nickname people will remember. The visual of Billy the Puppet – his little suit and tricycle, the spiral patterns on his cheeks, the contrast between his ridiculously gravelly voice and cartoonish appearance – seems like an obvious attempt to reverse engineer a horror movie image as iconic as Jason's hockey mask or Freddy Krueger's glove. If merchandisers and fans didn't immediately latch onto that, “Saw” also includes a literal mask that could be turned into a Halloween costume. That would be yet another obvious steal from the Nine Inch Nails' “Closer” video, in a pig head with greasy long hair and an executioner's robe. I wouldn't assume that Wan and Whannall had any idea that such a long running, profitable series would emerge from their indie film. At the same time, every horror nerd dreams about creating their own Michael Myers or Chucky, a character that gets carved onto the Mount Rushmore of horror fan favorites. The possibility probably wasn't too far from their minds then.

”Saw's” eventual impact on the direction horror took in the next decade cemented its standing in genre history. Trying to divorce the movie from that, it is equally a very silly, sometimes quite dumb, often trying too hard motion picture that also shows a lot of promise and creativity. Perhaps we would've been better off if this had stayed as the under-the-radar indie hit that Lion Gates originally envisioned. Wan and Whannell's careers probably wouldn't have taken off like they did in that scenario. Do I want to live in a world where Billy the Puppet isn't the bridge between Ghostface and Art the Clown? I guess not. “Saw” may be at its dumbest when attempting to be more than a mere trashy horror flick but that doesn't mean it can't be fun in its own twisted way too. [Grade: B-]

RECENT WATCHES: The Fast and the Furious (2001)

It might not be the most unexpected blockbuster in cinema history but I don't think anyone thought “The Fast and the Furious” would spawn a long-running, billion-dollar-grossing franchise back in 2001. It was a humble, mid-budget studio action movie starring the voice of the Iron Giant and one of the Deedles. The movie would court the audience of teenage motorheads to become a sizable hit. I remember this well, as the first "Furious" was a big deal among the countless redneck gear-heads I went to high school with. Being a bullied, mechanically uninclined nerd, I've never had any interest in “The Fast and the Furious” and dismissed it for years. As this simple car movie slowly transformed into a massive franchise, I figured it's about time I test-drive it for myself. 

A gang in suped-up cars are stealing millions of dollars in DVD players from truckers on the streets of Los Angeles. The cops send a young FBI agent named Brian O'Connor undercover to investigate. He quickly infiltrates a local street racing crew led by Dom Torreto, who is suspected to be the ringleader of the thieves. Brian soon finds himself wrapped up in Torreto's racing lifestyle, befriending him and starting a romance with his little sister. As it becomes clearer that Dom is involved in the heist, and as conflict looms with the local Triad family, Brian will be forced to choose between duty and brotherhood. 

It is not surprising that "The Fast and the Furious" was so popular among young men in 2001. It might, in fact, be the most aggressively 2001 movie I have seen. The film is scored to a blaring techno and hip hop soundtrack, with a heavy smattering of nu-metal. The characters are all sweaty, macho guys deeply preoccupied with proving their own toughness. A homophobic slur is dropped early on. Noted sexual predator Rob Cohen directs with a strictly juvenile eye. The camera often pauses to focus on young women in tight or revealing clothing, including a gratuitous wet t-shirt contest and girl-on-girl make-out session. A threesome is promised as a victory prize at one point and the sexually virility of the protagonists is often emphasized. That the plot revolves around DVD players only furthers how entrenched in the aesthetics, tastes, and attitudes of the time this film is. 

More than anything else, "The Fast and the Furious" is utterly fascinated with the frankly ridiculous car culture of the early 2000s. The shiny, neon-colored low riders with their fins, spinning rims, exterior lighting and oversized mufflers are lingered on more than anything else. What's under the car's hoods is similarly lauded. The word "Nos" is said so often that a drinking game devoted to its mention would quickly get one intoxicated. Pressing little red buttons on steering wheels, that make the cars go vroom-vroom, accounts for far more of the action then you'd expect. "The Fast and the Furious" is a testament to how a cool car is probably the eminent status symbol among young American men. Cohen's film is utterly desperate to appear cool, in the sweatiest of ways, and its fetishistic fixation on slick, shiny cars that go super-duper fast is the most obvious symptom of this ailment. 

I am defiantly not a car guy. However, I have been known to enjoy a good carsploitation flick, especially ones that prioritize daring stunt work over anything else. "The Fast and the Furious" does have some decent stunts. The opening scene features a low-rider sliding under an eighteen wheeler, which is so neat it's reprised during the second half. The finale features an impressive wreck that sends a car twirling through the air. The movie isn't necessarily bad looking, as Ericsson Core's cinematography occasionally engineers an arresting image, such as a shot of the glowing cars zooming through the streets of L.A. at twilight. Overall, there's a sun baked, sweaty sheen to the entire look of the movie, which is the closest it comes to genuine sexiness. 

However, it can't be overstated how much Rob Cohen's meat-headed sensibilities destroys his own movie. The shaky camera work and hyperactive editing renders more than one action scene difficult to follow. Cohen's burst of flashiness, seen in CGI zooms into the interior of the cars' engines, come off as more hopelessly lame posturing. As much as the film is about speed and risky racing, there's far too many shots of actors simply sitting in the driver's seat and looking excited. So much of "The Fast and the Furious" is like this, overdoing it in some regards and pulling back pointlessly in others.

This is definitely an annoying, dumb style-over-substance exercise. The script is blatantly derivative, hopelessly predictable, and frequently melodramatic. The movie barely has a third act, as the Triad gangsters – forgotten about for long stretches of the runtime – sluggishly emerge as the bad guys for the last few minutes. This turn-of-events is prompted by the murder of a character that is telegraphed so far in advance, the nerdy little guy might as well have had a target on his forehead the whole time. By the way, that last minute push into revenge movie theatrics actually has nothing to do with the FBI infiltration/highway robbery plot. Another example of how sloppy the writing is: An almost literarily faceless trucker wielding a shotgun is the primary antagonistic force for the end-of-the-second-act set piece. 

I can't help but wonder if the trio of credited screenwriters – which included a post-"Training Day," pre-directorial career David Ayer – were aware of how hopelessly lame the main storyline was. "The Fast and the Furious" is most compelling when focused on the bro-y bond between Brian and Dom. The contrived mechanics necessary to get Brian indebted into Dom's inner circle are ridiculous. This begins with him hitting on Dom's sister via tuna fish sandwiches and features frequent appearances from a blustering, suspicious side-douche named Vince. Ultimately, Brian and Dom become so close that Torrento is willing to share his tragic backstory with his new best bud. That moment is also the best display in the film for Vin Diesel's peculiar type of beefy, mush-mouthed charisma. Diesel and Paul Walker – youthful, angelically gorgeous, wide-eyed and blank – compliment each other in odd ways. Neither of them are good actors in any classical sense but there is a certain himbo charm to these two slabs of meat. 

The series of manly one-upmanships that brings these two closer will obviously play out from the first scene. The film is too beholden to dude-bro buddy flick classics like "Point Break" to swerve from that path. The high camp, homoerotic bonding between these two sweaty guys is still the most entertaining thing about "The Fast and the Furious." The film foregrounds Brian and Dom's bond so much that the hero blatantly ignores all the criminal evidence pointing at his new pal. The female love interests are non-entities. Jordana Brewster's Mia Torrento is a fawning perfect little sister that anyone could have played and Michelle Rodriguez's Letty is such a butch tomboy that she might as well have been a man. The movie is doubtlessly aware that the relationship between the two guys is the real love story here, as their bond is what the entire climax is built around. 

Ultimately, "The Fast and the Furious" panders so hard to the specific audience of 2001 teenage boys, hyped up on MTV style and utterly aggro in their attitudes, that it comes off as an ancient relic of another time and place today. I unfortunately knew too many of those kind of guys back then, and got shoved into lockers by a few of them, meaning much of the film's appeal is lost to me. When combined with a low-effort script, the result is a popcorn flick that only occasionally got me munching the kernels. The film needed a stronger director than Rob Cohen, someone who would focus more on practical stunts and heighten the campy queerness of its central relationship, to make it a real classic of the revved-up action genre. [5/10]

Director Report Card: Julius Onah (2025)

4. Captain America: Brave New World

For years, we heard cultural critics and film reviewers talking about what they called "superhero fatigue." This idea that the public was getting sick of super powered blockbusters kept getting thrown around and Marvel and DC movies kept making billions of dollars. However, it is now evident that the superhero bubble has definitely burst. Several high profile sequels, sequels to movies that made seven figures at the box office, have flopped. Being based on a comic book is clearly no longer a guarantee that a film will be a financial success. Marvel and their Disney overlords are all too aware of this shift. Compounded by the COVID-19 pandemic and an actor's guild strike, their upcoming slate of superhero movies have been delayed, reshuffled, and endlessly reshot. The first victim of this damage control maneuver has been "Captain America: Brave New World." Filmed in 2023 and originally intended for a 2024 release, the sequel has been subjected to controversy, rewrites, studio interference, and a ballooning budget from the beginning. After all that, the sequel finally opened last month to merely decent box office and worst reviews. "How did this happen?" is clearly a question we won't have an answer to for quite a while but the film, in its desperately compromised "final" form, remains. 

Sam Wilson, the Avenger formally know as the Falcon, has inherited the shield and title of Captain America. General Thaddeus "Thunderbolt" Ross, best known for his rabid pursuit of the Hulk, has been elected president. He hopes to establish a good working relationship with the new Captain America. Sam is invited to the White House and brings Isaiah Bradley, the black man who was imprisoned and subjected to government testing during the fifties in hopes of recreating the Super Soldier Formula. During a presentation about the newly discovered element adamantium, President Ross hoping to create a peaceful trade of the metal among the world's superpowers, something goes horribly wrong. Bradley and several others are compelled to attempt to kill the president. Hoping to clear his friend's name, Sam Wilson sets out to uncover the conspiracy behind these events. Soon, he has uncovered a master plan from a vengeful villain, orchestrating events that could unleash a world war and turn President Ross into a monster. 

There are many answers to the question of how the hyper-successful Marvel train derailed. I'm sure many think-pieces have already been written on the subject and many more will follow. However, I think the main factor leading to the public's growing indifference to the Marvel Cinematic Universe is similar to how the comic book industry itself began catering to an increasingly smaller audience over the last three decades. We call it "Continuity Lockout," the point at which a nerdy property becomes so weighed down by prior events and currently on-going storylines that it becomes nearly impossible for casual enjoyers to easily jump in. Unless you know a lot about superhero comics and the histories of many major characters and teams, it's hard to get into the latest books. This arose out of Marvel and DC desperately appealing to an entitled audience of unhinged nerds that can never be pleased and following trends after the collapse of an unsustainable speculators' market, alienating what is ostensibly the medium's primary audience of children. 

The Marvel Cinematic Universe, meanwhile, has become a massive network of interconnecting feature films, TV shows, streaming series, and short films in the sixteen years since Robert Downey Jr. first put on the Iron Man suit. "Captain America: Brave New World" is something like the forty-sixth installment of the MCU. It is a sequel to three previous "Captain America" movies and "The Falcon and the Winter Soldier" Disney+ mini-series. You have to have seen that show to understand the plot of this movie. It is also a de-facto sequel to "The Incredible Hulk," the second MCU film that nobody seemed to like that much at the time and has been largely forgotten. It also draws heavily from all the previous "Avengers" movies and "Eternals," one of the least popular Marvel movies.

That is a massive time investment, with a lot of moving parts, for the average filmgoer to keep up on. Is it any wonder that a lot of them opted out after "Avengers: Endgame's" rather satisfying conclusion? How many people watched "The Falcon and the Winter Soldier?" How many saw the trailer for "Brave New World" and were confused as to why Sam Wilson was Captain America now? The money people that control Hollywood now believe in the dogma of capitalism, that you must always expand and expand, that you must always make more money next quarter than you did the last one. Applying that idea to storytelling leaves an audience increasingly overwhelmed by a deluge of new stuff, much of which is starting to look the same. This is so true that someone like me – who is still ostensibly invested in the MCU, who does watch all the movies and most of the streaming series, who knows entirely too much about comics – was still left a little adrift by "Brave New Wave." A major character in the film is Joaquin Torres, the new Falcon, Sam's loyal sidekick, and a tech expert. Joaquin was apparently introduced in "The Falcon and the Winter Soldier" but I had entirely forgotten that. I was confused as to why the film was treating seemingly a new character like a member of the established cast. In other words, the Disney masterminds have not done a good job of ensuring that their new characters are very memorable. 

Marvel Studios being run like a sausage factory is not the only reason "Brave New World" turned out the way it did. To learn the film was subjected to numerous extensive reshoots and rewrites could not be more apparent. There is a disconnect between many scenes and subplots. Sam and Joaquin investigate a black site in West Virginia, while the head of Ross' security team is witnessed to brain-washed guards killing minor supporting characters the viewer has already forgotten about. These two events never feel as linked as they should be. Sam has a buddy in the Marines – a brief glance at the Wikis reveals that this is a totally unrecognizable version of perpetual Marvel D-lister Demolition Man – who seems weirdly important to the story despite being relatively minor. In fact, a lot of the movie hinges on characters that feel otherwise unimportant and generic, such as the Japanese prime minister or some nameless jet fighter pilots. The way the heroes jump around locations, faced with undefined adversaries, as hastily assembled exposition is thrown in to explain why our guys are going to this place or after this thing next, suggests a script that was repeatedly remixed and reshuffled. It does not result in a cohesive feeling story. 

What of that story? Director of superhero movies – clearly embarrassed to be working on a corporate product based on disposable children's books, beholden to a stifling formula – often say their cape movies are patterned after more respectable genres. “The Batman” was a noir. “Captain America: The Winter Soldier” was a seventies conspiracy thriller. “Brave New World” wants to be a conspiracy thriller too. There's a problem though. The sequel has clearly been subjected to so many rewrites and re-editing, each one simplifying and dumbing down the story. What we have been left with is a conspiracy thriller whose conspiracy runs in a straight line, one guy being responsible for everything that happens. All of the subterfuge that goes down is the result of cartoonish mind control. The mastermind's scheme builds towards an act of ridiculous sci-fi revenge, that the entire advertising campaign for the film has been constructed around. The result is a “conspiracy thriller” that feels like it was written for school children. 

In this sense, “Captain America: Brave New World” is a movie about nothing. It exists simply to deliver sequences that will satisfy, whether that be a reference to something viewers might recognize or through some rudimentary action spectacle. At the same time, motion pictures of such a scale as this do not exist in a vacuum. All art is political, even corporate mandated and by-commission art such as this. From this perspective, “Brave New World” may very well be the most neo-liberal movie ever made. The superhero story acknowledges that the American government has made mistakes and done bad things, with the imprisonment and treatment of Isaiah Bradley being the most prominent example. However, all of this is totally swept under the rug, the script ultimately deciding that all the problems in the story are the result of only two guys. It's a cowardly declaration, a refusal to grapple with any of the fallout of the American empire. 

Which is also apparent in the film's unspoken support of Israel, in the present of Ruth Bat-Seraph. For the hardcore nerds, they'll know that character from the comics as Sabra, the Marvel Universe's de-facto Captain Israel whose first appearance has her discovering Palestinian children have souls. There's one line confirming that Seraph is a former Mossad agent and, if you squint, you can see her wearing blue and white briefly. Otherwise, she's an unrelated character, with her origins tied to “Black Widow.” Which makes me wonder, when Marvel realized now was an especially bad time to debut this character, they didn't simply cut her entirely during any of the endless reshoots. It's not as if the stiff, distractingly petite Shira Haas gives a star-making performance or anything. But, no, it was essentially important for some reason to acknowledge that the U.S. government supports the existence of Israel and everything it may or may not have done in this comic book superhero movie. 

In the last act, the film depicts the President becoming a hideous, rage monster. He destroys the White House and the Washington Monument, symbols of our American ideals, before brandishing the U.S. flag as a weapon. We never learn anything about President “Thunderbolt” Ross' ideologies but, considering his hot tempered saber-rattling pushes the world towards war, it's hard not to assume he's a half-assed Trump analogue of some sort. How do we defeat a supervillain, an unreasonable and brightly colored horror, elected to the highest office in the land?  “Captain America: Brave New World” presents the most middle-of-the-road solution possible. Why, you talk to him! You reach out to his heart. See, the evil president isn't so bad! He just needs a hug from his daughter and a good therapy session. What could represent the modern Democratic philosophy better than that, that everything will work itself out if we reach across the aisles and talk it out? How's that working out for us? Despite the subtitle suggesting a world that is both new and brave, the finale actually features a line about how America needs a “return to normalcy.” Because nothing about how the situation was before had anything to do with us being in this mess in the first place. Perhaps this marks the sequel as one of the few pieces of cinematic art to emerge from the brief Biden interlude between the Trump Regime.

In the long lead-up to “Brave New World's” release, Julius Onah made some mention about how Sam Wilson would not be conflicted to be Captain America. However, clearly that element of the script changed during one of the many tinkerings. This movie shows a Captain America eager to prove himself, still insecure about whether this is a role he can fill. In the context of Onah's other works, this reads as a continuation on his frequent theme of being an immigrant. Sam Wilson is an American, has been his whole life, and has plenty of experience being a superhero at this point. Why does he still feel like an imposter? In a scene where he meets Isaiah in prison, one of the more tensely directed sequences in the film, the two have a conversation that highlights of difficult of being a proud American and a black man, abused by this country so many times. The question of “Will this country ever allow a black man to be Captain America?” floats over the film. I suppose the hopeful ending provides an answer but it never feels like the topic is truly addressed. 

What's most frustrating about “Brave New World” being such a chopped up mess is that, at the center of it, is a hero that easily could've carried his own movie. Anthony Mackie undeniably has the verve and charisma to be a movie star. The handful of brief moments throughout the sequel, where he's not weighed down by the contrived script or heaps of CGI, you can see it. During the fight scenes, such as a rumble in a church at the beginning or a scuffle in a junk yard with a supporting supervillain, you realize that this guy actually does have the stuff to play this role. The film repeatedly has Mackie doing all sorts of CGI-assisted, silly looking leaps and flips throughout, ignoring that he's at his most compelling when he's on his feet and scuffling with the bad guys, fist-to-fist. 

Another interesting element about Mackie's performance is that he doesn't have a female co-star to bounce off of. He only shares a few scenes with Shira Haas and the two characters are never alone. He doesn't have a woman you could generally describe as a love interest, a common sight in these movies. Which isn't to say that he doesn't have a love interest at all. Sam Wilson shares a lot of scenes with Joaquin Torres. They are always bantering. One moment, where Sam grabs his superhero suit while Torres does hacker stuff at the computer, gives the impression of them living together. When Torres is injured, late in the film, Sam takes it extremely hard. Their eventual reunion seems incomplete without a kiss. Throughout, Joaquin seems utterly devoted to Sam in turn. Either Marvel is intentionally trying to tease the yaoi fan girls or Mackie was intentionally playing Sam as gay. I'm inclined to believe the latter, as Mackie has homoerotic tension with nearly every male character in the film. During sweaty gym training sessions with Isaiah, tense stare-offs with President Ross, being chummy with a random army guy, or running from Sidewinder while wearing tiny shorts, there's this undeniable tension in every scene. Thus, I must conclude: Everybody, welcome our first gay Captain America. 

Ultimately though, with a film so clearly plagued by rewrites and reshoots, it was obviously difficult for most of the cast to get a read on the material. Harrison Ford seems directionless as Ross, grumpy but prone to unbelievably maudlin moods. Danny Ramirez is kind of annoying as Joaquin, a Scrappy-Doo-like character that is both plucky comic relief and a tech genius and an overly enthusiastic young superhero. Haas gives a totally blank performance, which is true of most of the cast. The only actors who emerge with any personality at all are those playing the hammiest villains. Giancarlo Esposito plays Sidewinder with the verve of a mustache-twirling bad guy, energizing his few scenes. Tom Nelson Blake as the Leader gets to croak a lot of terrible dialogue but somehow maintains not only his dignity but adds an amusingly unhinged quality to the part. Though the make-up choices made to bring this iconic villain – the Hulk's archenemy in the comics – to life isn't going to win over many hardcore fans. 

Simply put, it is impossible to separate "Brave New World" from the circumstances of its production. Knowing the movie was in a constant state of flux, at the mercy of last minute reshoots always more last minute than the previous ones, informs every minute of its runtime. You can see this most obviously in what are some surprisingly chintzy looking special effects. Sometimes, Sam and Joaquin look fine flying through the air and flexing in their super suits. Other times, they look like graphics from a subpar video game. We know Marvel is fond of shooting on green screens, when actors seem to be floating on-screen without any connection to their location, you notice. The Red Hulk looks pretty good but Sam's armor seems plastic-y in the same scenes. We can only assume that such an expensive film having such underwhelming effects is the result of Disney cracking the whips on underpaid and overworked digital animators, forcing them to crank out a finished product within a few weeks, to hold onto a set-in-stone release date. 

Being the result of such a chop-slapped production, I suppose it should be impressive that any of Julius Onah's trademarks as a filmmaker are evident in the final cut. There's a rotating tracking shot that reminded me of a similar shot in "Luce." That the Leader infects people through cellphone signals feels like it could have been a sign of Onah's continued interest in how technology effects our daily lives. Lastly, the titles and end credits carry his tendency for using boxed-off sections of the screen as a visual technique. I imagine, in the aftermath of such a chaotic production, the director will receive most of the blame. I don't think "Captain America: Brave New World" being a mess is Onah's fault though. The sequel ending up this way is a direct result of Disney trying to turn Marvel into an unending distraction for a not-picky-enough public, for failing to correctly gauge the limits of their own popular franchises, the film caught in the crossfire of trying to right a sinking ship.  [Grade: C-]

Director Report Card: Julius Onah (2019)

3. Luce

It seems to me that the Sundance Film Festival remains the most prestigious of the big independent film festivals. It's where future Oscar winners and break-out indie hits often first emerge, where careers are made and dreams are broken. A related phenomenon is a movie getting rave responses out of Sundance, a major studio paying big bucks for it, only for the film to open to middling box office. Julius Onah had technically already had his breakout film by 2019, though I can't blame him for wanting to put "The Cloverfield Paradox" behind him. He truly seemed to catch people's attention with "Luce," an adaptation of JC Lee's 2013 stage play. Fantastically received at the festival, NEON picked it up for a wider release. It didn't exactly break through in a big way, not flashy enough to catch the attention of the industry award shows, but it remains a movie people discuss and think of fondly. If nothing else, it established Onah as a director to watch. 

Teenager Luce Edgar has an inspiring story. Born in war-torn Eritrea, he was adopted by Peter and Amy, an upper-class white couple. He's a track star at school, a lauded student, and has been asked to deliver a speech at a presentation. His history teacher, Miss Wilson, confronts Amy with something she finds troubling: When asked to write a paper from the perspective of a historical figure, Luce chose Frantz Fanon, an African revolutionary who believed violence was necessary to overcome colonialism. Wilson also found fireworks in Luce's locker. Peter and Amy are concerned but Luce claims Wilson also singles him out, as a symbol of "black excellence," while tokenizing other members of his class. Luce, while talking with Wilson, seems to subtly threaten her. Amy, meanwhile, gets in touch with a former girlfriend of Luce's, who describes being sexually assaulted while drunk at a party. A series of events unfold, Wilson convinced Luce is playing the people around him to further his personal grudges while Amy grows increasingly unsure of what her son is capable of. 

"Luce" is a film with a lot of ideas on its mind but one of its primary concerns is with the other people perceive us. Luce's story, raised as a child soldier in Africa before being brought over to a wealthy American family and achieving academic and scholastic success, strikes many as inspiring. It's a status the young man seems happy to embrace at first. He's held up as a symbol of the American dream, coming from horrible circumstances to achieve greatness. He's referred to as "Obama" by more than one person. Wilson treats other members of her class in similarly idealistic ways: Stephanie, plagued by rumors of sexual misadventures, is regarded as a female suffering in silence. A friend of Luce's, DeShaun, was thrown off the track team after Wilson found pot in his locker, as the teacher seems to consider him a more standard example of an underachieving youth. As writers, we often create characters as "symbols" of various ideas, representing social woes or philosophical concepts. But real people aren't symbols. They are messy, complicated human beings with conflicting attributes. "Luce" presents a scenario where someone fires back at being elevated to symbol status. 

It goes without saying that race plays a major role in how others are perceived and what they become symbols of. Luce, being a black boy from a poor country and adopted by a white couple, is already well aware of how the color of his skin influences how others see him. Rich white people adopting little black babies from poor countries to call their own and raise in the lap of luxury is a phenomenon covered in difficult social layers, prompting discussion of race and class, of white Americans acting as saviors to anyone deemed less fortunate in order to make themselves seem more progressive. Luce, meanwhile, is culturally perceived as "one of the good ones," someone destined to rise to great status... With the implication being that he overcame the disadvantage of being born brown, poor, and African.

He's an erudite, well spoken young man, knowledgeable about history and culture. This is comparable to DeShaun, who smokes pot and peppers his speech with slang and profanity, whose name seems to be indicative of both his skin color and his standing in society. Luce was not born with that name. His mother couldn't pronounce his African name and he was given Luce – Latin for "light" and exactly the kind of thing a pampered white couple would name their kid – as an alternative. Luce can see through the artificial designations society has given both him and DeShaun. The two black boys are not that different in many ways. Luce enjoys a joint every now and then too. The perceptions other tie to them is what makes them different, what makes one a future Obama and the other a "thug." 

"Luce" could also be short for Lucifer, which brings up another complicated layer in both the film and the character. Throughout, we see Luce easily slip into the persona of a well-spoken young man eager to impress. This has made him a favorite among the school staff, the principal joking around with him in a casual manner at one point. The boy is well aware of how others perceive him and is capable of using that perception. Not necessarily for innocent goals either. His seeming admiration for a violent revolutionary suggests he sees force as a way to achieve a goal. When "apologizing" to Wilson, he seems to subtly sneak a threat into his words. He does it again before the end. Throughout the film, there's this mounting fear that Luce is manipulating everyone around him, playing people's bias against each other in order for him to come out on top. There's a word for people like that, who see others as mere tools to control and only cares about his own success: A sociopath, a highly mythologized term that nonetheless accurately describes a personality type we've all encountered or seen in office. 

Miss Wilson seems to be the only person, at first, capable of seeing Luce as a manipulative, dangerous person. After a humiliating day, Wilson comes home to find a racial slur written on her house. She accuses Luce of doing this but nobody else can imagine such a shining star student being capable of such a thing... At first anyway. When presented with the concerning history paper, Amy is fast to defend her son. This is what a mother does. However, as the story goes on, as she sees more of what exactly her son can do, Amy begins to have doubts about Luce herself. Peter is more willing to see their son's sinister side. Ultimately, his wife says it's their job as parents to defend their son while being unable to suppress her own fears. Who is the true Luce then? The popular, successful, intelligent young man that the principal and most of the other students? Stephanie sees Luce as a kind person who only wants what is best for her. Wilson believes Luce is smart and capable enough to play games with others. Amy wants to protect her son, still seeing him as her beloved baby boy. She asks Peter at one point which side he's on. Which is what it often comes down to. We choose which perception of someone is personally true for us, which one is "real."  

Of course, the perception of people is not only formed by their friends and loved ones. Society does it too. Miss Wilson has a mentally ill sister that lives with her. She comes to the school, having a meltdown, stripping off her clothes. She screams at Wilson, accusing her of thinking she comes from a better racial class then her. The white students whip out cell phones and record the public breakdown, happy to provide another example for the stereotype of black people as mentally instable. Near the film's end, Luce confronts Wilson at her home and she explains how she feels her singling him out is justified, that people of color must be extraordinary to overcome the limitations the culture has imposed on them. Luce objects to being made an example or a spectacle, Wilson arguing that he has no choice in the matter. If the versions of us that exists in other people's heads are as valid as any other, then the effect race and status play in forming that perception can't be overlooked.

The contrasts and complications of how we might be perceived versus the people we might actually be is something “Luce,” as a film, is willingly playing with. The musical score is often sparse, adding to the sense of chilly tension in the film. Whenever it seems Luce is up to something devious, a rap style beat with rough vocalizations plays. It's as if the film is intentionally baiting the audience, asking us to consider whether this upstanding young black man is, in fact, prone to the violence that “super-predators” like him have been accused of. Stephanie is a young Asian girl, the kind of figure that is culturally shown as vulnerable and exploited. Luce has her intentionally playing up that element of her appearance as part of his final scheme, another way the movie is pushing some buttons very intentionally in order to make us question our beliefs and preconceived notions on how we look at someone.

Julius Onah clearly has a personal investment in this story. He is an immigrant too, born in Nigeria, lived all the over the world, and settled in the United States. “The Girl Is in Trouble” and several of his short films touched on this subject too. Something pointed Luce says is that, as an immigrant from a war torn country, he feels like he only has two options of what he can grow up to be: Either a monster or a hero. The film intentionally has him existing between both of these poles, showing a number of unsettling personality traits while outwardly achieving a lot. In this context, we can't see his apparent sociopathy as anything but a reaction to the pressures of being from a foreign country. You either exceed the expectations society puts on you or you play right into them. Onah is clearly reflecting on some of his very personal frustrations through the film's story.

The director brings some of his other trademarks with him. The usage of cell phones throughout the film show a continued interest in technology, in the way it has changed how we communicate.  Mostly, Onah and cinematographer Larkin Seiple shoot “Luce” like it's a horror movie. They often place characters apart from each other, between the foreground and background, as if to emphasize a predatory distance between them. There's a coldness to the color palette, the interiors shadowy and haunted, that adds to a disquieting atmosphere. The camera often peeks into lockets or at desk, creating an alien and inhuman feeling in this setting, further adding to that chilly tension. Save for a moment or two, “Luce” stubbornly refuses to alleviate the suspense it creates, the unsettling questions and uncertainties the film raises lingering with the viewer long after the movie ends. The clearly cinematic style also helps the film escape its stage-bound roots, helping the audience overlook that most of the movie is made up of people sitting around and talking in rooms.

Holding “Luce” totally together is an excellent cast. Kelvin Harrison Jr. gives what should be a star-making performance in the title role. Harrison is especially good at hinting at the darker capabilities of Luce while also putting on an outwardly inviting appearance. His ability to control his exterior, and his awareness of how that effects people, because very clear in one of the final scenes of the movie. Harrison swinging so easily between such convincing poles is chilling. Naomi Watts, without going into histrionics, does a strong job of showing the conflicted emotions she is feeling. Amy goes through the wringer, still loving her son despite the suspicions she has about him. Tim Roth is more caustic, as you'd expect from him, though he makes every line count. Octavia Spencer, as Miss Wilson, says a lot with a single look or glance, suggesting the frustration and anger she is feeling under the surface. 

”Luce” is a movie clearly without a lot of complicated ideas on its mind, approaching thorny issues in a thoughtful way that doesn't rob them of their power. Race, class, and self are discussed without turning the story into a boring lecture, the film often operating as a tense thriller in its own right. It's the kind of movie that is perhaps a bit too proud of its own boldness. There are several moments where it seems to be pontificating. I suppose that is an unavoidable aspect of the material being adapted from the stage, where standing before an audience and saying your piece is kind of expected. Nevertheless, it unfolds in a tense and disturbing manner, powered by some damn fine performances. It's clear that this is the kind of material that Julius Onah excels at and I hope he gets to make more movies like this someday. [Grade: B+]