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Film Features Film/TV

Fast X

Ever since I first looked at the release schedule for 2023, I have been dreading Fast X. The tenth Fast & Furious film seems completely pointless. I love a good car chase as well as the next guy, but Dom (Vin Diesel) and his “family” long ago exceeded both the bonds of Newtonian physics and cinematic decency. In the last one, F9, they literally drove cars into space. When a long-running film series that does not take place in space suddenly decides to go into space, it means they’re out of ideas. That’s called the “Moonraker Rule.”

Given Fast X’s running time of 141 minutes, it looked like a bad weekend was brewing for me. Then, a stroke of luck. On Saturday night, my wife LJ and I went to the monthly Time Warp Drive-In for Singalong Sinema: Mad Musicals in May, a triple feature of Little Shop of Horrors, The Blues Brothers, and The Wiz. It was a perfect night to camp out at the Malco Summer Drive-In’s Screen 4 with several hundred of our closest friends. Next door, Screen 3 was also filling up with a crowd who favored muscle cars and giant trucks.

At dusk, the films started. A miscommunication led to the Time Warp films being played out of order, so The Wiz rolled first. From our lawn chairs next to our parked car, we could see both screens 4 and 3. That’s when I got the idea. It’s highly unethical to review a film without watching it. But the truth is, nobody who is going to go see Fast X cares what a critic like me has to say about it. You’re either down with $350 million and 141 minutes worth of explosions and big guys in muscle cars going vroom, or you’re not. But technically, I was watching Fast X, even if the sound I was hearing was the Tony Award-winning score of The Wiz. If the other Fast & Furious films were anything to go by, it’s not as if hearing the dialogue would shed any light on the plot that was allegedly happening between car chases. I have seen at least five of them, and I have never understood what is going on. Is Dom a street racer? A bank robber? Some kind of super spy? All of the above?

The first big improvement I noticed in Fast X is that Aquaman himbo Jason Momoa is the big bad, a drug lord named Dante who is dead set on revenge for Dom’s crimes against (what else?) his family. This information comes from an extended opening flashback taken from Fast Five, where Dom and the crew steal a bank vault and drag it through the streets of Rio. Aquaman’s exquisitely-styled locks mean that, unlike earlier installments with Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson and Jason Statham, the story does not boil down to bald guys punching each other. Momoa’s performance is so excessive it lands like a silent film actor’s pantomime — especially when accompanied by the dulcet tones of Diana Ross as urban Dorothy Gale.

At roughly the time in The Wiz when Michael Jackson is introduced as the Scarecrow, Charlize Theron is reintroduced in Fast X as Cipher. I hope she got paid a lot of money. Same for Rita Moreno and Helen Mirren, both of whom have scenes with Dom which I think are supposed to be motherly, but come off as romantic. You go, ladies!

As Diana Ross and Michael Jackson explode into the radio hit “Ease on Down the Road,” Fast X travels to Rome, where Dante is planting a bomb that looks like a giant metal ball. Naturally, automotive hijinks ensue, with Dom and fam chasing the big ball through the streets of the Eternal City. By the time Nipsey Russell is introduced as the Tin Man, the giant ball is on fire; it eventually explodes in the Tiber River in a way that is somehow both good and bad for Dom.

In conclusion, The Wiz, a box office bomb widely credited as ending the ’70s golden age of blaxploitation cinema, is flawed, but much more fun than its reputation suggests. The disco-era bass work in Quincy Jones’ soundtrack is especially choice. Fast X is elevated by the presence of Aquaman and a flagrant disregard for human constraints like “good taste.” It’s the best film in the Fast & Furious series to kind of watch out of the corner of your eye while doing something else.

Fast X
Now playing
Multiple locations

(But unfortunately not alongside The Wiz again)

Categories
Film Features Film/TV

Film Retrospective: Batman (1989)

This week, 25 years ago, I was a knot of anticipation. The thing I wanted to see more than any other thing, the Batman film, was at last coming out. I’m not saying I wanted to see Batman more than I wanted to see any other movie at the time; I mean I had never been so eager to partake in anything, ever. In retrospect, I haven’t been so excited for the release of any other piece of pop culture. I think the only things to surpass it are real-life greatnesses: kissing a girl, getting married, the birth of my children. Seriously. (Where are you going? Come back!)

I was so excited in part because I loved and devoured the Batman comics. The character appealed to my maturing sense of identity and growing individualism. He was no less human than I was — he wasn’t bitten by a radioactive spider, exposed to cosmic or gamma rays, or orphaned from an alien planet — infinitely relatable to this here shy little nerd. What made Bruce Wayne into Batman was nothing but a common traumatic childhood; granted, my sheltered, suburban upbringing was far from harrowing. But, if you stabbed Batman with a sword-umbrella, he’d bleed like anyone else, and he became successful by dint of willpower alone. Plus, what kid doesn’t want to hear that it’s the monsters who should be afraid of the dark?

Michael Keaton in Batman

The movie Batman hit me square in the face, at age 13, the summer before 8th grade, a seminal moment at a seminal age. It marked my transition from an artless, prepubescent consumer of whatever happened to be in front of me to a relatively thoughtful observer of craft and commercialism. The coming of age was my (forgive me) Bat Mitzvah.

Batman felt like the first movie that was made for me. I pined for news in the build-up to its release — this was, of course, long before the internet, a lonely place of dying that left one starved for information. I watched Entertainment Tonight routinely, hoping for clips or updates; I scoured for showbiz tidbits in the Appeal section of The Commercial Appeal — this was pre-Captain Comics. Entertainment Weekly didn’t exist yet. MTV ran a “Steal the Batmobile” contest; I obsessed over the glimpses of the movie the promos and commercials showed. When the video to Prince’s “Batdance” premiered in advance of the film’s release, I was devastated: It didn’t show any scenes from the movie.

Finally, Batman came out. I saw it at Highland Quartet, the first showing on the first day. It napalmed me. I could not have loved it more. It buried itself in my DNA instantly. I bought the Danny Elfman score on tape and wore it out. To this day, it’s my all-time favorite soundtrack. I waited on tenterhooks for the box office results, finally delivered (at least, in my recollection) in the voice of Chris Connelly on an MTV News segment: Batman had a huge opening weekend. I felt personally vindicated. (As I said, I was a nerd.)

Batman was my first movie review. I wrote it for myself, in a journal kept in a spiral school notebook that has been, sadly, lost to time. After some attic digging, I did unearth the second volume of my journal, running from August 1989 to December 1990. Included within is my first ever movies list, presented here unadulterated:

Top 15 Movies, 6-29-90, 1:41-1:46 a.m.

1. Batman

2. The Hunt for Red October

3. RoboCop 2

4. Dirty Rotten Scoundrels

5. Gremlins 2

6. The Jerk

7. RoboCop

8. Die Hard

9. The Terminator

10. Top Gun

11. The Blues Brothers

12. The Running Man

13. Young Guns

14. Blind Date

15. Parenthood

Looking back, there are plenty of things to commend in Tim Burton’s film. His German Expressionistic sensibilities (and Anton Furst production design) perfectly reflect the shadows of the mind cast within by Bruce Wayne’s psychological scars; Michael Keaton is surprisingly good as Batman; Jack Nicholson is terrific as the Joker. Its reputation was only burnished by the disappointments that followed, with the 1990s sequels Batman Returns, Batman Forever, and Batman & Robin.

However, in 2005, with Batman Begins, Christopher Nolan rendered the 1989 Batman irrelevant — astonishingly, but no less substantively. Nolan and Christian Bale made a grown-up adaptation — textually moodier, with characters more realistically beat down by life’s injustices — that thoroughly neutered the Burton/Keaton “original.”

The one thing missing from Nolan’s update was the childhood sense of awe and joy that I see bursting from the 1989 film. It’s not really Batman Begins‘ fault. How could it have possibly contained and inspired all that life-changing ecstasy? After all, I wasn’t there to provide it.