Dawn of the Planet of the Apes (2014)

This is a rebooted series miles above the original run of flicks that ruled cinemas 40 year back. A rare, dark, thinking person’s treat in the middle of summer, more interested in sparking hot debate and making audience squirm than serving up empty CGI fireworks. Seriously, put aside the Oscar-worthy 3-D motion capture effects –- all shot in forest and a city, not a sound stage –- and watch this story. “Dawn of the Planet of the Apes” picks up 10 years after 2011’s “Rise,” dumping its human cast (James Franco, bye) as we follow the primate survivors (Andy Serkis, you are a god) post bloody revolt and mass pandemic. This is the last encounter of ape and struggling humans –- led by an uncorked panicking Gary Oldman -- as the latter delve into the apes’ forest, to restart an electric dam. Any chance of interspecies peace is crushed under lingering wounds of the “old” world, and we enter a dark, new dystopian future the previous films merely hinted at. Director Matt Reeves has created a razor sharp sequel that, yes, may be inevitable, but it can still shock, too -- check an onscreen murder of a youth. Serkis is flat out amazing. A-

Much Ado About Nothing (2013)

Joss Whedon -– director of “Avengers,” creator of “Firefly” –- has adapted Shakespeare’s “Much Ado About Nothing” into a light and airy, black-and-white big-screen trip. The result is less movie and more “you have been invited to a weekend theater party” at Whedon’s own house no less, with his TV friends (Amy Acker, Alexis Denisof, Nathan Fillion, and Clark “Agent Coulson” Gregg) performing off the cuff and in the kitchen where last night’s dishes sit unwashed. Adorable. See, this “Much Ado” -– you either know the famous comedy about sex, dirty war, and feminine politics, or you are a home-schooled lonely Bible freak -- reminds us that these plays were not high-brow work for snobs, but blasts of escapist fun for the masses. The cast riffs and experiments on the dialogue and gender-flips roles, and some of it works, and what sinks has the beauty mark of trying something different. Fillion’s “police force,” which in modern day would not dither over infidelity and womanly virtues, seem to be having more fun than any group of people onscreen all summer long. Now, about that “Avengers” sequel… A-

The Wolverine (2013)

Does a bear shit in the woods? What about a Wolverine? 

In the opening minutes of “The Wolverine” -- the latest cinematic chapter of the X-Men mutant superhero saga -- we see the former, but thankfully never the latter as our fast-healing, metal-clawed, highly disgruntled hero Logan (Hugh Jackman) has taken to living in a remote Canadian cave to escape humanity. (OK, it’s a piss, not a shit, but damn the details. And if you don’t know who Wolverine is, just stop reading. I can’t help you.) This miserable life follows the unfortunate events of the unfortunate “X-Men: Last Stand” that left power-crazed Jean Grey dead by Wolverine’s claws. 

He killed her to save himself and the world, because that always happens in comic books. Yet, her ghost (Famke Janssen, also returning) appears in Wolverine’s dreams, her dressed in lingerie and in his bed as never happens in comic books. But this is the movie, and she’s not the only specter haunting Logan, whose only friend is now that bear. (Let the snickering begin.) Wolverine’s long past a century old, his genetically-mutated-at-birth healing powers keeping him eternally alive and at middle age. He has seen so much horror, death, and pain, his every moment is clouded by anger, ghosts and lost voices. 

Among the dark memories: His saving of a young Japanese prison guard as Nagasaki is obliterated by an American atomic bomb on 9 August 1945. That scene opens the film. The guard has since grown to become an old, dying billionaire owner of a tech company and he has plans for Logan: Mainly taking that eternal healing power for himself, allowing the Wolverine to finally die, and rest in longed for peace. And Logan indeed see his powers seeped away courtesy a villainous mutant known as the Viper (Svetlana Khodchenkova), a literal snake-like woman who excretes maddening and deadly poison. 

A now vulnerable Logan soon finds himself inside a ticking bomb Japanese samurai/gangster drama that touches government powers and includes the old guy’s 20-something granddaughter, Mariko (Tao Okamoto), who is the target of assassins, family jealousies, and dull acting. 

A wounded, bleeding, off-his-game Logan and the woman go on the run and on the train, to Nagasaki and beyond, all leading to a climax atop a high-tech castle that recalls at once samurai classic drama “Ran” and also – head desk slam -- every other freakin’ superhero movie made, most especially a metal man/monster right out of a certain Robert Downey Jr,. franchise starter. (Mimicry is, what, flattering?)

Comic book geeks such as myself -- weaned in the 1980s and on the high-mark of Wolverine’s Japanese origin stories, with him taking on black-clad ninjas in a snowy mountain village, no noise but the slicing of bodies and clanging of sword on claws in the cold snow -– have long looked forward to the story of Logan told on film. To the saga of Wolverine, it’s as important as Krypton to Superman. 

The 2009 “Origins” Wolverine prequel was a bust on every level, as we were robbed of this story that fired our imagination and made us feel like we were watching a forbidden film of grisly violence. So, this sequel provides a double-edged sword as we do –- finally! -– get to see that very story told. 

But –- head desk slam part two -– the showdown is dispatched in such a quick a flash, I felt gutted. Director James Mangold and his writers (Scott Frank and Mark Bomback, plus an uncredited script doctor Christopher McQuarrie, and Lord knows who else) already were pushing the PG-13 line with blood. Was this too far? Whatever the case, it disappoints. 

Yes, I’m on a fan boy nitpick. Screw my geeky expectations, right? OK. 

The film’s a mess in myriad ways leading to these final battles, from the listless romance between Logan and Mariko -- half the age of Jackman, and likely a tenth of Logan’s age, to the absolutely blank spot of villainy. We are served betrayals that fizzle, a big reveal that could only shock a comatose child, and as the main threat -– Viper, the snake woman with layers of skin –- a vapid actress unqualified to sneer candy from the grip of a baby. The film dies, I kid not, when Khodchenkova opens her mouth. (Language issue?) But she is not all to blame. It’s not just miscasting, the character of Viper has no motive, no purpose, she’s just there. She’s an afterthought in tight, ridiculously revealing outfits.

Maybe that’s enough for some filmmakers. (Mangold put Cameron Diaz through the clothes trials in “Knight and Day,” for sure.)

As Logan faces down enemies we don’t fear, fights for loves we don’t care about, and sees his powers restored -– naturally -– before any true pain hits, the razor sharp potential of this film is made soup spoon dull. I could not do better. But I expected better. Darren Aronofsky –- he made “Black Swan” and “Requiem for a Dream” –- was slated to direct this, and I marvel inside my own head at the film he could have made, talking Logan to the darkest reaches of a mind we see only hinted here. And putting buckets of blood on that snow. 

(The man cited family as a reason to not do the flick. Me, I think he wanted an “R” film, the studio tossed him aside. Such a rating would poison the box office. Bullshit logic. The movie opened soft anyway.) 

“Wolverine” is not terrible. Jackman is amazing, not just his bulked-out size, but the energy he brings to Logan. “X-Men” back in 2000 made the guy star, but he has stayed loyal to this character. Name another actor who has that dedication? If the film had his energy, it would be epic. But it’s only minor. Another scratch added to the list of disposable comic book movies that clog screens, not fill imaginations.

Stay for the end credits, a small teaser to the next “X-Men” film as two older gentlemen from the franchise take a defibrillator to this flick. Zap! The “ehh” audience I sat with got a jolt. I did. You will. Funny how I turn on myself, I’m growing tired of the genre, but bring on the next one, please. 

A question and from the first scene: How does Wolverine get taken prisoner in war to begin with, to set up this story? No answer there. B-

Before Midnight (2013)

During a summer heavy on superheroes and angry robots, “Before Midnight” is a miracle dose of meds against overindulgence. This is the third chapter in the “Before” series -– “Before Sunrise” came in 1995, “Before Sunset” nine years later -– that follows American writer Jesse (Ethan Hawke) and a French activist Celine (Julie Delpy). In 1995, they met on a train; in 2004, they fell in love; and here they as parents and a couple face head on and bite into each other over the hurdles and sacrifices of love and commitment. That they do this while vacationing in splendid Greece is called on even by the couple, as they also comment on the prior films as books as pretentious talkers. The film is all talk, loving and harsh, with actual adults using adult words about the things that matter -– career wars, regretted missed moments of parenting –- and it’s a sad commentary that such a film is rare. The dialogue pulsates as if every man and woman on screen barely knows what they will say next. Electric. Delpy, Hawke, and director Richard Linklater have collaborated on all three films, creating a treasured trilogy of films about all of us. Amazing. A

Prometheus (2012)

The must re-watch shocking, amazing, perplexing, fascinating film of the summer, maybe the year. “Prometheus” is not exactly an “Alien” prequel, but a smarter, darker great-grandparent to such a prequel, fueled with curiosity of beginnings and origins, but not just of the classic 1979 sci-fi horror film that set off a new genre and exploded my young mind, but where all life began. The questions and the answers here, as in life, vex more than soothe and settle, and I’d settle for nothing less. Weeks out, I still obsess about this entry.

“Alien” – for all its glorious cinematic blood and guts, big hidden ideas and woman as warrior hero/savior of a kitty, was sort of like “Jaws in Space,” a monster film. A  brilliant one, no less. With exploding-from-the-inside chests and a real Paranoid Android, thank you, Thom Yorke. I love that film, endlessly. This is far deeper, and comes from not just the mind of original director Ridley Scott, but co-screenwriter Damon Lindelof, the man behind the question-baiting, answer-withholding enigma-within-a-puzzle “Lost,” an absolute favorite TV show, and I don’t watch much TV shows.

All this in a summer flick, I love it. I digress. 

To the film: Despite the million bitch-and-moan reviews you see everywhere, those pointing out scenes don’t match up, we’re not even on the same planet -- LV-426 -- that Ripley et al landed on in our 1979, the movie’s 2122. Instead, here, much of the action takes place in the year 2093, on a moon dubbed LV-223, and believed to be the exact spot of the creation of humankind, all the universe, or so a series of ancient cave paintings tell two scientists, one a Christian named Shaw (Noomi Rapace of the European “Girl with the Dragon Tattoo” trilogy) and the other an agnostic hard-ass named Charlie (Logan Marshall-Green of “Devil”). The two brains become the center of a $1 trillion, multi-year mission to find the planet, and meet our makers, God, or –- so dubbed here –- The Engineers. (Go engineers!)

Yes, things go bad soon after touchdown and a non-human, but definitely hand-built massive structure, is explored, and bodies are ripped apart, stomachs opened, and -– in one nasty scene -– a worm crawls out of a person’s eyeball. (I refuse to give any spoilers, so I’m being as vague as possible here, but think this: Worst science class field trip ever.) But this isn’t a B-horror movie, it’s Scott’s bid to give us a pre-telling of not just “Alien,” but possibly “2001: A Space Odyssey,” every great science fiction film ever made, including “Blade Runner,” and our own lives. Connections to the 1979 flick are ... on your own to figure out, off screen, before or after this action.

“Alien” is just one child of this movie, this story, this Father. So many more films are wide open to explore, even those closer to home than anything in the films we all know and love, save Parts 3 and 4, and anything with “Predator” in the title. To wit: Dig the opening scene in which a massive, ivory-colored being drinks a strange, harsh potion atop a massive waterfall, and immediately starts to literally crumble. From the inside out. A disc, flat then tall, hovers above. He falls, splashes dead into the water, and his decaying cells are reborn in the water into new live, and we can flash guess from the next jump to Scotland, we just saw the birth of humans on Earth. All us.

In a summer flick. (Have I mentioned that before? Call me smitten.)

It’s not a perfect film, too many of the scientists, engineers, doctors and brainiacs aboard the ship must act foolish in order to meet their end, and a late-in-the-game self-surgery procedure (the film’s biggest talk-about-it scene that will live on infamy and YouTube clips for decades) would lay a person flat for a week, but the wildly resilient character bounces back far too quickly. (Note: The person ingests and injects enough drugs to kill every member of Guns N’ Roses, so the script leaves wiggle room on that point. Almost.) 

But damn the nitpicks, I loved it all, from the sound design, the vast sets of the human space craft (the ironic title of the film is its name) to the caverns of the alien temples and spacecraft, and Michael Fassbender’s David, an android with no outward feelings or emotion, but all too aware that as his creators -– mankind -- are all capable of being flawed, hopeless, hopeful, beautiful, addictive, messy, psychotic, murderous, and kind, why cannot man’s Creator also be that. Scott even plays off of Fassbender’s godly good-looks and stranger-among-strangers post as David obsessively watches and mimics Peter O’Toole’s performance in “Lawrence of Arabia.” Even the 3D version rocks, including the surgery scene, and the eyeball, quite effective. Also, will someone please nominate Fassbender for an Oscar already, the man from “Shame" near owns this epic tale.

This “prequel’ is no “Thing 2011” rehash -– that’s the worst this film could be –- Scott is shooting for the heavens, the stars, and beyond, and that’s something to celebrate during a summer of caped hero movies and Adam Sandler comedies. Let the uncut, full, master version of Scott’s vision come quick. God may be in the details. Imperfections and all, this is my kind of summer flick. Bravo to all. A  

Men in Black 3 (2012)

All time travel plots defy logic: If you go back in time to kill Hitler as a child, the absence of an adult Hitler will negate the need to jump back, which means Hitler will rise. But we still love the idea, right? “Men in Black 3” adds a time travel trick hat to its black suits, ties and sunglasses, and the effort further tarnishes the first outing about top secret agents K (Tommy Lee Jones) and J (Will Smith) and a secret police force that patrols alien life on Earth. Here, an old nemesis of K’s jumps back to 1969 to kill him as part of an elaborate revenge tactic. In present day NYC, Agent K is dead 43 years, and only J inexplicably remembers him. So back J goes to save K. Ill-conceived from first frame to last, nothing makes sense, not even on the wide girth of a summer flick about aliens, ray guns, Andy Warhol, and moon prisons. The chemistry between Smith and Jones is shit, derailed by Jones’ pained disinterest. Huge props to Josh Brolin as a young K, nailing a TLJ impression so dead-on it deserves its own film, not this crap sequel. C+

13 Assassins (2011)

I saw “13 Assassins” smack dab in the middle of this summer, and suddenly every rote dish of super heroes and fighting robots fell away. This is what an action/thriller is supposed to be – a sense of living in the moment, where anything can happen, and yet the filmmaker ups the ante. Director Takashi Miike’s kick-ass film is a bloody violent and smart return to the samurai genre, worthy of Kurosawa’s “Ran” and “Throne of Blood.” The plot is a classic staple: An aging warrior (Kōji Yakusho) is given a suicidal task he welcomes for he will die in battle. His target: Lord Naritsugu (Gorô Inagaki), a sadistic Shogun who zealously enjoys murder and rape. The massive end battle is a brilliant game of chess: Every grisly move and horrifying trap is a planned strategy to dismantle the enemy. The title’s 13 warriors give as good as they take, and in a wild card act, Naritsugu enjoys the chaos. There’s wit abounding, and the supernatural acts of gods and spirits if you’re looking. In a summer of mostly underwhelming calculated hits, Miike stands tall, sword in hand, splattered with the blood of lesser films, ready for more challengers. I doubt there will be any this year. A