The Amazing Spider-Man 2 (2014)

Everything wrong that Sony is doing with Spider-Man screams loud in the end credits of “The Amazing Spider-Man 2” with the now-standard stinger tease all of us have become accustomed to in superhero flicks. This is different. We get not a peek at a new or undead villain, but (sigh) a long, random, unexplained “X-Men: Days of Future Past” clip. 

The scene hits the viewer, hit this viewer, like an error by the projectionist. A blip from the movie playing down the hall. 

There’s no connection to Spider-Man. It’s an ad. Chicken feed to answer a studio contract. A disconnected film. Money.

And, that, folks is what this whole sequel smells of, contract obligations and a studio desperate to launch sequels, spin-offs, toys, and soda pop tie-ins at Subway. 

This fast-tracked sequel to an unneeded 2012 remake of the 2002 “origin” film shows not story-telling prowess or a love of the Marvel comics stories that thrilled my childhood, but movies as sausage. Ground, not links.

Director Mark Webb and his writers give us the great Paul Giamatti as a rampaging psycho thief during an opening truck/car chase through Manhattan then drops the actor until a third-wheel finale with a tacky CGI head of the man in a robotic version of the well-known comic book character Rhino, one that oddly hints of a lost Transformer. 

What studio makes those films? Why the Rhino here and now? Action figures at Target? 

In between it all, Giamatti’s two scenes, we do get Andrew Garfield as Spider-Man, battling both Electro (Jamie Foxx, doing a loser nerd bit until he goes all angry nerd as a guy with electric-controlling powers) and a new Green Goblin in the form of Peter Parker childhood pal Harry Osbourne (Dane DeHaan, stealing the film with intensity that unsettles). Don’t forget hints of other comic book staples Black Cat, Doctor Octopus, and the Vulture. Oh, Venom, too, I think. Blink, miss, you get the idea. Keep a chart.

Even for a comic book geek and likely target of all this name dropping and play, the film lurches and crawls, stuffed with excess, and I have not even yet mentioned all the back story hoopla of Peter’s sad dead parents … which, in the sloppy end, does not mean much. 

(If you're not a comic book geek and lost in this review, sorry, I can't explain a Green Goblin to the unknown.)

I deeply enjoy the main cast here –- Garfield is fantastic, and Emma Stone as girlfriend Gwen Stacy plays smart before sexy –- far better than the first trilogy of Spider-Man films, but Giamatti is sadly wasted. Foxx works hard to make a character bite that has no teeth, or form. Chris Cooper has two scenes as Norman Osbourne –- father of Harry, and a Green Goblin in the books -– but they also smack of a wasted talent, a headline-grabbing name grabbed and tossed in. Why him in that part? 

Plot? Peter has graduated high school and over a long summer finds himself mixed up again in Oscorp, the evil corporation that figured in film one, and once employed his dead father. He’s also fumbling at a relationship with Stacy, whose cop pop previously made Peter (as Spider-Man) promise to keep away from, before succumbing to fatal injuries. Pete cannot keep that promise, though. He loves Gwen too much, and she him. 

Comic book fans know what happens as closely as Christians know how it turned out for Jesus. But when the moment comes, it’s a mixture of awe –- that’s happening in a big summer film, gutsy –- and exhaustion as we have seen two super villains crash in, and there’s that third and fourth and who knows else coming down. Mourn? Sorry. No time.

I will give Webb and company credit for the changes they made to Electro: The comic book outfit of the yellow face mask would never work on screen. So, they retooled the character from scratch. Nice move. Even if Electro is one of the shrug characters in the books. Where art thou, Kraven? OK, thank the gods they did not actually toss in Kraven. 

Less can be more, films can breathe. This “Spider-Man” ends gasping for air, and with a headache. Is it the disaster of “Spider-Man 3” (2007)? No. But only by a web’s width. 

Garfield is by far miles better than Toby Maguire, who hit a weepy whiny ditch and never got his ass out. He deserves a better movie to play in. I hope he gets it, soon. C+

The Secret Life of Walter Mitty (2013)

Remember Ben Stiller who made “Reality Bites”? A sharp comedy/ drama that made you pay attention, and plan to immediately buy the soundtrack? He’s been gone for years, stuck in a loop of juvenile fare. Behold, a near miracle. Stiller takes the 1947 Danny Kaye hit “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty,” and turns it on its heads with a fully new spin about a day-dreaming man who became lost on his way to adulthood after the death of his father. Here, Walter cares for his mother, pays his bills, and works at “Life” magazine, but he’s watching life. Not living it. He hasn’t put himself first. Then the loss of a key photograph under his care sends Walter on a worldwide trip to find its creator, Sean Penn, in a very Sean Penn role. “Mitty” is epic in every sense of the word. Romantic, too. And vibrating with great music. As Walter’s daydreams give way to real adventure, the film soars, never grander than when our hero rides a skateboard. It may cross the line into obviousness (the “Life” motto pounces loud like scripture), but the Stiller has re-found his path. The cinematography astounds. Shirley MacLaine as the mom sparkles. B+

Maximum Overdrive (1986)

Hated upon release, I long held a soft-spot for the gonzo B-Grade horror flick “Maximum Overdrive,” written and directed by Stephen King (his only directed film). And it’s partially inspired by “Overdrive” magazine, a truck-centered pub I worked at for five years. I first saw this film at, what, 13? Maybe. Those Green Goblin eyes sold me back then. I digress. Apologies. The story: An alien comet passes near Earth, turning machines into live creatures with a thirst for human blood. At a redneck Wilmington, N.C., truck stop, it’s the big rigs that go mad and kill. Among the heroes: Emilio Esteves as an ex-con turned grill boy, and Pat Hingle as his NRA-loving prick boss. The Green Goblin eyes belong to a tractor trailer with the face of the Spider-Man villain on its cab. None of it makes sense, the blood is comically thick, and the jokes are corny, but this is a drive-in lark fueled by King’s then cocaine appetite. Yes, diesel fuels the trucks, but coke fuels the master. And likely much of the cast. Watch it as a comedy and AC/DC jam. B+

Crossworlds (1996)

Rutger Hauer in 1982 did the impossible: He stole “Blade Runner” from Harrison Ford, copping the greatest ad-lib in film history, talking tears and attack ships. “Crossworlds” is no “Blade Runner,” or much of anything. It follows a college student (Josh Charles, later of “Sports Night”) who gets swept up in an adventure with powerful warriors (Hauer as the wise elder and Andrea Roth as the hot-head fighter) who can jump dimensions using magical sticks as they battle for the universe’s survival against a natty, nattering British type (Stuart Wilson). There’s a whole bit about Charles’ student’s dead father being a genius/archeologist/hero, but I forget the details. Plot holes abound, the story seems random, and I kept waiting for the pace to quicken after countless scenes of Wilson’s villain yammering about power, me thinking, please, someone kill someone. Threats of sequel arise. None ever came. Thank the gods. C-

The Secret Village (2013)

Two low-budget films: “Monsters” –- made by “Godzilla” director Gareth Edwards -– and “Blair Witch Project”— the found-footage creep-out that launched a genre. Tightly edited. Tense scenes made sharp with glimpses of the unearthly. Finales that leave emotions raw. Similarly budgeted horror-thriller “The Secret Village” has … none of that, not an ounce of ballast to carry its Midnight Movie plot. Here, a young journalist (Ali Faulkner) arrives in a New England town to investigate numerous deaths reaching back to the Salem Witch Trials. Townsfolk are hostel: Leave or die. She is stalked. All along, something is off deep inside her. Sounds intriguing? No. Director Swamy Kandan has made a film so direly boring and incomprehensibly edited, I was left admiring home architecture and the bed comforters. Kandan has other film credits. Guessing on his go-to scare tactic, they must all feature chubby old men in robes. F

Godzilla (2014)

Let 1998’s “Godzilla” stay dead. Jump 16 years and add director Gareth Edwards (“Monsters”) and the King of the Monsters is back in “A” shape. From the conspiracy-churning opening credits, this “Godzilla” sets a dark path while looking back to the Japanese original and riffing strong on Spielberg: Watch for “Jaws” and “Close Encounters” homages. Edwards proves he’s not joking with an upfront scene that left me awed with anticipation. Bryan Cranston is a scientist convinced a disaster years prior was not natural, yet no one believes him, least of all his soldier son (Aaron Taylor-Johnson). A visit to a fallen nuclear plant proves Cranston right as a beast -- not Godzilla -- emerges. The lizard king soon surfaces. And he’s a rare CGI thrill. Yes, we get the ordinary, plucky staple of disaster-movie heroes, and some great actors get lost (sorry, Sally Hawkins), but the city-crushing monster fights and ways Edwards keeps us trapped just out of view of his beasts is a marvel. The serious tone recalls those so-called “B”-grade originals were grimly paranoid, despite the models and zippers. In a superhero top-heavy summer, it’s cool to see a classic wisely reborn, breathing fire and roaring loud. A-

Captain America: The Winter Soldier (2014)

Marvel Studios ups its game like never before with “Captain America: The Winter Soldier,” which puts the red, white, and blue-sporting, square-jaw Greatest Generation super soldier hero (Chris Evans) back solo after the Earth-in-peril hoopla of 2012’s “The Avengers.” 

Last round, in “First Avenger,” Cap fought Nazi mad scientist Red Skull. It was pure World War II adventure, Burt Lancaster or Indiana Jones style, with pop art know how, I dug it. Mostly. (Damn the PC moves.) 

In this better sequel, Cap’s up against post-9/11 American paranoia, where we gladly trade up privacy rights for better security. Think body scan at the airport. Think Patriot Act, Bush, Obama, drones, and the NSA. Marvel and directors Joe and Anthony Russo -– guys who have only done comedy as far as I know -– give it all a solid F.U. 

I was giddy watching it. I almost applauded. Should have applauded. Nerd drop: It all reminded me of Nick Fury vs. SHIELD. Look it up. 

Speaking of, Cap and the Avengers’ employer, one-eyed super spy SHIELD boss/ grump Nick Fury (Samuel L. Jackson) is all about “security first,” and he argues, “This is how we do it,” showing off to Cap three massive autonomous airship/attack drones from hell that will patrol the world 24/7, squashing sabers before they rattle, bad thoughts before they form. 

A mad Cap bounces back, I paraphrase, “Not in my day.” 

Despite the bravado, Fury knows better, too. Then his life goes bad, and in comes a bigger SHIELD honcho, played by none other than Robert Redford, who 40 years ago basically was Captain America. Think “All the President’s Men,” et al. 

Yes, his role is all too obvious, but the irony is deliciously morbid. Who do we trust now? Captain America, in short, is battling America. The man who played Bob Woodward and corrupt power-made presidents is now …. Just watch it, folks, comic book nerds and American history nerds alike. 

Intense, smart, grisly violent for a PG-13, action packed, “Winter Soldier” is classic ’70s conspiracy flick filtered through super heroics. “Parallax View” with tights and sci-fi.

As for the title? Look to the first film and one death we didn’t see, and work from there. I won’t dish spoilers, but that plot and the return of Toby Jones’ quack scientist in … non-human form again shows Marvel’s reach for just all-out kicks, rooting back to impossible crazy 1950s drive-in films and the comics I grew up on. 

This wowed me. Comic book film herd Americana fun with a bang. Yes, it sets up sequels and plays comic book rules (no one really dies, do they?), but, man, more of this, please. A 

Peter Pan (1953) and Robin Hood (1973)

I just re-watched two Disney takes on classic stories: “Robin Hood,” from 1973, with foxes, lions, chickens, and badgers in the lead roles, and “Peter Pan,” the classic take that … well, defines everything I knew about Peter Pan growing up, and even now.

Fact: This “Robin Hood” is one of the first films I ever saw, and it’s still a bit of a gem, perfectly pitched to the preschool set with cute, fun lyrics from a narrator rooster and wonderful sight gags. Dig the way the animators let us see Robin Hood dress in ridiculously easy disguises, and yet still fools the villainous Prince John. It puts young viewers in the know, and I love that. Ditto the animation, even though much of it is reused from “Jungle Book,” et al in a cheap-o move. (That I notice means points off.) Pen and ink rocks, and the bits with Prince John sucking his thumb would never work in CGI. B+

“Pan,” now, is so brilliant, so -– it *is* Peter Pan to me, and it’s wonderfully geared to both the awe of children and whimsy of adults. Honestly, this film is 60 years old and it feels eternal even if the costumes suggest we’re talking pre-1900. Everything in this movie is my point of reference for every character, and I cannot hold it against Disney. Why did I never pick up on the singing gay pirate bit before? That’s a treat, that I can pick up on new stuff on a 12^th viewing. I love that Tinker Ball is quite an ass here, not heroic, and Hook is just awesome, especially with Smee. That Peter Pan is both hero and a brat, and Disney never pushes or preaches, he lets it play out, and lets kids in the audience realize, you need your parents. Yes, the whole Red Skin thing smacks a dumb move, a holdover from the classic book. But every image here -– flying over London, the alligator –- is a marvel, it gooses a 40-year-old’s dreams. A

The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014)

I fell off the Wes Anderson Wagon years back. I loathed “Moonrise Kingdom,” having OD’d on his hipster bullshit. Now comes “The Grand Budapest Hotel,” and I’m back on board. Maybe because this WWII-ish (that is, everything here is fictional and with faux names) flick is pure caper, a 1940s-type adventure that plays like Tin-Tin for adults, but with a sharp political edge on violence and the act of needing a passport to travel our great world. But it never preaches. It’s a raunchy, clever comedy. Ralph Fiennes (seriously funny and edgy) is Gustave, the manager of the hotel of the title who obsesses every whim of his rich guests and happily screws old ladies. When one (Tilda Swinton in makeup) croaks, Gustave gets the blame. I won’t dish another word. Watch the story jump three hoops via flashbacks and rocket forward, with the required Bill Murray cameo, Willem Dafoe as a scar-faced killer, and a prison break better than the “Shawshank Redemption.” Anderson thankfully is no longer out to impress us with just how far out he can make a French movie reference, but is having pure, high fun. And it works. A-

Scoop (2006)

“Scoop” is a Woody Allen thing so forgettable and oh-so-Woody Allenish bland, I watched it the other day and only at the very, very end did I realize, “Oh, I have seen this before.” Folks, that never happens. And it stars Scarlett Johansson and Hugh Jackman. That’s some feat. SJ is a college newspaper reporter who finds herself on the trail of a possible serial killer who also happens to be a royal Brit (Jackman) and she falls for him, to the chagrin of her unlikely pal (Woody Allen), an old magician who entertains tourists who’d rather be in Vegas. Not London. The story idea seems solid, even if our reporter first has sex with her interviewees before interviews. I could guess this another Allen fetish, but college girls seem too old for him. It’s the execution. From the absolute lack of any suspense, odd for a thriller, to Allen’s shit nightclub jokes older than his leads. Snooze. What are the chances he wrote this in 1966 and updated not a word? C-

Red Dawn (2012)

The Red Scare thrived back in 1985 and we knew any day the Russians would attack. Reagan told us. So “Red Dawn” with high school kids (Charlie Sheen!) against Russian soldiers on U.S. soil seemed real. Cold War’s done, remakes thrive, and so we have a new “Red Dawn,” with North Korea as the invaders. It was China -– making sense of the “red” in “Red” -– but Hollywood blinked. A four-year delay and a lot of CGI and edits, and we have American high school kids vs. North Koreans. Even if the villainous actors are still Chinese. And the NK flags/emblems are wrong. No matter, the target audience is NRA sleep-with-your-guns Republicans, the kind who know any foreigner is bad. Fuck the details. Pre-“Thor” Chris Hemswoth is the Marine on home leave who leads his little brother (Josh Peck) and pals into gun battles, moving them from whiners to hard-core SEALs in … days. None of it makes sense. The editing and voice dubs are ugly bad. Peck’s age jumps back and forth. But the action is serviceable, and the stunts strong enough to almost make one forget … really, North Korea? I’d rather believe Martians. C-

The Cars That Ate Paris (1974)

There’s something primal about ’70s “Ozploitation.” Civilization gone to ruin. The gist quandary: “We don’t belong here.” Yes, “Mad Max” is king. But it might not have existed without first “The Cars That Ate Paris.” Australia. Not France. Peter Weir, in his first feature, opens on a hokey couple out for a drive –- shot TV commercial style –- before a blown tire out sends the pair down a hill to their death. Roll opening credits. We settle on two scraggily brothers in the same pickle: A sudden crash leaves only one alive. Or so Weir says. I saw no body. “Cars” evades answers. It’s daft, and throws curve balls with no explanation. Paris – patchwork ugly -- thrives on car parts, and the crash survivors end up as citizens, or mute guinea pigs. It’s sick stuff. Drills to heads. Rice Krispie boxes for faces. A hero so unassuming he can’t comb his hair. The town’s at war with its youth -– many of them likely children of dead motorists –- and a final battle with weaponized autos with a spiked Bug, I swear lays the road for “Max.” A nation of rejects. The Aboriginal race crushed. Madness is norm. This film shocks. A