Ant-Man (2015)

Marvel’s other big 15 summer flick “The Avengers: Age of Ultron” was so dense with heroes and villains, watching it near required a flow chart even for a die-hard geek such as myself. So Marvel goes literally small with “Ant-Man,” the latest hero to hit the screen. 

Paul Rudd is Scott Lang, a Robin Hood ex-con recruited to take on the heroic identity of Ant-Man –- a hero who can shrink to the size of an ant, retain incredible strength, and control insects –- by a genius inventor/scientist (Michael Douglas) who once wore the suit. 

Aged out, Douglas’ Hank Pym (the same character also is The Beast in the X-Men films) needs Rudd’s Lang to steal vital tech from a greedy CEO (Corey Stoll) up to no good. That’s it. Not a city is destroyed. Just a building. And a house. 

And I’m thankful for that. The epic destruction climaxes can get tiring. And, thankfully, tongues are in cheek for much of the running time.A climatic fight involves a Thomas the Tank Engine being thrown about. From the eyes of a child, it’s a tiny toy falling off a track. To our hero, it’s a devastating near-death encounter. That scene kicks. 

Now the magnifying glass. Director Peyton Red infamously picked up the lead reins from geek-favorite Edgar Wright (“Shaun of the Dead”) after the latter quit, squashed by Marvel Corp. meddling. 

The cracks show. That Thomas daft bit is pure Wright. But when the main story stops hard to intro an Avengers sidebar, the movie flops. Anthony Mackie’s Falcon appears, Chris Evans’ Captain America gets name dropped. The whole plot of “Avengers 2” is discussed in a conversation so awkward Douglas squirms. He has no idea what he is mouthing off. 

Look, I dig Marvel, I love Marvel, and it wants a tie-in universe seamless and pure, and I want what Marvel wants. Just like the comic books where stories such as “Secret Wars” crossed a dozen or so titles. I get it. 

But, left alone and given free will, Wright’s movie may have been the biggest blast of Marvel fresh air since “Guardians of the Galaxy.” Wild daft fun; us not knowing what the hell might happen, or who might say what. That movie felt like a daring gamble.

This is flat boring, not a bet. Not a single surprise moment, Thomas engine aside. When hero Ant-Man can’t stop talking about how much he loves his little princess girl, who the hell is the bad guy going to go after? This is a screenplay beaten into submission. By committee. 

It doesn’t help that Stoll’s villain, who becomes the menacing Yellow Jacket, with the similar powers to Ant-Man, never once registers. He’s psycho from minute one, a barking madman who hardly seems capable of running a treadmill, much less a massive company. And how ever did he become a super villain? Where did he train? How? 

Enough bitching, what does work here is Rudd’s solid performance. He’s likable. He’s funny. But he looks like he can handle himself in a fight. Douglas is spry as well. He throws a punch. It looks good. 

Also –- and I hate to go happy on special effects when story suffers so -- but the shots of Ant-Man tiny against backgrounds that are macrophotography blown out is crazy fun. That Thomas train, or Ant-Man using a Lifesaver to save his life. (And young Michael Douglas is epic!) Reed and his VFX team knock it out of the ballpark. 

Kudos to the computer geeks and camera crews. But no matter how good the art was in the thousands of comic books I collected and read, the stories kept bringing back. And this story has nothing to sell. B-

The Game (1997)

David Fincher’s red-herring thriller “The Game” failed with most mainstream critics. I loved it. I just saw a different movie. “Game” is a deceitful movie about the deceit of movie-making, the Hollywood button-pushing that we know is fiction, but that we get sucked up into: Drama, action, comedy. The edits, camera angles, lights, sound effects: We know it’s fake, but we buy in bulk. We get involved. The plot: Michael Douglas is soul-dead San Fran multimillionaire Nicholas Van Orton who accepts a “gift” from his baby brother (Sean Penn), a vacation that comes to him at home and office, a personalized attack that crushes and removes every instinct Nic has built, bought, and forged, starting with a TV with its own mind and running past a crashed cab in deep water. The plot is preposterous, of course, but it’s on purposefully so, this beautiful nasty meta-film of a film stars a man who has bought into his own Hollywood thriller by choice, we the audience running with him. By choice. Douglas -– the symbol of amoral America during the 1980s –– is perfectly cast as a vastly unlikable man who we root for quickly. We are him. A

Last Vegas (2013)

The pitch for “Last Vegas” must have sounded thusly, “It’s the ‘Hangover,’ but with old people!” But PG-13, of course. Impossible to hate, difficult to love, “Last” stars Michael Douglas, Morgan Freeman, Kevin Kline, and Robert De Niro as life-long pals raised in a sunny, racially-harmonic 1950s Brooklyn straight out of Quebec that reunite decades later after the hot-shot playboy millionaire –- that’s Douglas -– finally decides to marry. The bride is 31 years old. Naturally, the pals fret. So Vegas, lots of booze and gambling, lots of fighting with automatic car doors and cell phones, and lots of wide-eyed stares at the shiny world. Then the quartet throw a raucous bachelor party that attracts the MTV crowd with one big ick moment: A college-aged girl tosses her naked body at Kline’s married horn dog, just hours after she tells him he looks exactly like her granddad. He demurs, but for oral sex, and comes out the hero. The incest remark goes unnoticed. The only reason to watch “Last” -- much like “Stand Up Guys” -– is to see great actors slightly tweak characters they played long ago in far better movies. It’s barely enough. B-

Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps (2010)

It’s been ages since I saw Oliver Stone’s “Wall Street.” The 1987 classic is a blur to me, but Michael Douglas’ portrayal of Gordon Gekko – the hedonistic shark who swum in evil – remains in memory. Who knew a whole generation of real Wall Street tycoons would take Gekko as God, and bring about economic turmoil that nearly crippled our nation? With Stone’s return to Gekko’s world, I thought the man would burn furiously as he tackles the 2008 economic crash. No. Forget the trading floor, this is a dead slaughterhouse of missed opportunities, ham-fisted symbolism, and an outrageously happy climax that betrays every point that comes before it, and every principle held by those who distrust unguarded capitalism. We focus on hothead stockbroker Jake (Shia LaBeouf), whose girlfriend (Carey Mulligan) is the daughter of Gekko, himself eight years out of prison. Gekko sees our hero as an “in” to his daughter; Jake sees Gekko as an “in” to ambition. This triangle raises questions it can’t answer, including, “Why would a left-wing reporter who hates Wall Street live with a stock broker cub shark?” Pathetically, Stone no longer cares if “greed is good” or not as he races to a ludicrous ending. D

Haywire (2012)

Steven Soderbergh’s “Haywire” exists for one reason: To show mixed-martial arts fighter Gina Carano kick the snot out of such Hollywood heartthrobs as Channing Tatum, Michael Fassbender, and Ewan McGregor. She does this exceedingly well. The fight scenes are fast, feel brazenly real, and contain none of the CGI’d wirework gunk that turns most female vigilante flicks into fetishized trash. I’m looking at you, “Underworld.” When Tatum pummels Carano in the opening scene, the sight is shocking. Carrano gives back, brutally. Alas, the action is all that’s worth noting as the story (by Lem Dobbs, who wrote Soderbergh’s “Limey”) is a merry-go-round of betrayals so outlandishly unbelievable and confusing, I gave up tracking details and dialogue. Speaking of, and I pray I never meet Carano, but her delivery is tepid, with at least half her words red-flagged as post- production re-recording. She has a tough screen presence, but so much of this film is awkward talk that it feels long at 93 minutes. In a sequel, Carano must fight Liam Neeson. Fact. B-

Solitary Man (2010)

Michael Douglas is amazing. In the opening of “Solitary Man,” he provides a lesson in acting. He is Ben Kalmen, a wildly successful car salesman -- happy, dressed in a suit that shouts relaxed and confident. He’s set to golf with his pal, the family doctor. Ben is all smiles. Then doc dishes bad news. It’s your heart, something is wrong. The camera moves in and the sound goes down, and you can see Douglas play out every fiber of a man’s crashing soul -– shock, fear, desperation and panic. We jump six months. Ben has destroyed his family. He drinks. He picks up woman -- willing, desperate or just there. He would rather explode than flame out. “Man” is uneasy, funny and smart –- it offers no judgments or answers. Susan Sarandon is the painfully saint ex-wife, Jesse Eisenberg is a college naive, and Imogen Poots the 18-year-old that Ben beds. Told you it wasn't easy. The ending is perfect. B+