Star Wars: The Force Awakens (2015)

George Lucas couldn’t do it, stuck in the past obsessed on fixing the unbroken, telling already spoken tales. Now 23 years after “Return of the Jedi” melted my 9-year-old brain and had me wondering What Happens Next, J.J. Abrams (“Super 8”) finally takes us to the future of a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away. “Star Wars: Force Awakens” (Episode VII) of course cannot live up to 32 years of geek inner-hype, nor that of the Disney Machine, how could it? But this epic smash captures the joy and kinks of the original trilogy, warts and all. Dialogue is corny. Villainous motive is vague. But we get fantastic fights – light sabers! -- and flights -- Falcon! – morality and immorality as inheritance, new heroes (Daisy Ridley and John Boyega) and old ones (Ford, Fisher, and Hamill) not seen in decades. John Williams. I spill no secrets. Abrams gets “Star Wars” is popcorn escapist entertainment built on fantastic characters from our dreams. Lucas’ prequels forgot that, lost in CGI and info dumps. “Awakens” thrills at every turn, with humor and Harrison Ford at the top of his game, back as Han Solo. I cheered. I gasped. Bring on VIII. A-

P.S. I will revisit this film later, in detail. For now, this will do. #Spoilers #LimitedTime #IKniowI'mBiased

The Expendables 3 (2014)

“The Expendables” brings back Sylvester Stallone and his action pals (Arnold Schwarzenegger, Jet Li, Jason Statham) for more grinding mayhem, this time against Mel Gibson as an arms dealer. After the improved sequel, “3” ought to be aces. It’s garbage. The film gets cut to a bloodless PG-13 to get the kids in, but it’s still far too violent for children, with hundreds of onscreen deaths. (Yet, “Boyhood” got an R!?!) But that’s nitpicking. The plot is shambles, bending backward to intro younger heroes, all of them a snore – especially Kellan Lutz from “Legend of Hercules.” The young lot get captured, forcing the older lot to stage a rescue mission. Why bother? Gibson proves again he’s wildcard actor, brimming with madness, but his role is a bust. Buying bad art for $3M is evil? Harrison Ford plays a spook subbing for Bruce Willis, who played “Agent Church” in parts 1 and 2, but quit this entry over pay. So Ford delivers the line, “Church is out of the picture,” and winks directly into the camera. I saw a tear in his eye. C-

Paranoia (2013)

By the time most tech jumps from lab to retail, it’s old. All eyes are on the new shiny toy we don’t know we need. Woe the Hollywood thriller that wants to be techno hip, and takes a year to gestate before jumping into a theatrical pool already looking at NetFlix. “Paranoia” never stood a chance. We are tasked to root for a Brooklyn hotshot engineer (Liam Hemsworth, vibing like he’s never seen New York) who crosses the bridge to work for one CEO shark (Gary Oldman) and after a grievous faux pas is strong-armed into working for another Fortune 500 dick (Harrison Ford), with orders to steal wares both soft and hard. The drama tries to spook us with the notion that Big Business will always lurk … in a reality where we now the NSA is monitoring this review as it’s posted. Oldman and Ford square off grand, though no one is thrown off a plane. Damn it. Not even those guys can get past creaky dialogue and scenes where the duped-but-loyal girlfriend (Amber Heard) realizes her iPhone is missing and runs to dial her landline. Expiration date: Ancient. C-

Ender’s Game (2013)

I have not read “Ender’s Game,” but I imagined it a sci-fi “All Quiet on the Western Front,” with children pushed into war, facing the horror of taking another life or forfeiting one’s own. 

That was my thinking going into this epic with Harrison Ford as a ruthless military commander and Asa Butterfield (“Hugo”) as the young hero nicknamed Ender pushed into action, his talent resting on war game tactics. 

The war is in outer space against arachnid-like creatures that seem a staple of sci-fi, and SyFy. Years ago -– the movie’s past, our future -– the beings attacked Earth. We beat them, barely, but now they’re back. All of humanity rests on young warriors -– rough age 15 -- sent into space to do battle. Why no adults? Youth play better outside the rules. 

Imagine the weight of that. I mean the emotional weight. Horror. Fear. Awe. Being 15 and in outer space. “Ender’s” has none of that. It’s inert, unable to fully comprehend its moral quandary -– child soldiers –- that is, sadly, not uncommon even today. 

The supposed shocking left hook that ends Ender never fully lands because director Gavin Hood (“X-men: Wolverine”) has never lets us see the stakes of these kids’ lives, or those of their families, or Earth. There is no threat. (And any faux threat is poorly faked.)

Everything is implied (badly) as these brainy youth practice Zero G laser tag for a battle they’ll never encounter. The enemy is only encountered in simulations or dreams, and how can we understand *that*. 

Oh, Butterfield is a great actor, and you can see how the boy is not faking playing the smartest kid in the room. But as a character, Ender never hooked me. Ditto Hailee Steinfeld as fellow warrior. She has little to go on, but Supportive Female, and the intensity she brought to “True Grit” evaporates. 

Scenes involving Ender being bullied, once in a shower, fail to bring the least hint of danger. Because the bully is a foot shorter and a blockhead. 

“Game” has no strategy except perfect CGI and important Actors (Ben Kingsley, Viola Davis, and Ford, the latter looking as if he’d just rather retire) standing about to remind us we are watching Something Important. No. 

A film, even YA-targeted, tackling *this* subject matter should leave one horrified, not set up for a spiffy sequel that feels laughably like, well, Spaceman Spiff. “Hunger Games” plays far harder. C-

42 (2013)

The story of Jackie Robinson -– the first African-American to cross the color line in baseball and swing a bat at a bunch of white guys –- needs no embellishments. It is one of the greatest of American stories, a man finding love, fame, strength, and most vital of all respect after sustaining unspeakable hate. But in Hollywood, every story needs a rewrite. OK, writer/director Brian Helgeland (he co-wrote “L.A. Confidential”) has a good film with “42,” and I cheered on newcomer Chadwick Boseman as Robinson, despite knowing every outcome, but the “clap here!” music score deafens, Robinson is treated like Jesus, and the go-capitalists! whack-off vibe reeks. Never mind the stock side characters: The gold-hearted mentor (Harrison Ford), the bus loads of reject bigots, and the one guy who must be reborn. “42” hits high marks, though, when it shows baseball as a, yes, glorious American pastime (long past?), but one marked with sin, as is all of America. Check the scenes across the American Northeast –- not just the South -– that show the extent of prejudice, and awe when rage overtakes Robinson. In Philly. Well done that. The title, and all its meanings, is simple brilliance. B

Morning Glory (2010)

“Broadcast News” for the Kardashian Age. “Morning Glory” is a sweet woman-at-work-rom-com, with bright-as-the-sun Rachel McAdams as a Jersey girl-turned-TV-producer bounced to the New York A.M. news circus. Not “Today,” or “Good Morning, America,” but a bottom-rung show called “Daybreak,” with a pervy egotist (Ty Burrell) and a prima donna (Diane Keaton) as the leads. Out goes the creep, and in comes once-great news anchor Mike Pomeroy (Harrison Ford), dragged kicking and glaring by McAdams’ hap-hap-happy Becky Fuller. The film takes limp wimp shots at the news-or-glitter debate that befuddles newscasters, yet takes a full dive with an answer that is pure Reality TV Hollywood: Who cares about content, as long as people are buying. I’m not shocked. The rom-com is similarly dull as Patrick Wilson as Mr. Right for Ms. Fuller is so nice-guy blank, the character could have been played by Wilson the Ball from “Cast Away.” The cast saves the day. Ford plays his infamous cold personality to great effect, and Keaton is bubbly and winning, as she always is on camera. B-

Cowboys and Aliens (2011)

Yes, there are cowboys and aliens in “Cowboys & Aliens,” and also Native Americans, too, but that would have been one awkward title, right? “Cowboys & Indians & Aliens”? Movie posters and trailers for this western sci-fi mash-up have teased filmgoers for more than a year, luring us in with the wild idea of James Bond and Indiana Jones/Han Solo on horses blasting six-shooters at alien aircraft that would make Will Smith gawk and run back to Bel-Air.

Having now seen the film, I realize that’s all director John Favreau, his army (five! seven! more? I lost count) of screenwriters, and exec producers Ron Howard and Steven Spielberg had. An idea. Not much else. The movie is fun … kind of, a darkly serious and violent western that begins no different than, say, “High Plains Drifter” or “Rio Bravo.” We have the lone silent hero (Daniel Craig) who stumbles into town, gets himself knee deep in horse poop and ends up in jail. Then the bad guys attack and, oh my spoiler, Mr. Silent turns out to be Mr. Savior. You have seen this before, no? Harrison Ford plays a cattle boss named Dolarhyde, and with a name like that, you know he’s not passing out flowers.

So, yes, the aliens cause shit, lasso people up in the air with metallic wires, and fly off. And Craig’s Man with No Name and Ford’s Dolarhyde must pony up and save the day. The Native Americans come in later. I didn’t get any of their names as the characters are played almost painfully stereotypical. See, decades back, Native Americans were portrayed as savages. Ever since “Dances with Wolves,” Native Americans have been made so damn painfully proud and peaceful, one almost forgets they had a right to be pissed and violent – they were being slaughtered left and right by Europeans after all. That whole historic America was founded as a Christian nation thing that Republicans sell. If Jesus were a land-grabbing genocidal maniac.

Favreau dishes out some cool battles as alien aircraft blitzkrieg men on horses, with the latter being blown into bits in the air, and it all ends in an attack the (alien) fort climax, but none of it sticks. I’m 90 minutes past film’s end as I write this and it’s drifting from memory. There’s no kick, satire or mind screwy emotional power that made “District 9” one of the great surprise films of the past five years, nor is there a CGI effect that wows from eyes to the brain to the soul as did “Avatar.” Heck, check out the 1986 classic “Aliens.” That is a space western.

Planned and written by Hollywood committee, the movie seems to just think the very plot pitch of men named Craig and Ford on horses fighting bad-ass E.T.s is enough to win us over. Sorry. Craig is all glare and slow burn. He makes a damn good and dangerous cowboy – he lords over the rest of the cast. Alas, Ford’s town Thug King is a wash. Just as the character is getting good and bloody nasty, evil even, director and writers suddenly fold and make the guy all grand pop mushy, misunderstood and, well, boring. I bet Ford enjoyed playing the early portions.

Olivia Wilde (TV’s “House”) plays one of the few women on screen – seriously, there must have been a lot of gay cowboys out in this West – and must carry a character so bizarrely left-field, I never bought it. No one in the audience did, either. Laughs abounded. Not kind ones. She listlessly has to carry lines such as, “Don’t look into the light,” I immediately thought of that lady in “Poltergeist.” You know the one, the short woman with red hair. She’d have kicked this film up a notch. It does not help that Ms. Wilde appears as if she has returned from a spa. Her skin and hair are flawless. In 1890s desert. That’s more farfetched than gooey aliens killing hapless cowpokes.

For the record, the idea of cowboys shooting it out with aliens isn’t new, comic books were doing it when my father was a teen and a 1994 cheap flick called “Oblivion” have been there done that. That film was a hoot, a silly toss-off that cost less than the catering budget on “Cowboys & Aliens.” I giggled and cheered the thing as I watched it on a video rental. It’s set in an alternate American future-past and had a far more clever and outlandish plot. You’ll cry from laughter.

This isn’t a bad flick, not by far. An upside down riverboat casino in the Western desert is a brilliant set and design piece. Sam Rockwell entertains as a saloon owner named “Doc.” But when I and my wife walk out at the end of a film that has cowboys, aliens, Indians, spaceships, horses, the guy who directed “Iron Man,” James Bond and Indiana Jones slash Han Solo, and all we can talk about it is how cute the heroic dog was, then, buddy, the burnt coffee and crispy cows on screen ain’t the only thing stinking. (P.S. This is “The Godfather” compared to “Wild, Wild West,” a movie that almost killed a genre and Will Smith’s career. How’s that for a wrap around to the lede?) B-

Witness (1985)

I was raised in Philadelphia and spent a portion of every summer in or near Lancaster County, so watching Peter Weir’s “Witness” as a child was quite natural. I well knew the oddness of traveling from Philly’s concrete to Lancaster’s farms. That change is the heart of this thriller. Harrison Ford is John Book, a gruff Philly homicide detective suddenly in charge of an Amish boy (Lukas Haas) who witnesses a murder. The killers: Higher-ups in Book’s own department. Ambushed and wounded, Book books it for Amish Country, boy and his mom (Kelly McGillis) in tow. There, Book heals and immerses himself into the culture of a religious sect determined to ignore modern culture. Ford is great here, no sly winks as in “Indiana Jones.” Haas steals the film, all saucer–eyes full of curiosity and innocence that Book and the killers (led by Danny Glover) can’t even fathom. The climax has Philly’s violence coming hard to the country, and it is tense with one of the nastiest film deaths: Death by corn grain. Weir presents the Amish with awe and reverence, but still capable of prejudices and sin. The sexual content -- still controversial in Lancaster -- still pulsates. A

The "Star Wars" Trilogy (1977-1983)

These are my takes on the original versions, not the re-tooled versions, of the original and only trilogy. To use a terrible and unnecessary phrase, "Fuck them." Sorry, I said it. (There was a prequel trilogy, what?)

My childhood defined in a single film. "Star Wars." The 1977 science fiction master of all blockbusters is too deep within my DNA to mock, dismiss, or patronize. It is a religion to me. No, correct that, it is religion to me. Period. Untold hours of play and imagination, simply staring at the poster of the film. That said, this saga about an elderly warrior (Alec Guinness) and his young apprentice (Mark Hamill as Luke Skywalker) joining ... Oh, who am I kidding? Everyone knows this film. Onto the end: George Lucas re-made cinema and movies with this imaginative fun thrill ride, and I love it. In two hours he created a universe that exists in this geek's head as real as his hometown of Philly and his grandmother's house of cakes. But, boy, Lucas can't write a lick, and the acting is too uneven to ignore. "I have a bad feeling about this" can be (and maybe is) a drinking game. The grade is too high, for real. But I don't care. This is a great, mind-blowing film, just the desert town scenes alone, I drool, I dream, I love ... A+

"The Empire Strikes Back" is where George Lucas got smart and out-sourced. The sequel is not only the highlight of the series, but quite possibly one of the greatest fantasy films ever made. Hands down. It goes dark and deep, and yes, funny, as a wounded Luke (Mark Hamill) furthers his training under the wise and mysterious Yoda, and Han Solo (Harrison Ford) and Leigh (Carrie Fisher) meet the Dark Side in the clouds. The climax is a dizzying emotional and action powder keg as Luke learns who is daddy is, and Ford delivers the absolute perfect non-romantic romantic line of all time in the face of possible death. Seriously, the carbon freezing scene and "I know" literally is my favorite film scene ever, topped only by a breaking-bad Michael Corleone. And God bless John Williams. His score here is perfect, especially during the ugly scenes. Who's your daddy?, for sure. It's all so perfectly thrilling, I never want it to end. A+

"The Return of the Jedi" easily is the weak link in the trilogy's chain, yet one of the most thrilling moments of my young movie-going life. The film is book-ended by a fantastic Empire-centered opening then a fight in the desert between our heroes and a slimy wormy gangster named Jabba (start) and a rock solid, violent clash between Luke and Darth Vadar, plus a kick-ass space battle (end). In the middle are the Ewoks. Don't like the Ewoks? I ... know. It's easy to see what Lucas was going for: A Tolkein-like morality tale where the least of warriors (Tolkein had Hobbits, Lucas has midgets and children in cheap bear outfits) bring down the mightiest of fiendish rulers. It's a lame ass kid movie move to douse the dark heart at the center of the film, and the Ewoks do look like silly MiniMes of Wookies, but what was the alternative, an obvious Wookie battle? (OK, I want that.) Yet, I love most of this, the forest chase, that final fight, and by God I still have nightmares about the ugly desert mouth pit, and I was 9 when I saw this. The vaporish gas coming off Vadar's unmasked face, brilliant. Kills the flaws.  B+

P.S. When will Lucas make a new film? Y'know, an original film?

Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skulls (2008)

Indiana Jones is back, and he's in his 60s in the '50s. Get that?

Yet, the most striking change about "Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skulls" isn't Harrison Ford's age or new political games, it's the change in special effects and stunts. The "how'd they do that?" magic is gone in this fourth installment.

Dig it: I still gasp and stare in wonder as I did when I was a young boy in the cinema at the sights in "Raiders of the Lost Arc" (that boulder) and "Temple of Doom" (that cart ride).

Now, here, in 2008, we have a CGI digital Shia LaBeauf as Indy Jr. swinging on a digital vine in a digital jungle with digital warrior monkeys surrounding him, and it's just bad. Choke on popcorn bad.

The seems and effort don't just show, they defecate. This is not the Indiana Jones I love.

At least the plot is standard Indy, and still damn groovy, I admit: Indy learns of a direly important relic, and spends two hours battling a variety of villains for it. Boring? Pfft. Why mess with formula, pal?

Honoring the films of the 1950s, the villains are now Russian communists and the mythology of space aliens is introduced, and we see aliens. Beam me up. This is not a spoiler now unless you've been in solitary confinement for the past decade.

The alien slant has been a whipping point for many fans, but I don't mind. The plot brings to mind films such as "Earth Vs. The Flying Saucers," and it's clever in its own way. That's what audiences wanted back then. Why not, eh?

It's not like "Temple of Doom" played like a documentary. And does anyone think the whole phantom ghost face-melt thing in "Raiders" is anymore loose cannon than space aliens?

Producer George Lucas apparently wanted to do an all-out alien extravaganza, but Ford and director Steven Spielberg kept him somewhat at bay. Here, the seams show, too.

See: Alas, the aliens are CGI, too, cause it's the rage. And they look all CGI. Not Gollum-like real, but all green screen crap.

FYI: Cate Blanchett leads the villainous Russians, and she's a treat, a hot treat, if not an odd tip of the hat (and whip) to kinky S&M theater with her big black boots and ball-busting knees. That's certainly new.

I dig the lady, I'd watch her read "Police Academy" scripts.

Indy (and Ford) is a different man than he used to be. He's quick tempered, a deeper and darker frown on his face, not as spry as he used to be, and that's a treat. He's 65, so he won't be the same man running from boulders as he did in his late 30s.

Alas, he still pulls off stunts that would test a man in his 30s. Throughout. A long opening will test anyone's patience, and includes a nuclear bomb, a refrigerator and a desert rat thing that is just pure shit. Truly. Still. Still. He's still a powerful draw, and I mean Ford here. It's charisma, kid. Han Solo. For cryin' out loud.

Karen Allen also is back as Marion Ravenwood, the leading lady of "Raiders." So strong there. So OK here. But, it's good to see her. An older lady, my mother's age.

Alas, a word I over use, eh?, kick my crystal skull in, Shia LaBeauf is the mysterious Mutt Williams, living the life of Marlon Brando in "The Wild One" with a bike, black leather jacket and love of hair. It's he who ends up swinging on that ridiculous vine. Worst scene of the film, by far, in one that has many worst scenes. Nuked fridge.

His entire performance and existence is ridiculous. This guy is bad ass in the world of "The Muppet Show," maybe, but here? He's less than dust. LaBeauf does not belong. Fuck him.

Spielberg is on autopilot here, his heart is not in the game, but is there any other Hollywood director who's as good at action spectacle on even low rpm?

You can't help but get caught up in major portions of the film despite major elements (red scares and blacklisting) being introduced and then forgotten, holes that loom large (in that jungle chase scene, a two way dirt road appears where there was none before) and heavy exposition (there's a lot of dialogue involving, "Well, so and so told me zzzz").

At one point in the film, Jones bemoans the times -- more is being taken away from us now than is given. Indeed. If ever a film called for the death of CGI done by fat nerds sitting at computers, never having seen a mountain or monkey upclose, this is it.

This is a stepson of the franchise that defined my youth, well, second only to "Star Wars." A bastard stepson. But how could it not be so? It could not live up to expectation. Never had a chance. They wanted a throw back. And threw up. On us. The audience.

Let's all not do 5. C-