Category: Film Reviews

Discover sharp, unapologetic film reviews from Stephen Lovelette. Whether dissecting superhero cinema, indie dramas or cult favorites, these critiques cut through the noise with wit, insight and a fearless voice. Explore honest takes on modern film — written to challenge, amuse and compel.

Vanessa Kirby as Sue Storm channels cosmic energy in Fantastic Four (2025)

The Fantastic Four: First Steps

On By Stephen LoveletteIn Film ReviewsLeave a comment

Marvel returning to form.

Color me impressed.

The term blockbuster should carry more weight. All big-budget summer films fall under that umbrella, but it ought to mean more – like: worth seeing on the big screen. As if the filmmakers made something big-budget and inspired. Or better yet…

Worth seeing in IMAX.

Where the comic brands diverge.

Compare this to DC, which did not put its large-screen resources to good use. Fantastic Four feels designed for IMAX – whereas Superman feels digitally formatted to pass as IMAX. You can feel the difference. One justifies the format. The other hopes you won’t notice.

That’s why the unique release schedule makes sense. Fantastic Four gets a two-week IMAX run – double the usual.

The ticket costs $31.35, which is approaching outrageous. But it’s worth paying the premium for this one. Budget accordingly. Skip two or three forgettable films so you can afford this.

Some people hear my criticism about the excessive volume in modern blockbusters and immediately push back.

“I didn’t notice anything wrong with the volume,” they say.

…usually the same people who don’t mind CGI.

Volume Control

Fantastic Four is loud, but never too loud. Machinery crashes together, characters exchange blows, objects rocket through deep space – but none of it grates. The sound is sharp yet velvety.

Sensible, considering the ambition of the story.

The baby effects are outstanding. No uncanny weirdness. Just charm.

The opening scene is predictable, but the plot steadily improves – unfolding in unexpected directions.

Using the colossal screen.

The villain choice is bold. Possibly the most invulnerable character in comic history. Usually too difficult to bring to live action, but here Marvel succeeds completely. A near-impossible story element, adapted with precision and confidence.

The scenes involving this massive character overflow the screen with commanding visuals – absolutely made for IMAX.

Action sequences are balanced, grounded, and clear. The fantasy mechanics are acceptable. The fictional science doesn’t distract.

There’s consistent, understated humor that doesn’t try too hard. The drama may not surprise, but it compels.

Many of the usual Marvel trappings have been stripped away. There are too many shots of civilian life for my taste, but they contribute to a tone Marvel’s trying to build. Still – I’m not a fan of this trend. I don’t need to see my fellow viewers on screen.

Marvel’s new love for everyday nobodies – extras treated like heroes – just distracts. I came to watch heroes, not audience stand-ins. It shrinks the myth.

The Silver Surfer

Changing the gender is bold – not political, just creatively sharp. It opens new angles without preaching. Smart.

Like Ben, The Thing, SS is a completely CGI humanoid. Both rendered excellently – Silver surfs molten lava. Ben lifts a Volkswagen.

Mr. Fantastic stretches minimally – and that’s for the best. His superpower should be flexed the least on-screen.

The final bit with the car seat – three grown men fumbling like sitcom dads – feels like a studio-mandated chuckle. Pointless.

An excellent example of Disney doing what it does best. A well-packaged narrative, executed so proficiently, the content commands attention beyond the screen.

Here, Disney folds narrative into structure – making the title card and the rolling credits feel less like bookends, more like part of the plot.

In reviewing Snow White, I highlight an event that communicates back with the preceding title card. Fantastic Four transitions cleanly from the film’s end into an engaging form of rolling credits. Music pulls us forward. The screen holds us. Then – an early-credits sequence.

A thoughtful coda. Marvel gives us one last experience before sending us back to real life – an event that transitions us to the next.

It doesn’t end with a bang or a wink – it ends with control. Theatrical restraint. A blockbuster that earns its screen time.

And for once, you leave not just impressed – but grateful.

★★★ ★★★ ★★★

Compact versions here: IMDb & Letterboxd.

The main players featured in my Windy City Heat review

Windy City Heat

On By Stephen LoveletteIn Film ReviewsLeave a comment

A fascinating failure. Or maybe a one-of-a-kind success – depending on your tolerance.

For a film available to stream in full on YouTube, you could do a lot worse.

To call it imperfect is generous – yet it’s still noteworthy in its uniqueness. Not exactly recommendable, but undeniably interesting. Film fans may find it worth a look for that reason alone.

The Most Expensive Prank Ever

This was a major undertaking: a fully staged feature-length prank targeting one man, Perry Caravello, who believes he’s starring in a legitimate Hollywood movie. That premise is both the film’s genius and its moral liability.

Does Perry truly believe it? That question lingers throughout. He is such a bizarre, dislikable figure – loud, crass, oblivious. The audience is asked to laugh at him, yet it’s hard not to feel some level of pity. He has almost no redeeming qualities, which complicates the comedy. His dialogue is endlessly cringeworthy. Redemption would have helped.

Still, the production is wildly ambitious.

They filmed in the rain – literally. You see the lens dripping. Actors soaked. Dialogue delivered mid-downpour. It shouldn’t work, and often doesn’t – but that’s part of the joke.

Adam Carolla appears as a gladiator and delivers one of the film’s most impressive moments: Steering Perry into absurd improvisation while the skies unload. Props to the Ace Man.

Cast Breakdown

The acting is a mixed bag. Don Barris gives the strongest performance, finding realism in even the wildest improv. His scenes – especially when berating Perry’s assistant – are darkly funny and oddly grounded.

Tony Barbieri, by contrast, is overamped. The wig distracts. He’s sweaty, hyped, a little too eager to jump in. He still serves the gag but rarely elevates it.

Bobcat Goldthwait (as the film’s director) is fantastic. He uses a megaphone in every scene – including behind-the-scenes moments – and his improv often shifts the direction of scenes in real time. His presence offers occasional meta-commentary on Hollywood absurdity.

The smaller players shine. Perry’s assistant nails every cue. The fake love interest delivers an inspired Hepburn impression – made funnier by the fact Perry doesn’t notice. (The fact that he doesn’t know might be the film’s most damning detail.)

The limo driver, gay costumer, supermarket owner – all bring over-the-top, believable chaos. Even a single-line bit from “the stuntman” lands perfectly, escalating an already bizarre sequence.

Final Notes

The last scene, featuring The Big Three on Jimmy Kimmel Live, closes the loop with one final prank. It’s easy to understand why Kimmel has since distanced himself from the film. Its content feels misaligned with Kimmel’s current image.

The editing is jagged. The production, shoddy. But for a prank film made in the early 2000s – with cameras trying to capture unpredictable chaos – it’s admirable how much they pulled off.

Verdict

Windy City Heat is an artifact. If you’re interested in cult comedy, deep cringe or the limits of practical performance – this film belongs on your syllabus. Everyone else can skip it without guilt.

★★★★★

For briefer takes check: IMDb & Letterboxd.

For a better free-to-stream The Transformers: The Movie.

Superman looks to the side while standing on a sunlit city street

Superman

On By Stephen LoveletteIn Film ReviewsLeave a comment

Zack Snyder had the right idea.

Superman always works.

But sometimes, different doesn’t mean better.

“A nice new change of pace” is NOT an apt description here.

The MCU wouldn’t even exist without Superman.

Hero #1

He’s the original cape. The figurehead of comic books. He deserves a better tribute – realism, a grounded viewer, relatability.

Superman is the everyman. The most virtuous expression of American male decency. He’s our collective spokehole.

So his dog should behave better. This isn’t some schlub.

Krypto has never appeared in a live-action film before – and for good reason.

The dog is CGI for the entire film. It looks clearly animated in every moment. Our main character has a deus ex machina at his beck and call. It never stops barking or biting at ankles. This loser can’t control his dog – isn’t that relatable?

The use of CGI is this film’s biggest problem. It assumes the audience will accept any and all animation as part of reality’s fabric: a flying villain in the beginning, Superman’s robots, both giant monsters (one standing, one flying), Green Lantern’s constructs, etc.

#3 Green Lantern of Earth

The choice to use Guy Gardner is one of the film’s few inspired decisions. Nathan Fillion is excellent, as always. The man’s a true pro – enjoyable.

Most viewers recognize Nathan Fillion. That’s the first red flag – because nobody wants to critique him. That casting choice functions as a critic shield.

The Justice Gang, in general, feels tacked on and shoddy. Makeup and wardrobe underdeliver. Hawkgirl looks like a woman who put too much effort into comic con. Lantern too.

Mister Terrific

Steals the show.

Such a difficult character to pull off in live-action – and the film mostly succeeds here.

Not a Mysterious Cameo

A new character appears just before the conclusion. High-powered and beloved – even I got excited by the momentary glimpse. However, the character serves Gunn’s ‘socially practical’ directing method more than the story.

A fleeting piece of overindulgence. Its presence doesn’t serve the plot we’ve just watched. Where were they during this most recent turmoil?

Teasing Clark, jokily cursing at him. Which is fun – but does nothing. Surface-level, unsubstantial, gimmicky.

Warner Brothers has repackaged Superman to be more likeable and mainstream. That’s much easier to do with unabashed use of cheats like CGI, green screen and avoiding location shoots. Using masked background actors (like the Earth police force) or post-production sound editing (like ADR).

Speaking of audio, the film is often too loud. Especially during pummelings. This points to a self-conscious approach to filmmaking.

Characters often talk over each other. Feels very Blue Beetle-y – the worst DC film ever produced. Another Gunnified piece. Children interact this way, not adults.

Superman packs similar material. The creators ensured that no evidence of harm came to any individual adult. Superman even wants to tranquilize the kaiju so they can study it.

But this is absurd and nonsensical. Given its size, we must assume that casualties have already occurred. Why would Superman think there’s time for tranquilization? Each wasted moment could cost hundreds of lives.

There are two moments involving CGI squirrels. Superman saves one. Isn’t that…bland?

James Gunn

Everybody’s favorite director came out hot with The Belko Experiment and Guardians of the Galaxy. Small and big. Both excellent.

But Guardians 2 was only okay. Guardians 3 was inadequate. [The holiday special’s better.]

And The Suicide Squad did not prove to be as good – or as life-changing – as people made it out to be. It certainly did not upgrade from the previous version. The film featured a starfish-shaped kaiju, rendered in computer graphics no less.

It’s nice that people are supportive, but Clark’s story deserves inspired direction. This is cookie-cutter filmmaking. Nothing edgy or compelling to the narrative.

The first film delivers the viewer a universe of endless possibility.

He should appear like a firefly in a coal mine. Here, he’s a beacon illuminating infinite tunnel potential – seemingly boundless choice.

Stick to the Universe

Not exciting compared with Snyder’s motivation. This takes things in a decidedly different direction. This isn’t so much Kal’s Earth as it is everybody’s Earth.

Rather – everybody’s socially acceptable Earth. Irritating personality quirks and all.

This is “Aw, shucks” Superman with his podunk parents. He’s just doing his best, ya know?

That instinct – to attempt something different – is good. It allows the film one of its best moments with Pa Kent.

It’s just not that interesting. Yes, it’s different. It’s NOT better.

Not trying to waste my free time on dull-edged Superman. I go to the theater for an experience – not more of the same thing everyone’s doing.

But DC and James Gunn made that choice. This should be better, people. So time to get in line.

Snyder set too high a bar. If Gunn’s Superman had come before Man of Steel, this incarnation might be more acceptable. But instead, it illustrates submission to public opinion – and a broader de-elevation of the DC brand.

★★★★

Briefer thoughts at IMDb & Letterboxd. Or check out The Fantastic Four: First Steps instead!

Scarlett Johannson in Jurassic World: Rebirth

Jurassic World: Rebirth

On By Stephen LoveletteIn Film ReviewsLeave a comment

The Franchise Status

Seven Jurassic films so far, including the Park trilogy and the World quadrilogy.

  • Jurassic World is fine. Not life-changing but acceptable.
  • Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom is excellent. Never receives adequate credit.
  • The last installment, Jurassic World: Dominion, was terrible. Almost no redeeming qualities. Colossally uninspired.
  • Rebirth is also un-good.

Re-extinction Repackaged

Dinosaurs occupy a narrow equatorial band – the only place on Earth still capable of sustaining them. Re-extinction is imminent.

This info is central and uncompelling, but repeated several times. As if that’s all the story really is. As if this vague environmental pressure somehow provides a dramatic engine. It doesn’t.

The glorification of the majesty of dinosaurs? Tiresome at best.

Characters say drop-plotty clunkers like:

“It’s a flying carnivore the size of an F16!”

Redundance. Comparing a fake dinosaur to a military aircraft I’m vaguely familiar with. Too much in-moment math for this brain. That doesn’t feel like something a museum curator would say.

How about:

“It’s gonna eat your head, girl!”

Some Praise, Briefly

Rebirth is effective in creating raw tension. The material is unelevated—though slightly more so than the previous incarnation. Still, the story feels cheap. Thin. Disposable.

The Real Problem

This outlines everything wrong with Hollywood nowadays.
The deformed and unevolved IP reflects a good idea that has run its course.
The writing lacks quality and takes a firm anti-humanity stance.

It continues its misguided recent trend: still the feeble attempt to unearth a sociopolitical undercurrent. Dinosaurs are dying and whose fault is it? Humans. And their love of climate change.

Plot mechanics feel tired and predictable.

The Cold Open

Best part of the film. Despite being equally thin.

A Snickers bar wrapper (CGI) flutters free from a technician’s grasp. Animated trash which gets sucked into a door-based ventilation intake. This action triggers CGI smoke and sparks, causing the door-shutting mechanism to malfunction.

This resembles Final Destination: Bloodlines, which uses the same storytelling technique. A CGI object triggers an unclear mechanical malfunction that the audience must simply accept.

Why would an air intake system intersect with the electrical circuit of a door shut mechanism? Does the intake power the pneumatic system that drives the doors’ self-closing function? Then an electrical system shouldn’t short. If it’s actually a door-based component of the HVAC, the intake operates at an excessively high level.

This is BAD WRITING, proverbial reader. An animated bandaid.
Not clever product placement. LAZY FILMMAKING.

Releasing this candy wrapper has dire consequences. A monstrosity emerges. Due to…what exactly? The folly or unprofessionalism of this dino-scientist? This mutation testing facility conducts morally ambiguous experiments. So part of the evil zookeeping society grows too greedy to avoid candy bars in his radiation suit? Or is he so careless that he litters in a sterile laboratory, thus leading to the release of an evil dino mutant?

Thus Dr. Frankenstein is killed by his own monster. We’re not supposed to sympathize with their not-so-tragic fate.
Or are we?

This plot element will come back into play exactly when the audience expects. Unleashing havoc on the organic Earth beings.

Because they’re conducting tests, you see. The vile human race. Those lousy SOBs can’t help but mutate what is already unnatural. Could you resist such temptation? I can’t. I mutate every rabid dog and serial killer I meet.

So…what?

The problem is, there is no weight to this.
An evil zookeeper accidentally unleashes a monster. And it’s not helpful to the main characters.

Insert Diversity Here

A Spanish family joins our predicament – a dad and three kids. They jam into the story alongside the main crew. One of the kids, a teenager named Xavier, bears a Puerto Rican name that many mispronounce. This mispronunciation runs rampant throughout.

If these characters were from Puerto Rico, as the dialogue implies, they would pronounce it correctly.

This Hispanic family distracts from the development of the main plot. They serve as a weak device, like Dinostein’s Monster, meant to inject culture without any substantial knowledge of the actual culture they represent.

Some writer looked at a map of Gulf islands & a list of local names, decided this is how to resolve the glaring lack of Spanish speakers in the main cast.

Performance in Spite of It All

Scarlett delivers a seamless performance in her poorly written role. Always a proficient technician. This is a true career actress, retaining a level of professionalism even when working for the paycheck. Nonetheless it is not a believable performance.

Her character feels as artificial as the remaining cast.

But her main superpower?

Awareness of events from the film she didn’t participate in.

One particular moment: An interaction separate from her. A character’s actions suddenly come into question for no significant reason. There is no cause to suspect foul play.

And yet – when her new adversary reveals a shaky moral code, Scarlett responds with:

“I knew it!”

But the question remains: How?

I’ve been thinking about it and have come up with the answer:

Scarlett Johansson is God along the Jurassic equator.

Such a bold narrative choice! Count me in for another trilogy.

★★

For briefer thoughts: IMDb & Letterboxd.

Faora wearing Kryptonian armor and helmet in Man of Steel (2013)

Man of Steel

On By Stephen LoveletteIn Film ReviewsLeave a comment

Superman has numerous powers.
Too many, right? I once thought so.
But that’s a surface-level misunderstanding – one born of parody, not canon.

Detective Comics

DC doesn’t write books by listing new powers like bullet points. Clark’s core abilities are constant. They exist to serve the story, not overwhelm it. And that story – the real one – is deeper, richer; more substantial than most people are acquainted with.

I thought I knew Superman.

Faster than a speeding bullet!
Able to leap tall buildings in a single bound!
More powerful than a locomotive!

“Look! Up in the sky!”
“It’s a bird!”
“It’s a plane!”
“No, it’s Superman!”

Those are the lines.
But they were never the point.
The story is the point.

The Rotten Tomatoes Disservice

Man of Steel remains one of the most unfairly dismissed films of the past decade. Its Rotten Tomatoes score – 57% – has branded it “rotten” from the outset. But that score doesn’t reflect its quality. It illustrates a misunderstanding of what the film is trying to do.

Many critics resorted to vague complaints about “tone” and “direction,” often struggling to identify specific failings. Some disliked the film’s intensity, citing the destruction and danger as “too much.” The sound of automatic gunfire, the collapse of buildings, the terror of watching humanity scramble against impossible odds – it all felt too heavy, too loud.

But that weight is exactly what gives Man of Steel its power.

The Necessity of Consequence

If Superman is to exist in a grounded, realistic world, then the world must feel real when he fights. The destruction isn’t gratuitous – it’s logical. You don’t have an alien invasion without consequence. You don’t face off against Kryptonians in the heart of a city without collateral damage. If skyscrapers fall, it’s because they would. If soldiers fire their weapons, it’s because they must.

The film doesn’t flinch away from this. And why should it? The point isn’t devastation for its own sake – it’s scale, stakes and truth.

Superman isn’t just powerful. He’s responsible. Man of Steel honors that weight.

A Grounded Reimagining

A film about choice.
Clark doesn’t stumble into heroism. He earns it – through loss, hesitation and moral decision-making.

The film builds a myth that respects intelligence. Jor-El and Lara are scientists, not mystics. Krypton isn’t just a backdrop – it’s a civilization in decline. General Zod isn’t evil in the traditional sense – he’s terrifying because he believes he’s right.

And that matters. Because Clark has to confront what he might have become.

When Zod hijacks Earth’s televisual broadcast to speak to the world – it’s chilling. His flickering, staticky broadcast feels like an intrusion. Like a terrorist signal cutting through national borders. There’s something unsettling about how plausible it is. That moment, more than anything, shows what the film gets right: it understands fear. It understands awe.

The Snyder Vision

Zack Snyder is often misunderstood. People call his work “style over substance,” but that’s lazy criticism.
In Man of Steel, the style is substance.

The camerawork is intimate and deliberate. The flashback structure fragments the origin story in a way that mirrors Clark’s inner dislocation – one moment he’s a child, the next he’s lost in the world, then suddenly he’s something more.

Kevin Costner is magnetic as Jonathan Kent – quiet, conflicted, principled. Diane Lane brings warmth and steadiness as Martha. Michael Shannon’s Zod commands the screen with tragic conviction. Amy Adams gives us a Lois Lane who’s smart, grounded and emotionally tuned. And Henry Cavill – measured, noble, physically exacting – is the most believable Superman in decades.

The CGI is precise and atmospheric. Krypton feels fully realized, not sketched. The fights are fast, disorienting, but never meaningless. Every punch has gravity. Every blast of force changes the geography.

Snyder directs the action with real weight – not just visual heft, but moral weight. This isn’t spectacle for its own sake. It’s action that reflects power, and the consequences of power.

A Better Tomorrow

This is the Superman who hides in shadows. The one who’s feared before he’s embraced. A man unsure of what he’s meant to be until the moment requires him to be it.

The myth is here – but it’s repurposed for a modern framework.
Hans Zimmer’s score – soulful, slowly building, pulsing with restraint. It suits this Superman: less boy scout, more bruised idealist. A man who wants to do good – but isn’t yet sure how.

That moral confusion isn’t a weakness of the film – it’s the focus.

Truth, Justice & The American Way

The only other screen adaptation that captures Superman this fully – without requiring a dive into comics – is Superman: The Animated Series. That show, like this film, took Krypton seriously. It built a society with consequences. A people worth mourning. A world that matters.

Man of Steel belongs in that tier.

It’s a balanced, measured reintroduction. A myth rebuilt from the ground up – richer, graver and more honest than most audiences expected.

Man of Steel‘s not a film about superpowers.
It’s about restraint, pressure, loss and the cost of virtue.
It’s about learning how to rise.

This isn’t the Superman who smiles for the camera.
This is the Superman who brawls, who chooses, who endures.

Man of Steel is a serious film about a serious man.
Worthy of our collective esteem.

★★★★★ ★★★★★

For briefer thoughts: IMDb & Letterboxd. Or read The Batman, BvS or Superman for more DC.

Batman stands in front of a graffitied glass panel with the word "LIES" in red paint

The Batman

On By Stephen LoveletteIn Film ReviewsLeave a comment

It’s not a competition, but DC is better than Marvel.
Nowhere is that clearer than The Batman.

To produce a standalone Bruce Wayne in the wake of The Dark Knight trilogy is a tremendous task. DC rises to the occasion. Look where it ranks:

Top Films 2022

  • The Batman
  • Avatar: The Way of Water
  • Top Gun: Maverick
  • The Menu
  • Everything Everywhere All At Once

The historical grounding is subtle – Bruce scribbling in a journal marked “Year Two” and Alfred already ferklempt. This year-by-year breakdown of Batman’s career comes from contemporary comic lore. Starting in Year Two is smart. Gotham already fears him. He’s a vigilante, formidable but not mythic. Gordon’s still a detective, unaligned with our hero.

It’s the dawn of Gotham’s supervillainy.

Batman is a figment of darkness. In the opening scene, he coalesces out of shadow – emerging from the sunless landing beneath Gotham’s raised trainline like a tendril of justice. One that slithers from the living darkness at the city’s core.

This metaphysical undercurrent – how light and dark are used – carries through the film.
Binocular perspectives. Reinforced glass dividing observer from criminal. A drug-induced haze, vision warped. Even Catwoman’s POV – filtered and unreliable. Or maybe it’s Batman’s?

And the sound design – massive. Warner Bros. mics the costume. Rain plops and patters on Kevlar. Rubber squeals as pruning shears stab. Escaping air whines from a punctured tire.
You feel the impact. A thug’s bat breaks across Batman’s armored back; and it looks like it hurts. Pattinson commits to the realism. The first Batmobile misfires and sputters before finally roaring to life.

He glides off a rooftop – no green screen. That’s Pattinson himself, doing the stunt.
It’s all in service of tone. Dark. Gritty. Haphazard. Real.

The production uses nearly no noticeable CGI. Everything feels shot on-location. The only piece of cheap animation? A clump of machinery dangling from a cable mid-climax. It stands out because everything else feels grounded.

Christopher Nolan’s trilogy isn’t perfect – it’s cinematic. Broad, tight, blockbuster storytelling. Consider:

The Nolan Runtimes

  • Batman Begins (2005): 140 minutes
  • The Dark Knight (2008): 155 minutes
  • The Dark Knight Rises (2012): 165 minutes

Perfect intervals. Almost too tidy.

The Batman runs 176 minutes – longest solo Batman film ever. Some call it excessive. That’s hogwash. A 130-minute origin story would’ve been safer. Instead, Warner Bros. commits to the well. The depth of the fiction justifies the length.

And The Batman gives us more Bruce Wayne in Gotham than Nolan ever did.
Nolan’s Bruce mostly broods or playacts (see: the fountain scene). Pattinson offers layers. In the funeral scene, he oscillates between his halves. Bruce acting Batmany. Bruce acting Brucey.

Each major character in this story is an orphan. But the divergence is the point.
Bruce turns grief into action. Wealth into justice. His loss defines him, but he gives.
Selina Kyle? She steals what she needs and what she wants. She trusts no one.
Edward Nashton? He seethes. Imagines Bruce’s pain came cushioned by silk sheets. Both boys lost their parents. Only one inherited a mansion. The other got rot, and resents the myth of the benevolent orphan prince.

The Batman doesn’t just retell the tale. It re-centers it. From multiple lenses of loss—each refracting through crime, cause and consequence.

★★★★★ ★★★★★

Read shorter versions on IMDb and Letterboxd. Or Man of Steel.

Dr. Manhattan faces Rorschach in a snowy standoff outside Veidt’s complex

Watchmen Chapter II

On By Stephen LoveletteIn Film ReviewsLeave a comment

You don’t understand. You all think I’m trapped in here with you, but you’re all trapped in here with me.

Rorschach vs Dr. Manhattan. Who wins?

This marks my fourth experience with this story. My first full grasp of the real villain, tho.

I’m 19 when Zack Snyder’s Watchmen (2009) hits theaters. My dad is 53. We go together.

Experience #1) Watchmen: The Theatrical Cut (2009) [162 minutes]

Neither of us knows there’s a graphic novel. I’m just excited for R-rated superheroes. We don’t know what to expect.

He drives, buys our tickets and stays awake the whole runtime. Noteworthy.

We don’t discuss much afterward. It shook us. Neither can say we loved it. Dad doesn’t dislike it – he just can’t explain what there is to like.

I can’t say I enjoy it either.

I don’t understand why it’s so dark, or why nothing feels satisfying. Who has powers? How do we intuit such details as the story unfolds?

Years later, I read the graphic novel.

Experience #2: Watchmen (Moore & Gibbons 1986) [414 pages]

A 10-star book. Still sad, but less bleak. Beams of sunshine peek through. It’s an intricate character study which raises philosophical questions and challenges moral ambiguity.

Provides a unique meditation on the topic of sexual violence. How memory transforms thru time. Events reframe across retellings.

Only one character actually has a “super power.”

Soon after reading, I rewatch Snyder’s version with a friend.

Experience #3: Watchmen: The Director’s Cut (2009) [186 minutes]

Suddenly, the inspired magnificence illuminates.

The truth: Watchmen is rich and powerful, demands revisiting.

Don’t expect love on first watch, especially without context. The story is tragic, philosophically heavy. The world has concrete rules, but not obvious parameters. Dr. Manhattan informs Laurie of something she’ll soon admit – and then appears surprised when she does. How’s that work?

I still wonder. That alone justifies this animated duology. Watchmen’s material warrants a full return.

A key difference between the graphic novel and Snyder’s film lies in the ending, a change that irks purists.

But Snyder’s entitled to artistic license. His film is nothing if not reverent. Much of Watchmen (2009) recreates the source material frame-by-frame, panel-by-panel. Capturing the stillness of the graphic novel with uncanny precision. Each cinematic composition is a living comic panel, frozen in tone, mood and arrangement. It’s a historic achievement in adaptation.

Most fan criticism stems from Snyder’s refusal to depict the novel’s original conclusion.

The animated version does. We see the squid. Watch it land.

Experience #4) Watchmen Chapters I & II (2024) [84 & 89 mins]

The animated two parter can be considered a product of its live action predecessor; a further grounding of the narrative in realism. Brute savagery and elaborate fight choreography are de-emphasized for the sake of more intimate character interactions.

A more tender form of the story is revealed. Favoring relationship fodder like the mutual respect between Dan & Rorschach. Less intrigue, perhaps, than the graphic novel. But a much clearer telling is the result.

A Dr. Manhattan one can more easily sympathize with. His personal agenda, use of subterfuge and potentially sinister intents are distanced from the spotlight. This Jon’s more dutiful puppet.

Nite Owl & Silk Spectre II

Between halves, the narrative focus shifts – from Blake and Osterman to Dreiberg and Juspeczyk. Here, richer traces of redemption emerge.

They form the emotional core of Chapter II. The film even inverts their relationship: it’s Nite Owl who is found bare-butt, musing. He’s the one who struggles in bed.

Another inversion of traditional gender roles: Laurie’s apathy toward the escalating situation – her avoidance – suggests a certain cowardly carelessness. Dan, on the other hand, can’t run or hide.

His intuition tells him they’re nearing a point of no return. His body won’t cooperate with basic self-interest. Unlike Jon, Dan’s identity is rooted in being an individual within a collaborative community.

Midair Intercourse

Only after rescuing civilians from a burning building do Dan and Laurie consummate their connection – hovering in Archie, Nite Owl’s airship. Remote. Removed. Secluded from all else. An impossible act to witness.

Sometime after, Dr. Manhattan phases back to Earth mid-flight, entering Archie directly from Mars. That would require near-omniscience – yet he’s clearly unaware of Laurie’s current location, thoughts or behavior. He isn’t monitoring her. Jon only sees what he wants to. He burrows into quantum abstraction to avoid the harsher duty of self-governance.

Laurie, meanwhile, is searching for the missing piece to her jigsaw memory. She’s never been the most sympathetic character – nobody feels bad for Superman’s girlfriend – but here, her pathos becomes clear. She makes the courageous decision to speak to Jon on Mars. Her intentions are noble, unromantic.

She frames it as a mission for the people of Earth. That’s how she puts it to Dan – just before seemingly abandoning him. But she’s also attempting to take agency of the situation. Instead of being forced or commanded to go to Mars, she chooses to go.

I do wonder how events progress differently if she insists Jon speak with her on respectful terms. At a pre-arranged time & place (on Earth) the following day.

Patrick Wilson

A modern treasure. His impact on the animated Dan is tangible. One moment – just a single word, “No” – echoes his original performance. It hits with the same emotion and beauty.

An ironic mirror of Jon’s single-word protest, “Don’t,” from Chapter I. Do not instead of No. A command, not a lament.

Adrian Veidt

Few panels from the graphic novel depict him with any level of insecurity.

Chapter II contains his most human depiction. Maybe the most effective execution of Veidt yet. I finally understand the origin of his arctic fortress. His lynx. The squid.

Adrian’s finest moment is a final exchange with Jon.

He asks a question.

Without answering, Jon turns away and phases off planet.

That silence – that is the only moment Jon behaves virtuously.

Unintended Evil

In Chapter I, we watch Jon’s disaffection, his inertia, his refusal to act unless moved by another hand. He speaks his objections only after it’s far too late. Vietnam is just a smaller-scale version of Earth’s fate.

Jon is, in fact – unintentionally – the greatest villain in Watchmen. He is discord. Unfeeling and detached. Never acting, only reacting. In only the manner he sees fit.

The animated version brings that most clearly to the forefront. Tho it sands away a more sinister edge, his lack of empirical wisdom is laid bare.

Rorschach, by contrast, represents order. Reason and decency. Even when he quarrels with Dan, he is the first to apologize for speaking in a manner offensive to a friend.

He is the most morally committed. Dan and Rorschach represent two forms of virtue – human compassion versus brutal clarity. Theirs is the slightest of divergences. Antagonism at its pettiest.

When events become so twisted our most heroic heroes fall to superficial squabbling; it is Rorschach who rises above.

If nothing else, Watchmen Chapters I & II illuminate this arc quite clearly. While delivering a simpler, more practical edition of the narrative. For the first time, Rorschach’s quiet victory shines out from the story’s core.

★★★★★ ★★★★★

TLDR? Check IMDb or Letterboxd for briefer thoughts.

Janet Gaynor kneels on a kitchen floor, exhausted from cleaning – a still from Servants’ Entrance (1934).

Servants’ Entrance

On By Stephen LoveletteIn Film ReviewsLeave a comment

Before Walt Disney’s name meant feature-length fantasy, it popped up in odd places – like this 1934 live-action comedy about heiresses and hard work.

Servants’ Entrance may seem like an odd candidate for a modern film review, but beneath its vintage surface lies a surprisingly thoughtful narrative.

A short animated segment arrives in the film’s later half – a technical exercise in blending animation with live action. Walt Disney in the batting cage. Refining techniques he would later use in Mary Poppins.

What never ceases to amaze is his tendency toward uniqueness and originality.

In this case, dishware comes to life and invades Hedda’s bed in a nightmare sequence. The chaos is playful, but also pointed: sharp cutlery, hostile teacups and mean ceramics. She repels them all with firm words and a commanding tone.

Walt probably recycled the “living dishware” concept elsewhere, but nothing comes immediately to mind. While technically effective, the scene offers only mild fun. Its real value lies in story terms. Our tragic heroine is so buried in new responsibility that it haunts her even in sleep. She carries herself with such grace in the absurdity that we love her all the more for it.

I attended a packed screening at the 2025 TCM Classic Film Festival. Too packed.

A full auditorium is no way to enjoy a screening. Contemporary releases are bad enough, but prestige retrospectives like this can be worse.

Attending alone, I hunt for an open single seat amid a block of overenthusiastic viewers. Andrea Kalas delivers a sharp, tightly rehearsed intro focused almost entirely on the animated sequence. I later speak with Sloan DeForest – who ducks in just to catch that scene before leaving to introduce another film elsewhere. Apparently, this moment has a fanbase.

Strange emphasis. The animation is a curiosity, sure. But the allegorical framing of the story is far more resonant.

The events of Servants’ Entrance unfold with symbolic charge: an oil baron receives news of corporate collapse and his daughter’s sudden engagement in the same breath. From there, the film becomes a meditation on class discomfort and dignity in labor. The entitled couple steps into the working world – with uneven grace.

What’s great is its depiction of professionalism. The career path to monetary self-sufficiency. Thankless long hours doing blue collar labor in the early stages. Including a variety of attempts and missteps.

The grind of starting at the bottom, eagerly applying for roles as the lowest of servants.

Janet Gaynor plays the heiress, Hedda Nillson, a plucky upstart. Much of the plot is satire, requiring earnest delivery of absurd dialogue. Gaynor is seamless here. Each line fits with the tone and still doesn’t break from believability. Hedda Nillson feels like a real person. Not the most gorgeous bombshell, but a cracker jack hard worker with perfect enthusiasm. The type of gal every fella would like to marry. 1934’s contemporary heroine.

The chauffeur, Erik Landstrom (played by Lew Ayres), embodies a different shade of professionalism. His aversion and passive aggression toward Hedda border on despicable. The audience hates him upon introduction.

This feeling deepens during the dishwashing scene. Nillson’s searching for the other (higher up) servants when Landstrom explains they’re in bed. After a festive occasion such as the night’s party, it falls to the lowest servant to clean up the remaining mess.

“I’m not a gentleman,” he explains, “If I were I’d be helping you.” He lets his coffee mug, saucer, and plate clatter atop the piled rest.

Hatred.

But in retrospect, what the viewer fails to appreciate is Landstrom’s perspective. He’s not some embittered underling. He’s well established in a career that’s about to elevate him beyond blue collar rank. And just as he’s about to secure a foothold on that next rung, a pretty source of risk and temptation appears. It’s not that he dislikes Hedda. If he doesn’t love her instantly, he at least recognizes the danger she represents – especially given her relationship status. His initial coldness is a form of self-preservation. An attempt to repel her. And in that light, his resistance becomes…dignified.

It makes you consider the duality of attraction and motivation. The tension between what you want and what you can afford to want.

Somewhere after that point, the audience turns. Perhaps solely because it’s what Hedda wants. Which again speaks to the power of Gaynor’s performance.

It’s old. It’s not in color. Are you going to watch it? Probably not.

But given the context of the film’s production, Servants’ Entrance is solid – and worth a watch for more than a Disney footnote. The real magic isn’t in the plates that spring to life. It’s in the woman who keeps her dignity when they do.

★★ ★★★ ★★

Access IMDb and Letterboxd for breezier reviews.

Or check out Suddenly Last Summer or Eraserhead for more TCM Fest fueled reviews!

Gordon Bombay points assertively in The Mighty Ducks (1992) beside a framed team jersey

The Mighty Ducks

On By Stephen LoveletteIn Film ReviewsLeave a comment

…is a film you feel like you’ve seen.

You understand the premise.

Can probably predict the story beats.

You’re a serious adult. Can’t spare the time for kidsy shmoop.

quack…quack…Quack…Quack!

The Flying V. Gordon Bombay. The slap of the stick. Glass shattering above the boards. The Knuckle Puck. Slapshots rocketing past defenders.

Goldberg, that chubby rascal.

You know these things. Memory is expansive – it’s easy to forget who inserts the disc/tape, when and why. Must such details exist to validate your memory?

That’s the kind of answer you can only give if you know for certain. A definitive familiarity—the kind of media presence that lodges deep in a kid’s sense of normal.

But let’s be honest: the Knuckle Puck doesn’t even appear until D2. If you nodded earlier, maybe your memory’s a little rose-tinted?

Revisiting is worthwhile.

Cross Checking & Slashing

Hockey has sharp edges. Mighty D doesn’t shy away from this reality. It revels in it. Our heroes are brutally checked against the boards. The Ducks later deliver their own forms of brutality.

Everybody’s dishing smack talk. Except Gordon, who responds to each volley with even measure.

There are two girl Ducks. One, larger and older, is on the original roster. The other, blonder and twirlier, is a figure skater they pickup midseason. Both girls shove their boy teammates to the ice undeservedly.

Taking Liberties

Like most great sports comedies, it bends the rules. A league championship wouldn’t hinge on a single penalty shot.

Is the makeup of a peewee hockey team often decided by county lines? Is player eligibility a legal matter?

Still, The Mighty Ducks captures the essence of hockey in a remarkably tangible way. The in-game filmmaking – especially the on-ice moments – is excellent. You can see the actors’ breath in the cold air, adding texture and tension to the visuals.

The line changes. Gloves bopping helmets. Puck movement. Player formations.

It all feels like real peewee hockey – played by real kids who want to win.

The surprising success of the film: Much is cartoonish, but the heart is authentic.

Acquiring the star player from the rival team is strong writing. Does this accurately reflect reality? Who cares? The fiction evolves and thus it’s fun.

It takes liberties with the physics of reality. Pucks vaporize through nets or dent helmets. One player is lifted off the ice and carried thru the air by the power of a slapshot.

Tiny Goons with Swagger

They have the coolest jerseys ever. Their coach even wears his own. And by the final game the stands are full of swagged up fans. The Mighty Ducks pee wee team even launched their own merchandising line which did killer business by first season’s end.

Our hero’s chauffeur, the limo driver, hangs around sporadically. Perhaps without justification – but the character adds. Sensibility be damned. Keep the limo driver. He’s Bombay’s co-worker and friend, yet not a mentor.

That title belongs to Hans – Bombay’s stand-in father figure after the loss of his real dad and childhood coach. Hans is perhaps a necessary thread for knitting the entire film together, but not one who works particularly hard on screen. His presence feels added-on – more myth than mechanism. Still, he’s second-billed in the end credits. Ahead of all the children. It’s kinda absurd.

Bombay speaks with another adult while a couple kids yank on a hockey stick “frozen” in a fake block of ice. His eye catches Fulton Reed – the still unconverted free agent – approach the struggling Ducks. Reed pulls and effortlessly removes it. “The sword from the stone.” He hands Excalibur to the kids who were trying to free it.

Precise Back & Foregrounds

Inspired filmmaking in the use of coverage footage. Cutting to the camera over Emilio’s shoulder, we see the stages of the scene’s progression. A tiny narrative occurs behind the main thread of the dialogue exchange.

There are great small touches throughout.

Not much to critique here – except the unnecessary recapping the trauma of Bombay’s youth. Footage from the opening segment of Gordon’s missed shot, his coach’s uninspiring words and even the ricochet is recycled just before the climax. We already saw him collapse to his knees in the icy spotlight – replaying it disturbs the narrative rhythm. The mind wanders, wondering why the rink has spotlights, why they’re turned on w/o the overhead floods and why Little Gordo chooses to slide into the center of one beam in this moment of devastation. All needless thoughts.

Both Bombay’s trauma and the Ducks’ climax hinge on a penalty shot. In each case, the game is tied. Thus the shot determines whether to win now or head to overtime. The film does a fine job inflating the stakes. It’s not win-or-lose. It’s win-or-keep-playing.

That subtle deception works, tho. The player who takes the shot shoulders the full weight of the team’s hopes. That lands.

A masterful ending that confidently speaks to the quality of the film. A clean knit into sequel.

This is a classic duology based on my friends’ reactions:

Apparently D2 is 10% better than perfect. (CJ loves to break The 10 Star System. He’s a ding dong.)

Quite the mathematical predicament for this reviewer. But you can’t beat that hype.

★★★★★ ★★★★★

This review too long? Read the short version on IMDb or Letterboxd.

For more 90s sports comedy read Celtic Pride. Drama? A Few Good Men.

Yelena Belova raises a gun and one hand in a tense moment - thunderbolts review

Thunderbolts*

On By Stephen LoveletteIn Film ReviewsLeave a comment

Should fans give Marvel another shot?

For a while, the answer was a clear: Nope!

Since Avengers: Endgame, Marvel has released 14 films. Two were great: Black Widow and Spider-Man: No Way Home. The rest? Inadequate. Unworthy of our time.

Marvel’s Strongest Effort Since No Way Home

Thunderbolts* is different. If you’ve been waiting for a reason to re-engage, this is it. Just… don’t start here. Most of these characters originate elsewhere. This is a reengagement, not an introduction. Much of the good is nostalgia-driven.

The marketing is clever. One piece of trailer footage—featuring a character who dies before the scene actually occurs—is a fake-out. Three days after release, the theatrical poster transforms and the film is seemingly retitled!

The altered IMAX countdown featured Fantastic Four iconography. Subtle hype, expertly placed. I didn’t watch the trailer, but still felt the spark: Perhaps things won’t be so bad after all…

e-Ticketing for the Economist

Don’t use Fandango.

AMC or Regal apps are cleaner. Fewer traps.

Fandango auto-checks charity boxes and charges more. Their schedule UI is solid, but they leave out key cinemas like Nashville’s Belcourt.

IMAX only ran briefly – but if it returns, use it.

Still worth seeing in Standard.

A Thunderbolts critique

The lore’s interwoven deep. Captain America: Brave New World plays heavily into the backstory. Falcon and the Winter Soldier threads are present too. We even hear dialogues justify the permanence of The Avenger’s end. 

If you know the three Russians by heart, you’re in too deep. I need the refresher:

  • Alexei Shostakov (Red Guardian, played by David Harbour)
  • His daughters:
    • Natasha Romanoff (aka Black Widow, Scarlett Johansson)
    • Yelena Belova (aka Black Widow, Florence Pugh)

Same dad, same mom. Both unmarried. Three different, Russian last names.

Natasha Romanoff

I’m not a fan of resurrecting dead characters. Comics do it all the time, and it cheapens everything. This Thunderbolts* confirms: Black Widow is gone. Scarlett Johansson’s arc is over. Permanently.

It’s the right call. But a hard one.

Yelena Belova

This film is Florence Pugh’s now. And smartly so.

Her character’s flaw – talking over people, ignoring advice – is somehow both endearing and infuriating. It creates tension. Her performance may not be flawless, but she wrangles some clunky jokes. Flo carries the weight of imperfect writing.

Nobody replaces Scarlett. But Florence carves her own space – darker, snarkier, less serious, still compelling. The camera loves her differently, but just as hungrily.

Yelena even ventures into a metaphysical realm – something Marvel’s ham-fisted in recent years (Quantum Realm, Multiverse of Madness, Deadpool & Wolverine). But this one’s clean. The fantasy space feels tactile, well-measured and narratively necessary. Not just a visual stunt.

Alexei Shostakov

David Harbour gives everything. Every scene. He’s fully in character – vulnerable, absurd, inspired. He believes in heroism. You can feel it radiating off him.

At times, his performance transcends genre. It becomes a metaphor – for genuine acting, for inspired filmmaking, for the potential of comic cinema. He argues for the value of art, and he does it while dressed like a Russian super soldier.

That’s something.

Can you please just review Thunderbolts?

Florence and Harbour together? They’re acting on a different tier than most of their co-stars.

No disrespect to Sebastian Stan or Wyatt Russell. Who are both excellent here. Their performances tend toward mechanical on occasion.

Russell’s dialogue is bloated. The action demands are heavy. But he pulls it off.

Falcon headlines a film. Bucky and Walker show up here. But Agent 13? Missing!

Moving along with the Thunderbolts review…

Not Another Suicide Squad

The comparisons are inevitable – but inaccurate. SS assembles unknown villains and forces them into death missions. T-bolts brings together known antiheroes, each with deeper roots in the MCU.

Ayer’s Squad introduced Harley Quinn. This one reintroduces Florence Pugh and David Harbour at full strength. And unlike Suicide Squad, the government antagonist (Julia Louis-Dreyfus as Valentina Allegra de Fontaine) isn’t just a puppetmaster – she’s commonly regarded as a crooked politician. She’s being investigated, and much of the film’s narrative tension centers around exposing her.

Her survival instincts border on Lex Luthor levels of absurdity. She’s pure evil. Not in a cartoonish way – just in the bureaucratic, untouchable way that makes your skin crawl.

To Valentina, people are tools – discardable, replaceable and always beneath her.

Bankrobber Garb

Marvel’s still stuffing background extras into black ski masks. This time, they’re generic military goons. Covering their faces doesn’t make them less human – or their deaths less visible. It’s lazy. And distracting.

After all, Marvel’s got four films on the horizon.

Those two Avengers films have Anthony and Joe Russo listed as the directors.

See? Hope.

This writer will dare to dream. For now, Thunderbolts* earns Marvel one more shot.

★★★★ ★★★★

TLDR? Read my briefer analysis on IMDb or, for max brevity, Letterboxd.

For more Marvel read The Fantastic Four: First Steps. Check out Iron Man 3!